♡ SYNOPSIS: tonight's date night! if only you two could make it out the front door…
♡ WARNINGS/TAGS: domestic!husband!kiyoomi, very suggestive but nothing explicit – y/n and oomi can’t keep their grubby little hands off each other, mentions of sex, vibes of falling deeper in love with your spouse everyday, reader wears a dress and heels, swearing i think, honestly just brainrot of kiyoomi in a suit so it's not super edited, 1.2k words!
“Are you ready?” KIYOOMI calls from your living room.
When you first got married, the two of you set hard rules. Boundaries and preferences and non-negotiables to make you both better life-partners.
And so, Kiyoomi cooks because you hate cooking. In return, you do the dishes. You’d rather lose a finger than perform the menial chore of folding laundry every week, but Kiyoomi loves the routine of it all. Grocery shopping is a two-person task, and Kiyoomi pushes the cart while you tick through the list.
“Almost!” You call back, quickly spritzing a delicate perfume on your pulse points and grabbing your heels from the closet. “Twenty seconds!”
And, on a more romantic note, you two promised date nights every week. A relatively flexible but ultimately non-negotiable requirement to a happy marriage.
“You don’t have to rush,” Kiyoomi’s voice becomes louder as you exit your shared bedroom, stumbling a bit as you attempt to pull on your heels while walking, “Our reservations aren’t for another forty-five minutes–”
“No, no!” You give up on the heels after a few moments of struggle, grabbing them by the straps and rounding the corner to the living room, “I’m ready, just let me get my coat and we can–”
Your eyes cut to your husband just as he looks up from his watch, sitting patiently on the couch as you get ready.
Kiyoomi’s always been handsome, but seeing him dressed up like this always leaves you a bit starstruck. He’s the kind of beauty that artists incase in marble. You seem to have the same effect on him, and Kiyoomi lets out a low whistle of appreciation when he sees you.
“Damn.” He stands to greet you, reaching for your hands and threading his fingers in the spaces between yours. The tips of his ears are dusted the lightest shade of pink, “How’d I get so lucky?”
Your smile turns into a laugh when he plants a kiss on the back of your hand, “You’re too much.”
Finding time for one another has been tough lately, made even worse by Kiyoomi’s consistent traveling, and so the little time that you are able to spend together… is not exactly spent on traditional date nights.
“I can’t help it.” He sighs, lovestruck and dazed, “You look amazing. I think we’ll have to stay in tonight.”
“Oomi!”
“How can you possibly expect me to leave when you look this good?” He says, “The second you put on that dress, I didn’t stand a chance.”
“Enough,” You laugh, but don’t pull away, “We always do this! We haven’t been on a date in weeks!”
“Not true. We have dates all the time.” He explains, “We just… spend a substantial amount of the date in bed. Or on the couch. Or on the kitchen counter. Sometimes on the balcony–”
“Marathon sex is not a date.”
“Maybe not traditionally,” He shrugs, a sly grin on his face, “But we always have a good time, don’t we?”
The look you give Kiyoomi would send a lesser man running.
(He tries not to think about how hot it is).
“We are going to this restaurant.” You declare coldly, pressing a manicured finger to the center of his chest to force him back. “Now help me put my shoes on, please.”
Kiyoomi caves easily, bending to one knee as you take a seat on the edge of the sofa. He makes quick work sliding the heels onto your foot, fumbling with the clasps a bit before successfully securing the extra fabric to your ankle. A kiss follows, just because he can.
“You’re so spoiled.” He mumbles to get a reaction out of you. You fall for it anyways. You’ve been with Kiyoomi long enough to recognize bickering as his love language.
“Yeah? Well, you like spoiling me.”
You reach out a hand to run your fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his face to meet his eyes. He turns his head to press a kiss against your palm, seizing every chance to revel in your attention. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”
Finishing the other shoe, he glances up, catching your eyes.
“All done.” He stays kneeled before you, massaging the muscles of your calves in relaxing, rhythmic circles.
Neither of you budge. Kiyoomi continues to admire you like an artist beholding his muse. The sight of him kneeled between your legs is vaguely reminiscent of… similar positions he’s been in before. Other positions where you’re pressed into the mattress, trembling and shaking at everything he’s giving you. Positions with his head nestled deep between your thighs, fingers moving in tight circles and using just the right amount of pressure to make you–
“Thanks,” You breathe, your restraint threadbare. It wanes with every passing second, “Now all we have to do is make it out the door.”
“Right.” Kiyoomi subtly adjusts your legs around him, placing himself directly between them.
“–So we can make it to our reservations on time.” Your throat runs dry at the feeling of him toying with the hem of your dress, just barely pushing back the fabric to allow himself to get even closer to you. He nods politely at your words, wholly entertained by this little game the two of you are playing.
“Yep.”
“–Because you called months ago to get us a spot and it would be a waste to throw it away.”
“Well,” Kiyoomi prompts unhelpfully, “Not necessarily. I could always just make another reservation, you know.”
You bite your lip, considering the options. The mischievous glint in Kiyoomi's eyes makes you suspicious. He’s such an asshole, making you beg for something you both want.
Your restraint falters, then breaks.
“We can’t keep doing this.” You sigh, cupping the back of Kiyoomi's head to pull him into a kiss.
You feel him smile against your lips, “We most certainly can.”
“You aren’t helping.”
“I’m not trying to be helpful.” Kiyoomi knows he’s being a little mean, but a sick part of him gets so much enjoyment at the cute sounds you make when you’re flustered, “You don’t have to be embarrassed, love.”
You push him away for a moment, your hands still tightly clenching the fabric of his shirt threateningly. You put on your most intimidating look. Kiyoomi raises a brow curiously, remnants of your lipstick smeared on his pretty pale face, “You’re taking me on a date tomorrow morning. Got it?”
“Yes ma’am.” He says sarcastically, and you can hear the smug satisfaction in his voice. He moves to kiss you again, voice dropping to a low groan, “Whatever you want.”
yall do in fact get breakfast the next morning okay kiyoomi is a man of his word!! he’s literally ur bitch tho lololl
iwaizumi is one of those men that lift up the blanket and pat the spot next to them to invite you under the covers. when you make it to your shared bedroom fresh out of the shower to retire for the night, iwaizumi looks like he’s already passed out cold. blanket scrunched down to his waist, laying on his stomach, face buried into the pillow and arms hidden underneath. every contour of his muscled back and biceps are on display for you in all of their glory under the moonlight glow that seeps through the curtains. the door closes behind you with a quiet click, and to your surprise he shuffles around at the sound, turning on his side to look at you. you fuss and worry that you woke him as you walk over to your side of the bed, to which he quietly shakes his head in reply. he grabs the top corner of the blanket, holding it up and gently patting the open space beside him with a tired smile and weary gaze. you slide onto the soft mattress, where he’s quick to trap you under the sheets, arms wrapping around your waist to pull you against his chest and his strong legs tangling with yours. his face buries into your shoulder, nose rubbing against your skin as he breathes in your comforting scent and nuzzles himself impossibly close to you. his voice is a quiet murmur against your skin as he speaks.
Warnings/Tags: nsfw, afab/female!reader, heavy use of petnames, blowjobs, dirty talk, praise kink, rough bokuto, raw sex, wet and messy, pussy eating, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, pussy slapping, vaginal fingering, squirting, creampie, choking kink, spit kink ♡ SET IN A TIMELINE WHERE ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED-UP AND OVER 18 YEARS
Pairing: Bokuto Koutarou x Female Reader
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Bokuto, who turns out to be a lot harsher in bed than anyone thought.
Which is funny considering he acts like this gentle giant out in public with you.
Kissing you oh so sweetly. Running his knuckles up and down your arms lovingly.
Worshipping you in public, making you feel all soft and happy—everyone watching how delicate Bokuto treats you.
“Would you like some water, baby?”
“Are you tired, princess?”
“Want me to carry that for you, love?”
But behind closed doors? In your guys’ bedroom?
God—he’s practically a monster.
“Does that feel good, princess?” Bokuto asks as he tightens his hold on your hair, pushing his cock deeper down your throat. “You like it when I stuff your pretty mouth like this?”
When you two are alone, Bokuto is fucking insatiable and greedy with you.
You whimper around the girth of his cock as you suck him, feeling the weight of it heavy on your tongue, drool dripping down your chin as he fucks your mouth.
Bokuto holds your head in place—even when he’s using all of his strength, he’s still somehow gentle with it—and fucks your mouth like it’s nothing more than a fucktoy for him.
He groans, low and sweet. “There you go. Taking it all, baby.” You feel the tip of his dick hit the back of your throat. “Choking on my cock like a good little princess for me.”
He pulls out suddenly, a string of saliva connecting your lips to the tip of his cock, and you sputter with a cough as you try to catch your breath.
Bokuto cups your cheek—his palm so, so fucking gentle with the way he holds your face, it’s such a huge contrast to how he was abusing your throat—and he rolls the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip.
He takes in how red and plump it is, wet from your saliva, how your eyes are teary from gagging on his fat cock—and he smiles down at you all softly. “Such a pretty girl.”
And god, you preen over the praises he gives you.
“You wanna show me how good you can be for me?”
How he makes you feel like you’re doing all of this to please him—being so good and making him happy—it all does things to you.
It also makes it so easy to comply as you let him guide you to get on your stomach, ass out in the air, and arching your back for him.
“Fuck,” Bokuto groans as he gets a handful of your ass, groping and squeezing it possessively as he kneads the flesh. “So perfect. Spread your legs for me, angel, let me see that pretty pussy.”
And when you do, opening your legs a bit more so you’re all vulnerable for Bokuto to see—
He groans at the sight of your slick pussy. “Fuck, baby. You're dripping wet for me already, aren't you? Such a needy little princess.”
He lines himself up, rubbing the head of his cock against your entrance, letting it run through your slick folds and kissing your clit—teasing and making you drool with a line of your fluids beginning to leak down, creating a string that falls towards the bed.
It’s a fucking sight and Bokuto goes hazy with it, mumbling, “I need to taste you.”
He drops to his knees behind you, gripping your ass cheeks roughly as he spreads you wide—revealing more of your cunt, all warm and cute as he licks his lips.
He doesn’t let you get another thought in before he leans forward to bury his face in between your legs, licking and sucking at your dripping folds as he groans against your skin.
And fuck—he’s messy and hungry when he eats you out.
Tongue twirling around your sensitive clit. Licking into you and sucking on your slit—tongue rolling as he makes noises, your juices leaking down his chin—
Sometimes it’s too much with the way he devours your puffy little pussy, making you twitch and gasp as you feel heat tingling up your spine and your nipples grow heavy with how close you are to coming.
“Oh god—Ko—” You sob, feeling him focus his attention on your clit, flicking the sensitive nub rapidly before giving your sopping cunt wide, flat strokes over and over with his tongue—starting from your clit and licking to your hole.
Covering your entire pussy with his mouth, sucking and kissing and eating it like a man high off the taste of you—
He doesn’t stop until you cry with a moan, your orgasm throbbing over you as you come on Bokuto’s relentless tongue.
“That’s it,” Bokuto groans in satisfaction, lapping up your fluids, making sure he gets every drop, licking your sloppy pussy until you’re almost overstimulated. “Come on my face like a good girl.”
Then he spits on it, making you gasp, before going back in to glide his tongue over your cunt—twirling it inside, a whimper escaping your throat—
But he’s not done.
He gives your soaked pussy a slap, his hand heavy and rough as it hits your poor little clit and folds—making you gasp and fall forward to shift away from the stinging touch.
He stands to lean over you, his breath hot against your ear as his face brushes against your cheek. “I need to feel you come on my fingers.”
He slips two fingers inside your cunt, hearing the wet squelch as he goes as deep as his fingers can reach, and starts a steady rhythm of fingering your pussy.
You shake your head, tears welling in your eyes. “I-I can’t—”
“I know you can, baby.” Bokuto coos, hooking two fingers into your walls, his knuckles brushing against your g-spot, and he moves his arm up and down—causing your body to shake with it as he brings you to another orgasm.
“Fuck—“ Your eyes roll back, everything hot and blurry, as heat coils in your belly and your pussy buzzes with liquid pleasure as you squeeze and come on Bokuto’s fingers.
You feel your bladder get all tight and full, and you scream with a moan when Bokuto doesn’t stop and—
And fuck—you feel fluids spray out of you as you come.
Coming out in quick spurts, gushing all over Bokuto’s hand and thighs as he fingers you through it—hearing him let out a satisfied sound deep from his throat and right next to your ear.
“Look at that, princess,” Bokuto’s voice is rough and throaty, his fingers slipping out of you and giving your cunt another wet slap. “Look at the mess you made, soaking the bed with your pretty juices.”
He gives your cheek a sickeningly gentle kiss as he rubs and holds your pussy, his lips warm against your skin as he murmurs, “I wanna feel you do that again on my cock, love. You can do that for me, right?” He nips your ear, whispering. “You can be a good girl for me.”
And how are you supposed to refuse that?
Despite how achy you feel and how oversensitive—you don’t say no.
You let him turn you around to lay on your back as he pushes your legs towards your chest, exposing your dripping pussy to him.
You moan when he rubs the fat tip of his cock along your slit, your pussy folds hugging the length of him as it drools on him, feeling the heavy and warm weight of his dick against your cunt.
And your eyes go cross-eyed when you feel a thick palm press against your throat—his fingers wrap around your neck—and he squeezes enough to get you lightheaded and feeling oh so fucking good.
He rocks his hips, teasing your slutty pussy as the tip of his dick bumps against your clit, and he leans down to brush his lips against yours, murmuring, “Let me fuck this tight pussy, baby. Let me claim it as mine and fill you up with my cum until you're dripping. I need to feel your walls squeezing my cock as I split you open.”
He reaches with his other hand to grab your breast, pinching your nipple roughly. “Show me how a good girl makes her pussy feel around me.”
Fuck.
You shiver, feeling your nipples grow hard, and lean in to kiss him—mouth opening to slip your tongue into his mouth, moaning as you rock your hips in tandem with his to get him to slip inside you.
“That’s my good angel,” Bokuto smirks against your lips, and he wastes no time in pushing his cock into your greedy pussy—going as deep as he can go until you’re nearly choking on it.
“Oh god—” You choke with a moan with how fucking full you feel, his fat dick splitting you open as he slowly rolls his hips to fuck it in and out of you.
“You’re so goddamn tight, princess,” Bokuto picks up the pace, the wet sound of him fucking your abused pussy fills your ears, his balls slapping against your ass cheeks. “You take it so well.”
And when he fucks you—he does it to ruin you.
Squeezing your throat until you can’t speak.
Pounding into that little pussy until you’re creaming on his cock and you’re so fucking wet you can hardly feel him anymore.
You can barely speak—just a litany of curses and gasps leaves your mouth as he fucks you.
“Open your mouth,” Bokuto says so softly when he leans close, his movements never stopping as you hear the loud smacking of his hips hitting your ass with every delicious roll of his hips.
And you listen, plump lips parting and waiting as you look at him with doe eyes, feeling heat go through your body when you see the satisfied grin he gives you in return.
He’s nasty with it when he fucks you too—spitting in your mouth, a glob of his saliva lands on your tongue that makes you clench around him—and he gives your delicate throat another squeeze as he murmurs, “Swallow.”
And when he comes—fuck it’s so much and so messy that you nearly swell with it.
He lets out a low groan and buries his cock deep inside your pussy, thick loads of hot, sticky cum spurts inside you, as he buries his head in the crook of your neck.
He fills you to the brim. “Take every last drop, baby.” And your pussy drinks it all—like it’s thirsty for his cum as you throb around him, breathing heavily as little bits of his cum begin to leak with how full your cunt is.
“God,” Bokuto huffs against your neck as he slides one hand down to touch your belly, feeling it a little inflated. “You took it all like a good girl. Your pussy is nice and full now. I bet you can feel it sloshing around in there, angel.”
And when he finally pulls out, his softening cock slipping out of your well-fucked pussy—all red and fat and puffy with your juices and his cum everywhere—he doesn’t stop playing with your pretty cunt.
He slides two fingers up your slit, collecting his cum—god it’s so much he just knows you’ll be leaking for days after this—and he pushes his load back into your sweet pussy, watching the way your face changes with pleasure as he leisurely fingers his cum back inside you.
“Let me take care of you now, love,” He moves forward to give your forehead a soft kiss. “You did so good for me.”
“my mom asked me to return thi—” you cut yourself off abruptly as you’re met with the sudden, unexpected surprise of a familiar pair of gray eyes when the front door of the miya residence swings open.
gray eyes that certainly don’t belong to the woman you intended to return the pie pan currently clutched in your hands to.
“osamu?” your voice comes out small, uncertain, a little fragile around the edges.
the corner of his mouth curves upward in a smile as he leans against the doorframe. “long time no see.”
–
the porch swing out back is as welcoming as it ever was, though the real estate to be found across its faded yellow cushions has waned as the two of you have grown. it was enormous to two seven-year-olds who spent long summer evenings on their backs across it, shoulder to shoulder with their little feet kicked up along the arm rests in opposite directions as they gazed up into the sky beyond the porch watching the fireflies come to life.
you can only imagine how ridiculous the two of you look now, heads parallel instead for lack of space and your legs thrown entirely over either edge at the knee, the swing shuddering with a precarious creak with each of your frequent outbursts of laughter.
for all that’s changed in the years since you graduated from inarizaki high and packed your bags—the new general store in town, your dad’s fancy electric car, the bright color of the shutters that adorn the front of the miya household, the dark shade of osamu’s hair, his muscles that have since generously filled out—
for all that’s changed, this still feels wholly the same: this easy rhythm the two of you slip into, the way it feels as natural as breathing to tell osamu everything—all the good and the bad and the wonderful and the terribly shitty things in your life that have happened between now and then.
