sugawara x f!reader, post-timeskip, fluff, slightly suggestive? doesn't mention any topics of it though, schoolplace, canon sugawara job, already married!!, no smut | 603 words
sugawara koushi thought it was a great idea to bring you, his wife, along to his job at the school. you had said that you were good with kids before.
it was, in fact, a great idea.
as the kindergarteners waddled into the classroom dropping their bags at the cubbies, their eyes sparkled and their legs ran right towards you. they squealed in delight as you kneeled down to see them.
“who are you? you're so pretty!”
“are you sugawara-sensei’s wife?”
“can you be my wife?”
“now, now, kids, let's not go taking wives. she is mine, and only mine,” sugawara grinned as a crowd formed around you. his idea of bringing you here was turning out wonderfully.
“kou, i'm sure they won't take me away, but just look at their cute little faces,” you said as you cupped your hands around a girl's cheeks, resulting in the girl giggling and turning red. “i think they've already claimed most of my heart.”
“alright, but don't go stealing one of the children home, i wouldn't like a call from a parent asking why their child is missing,” sugawara laughed as he started taking out the whiteboards for the day.
through the school day, it was clear that you were not just good with kids, but exceptionally talented with working with them. helping the kids out with reading, writing, math, it was like you were a teacher for as long as sugawara was.
the most fun parts was when the kids had a bit of free time. during recess, they all huddled around you, asking questions about sugawara as he took out his own lunch, watching you interact with the students with a grin on his face.
“is it true you gave the seal socks to sugawara-sensei?”
you chuckled at the memory. “yeah, i did. first year anniversary of us being together. i still can't believe he still wears it,” you look at sugawara, who’s grinning back. he’s wearing the seal socks.
“how did you two meet? was it super lovey-dovey like in the movies?”
“nah, i met her in my last year in high school. both of us were smart, and we had to work together one day. then we got along very well,” sugawara said smugly, all the eyes turning from you to him.
“we did not get along well in the first few days, actually,” you laughed. “he had too much volleyball practice. so instead of waiting at the library i would just wait in the gym.”
as the kids dispersed to their own fun activities, a few kids dragged you along to the kitchen playset.
“we’re gonna play family! can you be the mom?” one kid eagerly asked, eyes shining. you chuckled and agreed.
as you were intently cooking dinner for the family of two dogs and children, sugawara comes over.
“you’re so focused on making food for them,” sugawara says.
“well, i am their mom for today,” you turn your head to look at him, smiling.
“i’m sure you would be a great mom. maybe you should be,” he smirks slightly as he watches you sigh.
“not in front of them, kou,” you mumble as you put each plastic steak onto the children’s plates. “you and i can say those things later.”
“alright, alright, fine,” sugawara chuckles as he goes back to his desk to start packing.
as the students wave goodbye to you before leaving the classroom to get picked up, sugawara latches onto you from the back, resting his head on your shoulder.
“i really should take you here every day.”
“i still have my own work, y’know.”
ack i love him he's so cute and his lil seal socks
synopsis: you have a bad habit of texting akaashi keiji when you're drunk.
he has a bad habit of pretending it doesn't mean anything.
genre: mutual pining. angst. smut. romance. situationship?? friends-to-lovers. roommates-to-lovers. emotional intimacy.
wc: 1.5k.
warnings: angst w a happy ending. explicit sexual content/smut. alcohol use. drunk texting. emotional vulnerability. mild anxiety. consensual sexual tension!!!! soft!dom akaashi. voice kink. praise kink.
taglist: @chososbbygrl
notes: it's truly a crime how i haven't written about my main man since beginning to write again. so let's start again here.
happy season finale of love islanddd <3
ohohoh and next fic is a req for kuroo x reader x tsukki so i promise ur getting fed guys tehehe
you had a bad habit of texting akaashi keiji when you were drunk.
he always kept his phone on do not disturb and then responded to you in the morning, poking fun at whatever event you claimed ran until the asscrack of dawn.
but they didn't.
most nights you went out ended with the club closing at 2am and you got in around 2:30.
it didn't really even make sense to text him this late - after all, you lived in an apartment with him, bokuto, and kuroo.
when you'd open the door, it'd be dead quiet.
sure, everyone might be up, but they were in their own space.
existing in the corner of their world that only spawns when the world is still. silent.
the time you only really see on birth and death certificates.
or when you make really bad decisions.
you forgot your keys in the apartment.
the memory flashed as you groaned. that dresser to the right of your bed, where the incense and lighters lay, strewn right next to the phone charger and a water bottle.
and the last percent of your battery was used to text akaashi some dumb shit - something about him being the only sagittarius man you tolerate.
so you knocked.
and knocked.
shit. i really have to pee.
"i know they're all not fucking asleep. c'mon now," you muttered, as the side of your fist collided with the metal door.
silence.
shit.
"kuroo. i swear to god. i'm not letting you in anymore. i don't give a flying fuck what girl you bring home. you could bring rihanna herself and i still wouldn't open this door. akaashi would never do me like th-," he rubbed his eyes as the door slid open.
"oh! thank you, kaashi." you sighed, brushing past him.
"mhm."
"didn't expect you to answer. can't sleep?" you asked, before shutting the bathroom door behind you.
"something like that."
his footsteps padded the kitchen before nearing you again.
"i guess i need to answer the door more."
a laugh escaped you, vision blurring as you tried to focus.
"yeah actually!"
"normally it's kuroo and then i have to beg and plead him to let me in just for him to be like 'oh its fine!'
if it's bokuto he just opens the door. and then i have to shield my eyes cause sometimes he'll forget to put on a shirt or some pants and then it's just fucking awkward for everyone."
a smile spread across his face as he turned away to avoid your gaze.
"god i don't know why i text you."
your fingers fumbled with the phone's power button.
"yes you do." he replied, voice laced with exhaustion.
dangerous.
silence.
how do i even respond to that.
"cause you're a sagittarius."
like you could blame jupiter for whatever feelings suffocated this apartment at 3am.
a breeze fluttered through the kitchen's open window as his hands met the back of your thighs to pull your skirt down. you could see the shift in his jaw as his eyes met yours.
"sorry." he mumbled.
"thought it'd be respectful."
"it's cool.. thank you."
"but if you don't mind me asking, kuroo and bokuto always answer - so why do you text me?"
"why do you want to know so bad?"
"just curious," he responded, leaning against the kitchen counter.
"is it truly that odd to be curious how i'm perceived? or is that only reserved for voice memos after last call?" he expressed, voice soft.
what the fuck was that feeling in your chest. it fluttered. felt warm and gooey like the inside of a hot cookie.
you shifted in your platforms.
the two of you were at eye level.
"stop looking at me like that." you insisted, skirt beginning to feel tight as heat pooled low in your stomach.
"like what?"
"you're thinking things. like you know something i don't."
"i'm not the one sweating like a sinner in church over a simple question," he adjusted his shirt. "you make it hard to focus on anything else."
you couldn't stop tapping your foot, why does it feel like he's undressing you with his eyes and why do you kinda want him to.
soft rustling at the end of the hall shook you out of whatever nasty dream floated between a normal response and the deranged ones.
