Stop!... And behold the glory that is... Me! ... Alright, now that I have that out of my system, let’s get to the good stuff. I’m sort of a loose cannon, the center of attention. I put the pop into popular, I look down on people as if I’m in an airplane. Respect is a word I don’t know and sympathy is an art I haven’t mastered. Feelings fly away like a leaf, moving and stopping, no one cares. I’m just another leader in a country full of followers. Tweets by @PAPABBANG Viewer discretion is advised.
The two of you pull back, and you gently rub your lips with the back of your hand, matching Katsuki’s cheeky grin.
“You look like you’re still in a daze,” he teases as the production crew starts to mobilize around the two of you. You raise your eyebrow at him as one of your assistants helps rearrange your blouse, and another pops up behind Katsuki to raise the collar of his shirt. Katsuki reaches out a hand to the side, not taking his eyes off you or moving away any more than the few inches between your bodies, and takes the bottled water placed directly in his hand.
“Thank you,” he says politely, albeit without looking, twisting the cap.
You watch him drink, a slow, deliberate action where you watch his neck muscles contract, and a drop of water that escapes from the side of his mouth and runs down the side of his cheek. Time seems to slow.
You’re acting a little too well.
“You slobbered all over me,” you finally sass him, pulling yourself out of your trance. You have possibly a hundred more takes to go. This particular director seems to enjoy tormenting the two of you, particularly in the more heated romantic scenes.
At this rate, you’ll probably be making out till sundown.
“You seemed to like it,” Katsuki answers quickly. He throws the bottle of water over you and it seems to land perfectly in the recycling bin, a good distance away.
If only he had missed.
“I’m good at my job,” you say with a wide, charming smile.
“Good at kissing, too.” he adds. You don’t let it fluster you.
Instead, you let out a breath through your nostrils, and he laughs. An assistant fluffs your hair so you don’t have to do it yourself.
You don’t compliment him back. At least, not yet.
“Okay next take!” the director yells again.
The two of you reassume positions - your hand gently rested along the curve of his jaw, your stare loving as you gaze into his eyes, his hand rested at the small of your back, a thumb brushing against your pouty lip.
“I’ve been in love with you since the day we met,” you recite your line perfectly. It’s the fourth time this hour.
Half of it is true.
“I know.”
That part isn’t.
There are more lines, inconsequential, sappy banter of the likes of daytime romantic soap operas and the two of you play your dance again as usual. In this movie, you are made for each other. In real life, it may also be true.
You kiss again and you wonder how many times you’ll have to continue pretending to pretend.
bf!suna who has an album of you filled with pics and the often stupid videos he takes when he’s feeling silly with you.
bf!suna who has a video of him standing behind you whilst you’re reading a book on the couch and his hand is in the video, faking a jerking off motion to you til you notice and then he releases his hand like he just finished.
bf!suna who has a video of you sleeping where your shirt has ridden up that your boobs are so close, if you stir in your sleep again they’ll, for sure, pop out. and in the video is another stupid clip of his hand, shaking madly while he gently (and reluctantly) pulls your shirt down, hand still shaking like it’s the hardest thing to do.
bf!suna who has another video of you sleeping and he’s just poking your cheeks softly, occasionally pinching them as well.
bf!suna who has a video of him creeping up behind you while you’re doing the dishes and he proceeds to cup your ass while bouncing it in his hand “hey everyone, back with another, this time featuring my girlfriends ass—with a review!” You obviously proceeded to wet him with the dirty sink water (he’s done this before, many, many times.)
bf!suna who has a video of you drunk and crying to the ending of coco while clinging to his side. his lips are pursed together while he’s giving you the nastiest yet nonchalant side eye, nodding once and a while to your complains, “this boys family is a menace Rin! Can you believe that?”
bf!suna who has a video of you squashed to his chest because your shirt is off out of annoyance to the heat of summer. You were bathing in the new chill of having no shirt that you didn’t notice he’s taking a video of him cheering silently while your side boob and his side of his chest are in view, mf is cheering like a teenage boy.
bf!suna who has a video of him randomly coming up to you and pressing your foreheads together while he opens his mouth wide in a funny way. You’re grimacing and he’s just in a silly mood to mess with you.
bf!suna who has a video of you walking from the water in your bathing suit, it flips back to him who falsely claims he’s been shot through his actions, “I’ve been shot by sexiness, someone help me,” it cuts after he pretends he’s dead on the sun-chair.
bf!suna who has a video of him after he’s done being your professional photographer. He pretends he’s taking more, going around you while you laugh, “look here, baby, yes! perfect! one more ms. Suna! Give me fierce!” Completely doesn’t care about the public walking past.
bf!suna who has a video of him pretending to be a YouTuber again. He has a cute headband on and a pink face mask on along with you who is busy doing a lip mask,
“hey everybody, welcome back! Today I am venturing into a women’s skin care,” you punched him in the chest playfully, “excuse you, i’m not just a women, thank you very much,”
he chuckled, “right, everyone, this is my beautiful, sexy, caring, and perfect girlfriend #soon-to-be-wife.” (he whispered that to the camera, hoping the songs playing on your speaker was loud enough.)
And finally, bf!suna who has a video of you crying while laughing after he just proposed, your quite literally balling and this mf is just smiling while cradling you to his side, “#not so soon-to-be-wife anymore!”
bf!suna who just loves those videos so much (and taking more) that he hopes his storage doesn’t run out soon because he’s on his last storage plan.
Hi!! Congratulations on your event 🤍 you deserve more love and recognition for how beautiful your works are ✨️ if i may request, can you do "shut up and hold me" + iwaizumi? It could be an enemies to lovers kinda thing or something. Thank you! 🤍
𝖘𝖍𝖚𝖙 𝖚𝖕 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖍𝖔𝖑𝖉 𝖒𝖊! (iwaizumi hajime)
pairing: iwaizumi hajime x gn!reader
content: hugs, reader had a bad day, enemies to lovers core, iwa and reader are childhood worsties, a littleeee bit of angst, fluff
a/n: thank you thank you <33 you’re so sweet anon 🥺🥺 mwuah mwuah! <33 a little bit of enemies to lovers just like you asked <3 hope you enjoy this!
☁️1k follower event (open)
“What the hell?” Iwaizumi cursed, when you almost ran into him, face set in a frown as he stared down at you. “You should pay more attention to where you’re going.”
You bit your lip and looked away, feeling uncomfortable under the boy’s intense stare. Every other day you would have used his words as an invitation to start a fight with him, throw a half-hearted insult at his head that he would reciprocate with a glare and an insult of his own.
The two of you weren’t really friends although you’ve known each other since elementary school and have always visited the same classes — even now in high school. For some reason you’ve never really gotten along, always been at each other’s throats, always fought over stupid things.
You even liked fighting with him. Even though he was annoying and always criticised you for ‘being such a brat’ as he put it. But today…
You felt tears welling up behind your eyes. You scrunched up your face at the sensation, annoyed. You didn’t want to cry in front of him.
Iwaizumi noticed.
“Y/n…?” His voice was much gentler and you kind of wanted to punch him, but you also…
Your hands balled into fists and you clenched your jaw.
“Shut up and hold me.”
The boy didn’t move, eyebrows raising a little in surprise. He looked startled and you couldn’t blame him. The two of you didn’t have that kind of relationship. You didn’t hug. You barely even talked outside of your little fights.
Your shoulders tensed, the longer you waited for his response, his rejection, the more you just wanted to turn around and stomp off. Run away. It wasn’t like you expected Iwaizumi to actually hug you. You weren’t an idiot.
Still…you felt disappointed that he didn’t.
Wasn’t that just stupid?
“Just forget I aske-“
Before you could finish your sentence Iwaizumi closed the distance between you with a small step and pulled you into his arms, wrapping his arms around you.
You froze as your face hit his chest and his arms held you, one hand on the back of your head, softly nudging your face into the crook of his neck as the other pulled you closer on your lower neck.
You didn’t fight his grip. You gave in, burying your face in his neck and wrapping your arms around his torso.
Iwaizumi radiated such warmth, you felt yourself relax in his grip immediately.
“Don’t be an idiot, of course, I’ll hold you…” the boy muttered, sounding only a little annoyed with you.