(then, when you were eighteen standing outside of your mom’s old sedan on a sticky july morning, the trunk packed full with everything you held dear. everything but the gray-haired boy standing in front of you hugging you tightly goodbye.)
(then, when quietly realizing that you were in love with your best friend was the most terrifying feeling in the world.)
(now, with four years of university, two wasted years at a soulless corporate job, and the aftermath of a terrible relationship kicking up dust in the rearview.)
(now, when you know that for all the miles and the minutes, all this endless space that you’ve created—your heart will always be the steady pulse of a firefly cupped in osamu’s hands.)
–
it’s late beneath the glow of moonlight that pours across the porch when you finally ask, “how’s your girlfriend?”
osamu laughs, and you feel warm despite the cool night air that’s begun to nip at your bare legs. “don’t have one. tsumu’s probably got enough of ‘em for the both of us.”
it’s embarrassing, the thread of hope that slips between the careful grip of your fingers and begins to unspool in the defenseless gaps of your ribcage. “you mean to tell me there’s no mistress of onigiri miya? i find that hard to believe.”
he snorts this time, and a frog croaks somewhere off in the distance. “be nice, maybe i’ve got a broken heart over here.”
you shouldn’t be jealous, and yet—
“someone let you go? what was she thinking?”
osamu sighs, wistful. “never had her.”
your heart thumps as you turn your head, expecting to be met with osamu’s upside down side profile but instead finding yourself nose to nose with him.
“why not?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.
“didn’t think that was what she wanted.”
the sound of osamu’s breathing and the trembling in your chest drowns out the steady hum of the katydids that echoes across the backyard.
“and what if you were wrong?”
you’re met with a sharp, careful intake of breath that mirrors the tightness in your throat.
“s’a shame i’m not a time traveler then, i guess.”
this time, it’s your turn to laugh. “i hear she’s back in town.”
“yeah?” he says, a little breathless, a lot hopeful.
“there’s still nobody else i’d rather count fireflies with, osamu,” you whisper.
and as osamu tilts your chin with a gentle hand to tentatively brush his mouth against yours—
as you find yourself on top of him, fingers tangled in his hair as he cups the back of your head and kisses you until you can hardly breathe—
as you begin to forget where you end and he begins—
(you’ve both changed and you’ve grown, but faint yellow lights still wink in and out of existence in the sky above, the southern breeze still carries the faint chill of the lake beyond the woods, and osamu still feels more like home than anything ever has.)
—the porch swing sways, and you can feel osamu's smile in every kiss—
you fit perfectly here atop these old cushions now, in a tangle of limbs and lips and patient hearts.
18+ mdni. fem!reader, smut, masturbation (f and m), some might consider this dubcon due to implied alcohol consumption, cum play?, pet names (love, baby, good girl, doll), written in 2nd pov
kinktober 2024 mlist can also read on ao3
Suna choked on the water he had been drinking when you admitted you had never been able to come with your fingers alone.
“Yeah, it just never feels good enough. I have to use a toy so I can make myself come.” You pouted as if Suna wasn’t about to bust in his pants at the image you were painting in his mind. “There’s gotta be something wrong with me. I could be hours at it.”
You would just not shut up. Were you that oblivious to Suna’s reddened cheeks and the tent forming in his sweatpants?
You paused, noticing your best friend wasn’t meeting your eyes. You placed your empty cup on the table. “Sorry. Was that too much? I’ll probably be embarrassed about this tomorrow morning when I don’t have alcohol in my system to give me courage.”
He coughed, then stood up and grabbed your cups to take them to the kitchen. He could feel your eyes following his every movement, as if he would disappear if you weren’t staring at him.
“I need another drink so I don’t remember this tomorrow.” You mumbled, standing up to follow him into the kitchen. He blocked your path when you went to reach for the fridge.
He tsked, cornering you against the counter when you stepped back. “I will not have you puking in my bathroom again for mixing alcohol. Back to the couch, I’ll bring you water in a moment.”
You pouted again. Suna’s eyes darted down to your lips, holding back the urge to capture your jutted out bottom lip between his teeth. He quickly looked back into your eyes and took a step back, physically putting distance between the two of you before he did something that would damage your friendship.
He released a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding in once you headed back into the living room, thankfully listening to him for once in your life. He followed shortly after with water for you.
“Have you been with a lot of girls?”
He chuckled. “Are you slut shaming me, now?”
You playfully slapped his arm. “Have you been able to make them come with your fingers alone?” You countered.
He sighed. You wouldn’t just drop it. “Not every woman is the same.”
You dramatically fell sideways on the couch after downing your water, your head landing on his thigh as you started to sober up. “My pussy is defective.”
He choked on air this time. He wasn’t even sure he heard you right until he noticed you were glaring at him.
“You’re not defective, love.” His hands found your hair and he started running his fingers through it.
You scoffed. “How would you know?”
The words were on the tip of his tongue. His fingers twitched with the need to slip in your sweats and make you come just so you would shut up about it. Instead he bit his tongue and kept playing with your hair, fingertips massaging your scalp as you hummed softly at the feeling. Perhaps if he kept the gentle touch long enough, you would eventually fall asleep.
“What if you help me?”
Or not.
His eyes darted down to you. You turned to lay on your back so you could meet his eyes. You seemed just as surprised as he was by your own words. His hand fell on his lap, suddenly aware of your lack of bra when his gaze was inevitably drawn to your hardened nipples nearly visible through the white shirt you were wearing.
He watched your face fall and he realized in his mental panic he hadn’t said anything at all.
“You don’t know what you’re saying.” He blurted out.
But you both know that you did. You devoured the take out he ordered earlier and drank the water he gave you. Your deepening frown was clue enough that you were not drunk.
“Sorry, again.” You said as you sat up, but he grabbed your wrist before you could go far.
He sighed. What could go wrong? This is just to help you, he tried to defend himself in his mind. He was being a good best friend. Tomorrow he would wake up and pretend it was just a dream– a dream that he just knew he would fist his cock to every time he remembered the sound of your pretty moans and how your fingers look like stuffed in your cunt.
“I’ll help you. Guide you, I mean. I can guide you, so you can make yourself come.”
Your lips parted and your thighs pressed together. He held back the urge to touch you. This was for you, not for him.
It was a blur, from the moment you let out a breathy yes to when you fell back on his bed naked. Your legs were spread, held open by his hands on your knees when you tried to close them. His eyes were on your face despite the temptation to just stare down at your glistening folds.
“Just do what you would usually do. Pretend I’m not here.”
How could you pretend your hot best friend was not kneeling down between your legs, fully clothed while you were completely exposed? You closed your eyes, but you could still see him as clearly as if they were still open. Your hands reached between your thighs, collecting your wetness in your fingertips before you started circling your clit. He hummed.
“You’re an impatient little thing, aren’t you?” Suna murmured, grabbing your wrists and moving your hands up to your tits. “Touch them, grope them, toy with your nipples. Tease yourself until you feel your pussy dripping on my bed.”
Your eyes were still closed, your mind wandering into dangerous territory. Your fingers circled your areola, your nipples puckering as you moved to cup your breasts instead and gently squeezed. The action had your back slightly arching off the bed.
“That’s it, what a good girl.” Suna’s hands went back to your knees, this time rubbing soothing circles on your skin.
You suddenly regretted asking Suna for help. You were almost sure his voice was the one making you clench around nothing, not the way your thumbs finally brushed over your nipples. A soft moan tumbled out of your lips.
Suna looked down between your legs, then darted his eyes to your hands. “Feels good, doll?”
You nodded almost immediately. “Feels so good, Rin.”
Fuck. If you kept saying his name like that, he really was going to come in his pants like a pathetic teenager. He swallowed, his grip almost imperceptibly tightening on your knees.
He let out a deep, albeit a bit forced chuckle. He was about to beg you to let him put his mouth on you. You would let him, he knew you would, which is why he held back.
You pinched your nipples between your fingers, then let go to prop yourself on an elbow and reach for the hem of his shirt. “Take it off.” You asked in a soft whisper, your hand going between your legs when he obliged without much protest. He grabbed your wrist when he noticed you trying to slip a finger inside.
“Did I say you could do that?” He snapped, his tone making you look up into his eyes. His pupils were blown wide, barely visible in his half lidded gaze. “You want it to feel good, right?”
You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth as you slowly nodded. Suna bit back a groan.
“You wanna be my good girl, don’t you?” He murmured, his hands moving to the underside of your thighs, keeping your legs spread as he laid down on his stomach. His face was so close, you felt his breath hitting your skin before his lips pressed against your knee, then your inner thigh.
“Wanna be your good girl, Rin.”
He smirked. “Yeah?” He breathed against your skin, fingers digging into your thighs. “Touch that clit for me, baby. You wanted to make yourself come, didn’t you?”
You obliged, your fingers finding the sensitive nub and started to rub it in circles. Your head fell back against the pillow, your eyes fluttered shut again as your fingers quickened. You started to feel the familiar burn of an orgasm.
It was still so out of your grasp, your fingers itching to slide lower, to feel something inside you, but you didn’t want to lose this feeling. You didn’t want to risk Suna grabbing your wrist and pulling your hand away again.
“Rin,” You moaned softly, your free hand moving to grab your tit, fingers toying with your nipple. So close, so fucking close.
Suna pressed his forehead to your leg, his hips pressing down against the mattress. “Gonna come, baby?” He nearly panted as he sat up on his knees again.
“Only if you do too.”
He nearly did right then and there. Your voice was breathy, growing a pitch higher as your hips bucked up. His name left your lips again and he wasted no time hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his sweatpants and lowering them along with his underwear.
“Finger this pretty pussy for me, doll. Wanna watch you clench around your fingers when you come.” His fingers wrapped around his cock, a low whine bubbling up his throat. “I’m not gonna last.” He admitted, cheeks flushed a deep red as he stroked his dick in time with your fingers.
You propped yourself up on your elbow again, a whimper falling from your lips at the sight of your best friend fucking his fist between your legs. Your palm pressed against your clit as you curled your fingers against the spongy spot inside you.
You came with his name on your lips, your fingers slipping out to rub your clit instead to milk your orgasm. Suna followed shortly after, gripping your thigh so tightly you were sure there would be bruises on your skin in the morning, his seed spurting out onto your pussy lips and your fingers. Your eyes rolled back at the warmth, your cunt clenching hard when you slipped your cum coated fingers inside you.
Suna nearly came again at the sight. You could get yourself off without your toys, after all. You just needed your best friend to help you.
# contains: some cursing but that's it
# ellie.txt: expected this one to be more dramatic, but as I was writting it, it just felt so right like this. so yeah. obligatory: i love omi and respectful relationships.
summary: delivering a revised manuscript to your editor turns into something more.
cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, fluff, post-time skip, oral sex, vaginal fingering, praise kink, handjob, p in v
wc: 4.8k
a/n: i'm afraid i have the fattest crush on akaashi
also on ao3!
“The romance isn’t working.”
You groan when your editor pushes your manuscript for this week’s chapter towards you. You didn’t need any more bumps in the road, not when you were already running behind on deadlines, with the publishing company breathing down your neck to get the next volume out.
“The romance is fine, Akaashi” you mumble, flicking through the pages of the manuscript to skim through his notes.
“If it was fine, I wouldn’t be here,” he replies dryly.
Akaashi was as blunt as ever. Most of the time you appreciated his honesty, he was the reason for such success with your manga after all, but sometimes he managed to get on your nerves.
“It’s an unnecessary subplot,” he continues, flipping through a couple of pages to show you a few of the panels you had drawn, “there’s just no plausible progression between the two, no chemistry.”
You glare at him. He was really starting to get on your nerves. Akaashi rolls his eyes when he sees your glare, reaching out to flick your forehead.
“You’re already behind on the scheduled publishing date,” he reminds you, crossing his arms over his chest, “and I get the short end of the stick because I’m your editor.”
“The higher-ups love you,” you retort.
You stare pointedly at the small stash of awards that were tucked onto a shelf in his office, the small trophies and plaques a clear display of the company’s commendation for his work.
“Not enough to let me work in the literature department,” he mutters bitterly.
“I’m right here!” you protest, an exasperated expression spreading across your face.
“Yeah, yeah,” Akaashi murmurs.
He taps your manuscript a few more times before giving you a stern look.
“Get me the revised version by tonight, otherwise you’ll miss out on this week’s issue.”
You curse him under your breath, giving him one final glare as you gather the pages of your manuscript into your hands. You had come into his office thinking he’d been fine with the story, but now you had somehow ended up with more work than before, and an even tighter deadline.
-
A few hours later, you end up finding yourself outside Akaashi’s apartment. Guilt had won out in the end, and you figured that it wasn’t fair to let him take the blame for your tardiness. Revised manuscript clutched against your chest, you ring his doorbell.
You can feel your throat dry when he opens up the door. His hair is damp, towel slung around the back of his neck. He’s wearing an old volleyball shirt with sweatpants, and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to him looking so domestic.
Akaashi stares at you blankly, clearly not expecting you. Usually you would’ve just emailed the revised manuscript over to him, not show up outside his door.
“I felt guilty,” you blurt out, cheeks flushing at the awkwardness in the air, “and- and I ordered gyoza so it should be here in a few minutes.”
“Right,” he says after a moment, “you didn’t have to.”
You stare at each other for a moment longer until he sighs, opening the door wider to let you in.
“You’re just as bad as Bokuto,” he informs you.
The mention of the pro-volleyball player makes a smile spread across your face. You had met Akaashi’s volleyball friends a few times when they had enlisted your help in throwing Akaashi a surprise birthday party - which had maybe ended up in a disaster - as well as when you had wound up to a few of their games.
“He’s a sweet guy,” you reply, handing him your manuscript.
Akaashi only hums in response, walking over to his desk. He hangs his towel on the back of his chair before sitting down. You watch as he slips his glasses on, examining the pages of your now edited work.
“I thought you’d try and fight me about the romance,” he murmurs, his pen making a few adjustments here and there.
“Figured it wasn’t worth it,” you sigh, slumping on the couch in his living room, “you were right, as always.”
He peers over at you, his eyes narrowing as he watches the sulky look on your face. Despite your random bouts of laziness, even Akaashi had to agree that you were a good mangaka whose popularity had built up a loyal reader base.
“Look,” Akaashi says, setting his pen down, “if you’re that hung up about cutting those scenes, start drafting it now.”
Your gaze shoots up to meet his eyes.
“Seriously?” you ask, eyeing him suspiciously.
Akaashi was dedicated, sure, but he wasn’t exactly one to take on extra work. Sometimes you felt as though he would’ve been right at home in the literature department, editing novels instead of volumes of manga. It was like he worked with you out of obligation, not enjoyment, despite the friendship you had built up over the years.
“Yeah,” he says, pushing his glasses up a bit further to sit better on the slope of his nose, “I’m serious.”
You don’t get to dwell any longer on your editor’s change in mind, the sound of the doorbell piercing through your conversation. Akaashi waves you away when you move towards the door, grabbing the delivered containers of gyoza himself.
He sits down beside you on the couch, handing you one container whilst he takes the other. For some reason, you’re feeling more on edge than usual. The brush of his arm against yours has heat rising to your cheeks, body growing taut with the way your stomach is swirling with nervousness.
It was no secret that Akaashi was one of the most handsome men in the office, and you had maybe developed a tiny crush on the man, which was now inflating into something that was not so tiny, and much, much harder to control the more time you spent with him.
“You okay?” Akaashi asks, peering over you.
You don’t trust yourself enough to reply which is why you stuff a gyoza into your mouth and nod rapidly.
Silence lapses over you both as you eat, but you can feel his eyes boring into the side of your head. You pretend not to notice, trying to engross yourself in the taste of the gyoza and the tang of soy sauce.
Akaashi slouches slightly, his body relaxing as time passes. You can see it in the way his shoulders drop, his thighs spreading as he gets more comfortable.
“Instead of adding romance as a subplot, why don’t you make it into another story altogether?”
You blink over at him, surprised.
“I don’t have time to write another manga,” you say, shaking your head, “I’d have to find another publisher if I wanted to write something that was purely romance.”
“Shonen manga in the romance genre exist,” he replies, running his hand through his hair, “or you could just self-publish.”
You’d been hoping to avoid the topic of self-publishing. Sure, you knew of it, participated in it even. It’d been used as a creative outlet, to get out some ideas that you couldn’t work on when your success as a mangaka had grown. Besides, it wasn’t like you could tell Akaashi that you had drawn up stories that were, well, inappropriate.
“But that would be too much work,” you sigh, trying to stop his train of thought.
Akaashi stares at you thoughtfully. The more you spend time with him, the more you begin to regret your choice to come here. Emailing the manuscript to him would’ve been the smarter choice, but you just had to feel sorry for the guy.
“I did read one the other day that had a similar art style to yours.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. You can feel your composure slipping. There was no way he could know that you self-published stories that were practically panel after panel of porn. Maybe he enjoyed it? One thought leads to another and you find yourself imagining Akaashi with his hand wrapped around his cock, his head tipped back as he strokes himself.
“What was it about?” you manage to grit out, trying to see through the haze of your indecent thoughts.
“About a couple,” he says simply, “they ended up fucking.”
You can feel the hope swirling in your mind fade. Akaashi definitely knew.
“Didn’t know you read that sort of thing.”
“I’m a man, aren’t I? Sometimes porn just doesn’t cut it. The story was pretty great too.”
He thought the story was great? You can’t help yourself from perking up, the compliment making you feel warm.
“I just find it so strange,” he murmurs, leaning closer to you.
You swallow harshly, mustering up a smile with your trembling lips, “why’s that?”
“The author’s note,” Akaashi says, “the little bunny avatar was the same as yours.”