"keiji?"
"kuroo."
"what's up? you're up late."
"just talking."
kuroo's eyes darted between the two of you.
"you look pretty." he nodded towards you before pouring water into his bottle.
"doesn't she?" akaashi replied.
"thank you, tetsu.."
"mmm so i'm not third-wheeling in my own kitchen. night." he said, before retreating back down the hallway.
"night." the two of you replied at the same time, not breaking eye contact.
"i like talking to you. it's calming. your whole presence just does that and your voice is really nice - but not like, in a weird way. it's very attractive."
his eyebrows raised but somehow the words kept spilling out.
is this spontaneous combustion? it must be.
should i kiss him?
"i love when you leave me voicemails. oh and your arms are really nice. like the one time you carried me to bed after that movie night? had me thinking about your arms around my thighs for days."
shit.
"actually. i'm done. i think i'll shut up now."
"no, keep going."
"say please," you teased.
"please, i did let you in tonight." he chuckled, hands now on his hips.
for the first time tonight, you really took him in. he was definitely wide awake now but sleep still crept in his demeanor. eyes low, blue t-shirt riding up due to his stance, and grey sweats riding low on his waist.
"see, like you even sound pretty when you beg? hello??" you giggled, sitting on top of the counter across from him now.
fuck.
uncomfortable heat spread to your cheeks.
and between your legs.
"i'm starting to think you call me this late on purpose," he snorted now, a slight blush spreading across his cheeks.
was he being serious?
intuition is always right, and while yours was telling you to shut the fuck up and go to bed - you couldn't. the cool tile of the kitchen counter felt better than the warmth of blankets and whatever regret would fester in your heart if you stayed silent.
"god forbid a girl like a vocal man."
"can i show you how vocal i'm willing to get for you?" he snapped, voice low and gravelly.
"duh."
with three steps forward and your hands guiding his, he stood between your thighs as the two of you were face to face.
suddenly it didn't matter that the skirt was higher.
"you're scareddd," you mocked, tilting your head to look at him closer. a soft sigh left his lips as he took his glasses off.
and for a moment everything stopped. you could've swore it seemed like the universe waited for the two of you.
"kindly, be quiet." he whispered, before pressing his lips to yours. it started off slow. soft. shy. his hands cupped your cheek and yours threaded his curls.
the same way waves crashed softly before a storm.
he pulled back cautiously, eyes searching yours before flickering down at how you two were intertwined.
"are you sure you won't have any regrets about this in the morning?"
a flicker of doubt settled in your chest, hesitation.
did he really want you? was he second guessing?
the voicemails and memos. the texts. they haunted you.
akaashi always knew what to say. a quip or something witty.
the most attractive thing a man can do is listen and he did that.
you wondered if his composure ever had a breaking point. so the messages - they got flirtier. nastier. but around everyone else, it's as if nothing ever happened.
deep down, you knew he was being respectful.
waiting for you to sort through your own feelings.
but when it comes down to it, would he actually choose you?
you saw him in a million ways and yearned for him in more.
he wouldn't do this tonight and then ignore you right?
that's not akaashi. it's delusion creeping. anxiety.
"absolutely not."
and then there was absolutely nothing quiet about the two of you. your bracelets scraped against the kitchen faucet as you fumbled for balance. he groaned into your mouth as fingers splayed beyond the underside of your thighs.
vocal indeed.
"needed this.." you panted, as your other hand gripped the back of his shirt.
"mmmm. it's obvious, even the way you lean into my touch," he smiled, peppering kisses along your throat.
any other day, if you caught him staring he'd look away.
he never allowed himself to look for too long - avoiding making you uncomfortable in addition to the boys never letting him live it down.
you arched against his fingertips as a gasp spilled from your lips. he barely noticed you pulling up the hem of his shirt until the sharpness of acrylics met his skin.
"you're always beautiful but especially when you need me like this," the warmth of his breath brushed your ears. "it's evil how addicted i am."
"kaashi!" you whined at the lack of his lips.
"let's be considerate," he chuckled, low and quiet. "can i pick you up?"
"mhm."
his grip tightened as your legs wrapped around his waist.
"i should leave my keys more often," you muttered into his neck.
he closed your bedroom door with his foot.
"don't wake anyone up!"
sakusa x reader fluff, timeskip, comfort i guess,,,,,, small domestic scenario of sakusa coming home from a tiring day of work :-)
wc: 456
_
"i don't deserve you," sakusa sighs, forehead pressed against your chest as you stand in between his legs. your fingers massage at his scalp—an attempt to relax him after a long day of work.
sure his working day isn't the typical 9-5 and some would actually see his job as a professional athlete as a dream, but it's fair to be tired most especially if he's constantly pushing himself to do his best. to this day you're in awe with sakusa and all that he does to achieve success, and you can't help but want to do all that you can in return to reward and reassure him.
"you do," you respond softly, giving him a gently squeeze to your chest. you then push his hair back, like one would their pet, and giggle when he whines. his head is now tilted back, forehead so clearly exposed, and his brows are furrowed. "you deserve all of me and more, kiyoomi."
sakusa's nose scrunches and you giggle again.
"should i run you a bath, pretty?" you offer softly, "i can bathe you if you're tired. wash your hair, your back, all that stuff."
the smile on your face is sweet and sakusa swears his body is melting. you're much too sweet to him, much too gentle and much too loving. it almost pains him that it's so obvious your capacity to love him is so much more than his ever could be. he feels guilty—again, like he doesn't deserve you—but he knows you'll tell him time and time again that he does.
he sighs and pulls away gently. he keeps you close, however, as his hands apply firm pressure on the back of your thighs. this closeness is enough for you to know he's not pulling away and you hum in acknowledgment—maybe more for yourself than for him. still, he's appreciative that you understand.
"why don't we take a shower together and then we can sit in the tub for however long you want?" sakusa suggests softly. he's a bit shy, actually, but you two have done this enough that he knows it's not a silly request. in fact, offering to let you decide how long you two stay in the tub is him giving up control so you'd say yes—he knows you love sitting in the tub.
you laugh—he knew you would—and agree.
"sure!" you beam, cupping his cheeks briefly to give him a peck.
you pull away completely and he lets you, now just watching as you begin preparing for your shared shower and bath. you begin rambling about something he doesn't have the capacity to comprehend and he watches you with a smile.
he's glad you think he deserves all that you do for him.
In which you, as a new divorcée, can't help but crush on your 4-year-old's new PE Coach.
genre: singleparent!reader x coach! Kuroo, fluff, acquaintances-to-lovers
---- part one | next part >>>
You know Kuroo Tetsurou before you officially meet him.
Why? Because he's practically a legend to your current four-year-old who's been talking about him nonstop from the moment you've strapped her into the car on the way back home.
"Apparently he was a--a volleyball champ!" Sakura chimes from the back as you swerve into the right lane in the direction of your tiny flat, "he knows how to serve from faaaar away, and --and when he serves, it's like--kapow! and boom! and whoosh! like that!"