You sniffed, pushing your face deeper into the crook of his neck and you could swear he held you even closer.
♡‧₊˚ ꒰ CONTENTS ꒱ : MDNI. established relationship, suggestive fluff, language, just a lil warm up blurb for the main man !
“babe, babe.. tetsu!” you gasp out, a laugh escaping you as kuroo pins you against the bed, leaving a trail of kisses along your neck. he pulled back, a little confused on why you were laughing but the sound of it always brought a smile to his face.
“what is it, pretty girl?” he smirks, his fingers coming up under your chin to pull you closer before what would’ve been a searing kiss. “tell me.”
“i- not here.” you rush out. kuroo recoiled slightly, shock and confusion settling into his features. before he could say or do anything you finish your thought, “i just cleaned the sheets.”
“seriously?” he laughed, shaking his head in disbelief, like he didn’t know what to do with you.
“do you wanna wash them after, then?” you snap, teasingly. he contemplates for a moment before shrugging and picking you up. “hey! w-where are we going?”
“well if i can’t fuck you in our bed, how about the shower?” he purred, lightly chuckling as he brought your towards the bathroom. “since you’re so worried about making a mess.”
yes, the miya atsumu, the star hit volleyball player, the one on almost every magazine cover, the one with over a hundred million followers on instagram, the one who's notorious for flirting with his interviewers and having an attitude with an over the top ego yet still managing to quiver under his coach's gaze and putting his arrogance in check.
yes, you knew him.
you knew him as the loud, rowdy kid who never shut up in class, who definitely had an over the top ego and attitude problem back then as well, who also flirted with your friends and even you on some if not all occasions.
god, you hated him.
he was arrogant and ignorant and overall a huge dickehead who needed to be tamed.
this was the light you saw him in up until graduation day, when he came up to you with a smirk plastered on his face and you noticed it, mentally preparing yourself to tell him to fuck off if he was here to flirt with you again.
but he didn't saying anything flirtatious, instead, all he said was, "hey, congratulations on being in the top three, man, it's freakin' awesome."
he was congratulating you for when you took your diploma and the principal announced that you were in second place between all the other graduates.
and after that, miya atsumu left and you never saw him again.
it wasn't until a few years later that you randomly saw his name on a twitter headline that said 'new upcoming volleyball star : miya atsumu is certainly making his way to the frontlines!'
it was obvious that volleyball would be his go-to, he was definitely talented at it, and against your bitter will, you had to admit that even you were awe-strucked when he played on the court.
however, it still was definitely a surprise when you saw his name on headlines, it left you with your mouth hung open in astonishment.
and after that, he was everywhere you went.
on tv, on magazines posing with his teammates, on instagram and twitter, on youtube in 'top ten funniest miya atsumu moments' video compilations — heck, even in a fucking advertisement for a hair conditioner.
you truly couldn't escape him.
by heart, you were a journalist, and so soon came the day where miya atsumu is sitting in front of you, conducting an interview.
well, it isn't him alone, it's him and his teammates — it's loud in the room as all of them talk over eachother, but his eye catches yours and a hint of recognition flashes in them, before a smile spreads on his lips, one that you eventually mirror as if the both of you are sharing some inside joke.
miya atsumu recognizes you.
he recognizes your face and your eyes, he recognizes you smile, and oh how he recognizes your voice that's speaking in a soft, professional tone now, but used to scold him with a harsh and sarcastic tone then.
and so, in the next thirty minute you spent interviewing him and his teammates, miya atsumu's mind kept flashing through the very few memories he had with you in highschool, and most importantly, feelings of an old crush resurfaced now that he's face to face with you.
he's smiling at you, giving you heart eyes, and answering every question that you asked him personally with an almost child-like enthusiasm.
atsumu truly hasn't felt this shy around someone since highschool.
the interview passes quick and everyone scatters soon after and you find yourself standing outside the stadium, with your phone in your hand and waiting for your uber to come.
you think, while miya atsumu still had some of his unmistakable traits such as his attitude and talent to annoy others effortlessly, there's still some traits to him that make you tolerate him a bit more now.
after all, you don't really hate him as much as you did back in highschool.
or it you can even call what you felt towards him back in highschool hate — it was more of a feeling if annoyance really, since he was a nuisance.
"well, well, well, long time no see." a familiar voice plastered with cockiness to it calls out to you, and you turn around to face the blonde.
speak of the devil, you think.
"well, surprised to even see you still remember me, miya." you tease, smirking at him.
"what can i say? it's hard to forget you when you used to call me a 'motherfucking jackass' everyday at school." he shoots back, laughing loudly at the way you turn your face away in embarrassment.
"listen, you used to annoy me alot, okay?" you defend, "and i see that none of that has changed."
he grins at you, and says, "one can only change so little, i see you still have very little tolerance for me."
"as always."
he laughs again, and then his laughter quiets down, but a smile still remains on his lips as he looks at you, his expression timid and his voice almost shy as he says, "haven't seen you in so long, i missed ya."
you think you're imagining it when you see him with a faint pink dusting his cheeks.
now it's your turn to laugh, you aren't necessarily laughing at him, just more so that you're surprised by his sudden statement, and so you reply with, "well, my everyday was kind of dull without you annoying me, so i guess i missed you too."
you can swear that the pink on his cheeks got darker when you said that, but you decide not to say anything of it.
he chuckles and stuffs his hands in his pockets, "well, i'm glad we can finally agree on something." he let's out a long sigh, "who knew fate would bring us back like that? as a hotshot and an interviewer?"
he's being dramatic and cocky again.
you roll your eyes at him, "you think quite highly of yourself, it's sickening."
atsumu grins at you, and you shake your head at him with an unwilling smile on your lips, thinking that maybe his company right now isn't so bad, and that maybe you're actually enjoying talking to him right now.
atsumu asks, "so, are you waiting for someone?"
"my uber, yes."
"well, then i guess you wouldn't mind if i waited with you then." he says, shuffling a bit closer to you — atsumu isn't sure why he's doing this to himself, talking with you knowing how nervous and jittery you get him to be, with his heart pounding fast in his chest and his hands clammy in his pockets and he hasn't felt this way since highschool — but maybe, just maybe he's hoping he could build up enough courage to ask for your number.
"you already are," you remark teasingly, smiling at him.
your phone vibrates in your hand and you check the notification that tell you your uber is almost here.
"it's almost here anyway," you state, and you don't notice how his shoulders suddenly slump down like a disappointed child.
"oh," he says disappointingly, "well, it was nice meeting you again after so long, y/n." he smiles brightly at you.
you state at him for a moment, your mind racing through some thoughts, before you finally decide that : fuck it, you'll just go for it.
"give me your phone." you demand.
he furrows his brows in confusion, "what? why?"
"just give me your phone."
atsumu reluctantly and confusingly pulls his phone out and hands it to you without asking any further questions.
you tap away at his screen for a few seconds before handing his phone back to him — and just then your uber pulls up.
atsumu only catches a glimpse of 'y/n from highschool' saved into his contact list before you're standing on your tippy toes pressing a peck to his cheek and pulling away, smiling and waving at him as you make your way to your ride.
you call out, "call me later, okay?"
atsumu swears his heart went flying with the next gust of wind that blew, and red bloomed on his cheeks as his eyes scanned over your contact name a hundred times, almost as if he couldn't believe it sat in his phone now, and when his mind finally registered it, a giddy, shy smile that he couldn't resist spread to his face.