So, you had messed up. You spy the front door from the corner of your eyes. If you walked, you’d get there in about ten steps, but if you ran, you’d get there in about three - maybe two - strides. Sure, you wouldn’t ever be able to face Akaashi again, but you think you’d be fine with it. Report filed to the higher ups stating creative differences and you’d be able to find a new editor, no problem.
“It’s all probably just a coincidence,” you say nonchalantly, “plenty of people like bunnies.”
“Some of the dialogue was similar to yours, distinct writing and all that.”
You grit your teeth. The man didn’t know when to let go.
“Like I said, coincidence.”
“Right,” he says, nodding along, “a coincidence. Was it also a coincidence that the couple that had sex was a mangaka and her editor?”
You scramble to your feet when he says that. Letting out an awkward laugh, your cheeks heated with embarrassment, you decide that this is the best time to take your leave.
“Have- have a good night!” you say, voice pitching.
Determination has Akaashi’s eyes gleaming and now you’re bolting, feet nearly tripping over each other as you dart towards his apartment door. It seems as though fate isn’t in your favor tonight, Akaashi’s hand curling around your wrist as he catches onto you before you can open the door. You squeak when he slams his hand against the wall, right next to your head as he pushes you up against the door.
“Classic scene,” he murmurs, his eyes narrowing as he takes in your meek expression, “you always use it.”
“Fuck off, Akaashi!” you snap, pushing at his chest.
It’s a struggle, but you reach back behind you, hand grabbing blindly for the door handle. He doesn’t let you reach it, catching your wrist and pinning it against the door.
“You sure?” Akaashi asks, his eyes darkened, “or maybe you want me to fuck you.”
Your breath catches in your throat, mouth opening before closing again. There’s nothing left in you, no retorts, no words to get yourself out of this situation. He lets out a sigh when he feels your body relax, his hand on your wrist loosening as he lets go. You stare up at him, biting your lip nervously.
“You should’ve said something,” he says quietly, adjusting his glasses.
“And embarrass myself?” you mutter, picking at the wool of your sweater.
Akaashi doesn’t say anything, his hand smoothing up your hip and settling on your waist. Your eyes widen, arousal shooting through your body as he presses himself closer, his other hand finding your waist. Akaashi squeezes gently and you bite back a whine, eyes drooping slightly as he just squeezes and pets at your sides.
“It was good,” he says hoarsely, “the story, the details, the sex… came to it a couple of times.”
“You- you liked it?” you whisper, voice airy.
“Yeah,” he whispers back, his eyes meeting yours, “liked it… like you.”
Your eyes flutter shut when he kisses your cheek, your heart thudding in your chest. You never dreamt it’d come down to this, but you find yourself grateful for Akaashi’s observational nature.
He takes his glasses off, placing them into his pocket. Akaashi’s lips drag across your cheek, pressing soft kisses against your skin. He kisses the corner of your mouth, lips brushing against yours gently.
“Kiss me, Akaashi” you whisper, arms wrapping around his neck.
“Yeah,” Akaashi says softly, “yeah, I’ll kiss you, baby.”
A contented sigh escapes you as he slots his lips over yours, kissing you gently. The heat between you begins to grow, his hands slipping under your sweater to feel your bare skin. You gasp into his mouth, his hands surprisingly warm.
Akaashi smiles against your lips, his hand running up your back as his kisses turn hungrier, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips. You let him lick into your mouth, tugging at his hair desperately. Rocking up onto the tips of your toes, you deepen the kiss, pulling him impossibly closer.
He wraps his arms around your waist, groaning when your nails scratch his scalp fleetingly. You bite your kiss-swollen lip as he drags his lips down your neck, landing heated kisses to your skin.
Akaashi kisses the pulse of your throat, his lips finding their way back to yours. Soft pants fill the air, his smile hazy as he peers down at you. You smile back, head tilting to the side to let him kiss your cheek again.
“You’re such a dork,” he whispers, his eyes twinkling.
“Shut up,” you whine, pushing at his chest.
He grins, his hands grasping yours. Akaashi pulls you away from the door, his arms wrapping around the backs of your thighs as he picks you up. You laugh, legs wrapping around his waist, lips pressing against his as he carries you to his bed.
Akaashi lays you down on his bed and you watch with half-lidded eyes as he pulls his shirt off. He might not have played as competitively like he did in highschool, but you had been there when he had played with his friends. It’d been entrancing to watch the way he had set the ball for his friends, the ball curving through the air cleanly for the spiker to hit.
“‘s not fair how good you look,” you grumble, pouting.
He rolls his eyes, crawling onto the bed, his body hovering over yours.
“You look pretty good yourself,” Akaashi says, his fingers playing with the hem of your sweater.
You lift your arms for him, letting him pull it off of you. His gaze fixes on the swell of your breasts and you flush, looking away.
“You’re shy now?” He murmurs, a soft laugh escaping him as he kisses your jaw.
“You’re such a jerk,” you huff out.
Akaashi smiles and you don’t think you’ll ever be able to be truly angry with him. He’s patient more than anything, caring and always honest. You’ve never met a man like him, never met someone who could quell your worries the way he could. It makes you want to never let go.
His body settles between your thighs, his nimble fingers pulling your bra free. Your nipples pebble in the cold air and Akaashi leans forward, his hot, wet mouth enveloping a hard bud into his mouth.
You whine brokenly, back arching slightly as he sucks your nipple, tongue swirling around the bud. He groans as you run your fingers through his hair, his mouth suctioning around your breast for a few moments before he pulls off with a pop.
His mouth finds your other breast, kissing the side of it, mouthing at your skin. You can feel his tongue caress the underside of it, laving across your breast before he bites gently at your flesh, his half-lidded eyes meeting yours.
“You’re a fuckin’ tease,” he whispers against your breast.
You shake your head, mewling when his hand slides up, his fingers pitching at your spit-coated nipples. He rests his head between your breasts, watching you contentedly as you writhe under the onslaught of his touches.
“A- Akaashi,” you whimper, hips bucking, “want- want more, please.”
“So polite, baby” he coos, his hands groping at your breasts.
He pulls away from you and you whine, lifting your hips for him when he peels your pants off. There’s a moment of silence and you’re anticipating the feel of his mouth on your body, only for him to let out a low laugh.
“Bunnies til the end, huh?” Akaashi asks, his fingers playing with the waistband of your panties.
Your brows furrow, not quite sure what he’s talking about until you prop yourself on your elbows and see that you’re wearing a pair of bunny-patterned panties.
“Oh, fuck off,” you groan, slumping back down onto the bed and slinging your arm over your eyes.
“They’re cute,” he smiles, prying your arm away from your face, “just like you, baby.”
Akaashi grasps one of your legs, bringing it to his mouth as he runs his hand along the length of it, kissing the sole of your foot and then your ankle. A soft hum leaves you, watching as he kisses up your leg, his kisses feather-light.
You run your fingers through his hair as he kisses the little bow on your panties, his nose pressing between your clothed folds to breathe you in.
“Pussy’s soaked through,” Akaashi murmurs, pulling back to look at your dampened panties.
“‘s your fault,” you slur, trying to push his face back to where you want it.
“All my fault,” he agrees, his tongue licking up over your panties, “guess I’ll have to take care of you then.”
You nod, trying to stop the little twitches that shoot through your body. Akaashi lets his mouth latch onto you, trying to suck the slick that’s soaked through the fabric of your panties.
“A- ah!” you pant, fingers fisting his hair as he squeezes your hips, his face nuzzling deeper between your thighs.
Akaashi’s lithe fingers pull at your panties, dragging them down your thighs. You don’t miss the way he tucks them into his pocket.
“Always so pretty, baby” he whispers, his thumbs pulling apart your folds to expose your pussy.
He moans when he sees the translucent strings of arousal that cling to your folds, his tongue darting out to lick up the little strings. You whimper when he kisses your clit gently, watching as he rubs the pad of his thumb against your swollen clit. Thighs twitching, you shift, trying to tilt your hips a little higher so you can feel his mouth on you.
“Ask for it,” Akaashi says, his cheek pressing against your thigh as he stares up at you.
“‘m not- ‘m not asking for it,” you retort, glaring at him.
“Bet it’d feel good,” he whispers, his tongue lolling out of his mouth.
You whine when he just keeps his tongue there, saliva dripping from the tip of it and onto your pussy. He makes an obscene noise, gathering some more saliva, spitting on your cunt.
“All you gotta do is ask,” he coaxes, his arms wrapping around your thighs, “clit looks so achy… makes me wanna kiss it better.”
“P- please,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.
“Didn’t quite catch that,” Akaashi smiles up at you, his eyes twinkling.
You’ll have to get him back for his teasing later, but right now you can’t wait.
“Please lick my pussy!”
You squeal when he latches his mouth onto you again, his tongue lapping over your wet pussy. He groans and you tug at his hair, thighs squeezing around his head as he laves his tongue over you greedily, letting his tongue dip into your hole before he sucks your clit into his mouth.
Legs kicking out, you let out a strangled noise as he flicks his tongue over your clit. Akaashi lands the filthiest kisses to your clit, alternating between sucking and little pecks, while he’s sunk two fingers inside of you. They curl up inside of you, grazing your sensitive spot perfectly. He fucks his fingers in and out of you, your wanton noises filling his bedroom.
Akaashi presses his face deeper, his fingers crooking. The feeling of his mouth in tandem with his fingers has you whimpering and whining, airy noises spilling from your lips at his ministrations. You might not ever be able to go without him ever again.
He holds you in place as you thrash, the overwhelming feeling inside of you building and building. Akaashi slips his fingers out of you in favor of devouring your cunt again, licking through your velvety folds, his tongue swirling before he presses it inside of you.
“Taste so fuckin’ good,” he growls.
You blink down at him dazedly. There’s a light flush covering his cheeks, his mouth glistening with your wetness. He opens his mouth to say something else but you ignore him, pushing his head so that his lips are flush against your cunt. Akaashi lets out a muffled laugh against your pussy, his tongue licking over you again.
Hand squeezing at your breast, you bite your lip, losing yourself in the caress of his tongue. He laps over you, again and again, pressing sloppy kisses to your clit.
“Gonna come,” you whisper, feeling the softness of his hair under your palm, “gonna come, ‘kaashi.”
He tilts your hips a little more, rising up onto his knees with your legs slung over his shoulders. You squeal again when he shakes his head, tongue dragging from side to side before he plunges it inside of you, his thumb pressing against your clit at the same time.
Your thighs squeeze tightly around his head as you come, loosening after a while when twitches rack through your body. Akaashi squeezes your thighs, lets your legs slip from his shoulders as he kisses your trembling thighs.
“Good girl,” he whispers.
Akaashi kisses your cheek and wipes the stray curls of your hair away from your face. A soft sheen of sweat covers your body and he hums, smoothing his thumbs over the underside of your breasts.
He lays down beside you and you curl up beside him, eyes catching on the bulge in his sweatpants.
“Need some help?” you murmur, fingers dragging down his chest.
“If you don’t mind,” he sighs, his arm wrapping around your waist to hold you close to him.
You smile, kissing his jaw gently as your hand slides past his navel, disappearing into his sweatpants. The weight of his cock is heavy and hot and Akaashi moans softly when your hand curls around his length.
“Ask for it, ‘kaashi,” you whisper, voice lilting.
“You’re such a brat,” he mutters.
“Use your manners, Keiji.”
His eyes widen when you use his name and you grin, landing a soft kiss to his cheek as your breasts squish up against his bicep. You squeeze around his cock and he lets out a soft whine, his hips bucking.
You hum softly, beginning to move your hand. His thick cock twitches as you stroke him, your wrist rotating.
He pants softly, his head turning to meet yours. You smile, running your fingers through his hair, brushing the soft strands out of his eyes. Affection bursts inside of you, heart fluttering as the flush on his cheeks deepens.
His brows have drawn together and you smooth your thumb over them, peppering soft kisses over his face, leg slinging over his as you pull down his sweatpants to free his cock completely. Akaashi’s cock has filled out, pre-cum smearing across his abdomen. You caress the head of it, giggling when he lets out a broken moan as you rub your thumb against the tip.
“You look so handsome,” you say, stroking his cock a little faster.
Akaashi smiles and you dip your head, kissing him. He groans, his hips chasing after the feeling of your hand around him as you kiss. Your hand tightens a little, squeezing at the tip of his cock. Pre-cum wets your hand, soft gasps escaping Akaashi as you let your tongue slip into his mouth.
“Keiji,” you whisper, lips brushing over his, “Keiji, will you fuck me?”
You squeak in surprise when he manages to grab onto your waist, lifting you up and placing you on his lap. His cock is snug between your folds and you whine, dragging your hips along the length of it, biting your lip as more pre-cum leaks from him.
“Sit on my cock, baby” he whispers, smoothing his hands up your thighs.
You nod, shifting a little so that you’re up on your knees. Akaashi watches as you grip the base of his cock, moaning when you rub his cock against your pussy, letting it catch on your clit. Akaashi’s head tips back as you sink down, whimpery, little noises leaving you as your pussy swallows up his cock.
It’s so thick inside of you, fitting so snugly that you clench around him. Akaashi wraps an arm around your waist, bringing your front flush against him. He lets you tuck your face into the crook of his neck, his arms tightening around your waist. You can feel him move, his feet flat against the bed as he bends his knees.
“K- Keiji!” you wail when he begins to fuck up into you.
Akaashi grunts, holding you against him as he moves his hips, rutting up into you. His hands grope at your ass, gripping your ass tightly as he moves a little more forcefully. You bury your face deeper into the crook of his neck, pressing sloppy kisses against his skin as you smooth your hand over his hair.
“Is this- fuck,” Akaashi grits out, “is this what you imagined when you drew up those panels?”
You nod, too far gone to cling onto the remnants of your stubbornness.
“Yeah?” he whispers, “imagined me fucking up into you, huh?”
“Y- yes!” you cry out, body squirming when he lands a heavy spank to your ass.
“Good fuckin’ girl,” he growls.
A soft mewl leaves you at the praise, your hips swaying back lazily to meet his thrusts. The sound of his hips slapping into your ass echoes through his room, your wetness leaking around his cock and coating his balls.
Your body rocks against his, your hand gripping at the sheets beside his head when he adjusts his grip on you, planting his feet a bit firmer against his mattress to thrust into you harder. You gasp at the sensation, sinking your teeth into his shoulder when his cock hits deep inside of you.
Akaashi hisses at the feeling of your teeth, spanking your ass again before you clench around him with a scream, body shuddering on top of his as you come.
“Baby, baby, you gotta let go,” he rasps.
You shake your head stubbornly, pushing your hips down so that it swallows his cock all the way to the base.
“Inside, Keiji.”
He groans, his hands kneading at your hips roughly. You can feel the twitch of his cock, a satisfied coo leaving your lips when he comes, spurts of his hot cum filling you up. Akaashi’s hips stutter, thrusting into you unevenly as his cock jerks, more cum flooding your pussy.
You both pant, chests heaving. Akaashi rubs his hand along your back and you emerge from the crook of his neck, a drunken smile on your face.
He laughs hoarsely at your expression, cupping your cheek to guide you into another kiss while his cock softens inside of you. It’s a little uncomfortable, but you don’t mind, losing yourself in the heat of his body as cum leaks from your pussy.
“How long have you known?” you ask, tracing the slope of his nose.
“About a month,” he murmurs.
“A month?” you scoff, hitting his chest, “and you didn’t say anything?”
Akaashi grins, grabbing your hand and bringing it up to his lips to kiss across your knuckles.
“That would ruin the fun.”
You roll your eyes, prodding your fingers into his chest, “it was hardly fun, Keiji.”
“But you got what you wanted, didn’t you?” he whispers.
You laugh when he flips you onto your back, moaning softly when you feel his cock beginning to harden again inside of you.
“Put- put your glasses on,” you whisper, head tipping back as he rolls his hips into you.
Akaashi reaches over to dig his glasses out from the pocket of his discarded sweatpants, pushing them up to sit comfortably on his nose.
You clench around him at the sight, biting your lip as you give him a pleased smile.
“Knew you had a thing for ‘em.”
He grabs at your legs, moving them so that they’re pressed against his chest, your ankles resting on his shoulders.
“Use this as inspiration, baby,” Akaashi smirks, “I’ll even edit it for you.”
― tags fem reader, fluff, roommates to something close to lovers, timeskip kiyoomi
― notes wc is 1.8k, i wrote this on a whim so please forgive ooc kiyoomi, also please forgive any grammar mistakes lmao
you and sakusa have been communicating through notes for the past three months.
at first, you had mindlessly written down a few groceries you needed to buy on a sticky note, pasting it onto the fridge so you wouldn’t forget. it included some of the basics: eggs, flour, rice, milk, and other necessities for you and your roommate’s fridge.
then, the next time you came home, you were greeted by a bright yellow sticky note seated next to your pink one. it said:
protein powder
lettuce
masks (the white ones)
between your full-time job and sakusa’s hectic schedule as a professional volleyball player, the two of you hardly saw each other, if at all. especially with sakusa’s new status on the olympic team. it wasn’t bad, per se, as you’d never been the closest to him — he was closed-off and, frankly, intimidating. it was like the man would go to any lengths to avoid interacting with others. regardless, his small addition to your grocery list had made you laugh.
you checked off the items he wanted, and the sticky note was gone the next day.
from then, the two of you only ever communicated with each other this way. one of you would write the groceries they needed to get that weekend, and the other would make their additions to the list. it was effective, simple, and considering how the only post-it notes the either of you owned were offensively bright colors, hard to miss.
after a while, you began adding little comments in addition to the list of items you needed to buy. they were short and sweet, like a thanks! written in the corner of your post-it detailing the items you needed sakusa to buy, or there are leftovers in the fridge after you made too much for dinner. you weren’t expecting sakusa to respond to them, given his stand-offish nature. so, when he did, you were surprised. no; scratch that, you were elated. although his replies weren’t anything extraordinary, just a simple you’re welcome or thank you for the food written in his neat handwriting under your own, it felt like a break in your relationship with sakusa.
despite knowing him for a while now, the two of you stayed as acquaintances and nothing more. but, you couldn’t deny that you wanted to know more about him. and though unconventional, the sticky notes worked perfectly for this.
writing to each other using post-its became such a habit that sakusa bought a magnetic whiteboard. you were only made aware of it when you walked into the kitchen to see it set up. there was a note already written in black marker on the board, stating that the post-it notes were beginning to be a waste of paper. you made sure to write a large thanks, sakusa! with the same marker, adding a few hearts around it.