You can't help but laugh because seeing your daughter so excited about volleyball is something you hadn't been expecting, not when you have two left feet and a stamina of a tiny pet rat.
"I'm glad you enjoyed your first week back," you meet her eyes in the rearview mirror with a smile, "that's good isn't it? Better than last year then?"
"Yes! I love Kuroo sensei!"
It seems that this particular teacher has specifically changed Sakura's view on school, and you had made a mental note to thank him.
But all thoughts of thank-yous and praise had flown out of your head the moment you bump into the said PE teacher in the corridor leading up to Sakura's class the next morning.
"Oh I'm so sorry!" You cry out, bending down to help him pick up the stack of papers that are now flying about and scattering at your feet, "here, let me help you--"
"It's Kuroo sensei!" Sakura chirps suddenly, causing your eyes to snap up at him.
Oh. So that's the PE teacher she's been gushing about all week. You're quick to shove the papers into a messy pile before handing them out to him, "I'm really sorry about that," you say sheepishly.
"Nothing to worry about," his deep voice is what catches your attention at first, followed by his height as he straightens up so that you get a clear view of his facce; angular features, honey-golden eyes that blink slowly at you in a way that makes you want to squirm, and messy dark raven locks that looks like he's just rolled out of bed five minutes ago.
Not that you won't mind if he rolled out of your bed, you mind chanted without warning.
You stop it as soon as it surfaces, horror and panic crashing into you at the same time. This man is--what? Probably half your age?
"Kuroo sensei! Do we have class with you later?" Sakura, unknowing of all the tormenting thoughts flickering past your brain, seems all too excited to see her PE teacher.
He chuckles lightly before ruffling her short bangs, "not today, little munchkin," he leans down to see her face, "but I'm pretty certain that we have class tomorrow. How about that?"
"Oh really? Yay!" Sakura claps, beaming up at him like he's just put a new sun in her sky, and Kuroo grins before straightening up once more, gold eyes clashing against your dark maroon.
"I don't think we've met," his voice, it's so deep and gravelly that it makes you want to swoon. You snap out of it the moment you spot his outstretched hand, "I'm Kuroo Tetsurou, the new PE teacher."
"So you're the new teacher that Sakura's been talking about all this time," you send him a shy smile as you shake his hand, realizing that his palm practically dwarfs yours in comparison, "it's nice to meet you. I'm Sakura's mum. How are you enjoying the school?"
"It's been really great actually," his grin widens. He has a beautiful smile, one that will easily make all the ladies of staff fall at his feet, "I'm slowly finding my way around the timetable, but other than that it's been smooth-sailing till now."
You nod, "that's great. I'm glad to hear," and then turn to your daughter, "you know where your class is right?"
"Of course I know mum," Sakura folds her arms across her chest indignantly.
You laugh, ruffling her hair before ushering her onwards, "alright alright. Yes, you're a big now. Then off you go."
You both watch her teeter down the hall, sometimes almost falling off-balance due to her newly-acquired skill of running with the weight of her bag around her shoulders, and fondness explodes across your chest. It's sweet and bitter at the same time, watching your daughter grow day by day. She's always changing, you realize, every day is a new one, maybe her hair gets longer, or you find a new mole along her face. It's like she's growing so fast you barely have time to savour it.
"Cute kid you have there."
You realize you're not alone upon hearing the familiar scratchy alto, and quickly blink back to reality, "ah--thank you. She can be a handful when she wants. Sometimes."
"All kids are," Kuroo tilts his head towards you, a smile on his face, "but sometimes I think they know more than we do."
You can't help but chortle, "definitely. Sakura's practically a know-it-all. She's in the phase of correcting everything that I say."
"Ooh, a bit bossy huh?"
"Tell me about it."
It's then that the bell rings, disrupting any kind of moment you might have with the PE teacher.
"Anyway," you dip your head into a small bow, "thank you for taking care of Sakura."
"It's really no trouble, miss...?"
"It's Y/N. Y/N Kosuke."
"Y/N," his golden orbs locks on yours, swirling with a kind of playfulness, with a warmth that makes your heart stutter, "well, I shall see you around, Ms. Kosuke-san."
And with that, he swerves away with a small wave as you watch his broad back disappear down the hallway, wondering whether it's stupid to imagine whether he'd winked at you or not.
Probably not.
Because why would anyone be interested in a mom right?
-----
The second time you bump into Kuroo Tetsurou is during Sports Day.
You remember back when you were in high school, how you'd always find an excuse to skip out on the activities -- feigning your period or cramps just to get to the nurse's office and away from your classmates -- just so that you could sit and daydream about anything and just about everything. You weren't that popular in your cohort, making it easy for you to disappear whenever you wished. But despite that, you could count on your hands the number of times you'd replaced someone and failed to deliver, causing wave after wave of disappointment as you lost team points as a result.
But now, as a grown up responsible for a child and always accustomed to doing whatever they liked even if that meant bringing you unhappiness or shame, you were obliged to attend such events. Actually enjoyed being there and watching Sakura giving it her all despite her short limbs and her lack of talent in sports. From what you can see, she clearly hasn't taken from her dad's side. Every single flaw in physical movement comes down from your side of the family and at the thought, a smile curves at the edges of your lips as you proceed to clap even harder.
"Is Papa going to be there tomorrow?" asks your daughter the night before as you're tucking her into bed. Her wide eyes are staring up at you like you're the one who can change anything in her world. And yet, just the thought that you can't grant her this one wish makes your heart quake.
You press a soft kiss along her forehead before smoothing over her features, "i'm sorry honey. I'm not sure if he'll be able to come tomorrow."
"Why not?"
"He has work to do. But he promises to be there this weekend," you try to smile, though it's hard when Sakura's face doesn't light up like it usually does at the mention of her father. That's when you prod, "everything okay, Sakura?"
Your daughter merely turns away to hide her face against her pillow. Her mumble comes out soft and practically a whisper. But you can still hear her loud and clear.
"Why doesn't he ever come?"
Your heart drops to your stomach. You move to hug her, in hopes of appeasing the pain she feels. But she's right, you can't do anything about it. About this. It's a selfish act, the act of divorcing the one whom you thought would've been your lifelong partner till the day you die. And yet, you hadn't been strong enough for her sake.
And Sakura's the one victim to all consequences that follow.
Because how can you tell her? That her father has decided to choose someone else -- another woman, instead of staying by his family and taking on his responsibilities as he should? How could you tell her that her own father has abandoned her?
Sakura isn't stupid. She's well aware of everything that happens around her. But such words coming out of her own mouth causes your own eyes to burn with tears.
"Papa loves you. He's just--busy with work. But you know that he loves you so so much right?" you hope that your murmur is enough to appease her.
And it does, for now.
Sakura snuggles closer to your bosom, small fingers gripping your t-shirt as though she doesn't want you to leave, "will you stay with me until I fall asleep?" she murmurs through closed eyelids.
You nod, smooth one hand over her forehead, "yeah. Sleep now, okay? Tomorrow's a big day."