“Let me help you.” He says when he sees it’s been ‘one of those days’. His ‘help’ consists of his tongue spelling his name against your clit while your slick drips onto his tongue and coats his chin as he eats your pussy into a stupor.
doing that silly little lipstick tiktok trend to the song “k.” by cigarettes after sex with them. when you pan the camera to him wiping away your smudged lipstick and he’s just staring at you with so much adoration and a little smile on his lips—face covered in kiss marks. which causes you to smile hard at the sight. once the audio cuts off and the video stops you turn to him, “see that was fun wasn’t it?” and he’s completely zoned or now just staring at your lips—his slightly parted. you know exactly what he wants now and you wouldn’t hesitate to lean in to lock your lips with his. once you pull out of the kiss he’s cheesing and is all, “if there’s ever anymore trends like that don’t even ask me, i’ll do it no questions asked.”
warnings: f!reader, exhibitonism, bonten!timeline, shin owns his bike shop, phone calls / being walked in on, cock-warming, sort of possessive behaviour in sanzu’s, ch-oking. note: hewo :3 i am v happy w how these turned out i think so i hope u guys enjoy hehehe <3
✩ ˛˚ . SANO SHINICHIRO
shinichiro could never fucking say no to you, you just had to give him one of your pretty little looks from underneath your lashes and he was like fucking putty in your hands.
it’s like you knew exactly how to get to him, made just to tease and test his own self control and fuck—turns out he hasn’t got any at all, because now your usual little afternoon visit to see him at work has ended up with his hips pressing flush and tight against your own as he sinks his cock into the warm hug of your pussy.
it wasn’t normally something that bothered shinichiro, but when it’s only 2pm on a friday afternoon and he’s just heard the bell on the front door of his bike shop ring to alert him of another customer. he’s pretty sure they might find a problem with the fact he can’t deal with them because he’s balls deep in you in the back shop.
you feel the deep press of your boyfriends cock against the sweet spots inside of you when his next thrust stutters, followed by another languid withdrawal of his hips before he’s rolling them back into you at an even slower pace. but he swears he feels you squeeze even tighter when the sudden ring of the bell at the front desk rips you both from your blissful, hormone-drunken state.
“just a sec..” shinichiro calls as his fingers squeeze almost painfully at your hips and he’s pulling back to give you a lidded look from under the messy mop of black hair framing his flushed features. you shudder when you feel the cool metal of his chain leave your too hot skin but he still doesn’t pull himself away when your hands tighten in the fabric of his shirt. “f-fuck, angel, gotta let me go.. quit squeezin’ so tight.
“but shin, ‘m so close.” you babble through your pouty lips and even the fucking sound only seems to lure him closer as he offers you another stuttered thrust and he grits his teeth. another ring of the bell accompanied by another sinful squeeze of your walls around him and shit— he wished he’d just closed up for the day. god he is fucking whipped.
“mmm—fine, angel. shit— jus’ gotta make it quick, alright? make it up to ya later.”
✩ ˛˚ . HANMA SHUJI
your trip to hanma’s office had started somewhat innocent, it was always down to him when you ended up spread out on his desk atleast — not that you can be blamed when he’s so infuriatingly handsome, amber lidded gaze never once leaving yours as soon as you enter.
it’s the same look that he’s giving you now as you sit spread out for him across the paper work that he couldn’t give two shits about right now. he’s still dressed apart from his unbuttoned slacks — just enough to free the heavy strain of his cock but still a stark contrast to the way he’s stripped you of everything — offered you up to himself like a luxury meal he’s about to devour, and you almost shudder with how exposed you feel before you melt at his touch again.
“you miss my cock that much, babydoll?” hanma goads, smirks as one of his large palms, sin squeezes at the flesh of your thigh so he can push you wider. you can barely offer him words with the way your desire weighs heavy on your lungs, a weak little nod that only makes his grin twitch even wider as he wraps your thighs around his hips.
“such a helpless little thing, can’t cum without me doing all the work.” it was almost uncharacteristic for him to give into you so easily, he liked you begging — crying for him to finally fuck you but any suspicions soon melt when the fat head of his cock finds the entrance to your flexing pussy.
you gasp and hanma growls as he sinks carefully up inside you, punishment taking its usual place around your throat as he squeezes lightly at the sides — he always said it was your prettiest fuckin’ necklace afterall. his other hand on your hip pulls your hips closer to his as your back arches and his cock feels like it sinks into you forever. he was long and thick, curved upwards and warm and it glides so sweetly past the spots inside of you that make your whole body twitch against the wood, your pussy tightening harder around him the deeper he goes.
but just as you find yourself floating into a blissful state, almost consumed completely by him — you jolt when there’s a sudden, sharp knock on his office door and his fingers around your throat squeeze a little tighter before he chuckles.
your wide-eyed as you look at hanma but he doesn’t stop, he looks amused and there’s something dark, wild in the same familiar amber that looks over you when the next knock is accompanied by him forcing your walls to spread open wider for him. “s-shuji.” you try, a small plea for him to tell him he’s busy — to do something, anything.
but then you only feel him press into you deeper, looking at you from over the frames of his glasses before he’s urging your head to tilt back — palm pressing tight against the middle of your throat as he drags you along his cock with the other.
“came here to cum didn’t you? better tell ‘em.. or. else.”
✩ ˛˚ . HAITANI RINDOU
rindou is fucking late, he knows as he gives the watch underneath the expensive fabric of his suit a lazy, lidded look from underneath his lashes. it’s not that he was stuck in traffic or anything, hes at the venue for the executive meeting atleast — hes just far too fucking obsessed with the way you’re bouncing on his cock as he sits in the front seat of his fucking car to actually leave.
ran’s definitely going to kick his ass, he thinks before it’s replaced by the next particularly sharp connection of your hips — warm hug of your pussy reducing him to low grunts and growls as every thought in his head is consumed by only you instead.
“fuck sake, i gotta go princess. but shit, got the sweetest lil fuckin’ pussy.” rindou hisses through gritted teeth as he lets his head fall back against the headrest — his violet gaze heavy underneath his mused bangs as it focuses on the way your pretty tits jiggle everytime you sink back down onto his heavy cock. he’s gotta go, but why can’t he bring himself to fucking move.
“so close rin!” you whimper through pouty lips, your mind cloudy with how well hes fucking you and it does wonders at drowning out the way his phone is vibrating in the passenger seat — his hands preoccupied with dragging you along the length of him instead.
“yeah? lemme see how fuckin’ pretty you look when you cum ‘round my cock, gorgeous.” the ragged tone of rindou’s words feels like it drips through you as the muscles in his well trained body shake beneath you. his pace is unrelenting as he begins to meet each of your thrusts with heavier ones of his own, fingers squeezing tight into your hips so he can push his cock even deeper into you with every wet connection.
“you been thinkin’ ‘bout my cock, princess? already made me fuckin’ late, gotta make it up to me.” rindou groans and your walls reward the thick spread of his cock with another needy twitch. your pussy squelches, wet and messy as the sounds echo around the walls of the car and fuck— he wants to ruin you. but his next harsh thrust stutters when there’s a sudden knock against the drivers seat window that makes his head twist quickly, because despite the dark tint and the condensation from you both — he knows who it fucking is.
“oh little brother? hm, don’t make me drag you in here.”
✩ ˛˚ . SANO MANJIRO
you think it’s warm, comfortable when you’re curled up in mikey’s lap — a place that had become one of your favourite despite how many people feared him. but he was different with you, softer as his slender fingers trace up the length of your spine — making you shudder as his cock rests inside the intoxicating hug of your walls.
it was a nice sort of routine, like a little ritual than always seemed to keep him grounded and it was some of his favourite moments with you — sacred moments with you. you pull back to give him a pretty, drowsy sort of look and you almost melt completely when it earns you a relaxed sort of expression in return followed by a small smile. “manjiro.” you begin and he swears the use of his full name from between your lips makes him shudder as something warm licks at the base of his spine.
“hm?” it’s low the hum that mikey offers you but you only sigh contently before you’re urging yourself closer, letting yourself bask in his hold as his arm around you proceeds to tighten as his lips rest against your temple. “it feels good, you’re warm.” he drawls and the whispered affirmation makes your insides ache before the next squeeze of your walls is pulling a shuddered breath from the man beneath you.
but just as you get comfortable in the blissful atmosphere in the room, it’s interrupted suddenly by the harsh wrap of knuckles against his office door before a particularly scared looking gang member scurries in after. he opens his mouth to speak but the cold look your boyfriend gives him seems to make the words die in his throat before he cuts him off completely.
“i’m busy.” mikey’s tone is blunt, ragged and a stark contrast to the softer one that he seems to reserve only for you as his fingers continue their ministrations along your skin. but you find yourself tensing when his words aren’t followed by the sudden unwanted company leaving, something that your boyfriend picks up on when instead they proceed to try again as they stutter out something unintelligible.