(and if sakusa flushed red at the sight of his name with hearts surrounding it, only he would know.)
whenever your friends came over, they would question the purpose of the whiteboard. you couldn't blame them; it did take up the better half of your fridge's surface. they had a good laugh when you explained the story behind it, but some asked why couldn’t you just text each other?
and, honestly? you didn’t know either.
you knew it would be more efficient if you were to text sakusa instead of patiently waiting for his replies on the dry-erase board every day. but, if you wanted to, you knew you would’ve done it a while ago; before he even had the idea of buying the whiteboard, back when the two of you were conversing through neon sticky notes and wasting an unnecessary amount of paper.
you surmise it’s because you didn't want to ruin your and sakusa’s relationship — if you could even call it that. texting him would forcefully pull him into your orbit. though you’ve been regularly interacting with him for the past few months, you were aware that you hardly knew anything about the man; small notes and lists only gave you so much information about a person. the whiteboard was a safe in-between — you learn a little more about him and his habits, while not forcing him to interact with you.
well, you think, he’s not obligated to answer my texts, either. you have his number, and it’s not like you haven’t texted him before. there was only so much you could do when you weren’t home to pick up packages or forget to inform him of a repairman coming over.
you mull over the decision, a short text already typed into your conversation with sakusa. your finger hovers over the send button, before you furiously spam the delete key and put your phone down. no, nevermind.
your plan of staying content with your relationship fails miserably.
it’s been a hard few weeks at work, with seemingly endless deadlines you have to meet and an equally endless amount of meetings you’ve had to attend. you feel as if you haven’t had a moment to yourself in forever.
so, when you submit your most recent project to your boss and shut your laptop closed, the first thing on your mind is to go home and rest. your mind is on auto-pilot as you pack your belongings, spitting out no’s to your co-workers' offers to go out drinking. when you’re this tired, the last thing you want to do is wake up with a splitting headache and an awful hangover the next day.
you stumble into your apartment, hastily toeing your heels off. a sigh leaves you, the harsh pressure of the shoe finally being relieved. they’re thrown somewhere in the corner, probably not anywhere close to where they should be, but you’ll deal with that tomorrow. all you want is some sleep. you consider just crashing on the couch and dealing with the consequences tomorrow.
“rough day?” a flat voice asks. you jump at the noise, not expecting anyone to be in your apartment. when you look up, you’re greeted by a tall figure standing in front of you. your eyes take a moment to rack over them, not completely registering that the only other person who has access to your apartment is…
sakusa.
“huh…?” you mutter, blinking a few times to will the tiredness from your eyes. it doesn’t work. sakusa only sighs, stepping from the doorway and further into your home. there’s a look on his face that’s telling you to follow, but when you don’t out of pure shock because he’s here? like, actually here? at home? he rolls his eyes.
“come on,” he says, “there’s food on the stove already.”
you continue to stay silent, causing sakusa to raise an eyebrow. your face is scrunched up, a hand on the wall next to you to support your weight.
“are you…am i hallucinating…?” you mumble, internally debating if you wanted to pinch yourself to make sure that you’re not dreaming in any way. “i thought you weren’t going to be back for a while?”
in response to your delirious rambling, sakusa laughs. it’s rather quiet, but you know he does. you hear the rapid exhalation of air accompanied by a deep rumble coming from his chest, and you can see his shoulders shaking.
he steps closer to you, forcing your bag from your shoulder and practically pulling you with him into your shared living room. you’re tripping over your feet, mind still fuzzy from your tiring day.
“leave it up to you to not be able to think properly after a long day,” he murmurs, setting your bag down on the couch. in your half-awake daze, you’re unable to form a proper response. “i guess you’re not hungry then.”
“well…” you stammer, still trying to get your bearings. “you’re like, never home, sakusa…so how am i supposed to react when you practically teleport in front of me?” you finish, a yawn escaping you. that makes sakusa laugh again.
“for your information, i didn’t teleport in front of you,” he replies, “i heard the door open, so i went to greet my roommate. now, go get ready for bed.”
you disregard what he says, opting to groan when he orders you to get ready for bed. it just seems like so much work. you have to take off your makeup, change, brush your teeth, do your skincare…you think you’d rather crash face-first on your couch, like you were planning on doing earlier. you tell him that much.
sakusa rolls his eyes again. he pushes you towardsthe bathroom, telling you to take off your makeup, while he goes to rummage in your room for sleepwear. what?
you don't have much of a choice, so you follow his directions. beginning with your meticulous skincare routine, you cleanse off your makeup. while you’re drying your face, sakusa knocks on the bathroom door with a fresh pair of pajamas for you to change into.
once you’ve completed your nightly routine, you wander out of the bathroom to find sakusa sitting on the couch. he seems preoccupied with something on his phone, and you have to admit that the sight of him concentrating is rather charming.
thankfully, the cold water you’d splashed onto your face woke you up, so you’re more awake than you were when you’d entered. you’re still horribly tired, and you want nothing but to sleep in the comfort of your bed, but you feel bad going straight to bed without even thanking sakusa for taking care of you. the only way the two of you talked for the last few months was over post-it notes, for god's sake!
“hey, sakusa?” you call, and his attention snaps from his phone to you. “thanks for uh…taking care of me. sorry about all that, i was really tired. or, er, am really tired.” you awkwardly stutter out.
he hums in response, standing up from the couch and taking long strides towards you. thanks to his height, he’s face-to-face with you in no time. he’s close — maybe a little too close for someone you think probably doesn't even consider you a friend. that leads you to another realization: for someone that you knew disliked social interaction, he’s also talked to you an awful lot today.
“if you were really thankful, you’d go to bed right now and eat what i made tomorrow. you’re exhausted.” he bluntly replies. you gape at him for a moment, about to reply, but he cuts you off. “i’ll be home more often. volleyball is in the off-season now.”
you know you should just nod and turn on your heel to go to bed, but there’s a question on the tip of your tongue that slips before you’re able to catch it.
“so… no more whiteboard notes?” you question. sakusa laughs for a third time that night, and you think you’ve hit the jackpot in your slightly delirious state.
he shakes his head. “no more whiteboard notes for now.”
you wake up the next morning, and when you enter the kitchen, you see a yellow sticky note pasted onto the whiteboard. on it, it reads:
we can make these lists together now, so there's no need for either of these.
in which miya osamu is used to coming second to his brother. but with you, he's always first.
wc: 1113 | gn!reader | fluff
Miya Osamu is used to coming second.
It starts with Atsumu, like most things do. October is cold and gray and Atsumu comes first, a small body with a large presence that fills the warm hospital room. His cries are loud and he’s a little underweight, but with him comes the sun.
Atsumu is born under a partly cloudy sky but the nurses swear he was shrouded in sunlight.
Osamu comes twelve minutes later. His parents are crying and his Ma is close to passing out. If he thinks really hard he can almost feel her warmth, Atsumu’s sobs, and a mumble of prayers that October has safely brought Atsumu and then Osamu.
He asks Grandma one day what the weather was like when he was born. She says, with confidence, it was foggy.
Atsumu doesn’t get along with his classmates. He is too loud and too rash and lacks social cues, and Osamu is angry because Stupid ‘Tsumu cares too little: and he wants everyone to know Atsumu like he knows Atsumu.
They fight and they yell and they argue until Atsumu says,
‘Samu, I don’t care about ‘em. Why do ya care so much?
And Osamu throws him across the room. The argument ends there, he says sorry, and Osamu lies awake that night thinking about his brother. Atsumu is hotheaded. And an idiot. A loud snorer, too. But he turns on his side and curls into a ball because he knows it was sunny when Atsumu was born and all of a sudden he really wants to be his brother.
Atsumu dyes his hair first: it’s a shitty box dye from the pharmacy down the street, and it looks terrible. It’s a little yellow and a little neon, and Osamu laughs until his sides hurt when Atsumu shows him.
But Atsumu is proud, and he is confident, and he goes to school with a hundred watt smile and a group of girls trailing after him.
Osamu goes to the pharmacy that night and buys a box of gray, cloudy dye. Atsumu helps him bleach his hair under their bathroom sink with the faulty tap and tells him he looks like the moon.
His Ma says that Atsu is hot and Samu is cold after the two have a particularly bad fight. Atsumu is gleeful and smug as he gloats that he was born to be hotter and warmer and better, and Osamu punches him.
He remembers his Ma sitting on the porch, an arm around his shoulders as he pouts.
“‘S not fair,” Osamu had said, his chin in his palm. “Why’d ya name Tsumu that?”
His Ma had laughed, quietly, leaning her weight into his side. And she had held his cheeks between her palms and told him with a fire in her eyes that Osamu means To Rule.
He meets you for the first time in February.
You were standing in front of him, a little sheepish, with a box of chocolates in your extended palms. He remembers feeling something heavy in his chest. Because, yeah, Atsumu was definitely going to accept your confession.
You had said, IReallyLikeYou, and Here’sSomeChocolates, and Please Accept Them.
You were shorter than him, and your hair was done nicely, and you were blushing and nervous. And you were really fucking cute. But Osamu is used to coming second, so the only thing that comes out of his mouth is, Why? And then, Tsumu’s in tha next classroom ov’r.
He doesn’t remember what happened next, only Atsumu’s laugh and the slap echoing through the halls. You leave with his cheeks stinging and hot. And Atsumu had teased him the next day, behind his mountain of chocolates and confessions, because Osamu’s face was still red twelve hours later.
He sees you a lot the year after.
You’re in the same class as him and ‘Tsumu, and you smile every time you see him. You sit two rows in front of him and you’re not very good at tying your uniform. Every lunch, Osamu watches you pull out the same gray bento with a wrapped onigiri on the side. He tells you one day that he really likes onigiri. And then, Osamu watches as every lunch, you pull out the same gray bento with two wrapped onigiris on the side.
With you, it’s always Hi Osamu, first, and then, Hullo Atsumu. With you, it’s an onigiri dropped on his desk when the lunch bell rings. With you, Osamu thinks back to a conversation with his Ma on a porch.
Osamu means To Rule.
The menu is this: Tuna mayo on Mondays and Thursdays, Ume on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. Friday is plain. You don’t ever bring onigiri for his brother.
He asks you, on a hot night in June, what your favorite type of weather is. You had your knees tucked to your chest, a sparkler in hand, and then told him cloudy. Cold. Foggy. Winter. Snow is nice, too. You say it all with no hesitation.
Osamu kisses you for the first time that night.
It’s New Years and you’re cooking Ozoni on the stove. The curtains are open, it’s snowing outside, and Osamu wakes to the smell of miso and the sound of carrots on a chopping board. He gets out of bed, padding to the kitchen with half-lidded eyes and a stifled yawn, and then he thinks his heart stops when he sees you.
Because what Miya Osamu is not used to is this: coming first and having something unequivocally his.
But you’re bent over the counter, fiddling with the oven as you read the instructions on the back of the packaged Yakimochi you bought the other day. And you’re wearing his shirt, it falls right below your thighs, your hair is still messy from using his chest as a pillow, and you look beautiful.
“Mornin’ ‘Samu, come help me with this.” You say, looking back at him with a smile, pointing to the fresh pot of rice on the counter. “You’re in charge of onigiri.”
He hugs you instead, his arms around your stomach with your back to him.
“But I like yer onigiri,” He says, his chin on your head. His eyes are watering and it must be from the steam of your boiling dashi.
“‘Samu,” You complain, giggling as he presses kisses into the crown of your head. “I made enough for ya in high school.”
It’s cold outside and snowing, and Osamu knows he’s going to make the onigiri.
He also knows that if his name means To Rule, he’s okay with coming second if it means you’re by his side.
cw. MDNI, f!reader, timeskip!atsumu, established relationship, pet names (baby, princess, darling), fluff to smut, sexting, sending risqué photos, teasing, phone sex, masturbation, language, dirty talk, not beta read
word count. ~ 2.3k
synopsis. atsumu’s away and misses the way you feel against his skin before a big game.
shutting down and closing your laptop, you push yourself up from the uncomfortable desk chair, groaning as you twist and turn, popping your neck and back as you stretch the tense muscles. another day at the office, done and dusted.
you switch out your fluffy fox office slippers for the black slingbacks you came in, walking towards the large floor-to-ceiling windows to take in the scene before you. the sun has set, the moon slowly coming out to play — it’s a friday night, groups of friends and couples alike take the streets to celebrate the end of a busy work week. city lights shine over the crowded roads, hustle and bustle illuminated by the vibrant colours of osaka’s nightlife.
you’d be one with the crowd below if not for the fatigue of crunch time seeping deep into your bones, it’s been one hell of a day, a week even, you’ve lost all concept of time, feeling a little more drained than usual without your love here.
the msby black jackals have a series of away games in tokyo, so naturally, atsumu’s been away for the past couple of days, and you miss him dearly. you understood why he had to go, it just didn’t make sense for him to make the commute everyday and waste precious time that could be spent resting, even if it meant still being by your side. it doesn’t make you miss him any less though, you’ve never been apart from him for more than a day since he asked you to move in with him two summers ago, and you feel it even more so now that he’s put on a ring on your finger.
casting one last look at the files and mountains of paperwork, you sigh, packing up your things and swinging your tote over your shoulder, preparing to finally leave the office. the rest of the floor is empty and the lights are dimmed, pretty much everyone in the building has already left for the night. honestly you were too busy to even notice, feeling stressed is an understatement with multiple deadlines looming.
bzzt. bzzt. your phone buzzes as you’re exiting the main elevator and walking to your parked car— 2 new messages from tsumu ♡
tsumu ♡ : hi princess
tsumu ♡ : i miss you
just his name alone is enough to perk you up and put a smile on your weary face, spreading a warmth in your soul, like a fireplace crackling to life in a chilly cabin up in the northern mountains in the dead of winter.
me : hi baby
me : i miss you too :(
climbing into the driver's seat, you allow yourself to sink into the leather seats, quickly shooting him a message that you'll be driving in case you take a while to respond and that you'll text him when you get home, getting the car started and heading home.
in the meantime, atsumu's sprawled out on his back over the plush ivory sheets on his queen bed, fresh out of the shower after practice and dinner with the boys, lazily toying with his phone while staring at the ceiling. he thinks the bed's much too large for just him alone, still defaulting to laying on his side of the bed — it's a force of habit that comes with living together, missing the warmth of your embrace and the scent of your strawberry vanilla shampoo lingering on what would've been your pillow.
he knows you’ve been slaving away at work while he was gone, you’re usually home by now but if you’re only just leaving the office at this hour, you’re probably clocking voluntary overtime just to clear as much off your plate as possible. you never liked bringing work home anyway.
he hopes you’ve been taking care of yourself, not that you don’t normally, but you tend to get stuck in your head sometimes when you’re busy and pushed to the limits. regardless, he always worries, despite you telling him that you’re a big girl and can take care of yourself, that he shouldn’t worry his pretty lil head about you.
atsumu thinks he has a growing distaste for away games. they usually mean that he has to be away from you, meaning he’s a tad bit more grouchy than usual, a bit more snappy, much to the team’s chagrin. there’s no point searching the stands for you when you won’t be there, no you to kiss him good luck before lining up, no you to dick down the night before for some fun, overnight loving and a good night’s sleep.
well, lady luck seems to be on his side because little did he know, you’d be coming home to find a very exciting parcel sitting at your doorstep.
you on the other hand, are slightly puzzled. strange, you didn’t receive any delivery notifications, but you won’t say no to a haul. who knows, it might just be what you need at the end of a shitty day, a little retail therapy doesn’t hurt nobody.
stepping out of your shoes and leaving your coat hung by the door, you bring the cardboard box up on your kitchen counter, carefully slicing it open with the first knife you could find. with a gasp, you lift up the contents of the box to find a very lovely set of lace langerie. i forgot i ordered this.
in a burst of excitement, you immediately bring the dainty piece of fabric to the bedroom, peeling off your black pencil skirt and white button up. putting it on, you stand in front of floor length mirror, hands lightly tracing the over the fine details of patterned lace in admiration. it’s beautiful, hugging your figure in all the right places, and you happen to know someone who would love it even more.
flicking on the light switch of your shared walk-in closet, your eyes zero-in on a green shoe box sitting in the corner of the room. it’s tucked away, no one’s ever really needed it, the contents being kept more so for nostalgic purposes, but you’re really hoping what you’re looking for is still in there.
kneeling down to open it up, you come face to face with atsumu’s high school jersey. inarizaki’s #7. perfect, just what you were looking for.
with a mischievous glint in your eyes, you put the jersey on. atsumu’s definitely grown larger and more buff in the several years since high school, but he wasn’t by any means small to begin with, the dri-fit material hanging loose on you frame and ending right by your upper thighs.
it unfortunately no longer smells like him, having been kept away for that long, but just a little spritz of his perfume should do the trick. it’s a far cry from having him here with you but it’ll do for now.
crawling into bed and getting tangled in the soft sheets, you raise the hem of the jersey just to tastefully expose your skimpily clad lower half, arching your back just a little and angling your phone to snap a photo. you’ve definitely taken more risqué photos in the past, for sure, but given you were both apart, much farther than just a short drive, you know this will be enough to set him off, leaving just enough room for imagination.
less than a minute after you hit send, your phone rings with an incoming call and checking the caller ID, sure enough, it’s atsumu.
biting back a smile, you feign innocence, propping your phone up between your ear and shoulder, picking at your manicured nails as you lean back against the soft pillows, “hi tsumu, everything okay?”