Hence the reason why you're here. Burning under the midday sun. Hat poised over your head, and a piece of stray paper from your office that you're using as a makeshift fan.
Until now, it's proven itself useless in response to the heat.
"Come on, Greens!"
That familiar alto. Raspy and velvet like chocolate. It makes your eyes swipe right to the source only to see none other than the PE coach.
Kuroo Tetsurou is bathed in sweat as he stands by the sidelines, cap over his messy hair and eyes never straying from the row of students balancing potatoes across their tiny spoons. His t-shirt is practically soaked through from the back, showing off his array of muscles twisting and twining like vines around a bark of a tree, and when he crosses his arms over his chest you take note of the swell of his biceps. Taunting, tantalizing.
He's a catch, is what your mind thinks.
You shut it down immediately. What's the point of daydreaming when you're not ready to commit to anything? Not even a fling?
No. You'd much rather stay alone. You know exactly how it feels like to be loved and to lose that love by someone whom you thought had your heart as much as you had his. And you weren't in a rush to fall into that trap once again.
It's finally Sakura's turn and almost subconsciously, you straighten up in the bleachers to get a better look at your daughter all decked in Blue. She's holding out her spoon, tongue sticking out in concentration just as a teacher places a potato right in the middle of it.
Catching your eye from where you sit, she gives you a wide beam, all teeth, and you grin back, doing a silly little wriggle of your fingers. You do the mistake of glancing back towards your right only to meet the PE coach's eyes by mistake.
He grins a Cheshire cat smile, as if he knows that he's been caught but he doesn't care, and your own smile turns shy, ducking your head and soon averting your eyes.
The whistle sounds. The race is on.
"C'mon Sakura!" You yell as loud as you can, watching your daughter waddle in what you hope is a straight line. She's second at this point, trying hard not to lose her potato as her classmate -- a red -- blunders right through without hesitation, "C'mon Sakura! You can do it!"
Your daughter all but wobbles, lips parted in concentration as another boy zooms past. You cup your lips using your hands and shout with all your might, "C'mon Sakura! Faster!"
She finishes in third place, not a bad start for her sports confidence, and comes running straight up to you so that you pick her up with a whoop.
"That's my girl!" You nuzzle into her sweaty hair, "aren't you a big champ?!"
"Did you see mum?! I'm third!" she flaps her arms around, "I'm third! Will I get a medal?!"
"You sure will," you pinch her cheek, "and you did great! I didn't know you were good at balancing potatoes!"
"Next time I'll come in first!"
"Then we'll have to practice at home," you chuckle.
It isn't until the end of the Sports day that Kuroo Tetsurou finds you amidst the horde of parents making their way to the parking lot.
"Hey," he calls out to you as you're opening your trunk. You wave at him, slightly embarrassed as you recall the way he'd locked eyes with you briefly on the field. You strive for nonchalance as you say, "how's it going, coach?"
"Not bad, how about you?" he walks straight up to the car, waving at Sakura from the backseat before turning his attention back on you. You and the multiple bags you're organizing, "what's this?"
"Oh it's for an event," you huff out and pull a bag up into the trunk.
"Here," Kuroo's hand reaches for the next one, "let me help."
"Oh--uhm--" you weren't expecting such chivalry. Heat rises to the back of your neck and you're glad it's a hot summer's day, for you're quite certain your cheeks are flaming, "thank you."
"No problem," he sets the last bag into the trunk, pushing it all the way so that it's secure, "what kind of event is it anyway?"
"It's a corporate event," you explain as he closes the trunk for you, "I'm an event planner."
Something lights up in his golden pupils. He whistles, "haven't heard of that one before," a small smile curves at his lips, "what's the weirdest event you'd had to plan?"
"Oh don't get me started on that," you shudder, "I once had a themed birthday party, but they wanted their party to be set in changing rooms, with the theme 'haunted toilets'."
"Wha--no way," Kuroo bursts out laughing. He has a very nice smile, and a laugh that is contagious. You can't help but grin at him, "is that even legal?"
"Well if they pay you to hire your changing rooms, wouldn't you do it?"
“I suppose so,” you snort, “as long as they pay me.”
He chuckles once more, the sound rumbling through his chest and almost making you swoon. God, he's attractive, even more so when he's all sweaty for some unknown reason.
You hurriedly try to end conversation when you feel your tummy tingle with those familiar butterflies, "well--It was nice meeting you again, Coach."
"Likewise," he tips his head towards you, "and I think you've got yourself a pro athlete back there."
That makes you chortle, "I'm not quite sure, Sakura's been graced with my lack of coordination."
"I wouldn't say so. She came in third, didn't she?"
"You're right," a small smile curves at your lips, "well anyway, thank you. For everything. You're probably exhausted."
"I am, but you're good company," he grins.
Butterflies erupt through your chest and you know without a doubt that this is your cue to leave, and quickly bow to him, "thanks again Coach, see you around."
"See you," a pause, before he adds, "get home safe."
These are simple words, won't that do't matter as much and can be said oh-so-politely. But still, it makes your heart beat so fast you feel it echoing through your chest. You try not to show him your blush as you slide into the driver's seat and watch him raise a hand in mid-wave as you pull out of the parking lot. Sakura waves back with as much excitement and you wonder briefly whether she likes him so much because of the lack of father figure in your household.
Your phone rings then and you scramble for it from the passenger seat, barely able to press down on the green button as you keep your eyes on the road.
"Hello," you place it on loudspeaker and drop it to your lap as you make a turn for the motorway, "hello?"
"Hey, it's me."
Oh.
"Papa!" Sakura's exclamation comes from the back, almost makes you skid off the road as you quickly right yourself with a silent curse. Why in the world is he calling now? It's almost like he knows you were having a good time.
"Aoi," your mumble spills out, "how are you?"
"Good, good." a small pause. "how was sports day?"
"Was great, you missed Sakura in her potato-run," you try not to let the bitterness affect your tone, though it's harder to manage than expected, "how was Cali?"
"Very nice actually, Sakura would've loved it. It's warm, with beaches, and people are always doing stuff. It's a nice city."
Of course it's nice when his new wife owns a mansion and no fees are to be paid for the household. Especially nice when his new wife's family has a multi-national jewelry business and a cash flow that seems neverending.
So you cut to the chase, "why'd you call?"
"Jeez y/n," he laughs, "so brutal. Can't I even ask you how you've been?"
"I've been well, so has Sakura," your patience is running thin, "so tell me, why'd you call? Isn't it like midnight over there?"
"Actually it's still morning," there's amusement in his tone, the kind that makes you want to hurl something at him, "but anyway, I was calling to let you know about the papers."
He doesn't have to mention which papers. You know exactly what he's talking about, "what about them?"
"I've already signed them and sent them your way. You should be receiving them by the end of the week."
"Yes, and?"
There's a bout of hesitation from his side, "and I'd appreciate it if you could sign it as quickly as possible."
Another needle to your gut, "that's fine but...why the rush?"