“didn’t you hear me?” there’s authority in the sharpness of his tone this time and it leaves no room for argument — only an apology as the gang member bows before leaving, probably mentally preparing himself for the visit he’ll be receiving from sanzu later no doubt. but you find yourself relaxing into manjiro’s embrace again as soon as you’re both alone again, hearing him sigh before it’s followed by a sudden, deep kiss of his cock as he shifts beneath you.
“so annoying. i’m comfy.”
✩ ˛˚ . SANZU HARUCHIYO
“haru..” you gasp from where sanzu has you hips pressed tight against his desk — swiping his fingers softly through your folds as he drags the pad beneath the hood of your clit, rolling the sensitive bud until he can see the way your thighs twitch. it was insane, the way he’s toying with you — playing with your pretty cunt like you’ve got him fucking hypnotised.
“i know, angel. just real pretty.” he hums before he’s deliberately pressing down onto your puffy clit harder, eagerly, until you’re wet enough for him to push two fingers inside. he rewards you with a sweet little kiss against the puffy bud when he’s not met with much resistance, grinning at the even sweeter little whine it pulls from your pouty lips.
“such pretty sounds, perfect fucking pussy.” sanzu’s fingers are long, long and thick enough for you to hiss at the stretch but you feel something blissful flutter in your tummy with the soft affirmation from his scarred lips. it was intoxicating to see a man so dangerous turn to fucking putty when he was between your legs and gazing up at you from under long lashes.
his warm breath rolls over your slick folds as he pants, his crystalline eyes transfixed and shining on where his digits sink into you, until his head lowers and his tongue is curling against your clit before he’s dragging it back up — complimenting every twist of his wrist with kitten licks like you’re the sweetest thing hes ever fucking tasted. it was rare for you both to get some alone time, he was a busy man afterall being bonten’s number two and you forget just how fucking good he makes you feel — making your toes curl from where they rest over his shoulders so easily.
but just as you let yourself melt back onto the heavy wood behind you, fingers smoothing through the bubblegum roots of sanzu’s hair before you pull — you’re jolted from your blissful state by the sharp ring of his phone in his pants. you hear him click his tongue before he’s spitting out a curse, but he continues to sink his fingers into you as he struggles with the device, swiping at the screen as he swirls tantalising circles into your clit with his thumb.
“what the fuck is it?” he spits and fuck— you swear the sudden boom of his voice makes you even wetter as your walls squeeze tight around his fingers, making his scarred lips twitch into a wild grin as he hums. you can tell he’s barely listening to the caller, not important enough for his attention so you know it’s not mikey, but his attention remains on you despite the way he addresses them. “fuckin’ do something about it then, im busy.”
you’re so fucking wound up, moans muffled behind your lips despite the way sanzu’s so desperately trying to drag them out of you before he’s resting the phone face up on the desk beside you. you’d assume he was done, but you can still hear the faint voice on the other end and the hooded look he gives you is dark before he’s suddenly burying his face into you, drinking up everything you offer to him despite the way his sharp gaze cuts up into you as he grumbles out a warning.
“keep that pretty mouth quiet, angel. those sounds are for my ears only, wouldnt want to have to kill that sorry bastard for hearing what’s mine.”
Katsuki tries to be subtle about how much he likes you. He really, really does. There’s no explanation as to why, it’s just how he is.
When surrounded by reporters, he glares and does his best not to respond. After all, no answer is less satisfactory than a string of insults when his hostilities are still an interesting headline. When someone asks him if it’s true that he has a romantic interest, that’s the only time his eyes widen in surprise. They still don’t get an answer as his PR specialist doesn’t give him time to respond, but given a moment longer the latest headliner would’ve been about his relationship with you— Or at the very least, a blurry paparazzi photo collage of the two of you, and a single photo of his particularly annoyed expression, captioned: “Dynamight reacts to dating claims!”
He doesn’t really talk about you with his friends, but it becomes a running joke that to get his attention they should call your name. They sit together at a restaurant, Katsuki in the seat furthest from the action. No matter the topic of conversation, nothing seems to elicit an exciting response from him (if you don’t count the angry fist-slam on the counter when he commands Denki to stop stealing his fries). But when Kirishima turns to the entry and says, “Hey, it’s Y/N!”, he jolts to attention, swiveling in his chair and looking to the doorway, only to find that no one is there. The boys holler and laugh, calling him loverboy and the like, saying how pleased you would’ve been to see it. Katsuki fumes. He’s glad that he’s known for being angry. It masks how much he wishes that you had actually walked through that door.
He doesn’t quite know what to do with himself when left alone in your presence. He wants to look at you, but when you make eye contact with him, he glares. When you talk to him, he scoffs a nonchalant response. But his body language can’t feign interest: he turns in your direction even when unspoken to, his voice deepens and his fingers drum nervously in his lap when you’re around. Even if he chooses to keep his distance, his thoughts keep you near. This much he can’t deny, and when you ask him on a date one night, he finds that he can’t deny you either.
Things are different when he’s by himself entirely. He thinks about how nice your hair looked or how the dress you wore to dinner suited you. He prepares lunch for tomorrow, two servings: one for himself, and the other he will give to you, claiming they are leftovers. He rereads the texts you’ve sent him and looks for deeper meaning, but doubts there actually is any. It doesn’t stop him from smiling when he receives a goodnight message from you though.
He doesn’t let you know everything. But he does let you know some things, to be extrapolated from there. If he recognizes that you wore lipstick he makes no comment, if he notices the way you sit closely he doesn’t move. He won’t tell you that he thinks red looks stunning on you, or that he likes it when your knees bump his. But he memorizes the shape of your lips as you speak, tracing the curve of your smile to find later in his dreams.
When he finally tells you he loves you, you know he means it. Bakugou Katsuki is nothing if not true to himself.
He may never be an open book for you, aside from his rare outward confessions. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to be read. Flitting fingers on the back of your hand, a palm placed softly on your waist, warm meals, perfected drink orders and flowers on your doorstep without a card, only his name. He walks you home even when it’s inconvenient, takes the last train home to stay later with you, and runs through the rain to give you his spare umbrella, complaining about how wet his socks are only once you’re out of earshot. His rough hands learn to be gentle, and though he doesn’t whisper sweet nothings in your ear, his kisses linger on your hands, your lips, your neck.
His gestures are humble but he makes them feel extravagant. It’s the same when he gets down on one knee in your shared bedroom, presenting a ring that only has one meaning; when he smiles softly as you walk down the aisle, wearing a dress you had talked about but he’d never seen; when he comes home to you every night, spending a few extra minutes in bed when morning comes; when he feels age in his bones but stays youthful with you.
Bakugou Katsuki’s love is of the subtle variety: no bold text or pretty font, looping in and around a perfectly crafted story. But it’s written in the margins, permanent marker bleeding through the pages: There’s nothing I wouldn’t give to be with you.
────────────────────────
A/N: Let’s just call this one a tribute to my 1 year blog anniversary, a reiteration of how I view love, the core of every work I’ve written so far— I will indulge in it over and over again.
kuroo tetsuro doesnt gets crushes on people, its a known fact. every person who has ever fallen for him has had to deal with the inevitable truth that he will never like them in the same way they do.
so imagine his surprise when he catches himself staring at you in class with pure adoration in his eyes. a foreign feeling creeping from his cheeks to his ears when you look back and catch his intense gaze. he feels stupid. he feels pathetic.
he cant help the way he is naturally drawn to you, the way he changes the route he takes to classes just for the chance to see you in the hallways. restless nights spent fantasising about your life together. cute notes slipped into your belongings when you arent looking. its all so new to him.
he just doesn’t understand it, why you of all people? why does he suddenly feel the need to be around you? why cant he stop thinking about you at every passing hour? why does he want you when he knows he cant have you? when he knows your not his, and never will be.
Just some musings on my favourite Sendai Frogs middle blocker ☺️
Warnings: nothing super explicit. Mentions of sending nudes, hair pulling, and oral sex
Minors keep away from the cut and DNI!
Beta readers? Pft
Listens to any and everything but with a purpose 👌🏾. Ask him for a recommendation in any genre and he’ll give you a top 5 tier list. Has playlists arranged by mood, genre, vibe and occasion (he even has one for you that he will literally never tell you about but plays often. He just tells you it’s his favourite mix). Dude is highkey a music snob. Like he’ll listen to a song in any genre but it better be a fucking ✨S tier song✨ or he will Judge. Will never concede the aux cord.