“come on, don’t play coy with me now baby, with my jersey too? you know exactly what you’re doin’.”
he is, as always, so so easy to rile up.
with a giggle, you egg him on, “i just wanted to show you what came in the mail today, isn’t it pretty?”
“it is, looks ravishing on you darling. you know exactly what i like don’t you? it’s in my favourite colour too.”
atsumu hums in delight, bringing the phone closer to his mouth and voice dropping barely above a whisper and muttering out the next few words, “though i must say, i think it looks better on the floor.”
you can’t help but bring your bottom lip between your teeth, sinful thoughts begin to run through your mind about what the night entails if this carries on. making sure he can hear your pouting through the phone, “mhmm but you’re not here to undress me, strip me of my clothes one article at a time.”
atsumu pictures you in your shared bed, mind conjuring images of you slowly peeling off your clothes, nipples perked as the cool night air hits your skin, peeking through the sheer lace fabric. he was already sporting a semi hard on, the beginning of an erection provoked by the delicious photo you sent earlier.
he can’t help but reach a hand down to touch himself over his boxers, letting out a desperate and breathy whine that you recognise all too well, “s-shit— baby, please, just help me out here.”
your eyes widened, breath hitching in your throat at the realisation, a wave of pleasure going straight to your heat.
breathing out an okay, you wiggle into a more comfortable position, bringing the collar of his jersey up to your nose and taking a deep inhale of his fragrance, closing your eyes and letting his voice and your imagination do the work for you.
your hands trail down your sides, pulling the delicate panties aside and letting your fingers brush against your clit, folds already glistening with arousal from the mere thoughts of atsumu laying in his bed, naked skin glazed with a sheen of sweat and pleasuring himself to pictures of you.
"talk to me, baby. can you describe to me what you’re doing?”
“touching myself, rubbing my clit.” you gasp, “feels good.”
“yeah? good girl, apply a little more pressure and when you’re ready, put a finger in for me?” he shakily breathes out, "i bet ya look real pretty right now."
you do as you’re told, clenching around your finger, his simple praise shooting straight to your core. oh how quickly the tables have turned, from taunting him to eagerly following his instructions without any second thoughts.
you can almost hear the wet sounds of his hand spreading the precum over his length and his strokes over his cock gradually increasing in speed, his voice breathless and broken,"that's it baby, slide another finger in?”
“that’s my good girl. imagine it's my thick fingers in your pussy right now." you moan at the delicious sensation, eyes squeezed shut as you pump your fingers in and out of your cunt. he hasn't been gone for long but you miss him so much, in more ways than one.
“i miss you so much, miss being inside you, your pretty face when you’re moaning my name, hmm?”
reaching up and rolling your nipples through the thin lace, you moan, “i do, i m-hah, miss you too tsumu!”
at this point, days worth of stress melts away as you chase your release, mind overwhelmed with pleasure as the saccharine voice of your lover leads you to an orgasm.
“i can’t wait to get back and fuck you for real, just doesn’t feel the same without you.” it’s almost like his phone is on his pillow right next to his face, sweet moans and groans tumbling out of atsumu’s mouth, straight into your ears, almost like he’s right here with you caged below him, breathing into your neck.
despite the distance, he feels so close, almost like he can touch you if he just reached forward, “keep going baby, don’t stop.”
your orgasm is building much faster than you initially anticipated, pleasure ripping through you as his wrecked voice and whimpering pushes you closer and closer to the edge as tears line your closed lids and threaten to spill over your cheeks.
“a-atsu!” you cry with urgency, grinding your sensitive bundle of nerves into the palm of your hand, barely holding on to the cusp of release. “atsu i’m gonna—“
“come on, let go f'me pretty.”
with a high-pitched cry, your body stiffens and the coil in your abdomen finally snaps, squeezing tight and releasing all over your fingers.
atsumu pictures it all too well, your muscles contracting under soft skin as you cum to his encouragement— that was the last push he needed and he’s letting out a string of expletives and sharp moans, sinking into the pale sheets as his release sputters over his stomach and lower abdomen.
the both of you lay in silence for a few moments, catching your breath as you come down from the high. you hear some movement through the phone, presumably atsumu cleaning up the mess he made on himself, before collapsing on the firm mattress again.
"man, i wish i could hold you and kiss you all over your pretty face." you can even hear the pout in his voice, heart clenching as you yearn to kiss it off his handsome face. all you can do at the moment is hum in response, wrapping your arms around a pillow and tucking your face into his jersey that you still had on, inhaling the scent of his perfume now mixed with your sweat, pretending that he’s here in bed with you.
regardless, you’re spent, the post-orgasm sleepiness paired with the long day you just had hitting you all at once and your eyes flutter shut, softly mumbling with a tired yet satisfied smile, “i love you, atsumu.”
“i love you too, princess.” atsumu sighs in quiet longing, “i’ll see you soon okay? be back before ya know it.”
bzzt. bzzt. just as he’s about to drift off into slumber, his phone buzzes with an unread message from kiyoomi in the adjoining suite next to his— 1 new message from omi-omi
omi-omi : next time you’re calling your fiancé and beating your meat, please keep it down
notes. @atsumou surprise >:) was listening to snooze - sza while adding the last touches
reblogs & interactions are always appreciated !
cw. gn!reader, hurt/comfort, established relationship
word count. 860
synopsis. tobio comforts you in the only way he knows how
"i'm home." the first thing tobio notices is that it's too quiet.
taking his shoes and jacket off by the door, he peers over the corner to see the house seemingly empty. that's odd, you're usually home by now.
practice ended a little earlier than usual, or as coach calls it, a reward, for finally getting down some of the new attack formations that the team has been working on for the past couple of weeks. he had no complaints, taking the shortest and fastest way home to you.
it’s daily routine that he gets home after you after all — you’re always there at the door to greet him with a hug or at least be within sight, either lounging on the couch or busying yourself with something. with a sweet smile and crescent moons for eyes, your head will shoot up from whatever you're focusing on, searching for the face of your lover. you're always so happy to see him.
today, you’re nowhere to be found. the still air of your cozy abode is stifling as he scans his surroundings, the only indication that you're home is your bag laying by the door, half of it's contents spilling out like it was thrown aside. something’s up.
frowning in confusion, he quietly pads to your shared bedroom, taking cautious steps towards the door left slightly ajar. gently pushing the door open, he finds you laying face down in bed. if it weren’t for your muffled sniffles, he would’ve thought you were asleep, and his heart shatters when he realises — you’re crying.
his eyebrows furrow as he slowly approaches your figure, kneeling down and grazing his fingers along the back of your hand with a featherlight touch. the last thing he wants to do is scare you in case you didn't hear him come in.
you did in fact hear him, but simply didn’t have it in you to get up after the grueling day that just passed. the universe seemed to be against you — everything that could’ve gone wrong, went wrong, and what started as a peaceful morning ended with you dragging yourself home and barely holding back tears.
barely above a whisper, he murmurs, “hi love, i’m home.”
with your face smushed into the pillow, you miss the concerned crease between his eyebrows and the downturn of his lips at the sight of you like this. tobio knows very well that he's a far cry from being an empath, but seeing you in this state makes his shoulders stiffen, body tensing up as he imagines the distress you must be in.
you always did take pride in being strong and slow to crumble in the face of trouble. it's one of the endless list of things he loves about you, but he also knows that you tend to bottle up your negative emotions.
shifting over to give him room to sit, your turn in his direction just as you feel the edge of the bed dip with his weight, eyes still closed and almost afraid to face him. it’s not that you can’t be vulnerable with him, he already has so much on his plate, you don’t want to bother him any more after a long day.
he thumbs at your damp cheeks and sighs, “look at me, please?” reluctantly fluttering your eyes open, you meet his worried gaze with exhausted, glossy eyes. there you are, his beautiful baby.
“bad day?” he knows, and with your nods he soothes you, “you don’t have to tell me if you don't want to okay?”
he’s worried, he’s never been good with words, neither does he ever know what he’s doing when you’re the one that needs comfort. he lets his actions do the talking instead, stretching out his arms for you for you to fall into. i'll be your safety net.
but little does he know, his simple words are enough to soothe your soul, knowing they’re from the heart. like a glimmer of sunshine piercing through the sea of dark clouds, they quell your worries and shelter you from the storm, even if just for a little while.
“shh it’s okay, i’m here.”
the moment he takes you into his arms, you’re falling apart, a fresh wave of warm tears finding a home in the junctures of his neck. his arms, toned and strong from years of volleyball, cradle you with a softness he only ever knows with you, hands delicately smoothing up and down your spine as he gently rocks back and forth.
the quiet humming and tender kisses to the crown of your head ground you with time, your tears slowing in it's tracks. with a deep exhale, you catch your breath and finally lift your head to look him, heartstrings tugging at the way his loving gaze seems to find yours.
tobio brushes the loose strands of hair out of your face, placing a reassuring kiss on your forehead, followed by each of your eyelids. it tickles and you let out a humoured breath at the sensation, bringing a soft relieved smile to his face.
"there you are. you're safe, here with me now."
notes. back to the regular scheduled program ~ i apologise in advance, this is extremely self-indulgent and possibly ooc. i started writing this in my lowest point last week after a night of crying myself to sleep, i know, not my brightest moment eueueue. i hope this can be of at least a little bit of comfort to you < 3 (dividers: @/cafekitsune)
reblogs & interactions are always appreciated !
okay that kuroo piece is still coming but have this small sakusa x MSBY!manager blurb that I just thought up and got so excited about!! I’m marking this down as fem!reader just for this specific little ramble. it can be read separately from the series !!
warnings: none, but probably a bit of a disconnect from what really happens at charity galas lmao
sakusa kiyoomi has a certain reputation for being very stoic and stand-offish in public- always polite but rather blunt in interviews. he’s tall, intimidating and not very personable around those who don’t know him, so it’s not a surprise people perceive him this way. his preference for wearing his mask most of the time only adds to this reputation, and he couldn’t care less. in fact, you would argue that he finds comfort in being perceived as unapproachable by strangers.
but when MSBY fans realize how horrifically down bad their favourite wing spiker is for the team manager, they have a field day with this absolutely drastic personality shift.
it starts with little jokes made by fan accounts about how much nicer he is to you in comparison to his teammates. they latch onto passing comments made by bokuto or atsumu about how when you’re at practice they feel at ease because they’re less likely to get obliterated by his sarcastic remarks.
no one has clued into the fact that you’re together yet, just that there’s some serious chemistry between you two.
it doesn’t go much further than that until the night of some charity event a lot of different teams are attending. of course managers are there, as well as coaches and trainers and JVA employees.
you’re doing the press/carpet walk before entering the event and in between photos and walking between journalists, one of the straps of your heels has come undone.
you frown a little and inspect it before realizing your dress restricts your ability to fix it yourself, so you nudge your boyfriend and stick your foot out to draw his attention to your predicament.
you don’t think twice about how there are no words are spoken. just a simple action and understanding between two lovers.
so people watch on as sakusa kiyoomi drops to his knees right then and there without protest and fixes your shoe. you take the opportunity to adjust the neckline of your dress (a deep, silky forest green to match his tie) and look around while you wait for him to finish.
you don’t realize the uproar this is bound to create, and you definitely don’t think twice about the fact that your boyfriend isn’t wearing a mask to this event.
…which means everyone is able to see the blush on his face and the tiny yet extremely lovesick smile on his lips as he gets up. you grin and pat sakusa on the cheek in thanks before walking to the next reporter, him trailing behind you dutifully.
you check twitter the next morning and your timeline is flooded with videos of that moment, captions gushing about how sweet and happy he looks. some fans go as far as to say he looks like a lost puppy following you around.
he doesn’t regret it one bit, but you have to comfort him when he loses his stand-offish reputation after that because he dreads the idea of more people possibly coming up to him in public.
in which kageyama tobio is born for several things: the court, his team, and you. and he really, really wants to marry you.
wc: 766 | gn reader | little glimpses of your relationship with tobio over the years
There are several givens in Kageyama Tobio’s life.
There’s volleyball. It’s in his blood. Volleyball is shoes squeaking on floors, the shrill of a whistle, Nikuman after practice, and that sweet, sweet feeling of connection– fingers brushing yellow and blue leather and palms aching after a serve. Kageyama Tobio was born for the court and born to fly.
His team is one of them. There’s Sugawara, who still treats him to yakitori and an Asahi Dry (or three) whenever he’s back in Miyagi. Daichi sends him assorted nuts from Sendai every once in a while and Nishinoya mass e-mails him slightly blurry pictures of his life abroad on New Years. Ushijima buys electrolytes for him and Kourai. Shouyou is, well, Shouyou, and Kageyama counts him as two givens.
There’s the small things too: he takes a little too long to read Kanji, he buys a new face wash every month, he will always avoid rush hour.
And then, he thinks, there’s you.
It hits him in full force in the middle of the street on a Tuesday evening as he holds a plastic bag of groceries. It also, consequently, renders him immobile for ten minutes, because Tobio had never been one to dwell on the givens. But as he stands on the pavement and his bag carries the burden of hashi for two, yogurt for two, two packs of sandwiches and four bags of gummies,
( because you really like those gummies: and Tobio had thought, if you like the grape flavor, then you should also try the strawberry. And if you wanted to try something new, you might crave the fizzy Cola ones. And if you liked the Cola ones, then he had to buy the Ramune flavored ones, too )
Tobio gets the urge to buy a ring. And an urge, no, a craving to marry you.
Tobio remembers study sessions in high school and desperate makeouts in Karasuno’s dusty storage closet. He remembers the firsts: first conversation, first fight, first kiss, first date. Sprinting on beaches before the sun kissed the horizon and laying underneath the stars. He remembers graduation under cherry blossoms and pressing his second button into your palm with red cheeks and shaking hands.
There were tears, too. Anger as he realized he couldn’t, for once, be selfish and have both you and professional volleyball. Anger as you had cried and cried and cried in his arms because you were getting your degree in Miyagi and he was moving to Tokyo. Anger as you had suggested breaking things off because you knew that Kageyama was born for the court. To fly.
And you had said, between tears, that Tokyo was his potential. Because you knew him, and you knew that he didn’t like texting and that he wasn’t good at communicating, but you somehow underestimated how much you meant to him. Then: you had stopped crying because Kageyama was crying. And you had never seen Kageyama cry.
You were there when Kageyama started on the National Team, standing in the bleachers with the biggest smile he had ever seen, jumping as you turned to show him the Kageyama embroidered on the back of your jersey. You were there when he accepted his position on the Adlers, and watched their broadcasted games behind textbooks and journals and pencils from your dorm in Sendai.
Kageyama was there when you called him sobbing because the pipes in your dorm leaked. He was there when you got fired from your part time job for slapping a customer. Begrudgingly, he was there when you asked him to have Oikawa Tooru sign twelve jerseys for your friends at university. And then, he was there when you graduated college, diploma in hand and a blush on your cheeks as you pressed your button into his palm even though you really weren’t supposed to do that.
Now you’re in Tokyo, having accepted his slightly bashful request for you to move in with him– in a nice apartment on the fourteenth floor overlooking the city; because even though he didn’t really like heights, he knew you loved city lights and people-watching. And if he had to cover his face when he saw the nameplate next to your shared apartment that read Kageyama, well. You didn’t have to know that.
He’s still on the street, and he’s still holding his grocery bag, but his eyes are firm because he really wants to make your last name Kageyama.
So he makes a phone call.
“Tanaka-san,” He says before his former upperclassman can react. “Where did you buy Shimizu’s ring?”
>>Kageyama makes you smile that first day in the sandbox, and he spends the rest of his life learning what it means to make you happy.
or
You ask Kageyama to marry you, and he says yes, but you both realize over the years that it's just not that simple.<<
____________________________
tags: smut, fluff, angst, childhood best friends to lovers, childhood marriage agreement, sandbox confessions, emotionally stunted kageyama, hinata is too smart for his own good, younger yachi, lessons in growing up, college age kageyama, penetrative sex, first time
a/n: everything about kageyama in this fic makes me want to put him right in my pocket. enjoy!
[feel free to buy me a cup of coffee!]
------------------
Will you be my prince?”
The first words you ever speak to Kageyama Tobio, in the middle of the sandbox at the neighborhood park.
“I think we should get married.”
The last words you say to him, that same day, as your parents are warning you that it’s time to head home.
You’re wearing a princess costume, holding a plastic fairy wand.
He’s holding a volleyball, the crown you’d placed on his head an hour ago now lopsided.
“ Okay .”
His response, both times. Nothing more, nothing less.
It’s enough to make you smile. Both times.
He doesn’t smile back. He doesn’t know why you’re so happy.
Only when he sees you the next day, waiting in the sandbox for him, does he realize that he doesn’t know your name.
–
You’re a year younger than him. He learns this for the first time when he mentions the elementary school he goes to, almost a week after you meet.
You tell him that you’ll be going there once the summer’s over.
He thinks nothing of it, not until he hears someone calling his name on the first day. He turns, surprised, because he doesn’t really talk to his classmates.
And then he realizes it’s the girl from the park.
You run up to him excitedly and reach for his hand. He lets you take it.
“Can I see you at lunch? Will you come find me?”
He doesn’t think that’s how it works. His teacher always lines them up and they eat lunch in a circle, out in the courtyard.
“Okay.”
He wonders if it hurts when you smile that wide.
By lunch, you’ve forgotten about his promise. You’re meeting so many new people and making friends, and your teacher is a nice lady who lines you all up and leads you down to the courtyard to eat lunch.