"Ah well," you don't have to see him to know that he's currently scratching the back of his neck, a nervous tick of his whenever he's unsure or nervous. You hate that you know that about him, "we're--we might be getting married in a few months."
You're so shocked you almost barrel straight into the vehicle in front of you.
notes: idk why but smoking is hot and vaping is not. i don't make the rules. <3 also; it's been a hot minute since i wrote a make out scene, so i apologize if it's not my best work. [pre-timeskip?]
warnings: mature langauge, steamy but not smut,
[if you want to be tagged in my future haikyuu x reader works, let me know and I’ll tag you!]
.⋅ ۵♡۵ ⋅.
Keishin had tried to stop smoking. He really did. He chewed the damn gum. Worn the stupid patches. He tried the mist and the lozenges. But they all sucked ass. He couldn't help it. He knew it was bad for him. And he knew his girlfriend hated it. However, he just couldn't.. stop.
Sure, he didn't smoke as much as he used to. So in a sense it kind of worked.
But every once in a while, he'd pull out a cigarette. Whether that be after a hard day. Or during a break at work. Or if he was stressed. Or if he just wanted to treat himself. Whatever the reason.
Today just so happened to be one of those days.
Keishin walked into his shared apartment with his girlfriend. Kicking his boots off and shutting the door behind him. He made his way over to the living area, where Y/n was curled up reading a book. It happened on instinct. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a carton of cigarettes as he plopped down on the couch next to her.
He stuck one into his mouth but before he even had the chance to light it, Y/n reached up and pulled it out.
Ukai arched a silent eyebrow down at her. She didn't even look away from her book as she flicked the unlit cigarette onto the coffee table.
He shook his head to himself and grabbed another cigarette from the carton, sticking that one in between his lips as well.
Y/n reached over and took it out of his mouth again. Flicking it onto the coffee table.
Keishin huffed in both amusement and mild irritation. "Okay that's the least fun game ever." He says as he stares down at her.
"Not in the apartment." Y/n hums, turning the page of her book.
"It's raining." He mutters.
"Bring an umbrella."
Ukai's eye twitched and he swore if she wasn't the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on, he'd tempt her wrath. Instead he just grumbled to himself and got back up, walking over to the patio door.
He stood half in, half out, to keep himself as warm and dry as possible. His eyes roamed over the city, grey and sullen in the storm. Keishin clicked his tongue in annoyance. He hated this kind of weather.
"I thought I told you not to smoke in the apartment." Y/n grumbles, glaring at him over the top of her book.
Ukai snorts and glanced at her from over his shoulder. "I'm not. I'm smoking on the patio."
"Your ass is inside the house-"
"I'm blowing the smoke outside-"
"It's wafting back in!"
"It is not!"
They held eye contact. Neither of them budging.
Keishin let's out a heavy sigh. "Fine." He steps outside and closes the glass door behind him.
Y/n smiles at her victory.
A few moments later, the door slides back open and she holds an umbrella over his head. It didn't do much, thanks to the wind— which was blowing it right back at them. But it was the thought that counts. "You're getting soaked."
"Yeah, well, someone told me not to smoke inside." He mutters.
Y/n rests her chin against his arm. "Bad day?"
"Just.. annoyin'." Ukai grumbles, sliding an arm around her waist. "And I hate the rain."
"I think it's pretty." Y/n hums.
"It's cold and wet."
"Like Edward Cullen."
Keishin barked out a laugh in surprise. He shook his head to himself. Leave it to her to lift his mood with a single sentence. Classic Y/n. "You're such a fucking dork."
Y/n cracked a proud grin. "You love it."
"Got me there." He murmurs, taking another drag of his cigarette. He turns his head away from her when he exales. Y/n's heart warms at the sight, knowing he did it for her. "But that's because I love you." He continues. "Every fault and flaw. Every imperfection. I adore everything about you, Y/n. You are without a doubt the love of my life. And I will never stop loving you."
Y/n stared up at him like he pinned all the stars in place, just for her. With all the love and adoration in the world. Eyes shiny with unshed tears. "I love you, too."
Keishin immediately flicked his cigarette off the balcony. His hands moved to cup her face. The pad of his thumb stroked over the smooth skin of her cheek. Y/n dropped the umbrella, her hands moving to thread her fingers in his hair as their lips met. Like two puzzles pieces clicking together. Her skin erupted in tingles. She has never felt more alive. His tongue traced her bottom lip as she parted them for him. Her fingers tightening in his hair and tugging deliciously. Ukai couldn't help but groan against her. It was the hottest sound she had ever heard.
Unfortunately, humans need air. So it was only a matter of time before they had to pull back. Though they didn't pull back far.
"Fuck," he breathes out, forehead pressed to hers as they panted heavily. Chests heaving. Clothes getting soaked by the rain. Hair sticking to their skin. His muscles taught beneath her fingertips.
Y/n bit her lip and his heart lurched at the sight. His calloused palms slipped beneath her thighs and he hoisted her up. Pressing her back into the glass patio door. Her legs went around his waist and their lips met again. Hungry. Hot. Lustful.
Keishin trailed his mouth down her jawline to her neck. Her moans filled the air, just as lightning cracked across the sky. His teeth grazed over her skin. A shiver snaked up her spine, goosebumps rose over every inch of her body. Which felt aflame. Her head tilted back against the glass, lips swollen from his kiss, eyes glazed over. You could cut the sexual tension with a knife.
"Fuck me, Keishin." She mewls out.
Ukai swore his eyes rolled back at the comment. His hands squeezing around the meat of her thighs.
“Rin,” you whine, perching your chin on his stomach, eyeing him despite the phone that blocks your view. He’s aimlessly scrolling, just like he always does before bed, and you’re keen on stopping him. Your stomach grumbles and you call his name again. “Rintarouu.”
Without looking, he plops a hand onto your head and tells you, “Sorry, it’s after business hours.”
“Rin,” you’re not above groveling as your voice dips into a whine again, “can we go get food?”
“It’s almost midnight.”
“So? That McDonald’s down the street is open. I already checked.”
Rintarou’s hand moves to start massaging your scalp, though he still refuses to look at you.
“And, when have you ever turned down late-night fries?”
His phone tilts to the right and his pretty face comes into view, faux annoyance crossing his features. “But I’m sleepy, and it’s cold out.”
Making a show of batting your lashes at him, you jut out your bottom lip. “Please, babe. It’ll be my treat. You don’t even have to order if you don’t want to.” You shuffle up his chest to invade more of his space. “I’ll do anything.”
“Anything, huh?” He quirks a brow, putting his phone aside to pull you towards his chest. “I like the sound of that.”
“Rin,” you redirect, “the food. That’s priority number one.”
His lithe fingers curl around the back of your neck, guiding you forward until your lips meet. He pulls away after a few, sweet seconds, but not before nipping at your bottom lip. “Alright, fine. We’ll go.”
He pinches the plush of your warming cheek and grins. “But only because you beg so pretty.”
Rolling your eyes and pushing against his chest, you move to stand, pulling on his hand to force him to make good on his promise.