Meanest tutor ever. Will have you crying at the kitchen table asking the same question till you get it right. “If Johnny has 5 apples! 😤” typa tutor. But his notes are amazing and he’ll always lend them without question.
We already know how I feel about clingy Tsukki. But let me reiterate: this man is obsessed with being in your personal space. Like ”I’m gonna go take a shower.” ”….. without me? 😒”
But he also respects your space when you need it. Just don’t be gone too long or he’ll get lonely. He’s highkey touch starved.
An impeccable driver. And unreasonably hot while doing it. I’m talking hand on thigh, arm on headrest when reversing, will do your seatbelt HOT. And you’re his favourite passenger princess. Tsukki refuses to let anyone adjust your seat. If they’re feeling cramped they’re more than welcome to sit in the back, or even better, walk.
A great cook. He lets you be the taste tester when you cook together. If you can’t cook this is the one time he has an amount of patience teaching you. He is, however, a horrendous baker. Tried to make you valentines day chocolates and you had to throw out the tea towels cos they somehow ended up singed. You laughed till you cried he’d have been hurt about it if you weren’t so beautiful
Likewise, his actions speak louder than his words when it comes to affection. Obviously he compliments you and tells you he loves you, but only on special occasions like birthdays, christmases and blowing your back out ten ways till sunday. But mostly he’ll show you how much he cares by treating you like royalty. Carries your bags while calling you weak, says ‘no’ every single time you ask for a favour but does it anyways, takes you for walks to your favourite ice cream shop and pays for both of you while you bitch about a character in your dumb show that he hates (read: binges with you and gets invested in)
A slip it in while you watch a movie kinda dude. At this point the Netflix subscription is for show. There is literally no point in trying to watch something with him because your legs will be over his shoulders way before the halfway mark.
Much like his actions speaking louder than words, he’s willing to try anything once if you suggest it. This has led to a very interesting bedroom life. There were obviously things that you both decided weren’t for you, but Tsukki would do anything to please you even if he’d never confess it. Once you asked for a personalised dildo so you could have his dick whenever you wanted as a joke. It was there by next week.
Loves fucking you in public. You guys are banned from THREE different lingerie stores. You’re 65% sure he only takes you out so much so he can find somewhere to fuck you, since it’s how most of your dates end. The Karasuno gang clocked you two on a club night when Noya and Tanaka took a badly timed trip to the bathroom. They are constantly embarrassed when you two go missing for half an hour and return dishevelled.
Send. Him. Nudes 😩 Especially when he’s busy. He sends them back and holy shit are they art personified. He heard “don’t send dick pics, send cumshot vids with the sound on” and boy did he run with it in the best of ways. Has a password protected folder for all the filth you send each other.
Speaking of nudes, his dick is so pretty. He doesn’t even manscape. It’s just long and slightly curved with just the right amount of hair. Also so much pre-cum. He was actually a little embarassed by it until he saw how much you loved licking him clean.
Pull his hair and listen to him moan. If you pull it hard enough when he’s close he will just cum. He definitely wasn’t embarrassed the first time it happened. Now it’s sort of a game to see if you can use it to get him off when he’s going down on you.
He’s reconciled with the fact that he has a volleyball brain. Seeing you at his games, and feeling your eyes on him as he jumps blocks is like foreplay to him. It’s always a race to see how quickly he can get you naked and under him after a match.
I will undoubtly have more thoughts on this, because I spend an unreasonable amount of time thinking about Tsukishima Kei
You groan as you try to roll away from the human furnace, but unfortunately for you, he’s already taking up more than half of the bed.
“can’t ya turn the fan up higher?”
“This is the fifth time you’ve said that in the past seven minutes and ya know its already on the highest setting.”
Atsumu lifts a hand, rubbing his face glistening with sweat from the summer heat and lets out a muffled groan. “there’s no way we’re going to be able to fall asleep in this heat,” he mutters.
Suddenly, you sit straight up, the bed creaking in protest, an idea formulating in your mind. A wrinkle appears on Atsumu’s brow as he catches the smug smile you flash at him before you jump off the bed that lets out a sound of protest. You run into the moonlit hallway, taking care not to slip on the freshly waxed hardwood floors in your socks, but still slipping and sliding in your haste. Your hands grope in the dark for a few seconds before they triumphantly fish out your housekeys from the cute cat bowl you had made with Atsumu at a pottery class last winter. You come back into the room where Atsumu is now laying on his side, head propped up on his fist, and a question on his lips. You hold your hand, keys dangling from your fingers and eyebrows wiggling obnoxiously.
“How ‘bout some ice-cream?”
Grinning Atsumu bounces up with the same energy you felt, grabbing his wallet before entwining the fingers of his free hand with yours, “You had me at ice-cream, lead the way, princess.”
******
Its 11: 58pm and the only sound breaking the sacred silence of the night is the blasphemous sound of you and Atsumu walking down the apartment steps, laughter and light-hearted jokes spilling into the clear night air, the magical thought of ice-cream invigorating you from your previous sorry states. Before you know it the dim lights of the nearby convenience store are in sight, and tradition kicks back in as you both suddenly break out into a frenzied sprint. Unfortunately for you, Atsumu, being the trained athlete he is, gets to the door before you do but only three seconds before you do, you note pridefully. But those three seconds were all he needed to get in front of the ice-cream freeze open and shove his face inside.
“Hey, no fair, outta the way!” you attempt to shove him in the hopes that some of that blessedly cold air would grace your face with its touch, but Atsumu is having none of it. “First come, first serve, sorry I don’t make the rules, love.” He struggles a little against you as you surprisingly put up a good fight against his tall athletic body.
“Shut up ‘tsumu, have you never heard that you should never bite the hand that feeds you? You might find yourself with an empty stomach on of these days” you snarl, starting to consider tickling him to submission. Your little scuffle is interrupted by a cough, the both of you turning to look at the stern six-foot man behind the counter, your hand still pulling tsumu’s cheek and his pushing your face.
The glare the cashier gave you was enough to school you two into submission, the previous competitiveness gone. You both quickly make your ice-cream selections, taking care to carefully close the freezer whilst still throwing each other dirty looks. Despite his earlier reaction, Atsumu still has the gall to throw the man a smile as he pays for the goods before scurrying out the door with you in tow.
The two of you continue to speed walk all the way to the park near your apartment, before slowing down. Snatching the cheap plastic bag from Atsumu, you crouch down on the soft grass, fingers riffling through the contents of the bag.
“Gosh that cashier was scary! He looked like he’s in a biker gang or somthin’” Atsumu huffs as he takes a seat next to you.
“Yeah? Then why were ya smiling at him if ya were this close to having a heart-attack?” You hold up your two fingers, no space in between.
“It’s called tryin’ to clear the air!”
“Oh really? I thought he was more likely to clobber you because you were takin’ yer sweet time. Normal people just hurry up and pay for their things and leave instead of tryin’ to charm the cashier.” You pull out your favorite childhood ice-cream, eagerly ripping off the paper packaging that glints in the moonlight.
“Well, ya should know I’m not like other people. I’m amazing and hot and smart and—”
“Incredibly stupid… can’t believe I’m in love with you” you say around bites of ice-cream, cheeks plump and full.
“Ah yes, love. A temporary insanity, curable by marriage.” he says dramatically, a lazy smile already making its way onto his face as he watches you close your eyes in bliss and pretend to not have heard his words. “Can’t believe you’ve been eatin’ the same ice-cream flavor since we were kids.”
“This flavor is just so perfect though ‘tsumu~” You open your eyes, filled with excitement at the mention of your favorite ice-cream. “The cold sweetness with a hint of something else that you just can’t put your finger on, ya know, a certain je ne sais quoi!”
Your would go on except that Atsumu can’t help but rub your cheek, calloused fingers ghosting your face, his eyes soft. You feel your face get warm but at the same time you can’t look away from his eyes. A mix of raw honey and hazel, the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen. Illuminated only by the streetlights but sparkling more than anyone else’s.
“why’re ya starin’ at me?”