You’re in the hallway, waiting for the line to move outside, when you hear the tapping of a finger on a window. You turn, finding Kageyama inside his classroom, standing on his tiptoes and tapping gently on the glass for your attention. His face is blank even when he waves.
That’s the first time you properly fall for Kageyama Tobio. Because he’d remembered, even when you hadn’t.
–
On your first day of middle school, you hover nervously around your classroom door. You check and re-check that you have everything in your bag, if only to have a reason to look busy.
This place is a lot bigger than your last school, and you haven’t been able to find your friends yet. Not everyone from your elementary school class would be here, so you’re desperate to find the few familiar faces that will.
You hear his voice in the stairwell, just beside your classroom. He sounds irritated, that harsh edge easy to identify. You peek around the corner, finding him on the stairs. He’s berating someone, telling them they need to give more energy during practice.
“Kageyama!” You stand at the top of the stairs, clutching your bag and beaming down at him. You’re filled with relief, because at least you’d found him .
He and his teammate turn, and you can’t help but think the boy next to him resembles a turnip.
“Oh. Y/n. You made it.” Tobio’s face is blank as always, but he’d lost the edge in his voice. You giggle, skipping down the steps to meet him, and cling to his arm once you’re within reach. The unfamiliar boy watches you with wide eyes.
“Don’t tell me you have a girlfriend , Kageyama.” He stares down at your linked arms and then meets Kageyama’s eyes, dumbfounded. “There’s no way the King got himself a girl.”
You scrunch your brows together. King ? Tobio had never mentioned a nickname like that.
From the way his arm tenses under your hand, you realize that it’s one he doesn’t like very much.
He takes the volleyball that’s in his other hand and shoves it into Turnip Boy’s chest.
“Focus on what’s important, Kindaichi. Learn to meet my sets before I find someone else.”
You’d heard him talk like that before – his tunnel vision when it comes to the sport had gotten him into trouble a few times in elementary school, too.
The boy leaves with a huff, and Kageyama turns to face you. His arm slips out of your grasp, but he says nothing when you just reach for his hand.
“Do you have practice today?”
He tilts his head.
“I have practice every day.”
You nod, expecting that. “Can we eat lunch together?” You’re not sure if he has other second-year friends that he hangs out with. But he just shrugs, putting his free hand on your elbow and moving you out of the way of a group of girls coming up the stairs.
“Okay.”
You hear your name being called, and you realize one of the girls is a friend from your last school. She giggles when she sees Kageyama and teases you.
“Oh, it’s your husband!”
He says nothing about it, watching you blush and brush your hair behind your ear. He doesn’t understand why you get so shy. You’re the one who had spent all of elementary school telling anyone who would listen that you would marry him one day.
The other girls who don’t know you yet become curious, whispering to each other when your friend says that. Your ears turn pink, and you glance at him nervously. He just blinks at you, because you’re snatching your hand out of his like you weren’t the one who’d grabbed it.
The girls disappear around the corner, and you look at him with a crease in your brow.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d want me to tell anyone here. It’s probably embarrassing.” You’re in middle school now. It’s harder to talk about your crush so openly, and he might not want that kind of attention.
But he just glances at the spot where those girls had been and then meets your eyes.
“But they already know.”
You look him over, your face flushed.
“So… I can… talk about it?”
He shrugs. “Okay.”
He’s not really sure why you squeal and throw your arms around his neck in a hug. He’s just glad he doesn’t lose his balance on the stairs.
By the end of the day, even his own classmates are teasing him about you. He’s too busy reviewing videos from his last practice to care.
–
Both of your families know that you plan to marry him. His sister bullies him anytime he doesn’t greet you with a hug, saying he’s going to be a bad husband. Your mom calls him ‘ Son-in-law ’, and he’d decided early on to call her ‘ Mom ’, because that had seemed like the logical response at the time.
Both of your dads often try to help him practice out in your backyard, even though his sister’s the only other volleyball player and, frankly, your father never really got a grasp on the rules.
Your mother starts teaching you how to cook after you beg her to let you make a bento for Kageyama’s lunch, and your father only knocks you affectionately on the head with his newspaper when he finds you drawing hearts around Tobio’s name in your notebook instead of finishing your math homework.
Your friends don’t complain when you disappear up to the roof every day for lunch, because that’s your only real alone time with him. And by the time you graduate middle school and secure your enrollment at Karasuno, Kageyama’s waking up every day to the 20+ texts you’d send him every night while he’s sleeping.
Half of them are about wedding planning, which you both know is way too far in the future, but you have fun dreaming about the perfect wedding and he only really shuts down your ideas when you say something absurd.
What do you think about having goats bring our rings down the aisle?
Where are we going to get goats?
Oh… You’re right.
And wouldn’t the goats eat the rings?
Oh. That’s true too.
And how are we going to get the rings to balance on the goats?
Okay, I get it!
You’re not oblivious. You know that Kageyama has no interest in wedding planning. He only thinks about volleyball, and he lets you do whatever you want – not because he wants you to have everything your heart desires, but because he simply doesn’t care .
But he’s a man of few words, and he’s also quite literally incapable of lying for someone else’s sake. So if he continues to accept you and your fairytale daydreams, then you’ll continue to see him as your prince.
–
The first time you meet the Karasuno Volleyball Club, it’s with a shy bow and Kageyama’s bento hiding half of your embarrassed face.
It’s your second week of high school, and there is an entire volleyball team of boys staring you dead in the eye in shock.
You skirt around the edge of the court toward Tobio’s bag. He’d mentioned a lunchtime practice, and you’d just wanted to drop this off so he could eat when he had time. He hasn’t noticed you yet, and you don’t mind, because this is one thing you’d rather not distract him from.
You don’t mind being second only to volleyball.
You set the lunchbox down and turn to sneak out of the gym, but there’s a boy with orange hair in your face.
“Who are you? Why are you bringing Kageyama his lunch?” His voice carries, catching the attention of everyone in the room, including Tobio.
“O-Oh, sorry, I’m just–” You fumble for your words, trying to duck around this shockingly agile shorty.
“Y/n.” Kageyama’s calling from the court, and you feel embarrassed that you’d interrupted him. He shows no irritation about it, though, his face blank as ever.
“ Sorry …” You whisper, as if you’re trying to avoid detection. As if you don’t have everyone’s eyes on you.
You manage to dodge the small boy and make a run for it, calling back to him while you race for the door. “Make sure you eat everything and drink lots of water– Okay, bye !”
You fly off the steps of the gym and round the corner, slamming your back against the wall outside so you can catch your breath. Your head is just under the window, which is propped open. You hear his teammates grilling him as he approaches the side of the court for the bento.
“ Is that your girlfriend?! She made you lunch! ” It’s the small boy’s voice.
You hear the rattle of chopsticks as he unpacks the containers and pops them open. His mouth is full of food when he responds, and he’s deadpan as always, not an ounce of emotion in his voice, but–
“That’s Y/n. Be nice to her. We’re going to get married.”
–that’s the first time he says it.
You fall for him all over again.
–
You’re a second year when Kageyama Tobio asks you out.
He’s napping at his desk at the beginning of the day, exhausted from morning practice. His phone keeps buzzing in his bag, the usual stream of texts from you, but he’s honestly too tired to even notice.
Hinata slams down into the seat in front of him, and Kageyama cracks his eyes open in annoyance. Yamaguchi and Tsukishima aren’t far behind, their own desks beside his.
“Could you be a little less annoying?”
Hinata just stares down at him with narrowed eyes.
“Hey, Kageyama.”
Tobio puts his forehead back on his desk with a grunt of acknowledgement.
“How far have you and Y/n gone?”
He hears Tsukishima choke on his drink, and Yamaguchi’s scolding Hinata under his breath.
“You can’t just ask him that-”
“What do you mean?” Kageyama lifts his head, staring straight at his friend. “How far we’ve gone – what does that mean?”
Even Yamaguchi stares at him in disbelief now.
“What are you talking about?” Tsukki’s voice is judgmental as always. “He’s asking what you and your girlfriend have done together. You know…” He waits for Kageyama to get it, but it never clicks.
Tobio just looks at each of them blankly. “Y/n isn’t my girlfriend.”
He wonders if the bugs outside are buzzing louder than normal, or if it’s just really quiet in the room right now.
“But…” Yamaguchi scratches his cheek. “Did you guys decide to not get married after all?”
Kageyama tilts his head. “No…? We still are.”
The freckled boy stares back. “Then wouldn’t you have to date first?”
“Date?”
“Oh, my God-” Tsukishima leans his elbows on his desk and buries his face in his hands. Hinata grabs the front of Kageyama’s uniform roughly.
“Dude. Don’t tell me you never asked her out.” When Tobio just glares at the grip Hinata has on him, his friend gawks at him. “You have to date first, Kageyama! What if she’s been waiting all this time for you to ask her?!”
“ I think there’s something wrong with her .” Tsukishima’s voice is muffled. “ How could she possibly still be set on this guy? ”
Kageyama looks around at his friends as their classmates finally start to file into the room for the day. They all just sigh in frustration, as if this were something he should have known already.
Oh.
He reaches into his bag for his phone. He starts to type out a message, but Yamaguchi snatches the thing out of his hands. He looks appalled.
“You can’t ask her over text , Tobio.”
Tsukishima just laughs and shakes his head. Kageyama ignores him.
“Well, how do I-”
“You ask her in person.”
Oh.
He waits until lunch, when you appear at the door to the third-year classroom. He follows you upstairs to the roof, and then he lets you excitedly explain the lunch you’d made him. He eats in silence, listening to you ramble about your classmates and the fact that your teacher had told you to start thinking about college.
“-think that maybe I should start looking at majors–”
“Hey. Y/n.”
You pause, surprised at his interruption. He’s staring down at his lunch, poking around with his chopsticks. Does he not like the food?
“What’s wro-”
“Do you want to be my girlfriend?”
You don’t think you heard him correctly.
“What…?”
His ears turn red. He knows this moment is important, but he doesn’t know how to make it go smoother.
“Uh-” He pokes at a piece of rice. “The guys said that I-That we need to date before we get married. They said I should have asked you sooner, but I didn’t know that I was supposed to-”
“O-Oh, that’s okay!” You flap your hands at him frantically. “It’s okay, I wasn’t waiting or anything!” To be honest, you hadn’t thought this moment through at all. You’d known that you would date eventually, but you thought it would happen later. Or maybe that you’d skip that part entirely and just plan the wedding after college.
You never thought that he’d…
Is the day suddenly warmer than it was before? Did the sun come out?
You fan yourself, pressing your cold drink to the side of your face. Dating Kageyama Tobio is… not something you considered, even after all this time.
“Hey.”
You meet his eyes, flushing when you see how nervous he is.
If even he’s nervous, then…
“You never answered me.”
You swallow.
“O-Okay.” He watches you carefully, and you can feel it even when you look away in embarrassment. “Sure… Let’s date.”
–
“What’s the difference between dating and what we were doing before?” Kageyama’s twirling his pencil around his fingers, trying and failing to focus on his homework. It’s just too boring.
You’re across from him, almost done with your own work. You’re sitting at the table in your room, just a couple days after he asks you out. In that time, nothing’s really changed.
You flush, trying to think of what to say.
“Uh… I’m not sure. I think we just go on dates…? Hold hands and… stuff…?” You don’t want to give him more information than that.
He yawns, reaching for his phone. “Okay. Let’s go on a date, then.”
You lean forward to see what he’s doing, and you watch him type ‘ places to date’ into his search engine. You giggle to yourself and then gasp, because the local movie theater had popped up in the results.
“Ooh, a movie!”
He says nothing, clicking on the website and scrolling through the showings silently. You point to one that’s just come out.
“The trailer for that looks interesting. You might like it.”
He buys tickets without even thinking about it.
You wonder if he even wants to see it. But he doesn’t say otherwise, and he’s already paid, so you’re not sure what would change if you asked.
When he picks you up the next morning, leaning his body lazily over the fence of your house and tapping obnoxiously at the small bell that hangs from the metal bar like he always does, you’re stunned to find that he’s dressed well.
He looks effortlessly pretty, his sweater well-suited to the pair of jeans he has on – you didn’t even know he owned clothes outside of his sweats and his uniform.
You stop short just outside your door, taken aback by how good he looks. You watch his eyes trail down the length of your body, analyzing your dress, your hair, and your jewelry. You’d spent far too long deciding on it all, and your mom is currently standing behind you with a camera, squealing as she takes pictures of the two of you.
But Kageyama says nothing, about any of it. He just keeps his eyes on you as you approach the fence.
“Hi… You look nice.” You mumble the words, trying to keep your blush in check.
“Thanks…” He trails off, looking like he wants to say something else. But he doesn’t, only straightening and waiting for you to join him on the sidewalk. And then he waves blankly at your mom, his hand finding yours as you start to walk away. He gives you a simple response when you look up at him in surprise.
“What? You said we were supposed to hold hands.”
You stare down at your shoes the entire walk to the theater, your face painfully warm.
He buys you a large popcorn and drink to share, and you sit in the crowded theater with the bucket in your lap, grateful that it’s dark. You smoothe out your dress and tuck your hair behind your ear, trying not to ruin your outfit.
He takes your hand again once the movie starts, his voice low when he mumbles something to you.
“You look nice, too.”
You don’t really know what the movie ends up being about. Your heart is beating in your ears the whole time.
–
“Hey, Kageyama. How far have you and Y/n gone?”
Kageyama glares up at Hinata through his lashes. “Why do you always ask me that?”
“Because you’re a case study in idiocy.” Tsukishima flips another page of his magazine, his back against the frame of Yamaguchi’s bed. He’s not really reading it. He just likes to roll it up and smack Hinata over the head with it when he gets distracted from his studies.
Yamaguchi pushes gently at Tsukki’s arm without looking, just writing down another answer on his worksheet as he studies at the table with Hinata and Kageyama. “Leave him be. He’s doing his best.”
Kageyama wonders if the flush to Tsukishima’s cheeks is because he’d been scolded or because it was Yamaguchi.
He texts Hinata about it discreetly.
Does Tsukishima like Yamaguchi?
And then he stills when he watches the way his best friend’s eyes flit to the screen when it lights up and then up at him like he’s stupid. Hinata never takes his deadpan stare off of him, not even as he’s reaching for the phone and typing out a response.
They’ve been dating since first year.
Oh.
Kageyama purses his lips and puts his phone down. That’s enough meddling for one day.
It buzzes again a second later.
Answer my question, Dipshit.
Kageyama scowls.
I don’t know what you want me to tell you.
You’ve been dating for six months. What’s happened?
He furrows a brow.
We go on a date every week.
Hinata looks impressed.
You hold hands?
Yeah.
Kiss?
Kageyama blinks.
Kiss what?
Hinata no longer looks impressed. He meets Kageyama’s eyes again, that deadpan starting to get on Tobio’s nerves. And then he reaches across the table to show his phone to Tsukishima without a word. Kageyama watches Tsukki’s eyes dart down the length of the conversation.
And then he’s slapping his magazine shut and rolling it up. Kageyama doesn’t have time to avoid the harsh smack to the top of his head.
He barely gets his arms up and over his head in time to block another well-aimed swing.
“What the fuck!”
“You haven’t kissed her yet ?” Tsukishima smacks him again, and then once more, because he’s properly tired of Kageyama Tobio. And then he leans back against Yamaguchi, sighing through his nose. “I feel so bad for her, I’m considering dating her myself.”
“Hey!” It’s Yamaguchi, his pout obnoxious.
Kageyama really wonders how he hadn’t noticed their relationship before this.
Tsukishima pinches the bridge of his nose. “Someone please teach Kageyama how to be a boyfriend with feelings. I don’t have the time.”
Hinata snorts. “I don’t think we’d ask you for the time, anyway.” He doesn’t even bother avoiding the magazine smack to the side of his face. He deserved it.
Yamaguchi reaches into his bag for his laptop, nudging his boyfriend with a knee. “Go make snacks. I’ll find movies.”
Tsukki says nothing, just ruffling Yamaguchi’s hair as he stands and steps over him.
Surely, they didn’t always do things like that. Kageyama would have noticed… right?
He shakes his head, watching Yamaguchi set up his laptop at a distance where they can all see the screen. He doesn’t know what’s happening, but at least he doesn’t have to do his homework.
His friends keep him trapped in Yamaguchi’s room for the next six hours, forcing him to watch rom-coms and yelling ‘ Do that! ’ every time they see a romantic gesture, because they know Kageyama won’t think twice about it otherwise.
–
“Hey. Y/n.” He’s standing at the door to your classroom, just after 6pm on a Thursday. The sun is starting to set, but you’re both still here.
The volleyball season had ended a few weeks ago, his last time playing for Karasuno there and gone before he’d realized it. But he and Hinata had been scouted by the same school in Tokyo, so they use the now-empty gym to practice almost every day.
You’d waited for him after your student council meeting, filling out homework with a speed that he’d always envied just a little bit. You’re brighter than you realize, especially with numbers.
He hadn’t noticed until last year, when you’d gone for fun with them to Tokyo for the annual summer training camp and met Kuroo. You’d gotten on extremely well with him, and Kageyama had watched you two talk about chemistry and math as if they were exciting TV shows he’d never heard of.
Kuroo had gotten him alone soon after, mentioning to him that Tokyo had one of the best STEM programs in the country. He hadn’t realized what the Nekoma captain had meant at the time – not until he’d first been contacted by the university and had started, unknowingly, thinking that it would be nice to keep going to school with you after graduation.
“Oh, Kags!” You finish writing something with a smile and then start packing up. “I have a packet due next week, so I wanted to finish it before you were done practicing.”
He wouldn’t have started that packet until the night before.
He watches you skip up to him, in a rush even though you’re the only two people here. You walk down the hall together, and you peer up at him while you ask him about his day.
“Did you eat well? Sorry that I couldn’t see you for lunch – my class president wanted to talk about…” You talk excitedly, and he stops listening just as you’re approaching the top of the stairs.