When you reach the front door, clad in his EJP hoodie that’s a size or two too big, Rintarou tugs the hood up onto your head and pulls on the strings, making it scrunch around your face. He ties them before bundling you up in his coat next.
Affection creeps into the corners of Rintarou’s gray eyes as he inspects your form. “C’mon stinky, let’s go. My baby’s gotta eat.”
Five minutes later, you’re standing in the lobby of McDonald’s, cheeks rosy from the cold and Rintarou’s fingers entangled with yours as he earnestly inspects the menu. When you’re up, he tugs you along towards the counter, and speaks before you even have the chance to open your mouth, ordering your usual and then his, making a point to slip his card into the machine.
“Hey,” you hiss once the order is placed, squeezing his hand in yours. “I said I’d pay.”
He stoops a bit to press a kiss to the crown of your head, right atop your hood. “Don’t you worry yer pretty lil’ head about it, okay? I wanted to.”
“But-”
A click of his tongue stops you in your tracks as he slings his arm around your shoulders. “Nuh uh. No buts.”
You sigh at his insistence, but nevertheless you tell him, “Thank you, Rin.”
Pleased, he hums, “Mhm.”
The food comes out moments later, and with his arm still resting on your shoulders, he guides you home. And as a winter chill nips at the tip of your nose, you snuggle closer to Rintarou’s side, excited to share a late-night snack with him.
Tags: slow burn (?), internet friends to lovers, reader is a corporate slave with social anxiety, Kenma is a bit sassy and bad with feelings, lots of game references (Minecraft, DBD, Marvel Rivals, etc.), vtuber stereotypes, modern au
Words: 2.7k
Every 7pm after work, you boot up your old laptop and log onto Discord, where you begin a voice call in the private server only the two of you share. Kenma seems to have a natural sense for what you want to play just by hearing your tone when you greet him.
On your good nights, he allows you to practice duoing in the FPS games he’s known for playing. He takes on the role of support without a single complaint while you play DPS, regardless of how badly you feed. If anyone on the enemy team calls out your poor performance, Kenma makes it a point to repeatedly kill them in the most triggering ways.
On the nights you come on exhausted from a rough day at work, Kenma wordlessly boots up Stardew Valley or Minecraft, allowing the two of you to relax to the soundtrack in a comfortable silence.
Something about his quiet presence always eases your mind, and more often than not, you find yourself rambling about the things on your mind while the two of you play. The annoying habits of your coworkers, your biggest fears, the new dressing you tried on your salad at lunch–you end up eventually spilling everything to him while he quietly listens, occasionally making a soft hum or comment that lets you know he’s still there.
In the beginning, you always worried that you were talking too much and boring this famous internet celebrity with the inconsequential details of your boring life. The moment you realized you were ranting, you’d suddenly cut yourself off with an embarrassed apology.
But that’s when Kenma would surprise you the most–rather than allowing the call to fall into the silence he seemed so comfortable with, he would ask a question so specific, and often related to a past bit of information you forgot you even told him, that it becomes clear he was listening to every word from the beginning.
It was one of the things that made you realize you liked him more than you should.
Kenma’s calm disposition had you confiding in him about thoughts you hadn’t even told your best friends, and he never made you feel judged or insignificant for them. Although he almost never started conversations, he always answered any questions you asked with a level of openness that surprised you, like he trusted you just as much as you trusted him.
Even if–per the extensive searches you did on Twitter, Reddit, and even 4chan–you were 97% sure Kenma was single, you doubted he was interested in dating anyone, let alone dating someone like you who seemed to live in a completely different reality from him.
As your feelings developed, you spent more time than you’d like to admit imagining what type of partner would suit Kenma.
Of course, they would have to be someone with extensive video game knowledge who could match his own. Probably a professional gamer or maybe someone who worked in the industry. The long-haired gamer girls with high-pitched voices and hyper-pink bedrooms who frequently appear in your feed came to mind. All of them had dedicated fan bases full of men and women alike praising their good looks and fun personalities. Many were more than just pretty faces but also great gamers–certainly much better than you in nearly every metric.
But somehow you struggled to picture Kenma–who spoke in soft low tones and wore the same black hoodie nearly every stream–dating any of them.
You had considered some VTubers as well – you knew Kenma was mutuals with several big names and occasionally retweeted their merch drops. But that theory died after one particular conversation you had with Kenma over a casual Minecraft session. Feeling particularly insecure, you asked him about his thoughts on a trending busty bunny VTuber all your male coworkers had been chattering about over lunch, to which he responded with a deadpan, “she’s probably just another middle-aged man catfishing simps like most of them are.”
The only remaining option you could see was some mystery person he knew in real life–perhaps a childhood friend or another streamer who mutually agreed to keep the relationship private.
In one of the rare times Kenma spoke to you about the people he knows in real life, he mentioned an “annoying” childhood friend who is always coming over to his house uninvited and an old rival from high school who now plays professional volleyball in Brazil. While you questioned the likeliness of such a long distance relationship between a professional athlete and a famous streamer, the fondness with which Kenma spoke of him made your chest feel hot with envy. For your own sake, you stopped contemplating Kenma’s romantic life after that and resigned yourself to just savoring the few hours of his time you get every night.
The first shift in your friendship began in late April.
As a result of one of your coworkers falling sick with the flu, your supervisor assigned you to a cross-country business trip at the last minute. The abrupt shift in responsibilities from you background role in information management to direct client contact overwhelmed you and your usual routine with your internet crush was the last thing on your mind as you raced to pack an overnight suitcase and research clients you had never dealt with before.
For the first time since you began talking to Kenma three months ago, you missed a gaming session without so much as a message.
The trip ended up being busier than you had expected even with the support of your coworker who patiently led you through some of the more complicated business etiquette.
By the time you reached your hotel room late that first night, you were exhausted. Still, you had attempted to install the Discord app on your phone to at least give Kenma an apology for your absence. Discord was the only way contact information the two of you had of each other and up until now you had even preferred it that way, You were very intentional in keeping your Twitter where you retweet rather spicy anime fanart and K-pop idol abs top secret from him–not that his verified account with 300k followers would ever follow you back in the first place.
However, the spotty hotel WiFi proved incompatible with Discord’s large file size, and you gave up after half an hour, stuck at 3% downloaded. As you closed your heavy eyelids for the night, you mentally assured yourself that Kenma would understand your sudden absence–he is incredibly busy most of the day with his own business and recently complained about an upcoming collaboration with a famous clothing brand that has been demanding a large chunk of his time. He might be so busy himself that he doesn’t even notice you’re gone.
With that thought in mind, you drift out of consciousness to get a few hours of rest before your morning meetings.
Three days later–two days longer than planned due to a misplaced thumbdrive and storm weather delaying flights–you find yourself finally on the familiar last train back to your apartment.
You twist your ankle restlessly in your work shoes, heels aching from being on your feet for the better part of the week. You utilize the half hour of freetime to finally check your socials. Several unopened emails from online shop subscriptions sat at the top of your personal email inbox, a few life updates from your friends in your texts, and an upcoming world tour from your favorite idols on Twitter. You make a mental note to respond to a group chat about everyone’s availability for the next “charcuterie board night” tomorrow morning.