“you’re pretty…” you cough, coming out of your revery at the grin that splits across his face. “Pretty stupid. It’s almost surprisin’ sometimes”
“Nooo you were smiling and calling me pretty just now!” Atsumu whines and practically throws himself at you, squishing your cheeks together.
"what- i was NOT smiling, i have no clue what you're talking about." You swat his hand away, shoving your ice-cream in your mouth.
"please, you were smiling like the Cheshire cat. be serious."
You’re grasping for straws at this point, trying to find something, anything to divert his attention.
“S-so when are ya gonna put a ring on it then Miya?” you mentally facepalm yourself a millisecond after that sentence leaves your mouth. Atsumu smiles resting his chin on your shoulder, his arms wrapping around your waist. “Oh very soon, love. You know what they say, time waits for no one.”
I swear I need to seek help because I'm extremely horny lately.
I feel like if you'd ask Mr. Compress “What magic tricks can those fingers do?” completely innocently, he’ll throw you over his shoulder and make you lay down on the bed or the closest couch.
The next thing you know is him having his fingers buried deeply inside of your needy pussy, curling them until he has you thrown completely into another dimension. Hearing the sinful squelching noises your pussy is making because it is so wet, you can’t stop moaning at the real magic his fingers can do.
“Would this be enough of a proof for you, sweetheart? But I think we both know the answer to that.” He smiles through his teeth once you cream all over his fingers.
“Fuck…Atsuhiro. This is definitely enough of a proof of what those fingers can do.” You exhale, completely fucked up by your orgasm.
@kelin-is-writing and I were talking about him for a minute yesterday and I was obsessing over his fingers, so...
𑊡˚+₊🍼✦ — bakugou brushes his thumb over your lips whenever he feeds you somethin’ :(
you’ll be out on dates and he’s not usually one for massive displays of affection in public unless someone is getting a little to handsy with you — but katsuki will offer you up a piece of his pastry or a bite of his cake because he already knows you’ll ask at some point. you love this bakery, and everything in it and usually the blonde has to limit you to one goodie per trip or otherwise he would end up buying you the whole store ( he spoils you and won’t deny it ).
“mmh, kats, that was so good, why didn’t you order me one? you know i would have liked it—“ you chirp, biting through the croissant on his plate.
so while you’re chattering away and devouring both yours and bakugou’s sweet treats he just leans over the table and swipes at the flakes of pastry on the corner of your mouth and the chocolate melted over the swell of your bottom lip. “i didn’t order ya one ‘cause i knew you’d eat mine too,” he explains, eyes all soft when he looks at you like you’re the cutest thing he’s ever seen. “b’sides you would’a started moanin’ about how yer tummy hurts or somethin’. i know you.”
the blonde shuffles back into his seat, leaving you dumbfounded and hot in the face as he sucks the remanence of the pastry off of the fingers he’d used to wipe your face.
“what was that for?” you don’t miss the way he watches you lick your lip instinctively, squirming in your seat under his lovesick gaze. “do i look like a baby to you?”
“yer a messy eater, sweetness and you do. my baby.”
you scoff and dab at your face with a napkin to avoid being flustered by your boyfriend again, the one that slings his arm over the back of his chair— leaning back all stupid and sexy with his legs spread too.
“and who’s fault is that? that i’m a messy eater?” you tease, sticking your tongue out at katsuki.
he leans forward once more, right up in your face and gently grasps your tongue— to people passing the cute little Parisian cafe you probably look like one of those gross kissy-kissy couples but you’re happy luring this more playful side of your boyfriend put. “i should quit stuffin’ your mouth with pastries ‘n started usin’ my fingers instead. specially if yer gonna keep brattin’ me like this, gorgeous.” bakugou grins nice and easy, amusement erupting in his dormant red eyes like a volcano waking up from a thousand year slumber. “you gonna behave, yeah?”
once he lets go, you slump back in your chair with a pout, crossing your arms and looking away from the blonde. “yeah yeah, whatever,” but an idea flashes across your mind and you’re quickly directing your signature puppy stare right at him. “i’ll be on my best behaviour if you get me another pastry-!” you sing sweetly.
and bakugou knows he’s not the strongest man, saying no to you is never easy. so he rolls his eyes and stands up, grabbing your plate to head back inside of the cafe and order you two more of those sweet little treats.
“i spoil you way too fuckin’ often.” he says softly, kissing your forehead as he goes.
“that’s true,” you comment back. “but you love me just as much, right?”
The door creaks open, and you'd be complaining about the annoying noise if you weren't so entranced by kuroo's lips on your own, hot and demanding.
The arm around your waist guides you through the doorway while his other arm feels around the door until it's securely shut with a loud click.
You push kuroo against the now closed door aggressively and he smiles against your lips, letting you take the lead. The kiss is warm and wet with your perspiration, so intimate that it makes your stomach burst with butterflies and so hot that it makes your skin burn. The hands that rested on his chest come up to grab the collar of his white button-down shirt, trying to pull him impossibly closer. Your chest is flush against his as you push yourself against him harder, trying to match his height if only for a moment.
His hands go from your waist to the back of your neck, and your sclap tingles pleasantly as he weaves his fingers in your hair. He maneuvers your head against his to ensure his tongue reaches every crevice in your mouth and you almost let out a muffled moan when he bites down on your lower lip.
The fire in your stomach keeps growing as he expertly twists his tongue in all the right ways. His hands descend to your hips, rubbing gently at the sides, and keeping you in place in spite of your incessant squirming. Realizing that his arms are strong enough to keep you in any position he wants to doesn't help the growing hunger.
He continues to skillfully mold his tongue against yours, drawing out all of his favorite noises from your dark burgundy lips right into his mouth. He continues kissing you until your hands come up to his shoulders to physically push him away.
You break apart breathlessly, and you're met with red flushed cheeks and half-lidded hazel eyes that you've grown to love immensely. He smiles at you with lipstick stained lips and your knees feel like jelly.
"Hey," he whispers as you lean forward to place your forehead against his.
"Hey yourself." You whisper back, mirroring his smile.
His arms wrap tighter around your hips and you welcome the physical affection with a soft peck on his lips. He chases your kiss when you pull back and you let out a quiet giggle.
"Actually," you start, "I'm quite hungry. I think we have to stop for a few minutes."
You slip from his hold and you're out of his arms before he can process your words. And while he stands by the door, flushed and flustered, you make your way to the kitchen.
"You.. you can't do that!" He snaps, coming to his senses as he jumps to follow you.
The sight of him with dark marks on his neck and lipstick-stained shirt makes your heart race again and you know you'd give into temptation if you keep looking at him, so you turn to the fridge hastily.
"I can, I just did."
He leans back on the counter as you rummage through the fridge, back turned to him. Looking at your backside right now is a terrible idea, he does it anyways.
"You're cruel."
You turn around with a tub of leftover pasta, a cheeky grin gracing your face. "You like it."
His grin grows to match your own, eyes chasing you as you walk over to the microwave. He watches you set the timer for 10 minutes like a cat watching its prey.
Once you click 'start' and the microwave starts humming, he's on you in the blink of an eye, pushing you back against the counter. He wastes no time in joining your lips again, eagerly drinking in the gasp of surprise you let out. And other noises after that.
You breathlessly pull back for a second, "you have ten minutes tetsurō."
You press open the door, head pounding, and relish in the cool breeze that hits you as you slide it shut again. “Jesus Chri—oh, sorry,” you cut yourself off, embarrassed to see someone standing out on the balcony before you, off to the side and out of view from the door. What you thought was going to be a nice, peaceful fifteen minutes of solitude has morphed into yet another forcible—and probably unpleasant—interaction.
Leaning on the railing facing the cityscape before you, he looks over his shoulder dismissively. “You’re fine. Felt the same way coming out here.” He turns back around and you almost thank him for being so averse to the attitude inside the apartment: loud, drunk, far too inquisitive if not prying.
You want to ask when he came out here, because even after all the introductions Hajime orchestrated, you don’t think you caught this one’s name. And surely you would’ve seen him among the crowd—he’s noticeably tall, got luscious black curls atop his head, and doesn’t seem the type to talk your ear off. You make a mental note to tell your friends about him, even if his name never makes its way to you.