There’s no one around right now, just noise drifting through the open window on the first landing of the stairs — the soccer team, running laps outside. It’s almost March. The frost is finally melting off of the grass. He’ll be graduating soon.
His mind drifts to what Hinata told him as they were parting ways, not even fifteen minutes ago.
‘Don’t make her wait much longer.’
Have you been waiting? Have you been expecting him to make a move on you? It had been a week since the forced movie night, but you haven’t given him any of the so-called signs he’d been made to notice in those scenes.
No lingering close to him, no biting your lip and looking up at him wistfully.
He’s starting to think the movies were being dramatic.
Do you even want him to kiss you?
“-yama… Kags?”
He stops at the landing, just in front of the window. He turns, realizing you’d stopped halfway down the stairs, just examining him with lifted eyebrows. You look mildly concerned, a soft smile tugging at your lips when he mumbles ‘ Huh? ’, and you move to join him.
“Are you okay?” Your eyes flit around his face. “Are you worried about training?”
No. He’s not.
For once, he’s not.
“Yeah. I guess.”
Does he want to kiss you?
He’s not sure. He enjoys your weekly dates – movie and cafe dates, and one amusement park date where your photo booth shots had been so funny that he’d snorted milk out through his nose. Those photos sit in his wallet now, because he couldn’t think of anywhere else to keep them and because the fact that he’d put them there had made you oddly happy.
And he’s realized recently that he likes the feeling of your fingers interlaced with his, hands joined and shoved into the pocket of his coat to stay warm. He likes having you close like that. And when he’d ask you to remove his finger wraps for him after practice, he likes how delicate you’d be about it, how soft your fingers were against his calloused ones.
Not to mention the strand of some unplaced emotion that would sit in his chest when his teammates would complain about him having a girlfriend. They’d whine anytime you would help him – ‘ We don’t have pretty girls who do that for us, Kageyama. Stop showing off. ’ – and he’d always feel a little weird. A little too proud that you wouldn’t do that for anyone else. A little too happy that he’s special.
Still, he has no idea about kissing. He hadn’t thought about it before last week. It had never crossed his mind. But now… he feels like he should do it. Hinata told him to. Yamaguchi and Tsukishima told him to. They were sure that you’d been waiting for him to do it.
You must have been waiting, then. They would know better than he does.
“-m sure that your drills have been going okay with Hinata, right? And you have some time still, if you wanted to fix something-” You cut short, realizing he’s stepping close to you. His face is blank, but he still looks like he’s thinking hard about something.
He steps in again, and you step back to give him some space. He follows, and soon you’re backed up against the wall on the stairs. Cold air drifts in through the window, along with the sounds of a soccer practice.
You swallow, meeting Kageyama’s eyes nervously.
“What’s… What are you…”
He looks you over. Your nose is red from the chill, and you’re looking up at him in confusion, like you have no idea what he’s doing. He realizes that, no, you hadn’t been waiting.
You hadn’t been expecting anything from him.
For some reason, that bothers him.
He sets his hands on your elbows, stepping close and dipping his head. You don’t have time to think, and Kageyama’s leaning in before you can bring yourself to wonder what he’s doing.
There, on that set of stairs between the first and second floor, just after 6pm on a Thursday. There are people outside, with no idea what’s happening not that far away. The sun is about to set, and the bugs are starting to come out of their winter hiding, a quiet buzz filling the air. It’s almost March. He’ll be graduating soon.
That’s the first time Kageyama Tobio kisses you.
He pulls away after a moment, tilting his head away to give you space but staying close enough that his hair gets in your eyes a little bit. You don’t remember the last time you took a breath, but it doesn’t matter, because you’ve never seen Kageyama blush before. Not like that.
You swallow hard, your skin tingling where he has his hands on your elbows. Another cold breeze drifts in, but you barely feel it. Your face is warm enough, and you think the heat radiating around you might not just be you.
Eventually, he takes a small step back, his head still ducked when he releases you. His ears are ringing, and he doesn’t like the fact that he can’t feel his fingers. And when he looks up at you through his bangs, seeing the way you’re still leaning against the wall for support as you hug your arms around yourself, he finds himself wanting to do it again.
He wants to be close to you like that again.
It’s not the same as holding your hand. It’s worse. It’s a feeling that sits in his stomach and makes his heart pound. The same feeling of adrenaline and excitement he gets when he wins a game.
He doesn’t know what to do with this feeling.
So he doesn’t move. He just stares. You stare back. Eventually, you lift off of the wall and smile shyly, crouching to grab your bag. He hadn’t even realized you’d dropped it.
You grip the strap so hard your knuckles turn white. He clears his throat.
“I’ll walk you home.” It’s soft, but it echoes loudly in this empty stairwell.
You just nod, following him down the stairs and out the front door.
It takes him ten minutes to gather the courage to hold your hand. You don’t say a word the entire way back.
–
Kageyama graduates, and you become a third year preparing for college applications. Things between you somehow return to normal with little issue, although you’d been expecting some level of awkwardness.
He doesn’t kiss you again or even give you any sign that he wants to. You don’t know what to make of that, but you choose not to push it. You think that he would probably let you kiss him if you wanted to, because he lets you do anything you want.
But the thought of kissing him when you’re not sure if he wants it or even cares about it – that makes you feel weird.
So you just don’t.
He’d moved to Tokyo in the summer to start training, and you find that, although you miss him immensely, you’re doing just fine here in Miyagi.
You talk every day, and you take the train to see him once a month, staying the weekend in his tiny dorm room and then rushing home to prepare for class on Monday.
You still text him random thoughts about wedding planning, but they’re far fewer than before. Now, you mostly just check that he’s eating and sleeping and that he’s not failing his classes.
You let yourself be woken up when he calls at 4:30 every day because he has to be out for his morning run by 5 and he knows he won’t be able to stay awake unless he’s talking to you while he gets ready. And then you sit at your desk, studying for your entrance exams and prepping your application materials while the sun rises outside your window.
You make an extra trip to the city whenever he has a game, rushing out of school and racing for the train station like an olympic runner, because every game means the world to him and you would never dream of missing one. And every time he wins, he holds you extra tight at night, excitedly recapping the moments of the game into the crook of your neck as if you hadn’t witnessed every second with your own eyes.
It never occurs to you to tell him about your day anymore. He doesn’t ask, and you don’t think about that enough to be upset by it. His world revolves around volleyball, just like it always had. And your world – your grades, your achievements, your future – had always just been expectations you’d set for yourself. Top of the class, student council president, stellar record. They’re all normal to you. You’d worked hard for them, but you’d never found them to be novel or exciting enough to tell Kageyama.
You just… existed.
And you never realized that maybe your priorities weren’t in the right place. That maybe making Kageyama Tobio your whole personality wasn’t the way it should be. You had slowly stopped doing that, slowly eased yourself off of him, slowly started hanging out with your friends more than you used to.
Nothing could change the way you feel about him – he’s your prince. He’d always been your prince, from the day you’d met. But you’re becoming an adult with a life and a future, and you’d never thought that that was important enough to share with him. Your whole world is still him .
Until it isn’t.
“Have you told Kageyama about your midterm grades yet?” Yachi spoons food into her mouth, eyes sparkling cutely when she asks. “I bet he was so happy for you.”
You tilt your head at her. “Oh, I didn’t think to tell him.” And you don’t think you’ve ever seen him get happy about anything other than volleyball.
Your friend’s expression dampens. “You didn’t tell him? Why?”
“It never came up.”
She looks lost. “But you worked really hard for it… And you got top of the class… You didn’t mention it at all?”
You furrow a brow, pushing food around your bento.
“I guess I just didn’t think about it.”
She hums and then claps as a thought comes to her.
“What about the school festival?”
You’re in committee meetings for that almost every day. It’s coming in the spring.
She frowns when you just shake your head blankly.
“Y/n, you haven’t told him anything? You even got sick the other day from the stress…”
“I didn’t want to bother him with it.”
She looks entirely unsatisfied. There’s silence, one where you’re eating slowly and trying to figure out what this feeling in the pit of your stomach is. And then she’s clearing her throat softly.
“Does he… ask about you? At all?”
No. He doesn’t.
You swallow. “He’s a busy guy.”
Now Yachi just looks mad. “And you’re a busy girl! He’s your boyfriend! He should be asking!”
You laugh sheepishly. “He’s never really been that way. It doesn’t bother me.” Right?
“That’s not the point!” She frowns deeply. “What kind of guy doesn’t want to hear about his girlfriend’s day?”
The kind of guy that only asks you out because his friends told him to.
The thought hits you like a truck, and suddenly your lunch tastes like cardboard. You swallow what’s left in your mouth, wincing as it goes down, and cover your container. You don’t feel hungry anymore.
“It’s fine, really.” You smile at her, reassuring her. “I’ll tell him about my day today, okay? I just never thought to do it, that’s all.”
She scowls, like that should never have been an option, but she lets it go.
You call Kageyama as you walk home later, the sun low in the sky. There had been 3 back to back meetings after school, and you’re rolling your shoulders in exhaustion. You’re already dreading the mountain of homework you have to do when you get home.
He picks up after a few rings.
“ Hey .”
You can hear the squeak of tennis shoes in the background. He’s at practice.
“Oh. Sorry, I thought you ended at 5.”
“ It’s fine. We stayed longer to prep for the game next week. I’m taking a break .” He sighs. “ I’m still not super satisfied with my jump serves. I get them right 90% of the time, but… ”
He rambles on like that, and you try to push down that lingering feeling from lunch. This is how every day goes. You’re never anything but happy to talk to him. You like hearing him ramble – it calms you down, lets you have a moment of serenity in the chaos of your day.
Now, you’re just wondering why he didn’t ask how you are.
Eventually, you clear your throat, seeing the shadow of your house in the distance.
“Hey, I should probably go – I’m home, and I don’t feel super great today, so…”
“ Oh, okay. Bye. ” He hangs up, and you stand in front of your house, staring down at your phone.
He hadn’t asked why you weren’t feeling good.
You shake your head, heading inside. After your shower, you settle down at your desk with a sigh, switching on the overhead lamp. It’s dark now, and you’re just starting on your work. It’s all due next week, so you decide to take it a little easy because you’re supposed to see Kageyama next weekend and you don’t want to get sick again.
You try one more time with him, sending a quick text.
I’m excited to see you next week <3
You put your phone down, oddly anxious, and open your math textbook. Your phone buzzes beside you, and you reach for it with a rush of nerves.
It’s just a thumbs up.
You stare down at it.
And then you close your textbook and switch the lamp off. You get into bed and cry into your pillow.
He doesn’t ask why you sound a little down when he calls the next morning at 4:30.
–
You decide to go see him early. You’re supposed to go next weekend, but you’d spent the last two days with a pit of anxiety in your stomach, and you think that maybe if you just see him, you’ll feel better. Reassured.
You get off the train, nothing but your backpack with you. You’d come right after school, but you hadn’t packed an overnight bag because you’d had this idea literally an hour before class had ended.
You make your way to the gym with ease, used to the lay of the campus by now. Kageyama has practice until 5, so you’re right on time to see him.
You stop short when you round the corner, your heart dropping.
He’s out front with Hinata and his teammates, all chatting excitedly about something from practice.
He’s laughing brightly at something his senior is saying, his eyes screwed up and his arms clutching his sides. Hinata puts him in a headlock with a grin, and he’s fighting back, the two roughhousing on the steps.
You’ve never seen him smile like that before.
Your bottom lip quivers against your will, your eyes filling with unshed tears. You turn to walk away.
This was a bad idea. You’ll just sit at a cafe and wait for the next train home.
“Y/n?”
It’s Hinata, calling out to you from afar.
You freeze, unable to turn back to them. You can hear the sounds of Kageyama’s teammates as they tease him.
“ Ooh, Kageyama-”
“ -your girlfriend’s here- ”
You blink, wiping furiously at the tears that finally slide down your cheeks. And then you swallow and turn back to them, seeing that Kageyama and Hinata are jogging to meet you where you are.
“Hi…”
“What are you doing here?” Tobio tilts his head at you, confused. “I thought you were coming next week. And-” He looks you up and down, a brow furrowed. “-where’s your bag?”
You’re not sure what to say to any of it.
I wanted to see you .
That would have been fine before. Now you just feel clingy.
I had a bad day. I missed you .
He won’t care. He won’t ask. He’ll just accept that.
Hinata leans toward you a bit, a frown tugging at his lips.
“Are you okay? You look sad.”
Tobio looks at his friend, blinking in surprise, and then down at you.
“What happened? Why are you sad?”
You try not to let it show when your heart cracks a little.
He’d only noticed because Hinata had.
“Uh-I’m fine.” You watch him closely, watch him accept your answer at face value with a nod. Watch Hinata lean away, eyes narrowed in disbelief. You wonder why your friends can see right through you but your own boyfriend can’t.
“Could we maybe get dinner…?”
Kageyama looks back at his teammates, frowning. You wonder where that bright smile had gone and why it had left when he’d seen you.
“The team was supposed to get dinner today…”
Your heart doesn’t even drop anymore. You’d expected it, the rejection.
“Oh. Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll just meet with you later.” You smile, starting to pull your phone out so you can look up some nearby restaurants. You’d shown up unannounced, anyway. Kageyama hadn’t expected to fit you into his schedule today.
Hinata nudges him hard with his elbow.
“Dude, your girlfriend came all this way to get dinner with you. You can just come along next time.”
Tobio turns to him, and then to you. He blinks.
“Oh. Okay.”
That word feels like a knife through the heart.
–
You sit silently across from him at the ramen shop, listening to him talk about the upcoming game.
“-maybe if I can just get there a little faster, I could probably-”
“Tobio…”
Kageyama freezes, noodles halfway to his mouth. You almost never say his name. It’s always Kags, or his full last name.
He looks down at you, eyes skimming over you quickly. You won’t meet his eyes, and your hand is trembling just a little. You’ve barely touched your food, and you’ve looked upset for a while now. He hasn’t wanted to push, because you always tell him when something’s up, but…
You put your chopsticks down and take a deep breath. Smile up at him. It doesn’t reach your eyes.
…he’s worried.
“I got top of the class on all my midterms.”
He blinks.
“Oh. Okay. Nice.”
Your brow furrows for just a moment before you fix your expression.
Something’s not right.
“And I’m organizing the school festival this year…” You bite your lip and look out the window. “It would mean a lot if you could come…”
He puts his chopsticks down and reaches for his phone right away.
“Okay. When?” He opens his calendar and looks up at you expectantly.
You just stare, your eyes full of an emotion he’s never seen before. And then you whisper to him.
“Why did you ask me to be your girlfriend?”
Tobio stares. Locks his phone and puts it down without breaking eye contact. Stares some more.
He’s confused.
“I thought that’s what I was supposed to do…”
You don’t think you can do this.
There are tears filling your eyes. Your voice cracks when you respond.
“Then I think we should break up.”
He just stares.
What? Where is this coming from? What are you talking about? You’re supposed to date and then get married. Breaking up isn’t in the plan.
At all.
“Oh.”
You flinch and look away. ‘ Oh ’. That’s it.
“Why?” He looks serious when he asks, like he might actually be worried about this. You’re not really sure you’ve ever seen him worry about you.
“Because I don’t want to marry someone who doesn’t want to marry me.” You smile bitterly up at him. “Because I never asked you what you wanted. I just decided what we would do.”
You’re having trouble breathing. You feel selfish and guilty. You’d decided what his life would look like, and he’d gone along with it because he’d had no complaints about the choice. He’d done everything right, exactly how you wanted him to. Exactly how he was supposed to.
“Because I don’t want you to wake up one day and realize that you wanted something different out of your life. Or for you to meet someone else and realize that you should have married for love, not obligation.”
He shakes his head, face blank. “That wouldn’t happen.”
You smile sadly. “You haven’t asked me about myself for as long as I can remember.”
He frowns. “I figured you would just tell me the things that were important.”
“And I figured you wouldn’t care because you never asked.”
Kageyama’s heart feels a bit strange. He doesn’t like the look on your face. It upsets him to see you unhappy.
“Oh.”
“You don’t really know what I’ve been up to. And you don’t know how I’ve changed since you left. You don’t ask. And that’s okay.” You hold eye contact, willing yourself not to cry. “But can you really say that you’re marrying me because you love me?”
He just stares. You stare back. And then you make up your mind.
“Me loving you enough for the both of us still isn’t enough to build a life together.”
He doesn’t react. All he says is–
“Okay.”
–
It’s been four days.
In those four days, Kageyama Tobio has learned several things about himself.
First, that he’s entirely incapable of getting out of bed on his own. He oversleeps three of the four days and misses his morning runs, barely rolling out of bed in time to get ready for class. The fourth day, he only wakes up on time because he’d put his phone on the bathroom sink the night before so that he’s forced to get up when his alarm goes off.
Second, that the days go by in a blur. He doesn’t remember eating breakfast, and he’s certain he doesn’t go to the cafeteria for lunch like he usually does. He subsists on the protein bars he keeps in his bag, and he only remembers dinner because, by the time practice is over, he’s so hungry that he’s stealing food from Hinata’s bag, too.
The third thing is that he’s messes up at practice in things that he had perfected years ago. He screws up during drills, he somehow is off-tempo during warm-ups, and – most importantly – he’s snapping at his teammates. The stress gets to him on day three, to the point that he’s running drills by himself and pushing his own limits every time he forgets even the smallest thing. When that doesn’t work, he’s yelling at Hinata and then blaming a senior for moving too slow during a set.
He hadn’t done that since high school.
“Dude-” Hinata approaches him after practice on day four. It’s Monday, and they have a game on Friday. Tensions are already high, and he knows well enough that he’s making things worse. “-what is with you lately?”