The last app you check is Instagram, expecting the usual posts from your college friends on vacations abroad or getting engaged that usually fill you with a sense of envy you don’t like to dwell on. You’re slightly surprised to see the note of a follow request and subsequent new message request in your DMs. You expect the usual influencer scam or sugar daddy bot expressing “interest in your page”. Instead, you see a very brief set of messages from a profile with no picture.
19:42 @ kodzu_ken2: hey this is kenma from discord
Your heart flutters despite yourself as you keep reading.
19:43 @ kodzu_ken2: u havent been online in a while…r u ok?
20:01 @ kodzu_ken2: we dont have to play ofc, we can just talk if ur tired
20:06 @ kodzu_ken2: or if u dnt wanna talk we can just b quiet in call
Kodzuken does not have an official Instagram–you know that for a fact because it was one of the first places you tried to follow him when a clip of his streams first came across your feed. And even if he did, you never shared your own Instagram handle with him so there was no way for him to follow you as your Discord name was completely different.
You tap on the default grey profile picture to his page and it is empty as expected. His bio and name are both left blank with 0 posts, 0 followers, and 0 following–evidence of a brand new profile.
In any other circumstance you would think it was a scam–perhaps one of the thousands of unofficial “kodzuken” pages on Instagram posting fanart and meme edits of the man. But the way of typing–from the shorthand to the word choice are so clearly the Kenma you’ve spent the past 3 months talking to. Moreover, your absence from your regular game sessions is something only Kenma would know about–not even your closest friends know that you’ve secretly been hanging out with a famous steamer.
You’re typing back a reply before you realize it.
22:46 @ yn_tofu: Hi Ken!! Sorry I didn’t message you sooner, I got forced into a business trip last minute at work 😵💫 I just got back to Tokyo a few hours ago
You nearly drop your phone when the message status immediately changes to “Read.”
@ kodzu_ken2 is typing…
22:47 @ kodzu_ken2: its ok
You chuckle quietly at how Kenma his brief response is. An elderly man seated across from you shoots you an odd look before going back to his novel.
22:47 @ kodzu_ken2: do u wanna play tonight?
Startled, you glance up at the information panel above the train door. Five more stops until your station–then the trek to your apartment with a suitcase–even if you speed walk it’ll take at least another half hour until you’re seated in front of your computer. Your sessions with Kenma are usually well over by then–you finishing your night routine to prepare for bed then work the next day and Kenma starting his regular nighttime streaming session. Your chest clenches in preemptive disappointment.
22:49 @ yn_tofu: I would love to but I won’t be home for another 30 min 😭
22:49 @ kodzu_ken2: thats ok. ill wait for u
You barely muffle a frustrated screech at how your heart skips a beat over the last sentence. The old man pointedly shoots you a glare before standing as the train comes to a stop. He shuffles off and the train doors shutter closed behind him as you clumsily type your reply.
22:50 @ yn_tofu: Are you sure??? Don’t you start streaming around that time? I don’t wanna make you late or anything… ;;
22:51 @ kodzu_ken2: my stream is cancelled today
Cancelled? You feel your brows knit in concern as the train jolts to a start. It is rare that Kodzuken cancels a stream–in fact you can’t recall a single instance since you’ve known him. He generally plans his schedules several weeks in advance, posting the upcoming month’s schedule on the last Friday of the month without fail. When he takes vacations–like the time he told you he was going to Brazil to see his friend’s volleyball tournament, your brain mercilessly reminds you–he still streams for at least an hour from his temporary lodging.
22:51 @ yn_tofu: Oh no, did something happen? :(
22:52 @ yn_tofu: I thought this week you’re playing that new Marvel Rivals game everyone requested…
As the train rolls to another stop you absently realize he’s taking a little longer to reply now. That’s fine of course–you’re just one of his many fans, maybe a casual Discord friend at best. He’s under no obligation to reply right away.
22:56 @ kodzu_ken2: no, just dnt feel like it today. ill make up for it tomorrow
22:57 @ yn_tofu: Oh yeah? How do you plan to do that?
22:57 @ yn_tofu: Are you gonna finally do that Nagi from Blue Lock cosplay all your fans have been begging for? :p
22:57 @ kodzu_ken2: ew no way in hell
22:58 @ kodzu_ken2: ill just spam that venom twerking emote in lobby. pretty sure thts the only reason ppl wanted me to stream tht game anyway 😐
You laugh out loud at both Kenma’s rare use of emoji and the mental image of him, blank-faced, spamming the infamous twerking emote in a stream while his chat goes crazy.
22:58 @ yn_tofu: Idk kinda sus that was your first thought, Ken 🤨
22:58 @ yn_tofu: Its okay to admit you like Venom’s ass, this is a safe space 🫶
22:59 @ kodzu_ken2: i just gagged
22:59 @ kodzu_ken2: im not like u, i dont buy dlc just to stare at charas asses all game
23:00 @ yn_tofu: Omg I told you I did NOT buy Pyramid Head for his ass!! He is actually a really good killer…
23:00 @ kodzu_ken2: idk kinda sus that he was your first thought 🤨
23:00 @ yn_tofu: I hope you remember this convo when I’m kicking your ass in Smash in 20 min >:(
“Now arriving at Asakusabashi Station. The doors on the right side will open.”
The call of your station on the speakers jolts you out of your conversation and you scramble to gather your bags as the train doors open.
Even rolling a stuffed suitcase and wearing heels you reach your apartment in record time, eager to hear Kenma’s voice for the first time in three days. Stripping off the top layers of your business suit, you don’t bother unpacking anything and just leave your bags, blazer, and shoes in a pile at the front door before taking the three steps to get to the desk next to your bed.
You tap your bare foot impatiently while the fans of your ancient laptop loudly whirl to life. For once Discord seems not to require an update to open and you click the call button next to Kenma’s name without hesitation.
He picks up in the first ring.
“Hi,” you greet into your headset. You aren’t sure if it's from the excitement of talking to Kenma or the three flights of stairs you just hiked up but your voice sounds embarrassingly breathy to your own ears.
“Hey,” he replies as coolly as usual. The familiar sounds of buttons click faintly in his background. Your chest feels warm and a tension you didn’t know you had leaves your shoulders as you relax into your swivel chair.
“On my trip I saw some really cool architecture–Kyushu kinda looks like how I imagine Germany–anyway, I was thinking we can make a little cathedral for that empty space in our minecraft world we were talking about last week–”
“We can do that later.”
You bite your tongue, caught off guard by the abrupt dismissal. Wasn’t he the one who asked you to play with him tonight? Did you misunderstand something?
“Is your Switch charged?” He asks.
Said device sits conveniently plugged in at the corner of your desk when you glance over.
“Uh, yeah.”
“Hurry up and log on then. I heard someone is planning to ‘kick my ass in Smash’ tonight and there’s a new Robin combo I’ve been wanting to test out,” Kenma drawls.