From his place a few feet away, he reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket—corduroy, probably cataloged as ‘saddle brown’ online—and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. He gestures with the box, asking, “Is it okay if I…?”
“Hm?” You turn to face him again. “Oh, yeah. Don’t worry, I won’t be out here too long.”
You’re not sure whether your comment offended him until he gives you that smirk, barely there yet enticing, almost smug with himself. He plucks one from the pack and lifts it to his lips, the metallic flick of his lighter cutting into his muffled motions. You watch carefully as he inhales and exhales, white clouds billowing from his lips and dissipating in the wind.
He takes it between his index and middle finger, leaning his forearms into the railing again before sparing you another glance, longer, more careful this time. “You know a lot of people in there?”
“A few,” you respond, “More, now that a friend introduced me. Definitely not as many as…what’s his name? The blonde one?”
His smirk almost curls into a smile. “Atsumu?” Another puff of smoke.
“Yeah, that one—he’s a little…”
“Little bit much?”
You give him a smile, and he can’t quite tell whether it’s the city lights in the view, or the two drinks he had before coming out here to clear his head, or if it’s just you, but he’s starting to think he’s glad he came to this little gathering, as stupid as it sounded twelve hours ago.
There’s a party inside, you know that much, but as for the reason for the get together, or even the name of the host, you’re not sure. Hajime only provided you with knowing he knows these people, and that it’d give you the chance to meet some now that you’re in Japan. What you didn’t expect was the volume, or the crowd, or the pack-like nature of the people there: they all seem to know each other one way or the other, and you could feel it.
You wouldn’t even say it was overwhelming, the number of people—no, there couldn’t have been more than thirty—but the feeling of being unknown, the other, was. You need to clear your head, get some fresh air. You’re not sure if anyone inside has noticed your absence.
You inch a little closer to the mysterious figure. “Something like that. Are you friends?”
“With Atsumu?” Something in his brows tell you that you’re not even close. “Funny. I know him from high school—played volleyball against him—but that’s as far as that goes.”
Volleyball, you think, That’s the connection? Who would’ve thought. “Ah,” you hum. “So you came to this because…?”
“You meet Iwaizumi yet? He convinced me.” He takes another drag as he gazes over the city. “Somehow.”
Your image of the man lightens at the fact he knows your only friend here, and a soft smile takes your lips. “Hajime did?”
Hajime. So, they’re close, he thinks. “Yeah, we went to the same school, played together, the works.” Could she be…? “He’s a pretty good guy, eh?”
“Yeah…yeah, he is.” You can’t tell what he’s getting at, if anything, and you make another mental note: if you don’t get anything else out of this man, you will be bugging Hajime about him.
“I’m Matsukawa, by the way. Most people just call me Mattsun.” When you give him your name in return, he thinks he could be winning. “Oh?”
You hesitate. “What, something wrong with it?”
“No, don’t worry.” He gives you a once over, and stands fully upright, facing you with one hand still on the railing. You think he’s putting too much faith in the strength of it. Maybe he’s a little more fearless, a little more reckless, than you’re used to. “Hajime’s mentioned you, is all.” He flicks away ash.
“Oh. Why’d you have to make it sound like a bad thing?”
He shrugs. “Didn’t mean to. He speaks highly of you.” You can almost see that smile of his behind plumes of tobacco.
“Really? What’s he say about me?”
“Well…that you’re smart, for one, though I can’t say I can agree with that yet.”
“Yet?”
“Yet.” He flashes a smirk again. “He says you’re funny, too. Again, not too sure about that one, but it seems promising.”
You lend him a blank stare. “Thanks.”
He wants to kick himself for chuckling at that—how could he let his advantage slip so soon? “See, you’re already on the right track.”
“Hm, nice to see you laugh a bit.” And that smile. You tug your jacket tighter around you, not wanting to sacrifice this seemingly meaningless interaction for the sake of the warmth you know is inside. “So, you find out anything else about me from Haji? Or just the basics?”
Ah, so now she’s calling him Haji. There’s a lot he’s kept from me. Hm. “Well, there’s also the fact that you’re very pretty.” He lifts his hand back to his mouth. He’s getting antsy, talking to you, and he’s not used to it.
Your brow furrows, and you consider calling Hajime out here to speak to him yourself. “Haji’s been telling people I’m pretty?” Very very handsome people, you add, internally, but this Matsukawa—Mattsun—doesn’t need that much…yet.
“Nope,” he answers. “Just an observation on my part.”
You cock your head to the side. “…Are you flirting with me?”
He drops his cigarette to the ground and presses it out with his shoe, barely considering whether he’s even allowed to smoke here before bringing his attention back to you. “Would it be more effective if I said yes?”
A laugh escapes you—pity or incredulity, you’re not sure. “Hm, I’m not too sure about that one yet.” You sigh with your lips curving against your will, your cheeks aching with mischief and the thought that maybe it was a good thing to show up. “But I guess it seems promising.”
Mattsun’s smile turns big enough to see teeth this time and he thinks he could be falling in love with you—or maybe he’s just starting to go crazy at the thought of you taking his bit like that, as if everything he has is yours to know and take. It lights a smug fire in your chest that you’ve left him speechless, watching him exhale a sigh through his nose with pink cheeks (from the cold or your quips, who knows?) as he opts to lean on the railing again.
“He’s never mentioned you, you know,” you start, walking right up next to him, turning what was a few feet into mere inches with your elbows on the cold, hard metal.
Your heart races a little faster now, with the whole city right in front of you and your center of gravity leaning a little too close to the ledge for comfort. The two of you could die right now, would the railing give way, but maybe that’s the fun of it for him. Maybe this Mattsun is pretty interesting after all.
“Hajime, you mean?”
“Yeah, it’s not fair, you know things about me, and I know nothing about you.”
“There isn’t much to know.” He shrugs again, splaying his hands out for emphasis.
“Well, you smoke.”
“Yep.”
“You wear a nice corduroy jacket.”
He whips his head in your direction. “You like my jacket?”
You nod earnestly. “Yeah, it looks good on you.”
“Thanks,” he says, biting his tongue to keep from saying more, because he has a feeling that with you, the blush rising to his cheeks will get him into trouble.
“No problem,” you chirp back, heading back to business. “You…used to play volleyball. Used to, right?”
He turns back to facing the city. “Used to.”
“Okay, that’s three things.”
He claps his hands together. “Great, now we’re even.”
“Come on,” you whine. He’s gonna be so much trouble, you think, with the way you’re dying for more. “Can’t we trade?”
“You want to trade information?”
“Yeah, why not? You’re very mysterious, there’s gotta be something to you, no?”
“Is this a free range kinda thing, or are we asking questions?” Mattsun is a bit of a risk taker, a tad impulsive. And maybe a bit too satisfied to have a pretty girl’s attention.
“Hmm…questions. You first, it’s only fair.”
“Alright,” he huffs, struggling to hide the fact that he’s slipping right into your hands. He stares up at the sky for a moment, considering the weight of his question. “How do you know Hajime?”
“Jealous, are we?” And part of you is hoping he is. “We met in college…sophomore year, I think? Neither one of us were from America, so we just kinda clicked. He was doing his sports medicine thing, and at the time I didn’t really know what I was doing yet, and he helped me out a lot. Anyway, we thought we’d never see each other after graduation, but then I got an internship here, so…here we are, I guess. Haven’t been here long, though, only a month or so.”
He doesn’t hesitate or give it a second thought before asking, “How long are you staying?”
You smile. “No follow up questions. I gave you more than you asked, too, so now it’s my turn.”
He waits patiently, contently, wondering what he should ask you next, but you came prepared for this battle.
“What’s your favorite song, and why?”
“That’s two questions.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He wonders what he did to deserve this: a beautiful, snarky girl like you, asking stupid questions about someone you don’t even know and aren’t obligated to.
“I’ve never really had to think about it.”
“Okay, then think about it now.”