You can practically feel the smirk in his voice and you loudly groan as you reach for your Switch and mentally prepare for the inevitable slaughter.
a/n: Thank you for reading!! This is the first thing I've written in like a year ?? so ik its prob not great. :,,) When I start writing I usually just start with one scene and see where it goes then think of what character would fit the writing best but it almost always ends up being Kenma LOL. I fear he is truly my default.
summary — wakatoshi works out at home. he looks hot doing it.
pairing — wakatoshi ushijima x reader
warnings — nsfw content. minors dni. smut, blowjob, cum swallowing, pet name ‘my love’
word count — 1.3k
author’s note — please listen to this audio of wakatoshi (and kuroo) breathing heavily for the most effective experience
It’s not your fault your boyfriend is totally irresistible. He’s tempting you on purpose– you’re sure of it.
You’re trying so, so hard to focus on the reality show playing on the TV, but Waktoshi is being terribly obscene. A few feet away, he’s splayed out on a yoga mat, lifting dumbbells over his head.
It’s unintentional, the way he gasps and heaves and, ever so often, groans. It’s unintentional, yet it leaves you squeezing your thighs together and biting down on your tongue because your mind is starting to wander.
If you were a better person, you’d go to any other room in the house and let him work out in peace. But you stay seated, let your eyes creep over to the titan of a man in your living room.
He’s a powerhouse in every aspect. You’d think that maybe you’d be used to it after having him in your life for so long, but your eyes widen and drool pools in your mouth at the sight of him.
Thick, hard thighs. Veined arm muscles, straining. Carved pectorals and abdomen, clenching with every movement. Corded muscle over every inch of his body–a display of pure, unwavering strength. The manifestation of years of work he’s put into the sport he plays for a living now. Wakatoshi’s tan skin gleams with droplets of sweat, too, face flushed down to his chest.
It’s terribly, horribly teasing. It’s precisely what he looks like when he’s above you, rutting his powerful hips into yours relentlessly, face morphed into a mixture of concentration and bliss. It’s what he sounds like when he pounds away at you, brings you to tears from pure bliss.
You want him. You need him. Your mouth is too empty, you decide. So you stand, shuffling over to him with an edge of guilt.
“Can you stop?” you say, standing by his mat.
He pauses, thick eyebrows furrowing. Concern quickly fills his sharp features.
“What have I done, my love?”
“You’re hot. It’s distracting me,” you tell him, crossing your chest.
His shoulders sag when it hits him he hasn’t actually done anything wrong and he chuckles, a deep rumble in his broad chest. “I apologise. Can you forgive me?”
“I will if you let me suck your dick,” you say, already sinking to your knees between his robust thighs. There’s mischief dancing behind the batting of your eyelashes, enticing your sweet boyfriend.
Wakatoshi likes to think he’s focused– it’s what he’s been told all his life, by coaches and teachers alike. His concentration never wavers, his determination ever so stable. Around you, though? He becomes entirely unrelenting.
It’s why he doesn’t stop you as you paw at his jersey shorts, smoothing a hand up his thigh, along his crotch, up to the waistband. It’s why he nods when you peer up at him for permission to pull them down his legs, no matter how simple it would be for him to ask you politely to wait until he finishes the few reps he has left.
His boxers come down and his cock, half-hard, springs upwards in its entirety. Your fingertips barely touch when they wrap around the tanned flesh which jumps when you start stroking up and down gently.
Drool pools in your mouth, your lidded eyes dropping to the sight of your boyfriend’s perfect dick. With your bottom lip caught between your teeth, you pump up and down his veiny length until he’s rock hard and blushing and pearly rivulets of pre dribble from the slit of his tip.
That’s when you start to drag your tongue along him, from his base all the way to his head, watching attentively as his head falls back and he showcases his glistening Adam’s apple. He’s always so sensitive, falling apart at your slightest touch.
Your thumb teases his slit, smearing pre over his tip as it leaks while your tongue traces the veins that adorn his cock. And then, with a lustful hunger burning deep in your abdomen, your lips wrap around him and swallow.
You hardly give yourself a second to adjust as you take half of him without hesitation, tears welling and throat clenching as you adjust to the girthy intrusion. Wakatoshi hisses as his giant hand flies to your scalp, stopping you before you can push yourself any further.
“Easy, my love,” he says in a strained whisper.
It’s hard to take his advice when you peer up and catch the tensing of his hard muscles, the parting of his lips, and the affection that glimmers in his olive eyes. It urges you on, really.
You pull back with webs of spit connecting your lips to his cock, stomach fluttering as your boyfriend brings his hand to your cheek and strokes it with his thumb. A second later and you’re dipping your head back down to envelop your mouth around him, choosing to bob your head this time.
“Oh, f-” Wakatoshi cuts himself off with a groan, your throat so warm and tight around him that he shivers. He sighs when your free hand moves to grasp at one of his heavy balls, squeezing lightly but it’s just enough to make his cock throb in your mouth.
As you bob, you take him further and further until your nose is pressed to his pelvis and the dark wiry hairs of his happy trail tickle your skin. He squeezes his eyes shut from the jolts of pleasure that travel deep into his core, his brain turning to fog from the bliss of your slippery mouth. His flesh becomes seared, the blush on his cheeks seeping down to his chest.
Your throat clicks and splutters around him–he’s so big, not meant to be taken like this, and yet you do. With wet eyes and a numb mind, you keep him shoved down your mouth as your fingers take turns fondling one of his balls at a time.
Wakatoshi thinks he’s close to passing out. He can hardly remind himself to stave off his orgasm, too busy as he’s rapt by the burning pleasure of your tongue working his cock.
You pull away, heaving for air, but it’s only to mouth at his balls and suckle at them until they’re covered in your slobber. You trail your tongue along the underside of his cock next, watching him gulp– watching him slowly fall apart.
When you swirl your tongue and suck lightly at his tip, Wakatoshi moans. His abdomen tightens, his fingers scratching at your scalp as they tangle into your roots. He’s losing all semblance of composure. You can tell, from the way his thighs tense and ragged breaths fall from his lips.
“I’m- close,” he groans, low, through clenched teeth.
You’re bobbing your head again with determination, the lewd sounds every time you lower your mouth only bringing Wakatoshi to his edge more quickly. With your hand pumping up and down simultaneously, he doesn’t stand a chance.
His cock twitches in your mouth, and with a deep, rumbling groan that shakes his entire body, he releases. His warm load spills down your throat, his muscles bulging as pleasure wracks his huge body. A Roman god succumbing.
As you pull off of him to replenish your lungs, Wakatoshi’s mind is airy. To him, one thing becomes clear, however.
He lunges forward, scooping you up with ease despite having orgasmed just a moment ago.
“Wakatoshi!” you squeal as he tosses you upon the couch. He kisses you, messy, licking into your mouth like he’s trying to taste himself on your tongue. It makes your head spin.
“I’d like to make sure you’ll forgive me,” he says, still breathless and blushing. His hands wander up your t-shirt, fingertips brushing at your skin making you shiver. “Will you let me return the favour, please?”