He pauses. So demanding, this one, she’s gonna hurt. He ponders it almost too long for your liking. “Eight Miles High, I think, by The Byrds? My dad used to play it all the time.” He pauses again, smiling, and he wonders again about how he even ended up here, talking to you, with you smiling back at him as he explains, “He was born in Japan, but lived in Los Angeles for a while in his twenties, and he liked them a lot—said that nothing could compare to The Byrds playing through open windows cruising down the highway, so he kept a bunch of their CDs and played them for me when I was little. There’s nothing special about that song in particular, I just like the sound, heard it a lot, fits what I picture my dad was like, in a way.”
He’s cute, you think, under all that dark and gloom, he’s cute, and sentimental. “I like that answer,” you add. “Sounds pretty damn special.”
“Might be.” He shrugs and brushes aside the care you gave, listening to him. “Fuck, I need another cigarette,” he hisses, letting his head fall.
“If you do, I’ll go inside,” you say, not sure if it’s the threat you’re meaning it to be as much as it’s a plea for him to stay with you.
“Hm, don’t threaten me with a good time.” Yet he makes no move for his jacket. “I guess that’s the fifth thing I know about you, then.”
“And what would that be?”
“That smoking’s a no-go?”
If you knew better you might wonder why he’d care. “It’s not that,” you reassure, “I mean, I was in California for four years, traveled a bunch, so I don’t mind the smell. I think it’s the idea of addiction that scares me.” Your confession hangs in the open air. “You can add that to the list instead.”
Mattsun takes his time to respond, considers whether he should at all. He observes you from the side: the pout of your near frown, the white of your teeth when you chew at your bottom lip, the crease between your brows when you face him and say it’s his turn again.
And he keeps his eyes on you when he tells you, “I’ve never kissed someone.” And before you can ask him Why? only for him to tell you There’s no follow up questions, and before he can ask himself What the fuck am I saying to this girl I barely know?, he tells you, “I mean, I’ve kissed people, obviously, but not for any reason that’s particularly romantic. Just sex, and…everything adjacent to it.”
You chew on his words for a moment and he thinks he could throw up.
“You can add that to the list now,” he adds, filling the silence.
He feels a lot closer to you now, physically, with your shoulders and hips almost joining together and your noses no more than six inches apart when you face each other. You still want to ask him Why? even though you’re sure he’ll snap the moratorium on follow up questions back on you. Maybe confessions like this tie a rope around two people and tug.
“I don’t think I have either.” Absentmindedly, you lift two fingers to your lips. “It’s funny that you mention it.”
“Why?”
“To the first part, or the second?”
“The first.”
“I don’t know.” You turn to look at him again and he’s already waiting halfway. “I mean, I’ve had a boyfriend before, kind of, but it was never really…”
“Romantic?”
“Yeah,” you sigh, “He was a dick.”
“That sucks.”
“Thanks. How about you?”
“I fucked around a bit in years past. Didn’t really settle or do relationships or anything romantic.”
“I’m sorry.” Yet all you can think about is how you’re sinking deeper into this pit, a boy who doesn’t do relationships.
“It’s alright.”
“Things can always change, you know.” You look back at him, not knowing whether the comment was for his reassurance or your own, and something has changed in the way he looks at you. He isn’t looking just to look anymore, but to listen, as if he can read something from your expression.
“You think so?” he asks, a hopeful lilt in his voice. He doubts whether he really knows himself.
You can't seem to peel your eyes away from his when you only hum a confirmation. Breaths exchanged between you turn white in the cold nighttime air, and you draw closer together for warmth, noses almost touching. Something in your gut tells you this isn’t normal, to be this close, and something in the back of his mind tells him that he’s more than okay with it.
He smiles something different, something of admiration instead of mirth. “This got very personal.”
“It did.” You look at his lips.
“I don’t even know you.”
“No, but you could.”
He smiles back at you, his eyes trailing to your lips in turn. “I could.”
“And it’s helping me make your list, so it’s okay.”
“This is true,” he agrees, “Though I’m a little nervous to ask what you’ve been extrapolating.”
“We can debrief another day, if you’d like.”
He tilts his head, just barely, and each breath into your lungs feels like another pull at his lips to reel him in. “Who said I’m ever going to see you again?”
Your eyes dance between his lips, curled in a way you crave to taste, and his eyes, glazed over with what can only be called desire. “I did, just now.” You give in to his movements closing the marginal gap between you, a hair’s breadth from what you’ve been pining for.
“I know I didn’t say this before, but you can call me Issei,” he murmurs against your lips.
“I thought you said most people call you Mattsun?”
“That I did.”
“Am I not most people, then?” You smirk and you think you’ve caught him.
“Hmm…” he starts, bringing a hand to brush up the column of your neck, grasping your jaw in his hand ever so gently, his thumb pressing to your bottom lip. “Not too sure about that yet.”
He only lasts, mesmerized, a second longer before he presses his lips to yours. He keeps his kisses short, and he keeps them sweet, and you make the third mental note of the night to search whether nicotine can be transferred through kisses because fuck, something about his smile-ridden lips have you hooked.
You loop your arms around his neck while he looms over you and snakes his free hand from your waist up your back, holding your body oh so close to his that when he nips at your bottom lip you swear your knees start to buckle. It’s innocent, the way Mattsun kisses you, like he’s hungry for nothing more than this—the two of you, on someone’s balcony, asking questions that may very well mean nothing by the next year, kisses for cushioning.
He slips his tongue past your lips, gently, teasing, and you think this is what it feels like to really kiss someone. He wonders if dying right now would really be all that bad if it means having your mouth be the last thing he tastes, your face the last thing he touches.
Until you hear the sound of someone’s “Oh” and you both turn to look where it came from. Your fingertips are still grazing the hair at the nape of Mattsun’s neck, his lips now at your jaw for you’ve turned your head to see the door. He can smell your perfume on your neck and he has to fight the urge to kiss you again.
Hajime stands at the door, eyebrows raised with one foot on the balcony and the other still inside. “Am I interrupting something?”
You pull away from Mattsun’s hands with reluctance, and he tries, hard as he might, to wear his calm demeanor again, itching to have the weight of you tugging on him.
“Nope,” you snip, missing Mattsun’s warmth a little more than you’d like to admit. “What’s up?”
“We’re…” His eyes catch Mattsun’s foot tapping away and your hands fiddling with the railing, Mattsun’s messy hair and your glistening lips. “We’re singing and doing cake now, thought you might wanna join.”
“We’ll be there in a second,” Mattsun says. Is there even a ‘we’?
The two of you stand still, anxiously, as Hajime gives a very brief goodbye—scary, even, he’s so unphased—as he walks away, leaving the door ajar for you to follow.
You turn to Mattsun, almost pleading. “You think he’s gonna say anything?”
“I don’t know, actually.” He runs a hand through his hair and lets his arms fall to his sides. “I don’t think he’d be dying to tell anyone. We should probably go in there, though. Probably the good person thing to do for their birthday.”
“Yeah,” you nod, “Probably.”
You toy with his fingers as he shifts much closer to you again, inches away without either one of you thinking about it. You reach up to his head and he bends down for you, waiting patiently for the strands mussed by your doing to be returned to their rightful place.
“Can’t be giving anyone clues just yet, hm?” you hum, one hand in his hair and the other just barely holding his chin.
Mattsun smiles when you punctuate the question with a peck to his cheek. He doesn’t quite hold your hand, and neither of you know if he even should, but he trails behind you back into the apartment regardless, back into the bustle of the crowd. His fingertips thrum with something he’s never felt. He could follow you like this all night if only you’d let him.
“Hey, Issei?” you ask, pulling him to come a little closer. It’s been less than a minute, and your head is already aching again, your eyes tired.
His ears perk up at the name, and his chest presses lightly into your back before he leans down to hear you better. “Yeah?”
You turn your head towards his without taking your eyes off the crowd in the room ahead, navigating through a place still completely unknown to you. You stop at the doorway, still hidden away from the rest of the group. “Is it really someone’s birthday?”
Issei laughs, heartily for the first time this week, and basks in the way you glow in the mellow light of the party, smiling back at him, sheepishly hitting him while defending yourself in a whisper, “What? I don’t know these people—!” He thinks this—whatever it is, having his hand nearly intertwined with yours, your shoulder blades pushing into his chest, Hajime’s subtle smile and nod of respect from across the room—sure is something.
And he thinks it seems awfully promising.
& there she goes! @sheenagoesrawr - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