“ What ?” Kageyama shoots him a glare, one that has Hinata’s eyebrows flying up, because his best friend hasn’t looked at him like that since their first year at Karasuno.
He doubles down, keeping up easily with Kageyama’s long legs when the setter storms out of the gym. “What’s your problem? No one asked the King to make a special guest appearance.”
Kageyama turns so fast to face him that he skids to a stop, bumping into him. And then his shirt is being balled up in Tobio’s fist, and he’s being dragged onto his tiptoes and into Kageyama’s face.
“What the fuck did you just call me?”
Hinata breathes out a sigh, recognizing the frustration in Kageyama’s eyes.
“Why are you snapping at everyone? You’ve been in a mood since Friday.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Did you get dumped or something?” Shouyou knows he’s right when Kageyama’s glare and furrowed brow turn into a blank slate. He’s realizing something. “Oh, my God, you did. You got dumped.”
Kageyama drops him back down, releasing him. He blinks.
“I mean… Yeah, I did. But so what?”
Hinata looks at him like he’s crazy.
“What do you mean, so what ? You’re upset!”
Kageyama only swallows. He knows he’s upset. He was upset all of Friday, after you left him sitting there in that ramen shop, claiming you needed to catch the last train home.
But has he been upset enough to disrupt his days this much?
“I…”
“You’ve been oversleeping and barely making it to class.”
That’s true.
“You’ve been skipping meals, which is probably why you’ve been crabby and fucking up during practice. You haven’t been eating enough.”
That’s also true. That makes sense.
“And you’ve been distracted.”
Kageyama blinks down at him.
Hinata sighs. “You’ve been checking your phone constantly, dude. You never look up from it anymore.” He points up at the man with renewed frustration. “You almost got hit by that biker when we were crossing the street on Saturday!”
That… had happened. He remembers, barely. That he’d only looked up because Hinata had yanked on the back of his hoodie, that the student on that bike had yelled at him as he’d passed them by.
That he’d been checking his phone, wondering why it had been so silent all day.
“What are you waiting for, Kageyama?”
For her to text me .
“She usually texts me… about eating and… and wedding stuff.” There’s dread in his stomach, and his nerves are twisting painfully in his chest.
Hinata sighs dejectedly, running a hand through his hair.
“What wedding, Kageyama? She broke up with you.”
‘ What wedding, Kageyama?’
Oh.
If you broke up with him, then… Then there’s no dating, and that means no wedding.
Right.
Kageyama scowls at his short friend.
No.
No, he doesn’t like this.
–
He’s waiting for you at the Karasuno gates on Tuesday afternoon. You spot him as you’re walking out of the building with Yachi. You’d spent the weekend crying in your bed, and you’d decided on Monday – after you’d opened your wallet and promptly started sobbing, because you’d had the other photo booth strip from the amusement park in there – that you had to get yourself together.
Yachi links her arm through yours and pulls you back when you walk out of school, because she’d noticed him first. You look up, freezing when you see him lingering there. He’s out of place without a uniform, and he’s pacing back and forth in the corner, running his fingers through his hair.
What is he doing here?
You meet Yachi’s eyes anxiously, and the two of you walk to meet him. He looks up when you get close, eyes widening when he sees you. He takes a breath. You think he looks nervous.
“Can you un-dump me, please?”
Your lips part in surprise. Yachi slips her arm out of yours and walks away without a word, realizing that this is probably not something she should be present for.
You stare up at him.
“What?”
He scratches his neck. “This really sucks, Y/n. Can we date again? Please?”
“I-Kageyama-” You look around, wondering if he’s really doing this here. “Can we at least go somewhere else?”
He just blinks. “Okay.”
You try not to sigh. You hadn’t missed that word.
You lead him past the school grounds, crossing the street and toward the park that’s nearby. There’s no one around, and you take a seat at one of the benches. He sits next to you, silent. And then he turns to you.
“So…”
“I don’t think we should get back together.” You stare down at your hands when you say it.
He shifts to face you, huffing under his breath. “Why not?”
“What’s changed, Kageyama? In the last four days, what’s changed that would make things better this time?” You run a hand through your hair. “Because, from where I’m sitting, everything’s the same.”
“Then sit closer.” He pats the empty space between you for emphasis.
You sigh, growing frustrated.
“You don’t get it-”
“No, I don’t get it.” He cuts you off, angry. You’ve never seen him get upset with you before. “I don’t get it , Y/n. I thought we were fine. I thought I did everything I was supposed to-”
“Yeah, you did!” You stand, facing him. He stands, too, his chest heaving as he breathes harshly. “You did everything you were supposed to, Tobio. Because Hinata told you to. Because Tsukki and Yamaguchi told you to. You did everything they told you to do.”
“So what ? They were helping me figure out how to be a good boyfriend-”
“Did you even want to be my boyfriend?” You throw your hands up, annoyed. “Did you want to do those things ?”
He looks lost. Lost and frustrated that he’s lost. “Does it matter ? I was fine doing them, and they were things you wanted, and I didn’t mind-”
You fist the front of his hoodie, shaking him. Your eyes are filling with tears. “ It matters, Kageyama!” You drop your forehead to his chest, your breath shaky. “It matters . Those things mean nothing if you don’t want to do them yourself.”
You lift away from him, stepping back and covering your face with your hands. “I thought that if you didn’t have any complaints about the things I wanted, then that meant that everything was fine-”
“Everything was fine.” He’s looking at you like he’s begging you to explain this to him. “ I asked you out. I kissed you first. I did those things-”
“ Because they told you to! ” You bury your hands in your hair. It feels like you’re going insane, saying the same things over and over again. “They didn’t ask if you wanted to . They told you to.” You breathe deeply. “ I didn’t ask if you wanted to.” You drop your hands, sighing. “I just told you to.”
“And then you didn’t ask when you left me!” He digs the heels of his hands into his eyes, frustrated. “You just decided that what we had planned on doing was no longer the plan. You didn’t ask.”
You stare at him, processing. Realizing.
You thought you’d done wrong by pulling him in and keeping him close. So you let him go.
But that had been wrong, too.
“I’m sorry.” You can’t tell if your apology reaches him. He’s just glaring down at his shoes. “I’m sorry, Tobio. I felt guilty that I had forced you into this relationship and this future with me, and then I realized that I had made you my whole life without ever considering you.”
He meets your eyes. He’s listening.
“And then I saw that you weren’t interested in me or what’s happening in my life. You weren’t asking about my day or asking why I was tired or seeing when I was in pain. And I thought that meant that you were just going along with my plans for our future without ever thinking about if that’s what you even wanted for yourself. And that hurt, so much.”
Kageyama knows what you’re telling him. He’d been thinking about what you’d said on Friday, your words on repeat in the back of his head through the entire weekend.
‘Me loving you enough for the both of us still isn’t enough to build a life together.’
But he had never felt that you had forced him into this. He’d never felt that he might want something else. Even when he was just going along with your ideas because he couldn’t care less, there were no ill feelings. He’d been making you happy your whole lives, without even trying. All he’d ever had to do was be there, and you were happy.
You were never upset around him, never upset because of him.
So he didn’t know how much he hated it until it had happened.
He had never considered that you might ever need more than that from him. That you might need him to make this an equal-efforts relationship.
“Ask me.”
You just blink up at him, confused. He swallows.
“Ask me what I want.”
There’s a moment of silence, and then you’re inhaling nervously.
“What do you want, Kageyama?”
“I want-” He takes a step toward you, and then another. “-you to be where you’ve always been.” He grabs your shoulders, forcing you to come close to him, right in front on him. “Right here, Y/n. I want you right here .”
You tilt your head back to really look at him, your eyes wide. He’s meeting your gaze evenly. “I need you next to me , Y/n. I cannot function if you’re not.”
You’re confused. And extremely nervous.
“What?”
He tightens his hold on you. “I have not been doing anything right the last few days. I don’t wake up on time. I don’t eat . I am fucking everything up at practice.”
“Kageyama-”
“I keep checking my phone, waiting for you-I almost got run over on Saturday because I wasn’t paying attention-”
“What?! Kageya-”
“I miss you , Y/n.” Do you understand what he’s saying? Is he being clear enough? “I’m useless without you.”
Butterflies swirl in your stomach, but you still furrow a brow, protesting weakly.
“I’m not your mother, Tobio… I can’t keep doing everything for you-”
“Oh, my-” He releases you, stepping away and running a hand over his face. “Okay, fine! Yes-” He looks at you, exasperated. “I will work on that. I will work on being-I don’t know-” He’s fumbling for his words, trying to figure out what he should say. What’s right.
“-I will work on myself, okay? But-” He sighs. “-don’t break up with me. Please. Can’t I work on those things with you still here with me?”
You just stare. You’ve never seen this. You didn’t know this side of him existed. This person who is flustered and frustrated and lost. This person who is trying to communicate with you but is struggling.
He looks around, thinking hard. He rubs a finger over his brow, scowling. And then he tries again.
“Okay. When I asked you out, I was really nervous. And you had never made me nervous before. And when we went on our first date, I thought that you looked really pretty when I picked you up, but I didn’t know how to say it.”
You blink. What is he doing?
He starts pacing.
“And when I held your hand on the walk to the movie, I kept wondering if my hand was sweaty and if you could feel it. And I really liked that cafe you wanted to go to the week after, because they had that banana milk latte thing and I thought that was good. And you looked really happy with the cake I bought you, and I thought it was weird that I noticed that part specifically, because you always look happy.”
He scratches his forehead. Is he doing this right? If he’s just completely honest about everything, that would be progress, right?
“And when we went to the amusement park, you wanted me to buy you the cat ear headband, but I thought you looked really cute in the bunny ears. That’s why I bought you both.”
You didn’t know that. He never told you.
“And I look at the pictures from the photo booth thing all the time, but definitely after a bad day at practice. Because you look funny, but also because after I snorted out that milk, you laughed so hard that you cried, and I can never forget that. It makes me smile to think about it.”
He stops pacing. Turns to face you.
“And when I kissed you that day. On the stairs.”
You flush, your ears already warm and your heart already thrumming nervously in your chest from everything he’s been saying. He sighs, shaking his head.
“I wanted to kiss you again. I should have kissed you again. Because the guys, they did tell me to kiss you. That’s why I did it.” He steps toward you, swallowing hard. “But I wanted to kiss you again. I wanted to. I didn’t, because I was nervous and I couldn’t figure out why I couldn’t feel my fingers. And every time after that, when I wanted to kiss you, I would start to feel that way again. And I didn’t know what to do with that, so I just wouldn’t kiss you.”
He feels it now. His fingers are numb, and his heart is beating in his ears. And his stomach kind of hurts, and he’s terrified that this still isn’t enough. He’s terrified that your silence means that he’s not doing this right.
“I would have liked that.” You purse your lips when he blinks at you in surprise. “If you had kissed me again. I would have liked that.”
He sighs in relief and looks away, putting a hand on his stomach and clutching at his hoodie, scrunching the material. He nods, his eyes shut when he responds.
“Yeah. I would have liked it, too.”
And then he looks at you, eyes examining your expression.
“Y/n, I… I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know how to do this. I’m bad at everything that’s not volleyball-” He cuts off to roll his eyes. “Well, now I’m bad at volleyball, too. But that’s not-”
He sighs.
“I don’t know how to make you happy without you telling me, and I don’t know how to be a good boyfriend because I don’t know what that means . I don’t know if what I feel is love because I don’t know what that feels like, and I’m convinced that all the rom-coms the guys made me watch were full of shit.”
You don’t even want to know what that means.
“But I know now that I should try harder. That I should ask you about your day, and that I should talk less about me and more about you, and that this -” He points between the two of you. “-shouldn’t just be you doing everything.”
He steps toward you. “So I’m going to do those things. Not because you told me to and I’m just following along, but because you told me what makes you happy, and I want to make you happy.”
You can only stare, your breath shallow and shaky. He closes the distance, and then, after a beat, reaches hesitantly for your hand. You let him take it. He meets your eyes nervously.
“Can you say something, please?”
You look at him for a moment longer, and then you smile.
“Okay.”
He rolls his eyes.
You lace your fingers through his. He watches the movement, swallowing.
“I like when you do that. It makes me happy.”
Your face starts to warm. “I didn’t know that.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll work on that.”
You nod slowly, thinking. “I’ll work on… growing up, I guess. Being an independent person. Becoming successful on my own, just like you.” You smile softly up at him. He just quirks an eyebrow.
“You already are. Your grades, and your student council stuff…”
You lean forward, planting your forehead on his chest. “You’re a nationally scouted volleyball player, and you think me having good grades makes me successful?”
He puts his free hand on the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair. “I think I’m failing two of my classes.”
He smiles when you snort into his shirt. And then he chews on his lip, thinking.
“So… am I un-dumped?”
You laugh, letting go of his hand so you can wrap both arms around his waist, pulling him in. “Yes, Kags. You’re un-dumped.”
His heart swells, just a little.
“And the wedding?”
You think about it. Your fairytale wedding, with the prince of your dreams. The prince, who is flawed. And you, also flawed. And the fairytale, which apparently needs a lot of work.
“We’ll see.”
You feel him huff. “But you promised me goats.”
You look up, surprised. You hadn’t brought that up since middle school. “I thought you said no.”
He pouts, sheepish. “That’s because I’m pretty sure animals don’t like me very much.”
You can’t help the smile that’s growing on your face. He looks down at you, his fingers still tangled in your hair. And then he leans down, using those fingers to angle your head so he can drop his lips to yours without a word.
You feel his grip tighten nervously, and you raise onto your tiptoes, wanting to be closer, wanting to keep feeling this nervous. Wanting to stay like this forever.
Eventually, he pulls away, but only enough to whisper to you, his lips still against yours.
“ Will you still come to my game on Friday ?” He smiles wide when you snort and nod. “ And you’ll stay with me? The whole weekend? ”
You whisper back. “ If you want me to. ”
He just kisses you again.
–
Things are different now. Even though those four days had been a blip in the radar of your lives – which haven’t changed very much – things are different because of them. Kageyama becomes a boyfriend in more than just title alone.
He sends you awkward pictures of himself at the cafeteria, showing you that he eats without you needing to remind him. He still calls at 4:30 for his morning runs, but he tells you within a few minutes that you should go back to sleep, that he can get ready even if you’re snoring on the other end, because he doesn’t want you working so early in the morning. And then he calls after practice to ask about your day, about your student council meetings, about your college applications. He asks more questions as you talk, because he wants to know more about you.
He wants to keep knowing more about you, with every part of you that changes.
He comes home for Christmas, sitting through your joint family dinner with that blank stare but with his hand firmly nestled in yours, his arms reaching after you anytime you move to do something that would separate you. And then he takes you to see the Christmas lights in town, buying you anything that catches his eye and pulling you in for a kiss under every mistletoe he sees, because there’s nothing he likes more than a free excuse to kiss you. He comes back for the school festival, even though he has a game the next day, because he know it means everything to you that he’s there. And he wants to support you the way you support him.
He slowly stops looking to you for what he should be doing as your boyfriend. He starts relying on himself, because he knows now that it’s okay if he doesn’t know everything. He just does what he wants whenever he wants to, because more often than not, it ends up being something that makes you happy.
You graduate in the spring and follow him to Tokyo after being admitted into their Chemistry program. It’s nerve-wracking, leaving home like that, but you know it’s for the best that you do. You even fight Kageyama when he tries to get you to move in with him right away.
‘ We’re going to live together forever anyway’ , he says when you tell him you decided to be assigned to a dorm instead. You tell him that that’s exactly why you should live apart now. You have forever.
You’re terrified on your first day of the program, but those fears fade away and are replaced with relief and gratitude, because Kuroo Tetsurou is waiting for you outside, already a fourth year in the same major. He takes you under his wing, introducing you to your new seniors and giving you advice about which classes to take and which professors to avoid.
You make friends with the people in your year, and you hang out with Kuroo whenever you can, because he treats you like an adult, asking for your thoughts on his thesis and giving you opportunities to network with the right people but never doing it for you. Because it’s your future, so you’re the one that has to work for it.
You and Kageyama get into fights now. There are days when he clearly isn’t listening, when he needs to be told multiple times to do something like his laundry or writing that email to that professor about that missing assignment. He asks you multiple times to remind him, and you tell him you’re not his mother and that he’s an adult, for fuck’s sake. He always grumbles when you say it, but he never needs telling twice after that.
And on the days when you feel insecure, when you worry that you’re telling him too often what you want and not giving him enough freedom to act on his own, you close off. You stop communicating, because you forget that the whole reason you feel guilty is because you’re worried he’s not communicating. He’s never gentle with you on those days, because he doesn’t know how to be. He just snaps at you, warning you that you better not get trapped in your destructive cycle, that you just need to talk to him because he’s not a mind reader. You always end up spilling your guts to him afterward, crying like a baby because of the guilt and also because you’re mad that he yelled at you. But you’re still glad that he had.
Those days when you fight are always hard, but they feel real. They feel like a relationship created by people who try for each other because they care about each other. Kageyama slowly becomes a self-sufficient adult who learns to read you better than anyone else, and you slowly let go of the anxiety that had filled you for those first few months after getting back together.
Before you even realize it, two years have gone by and you’re moving into your new apartment for the start of the semester. Kageyama is graduating this year, and he’s still unhappy that you won’t move in with him, even now, but he leaves you to your decisions, because they’re yours.
You both make passing comments about marriage, but you never feel the need anymore to think about it the way you used to. You’d found your notebook from middle school – the one with the hearts around his name – while on a trip home, and you’d almost burned the thing in embarrassment.
Marriage is no longer the fairytale wedding you’d constantly dreamed of, to the prince who could do no wrong. Now, it’s just an expected next step in your relationship, to the man of your dreams – because you’ve always loved him, and you find new ways to fall for him all the time – but there are definitely days when you want to smack him with whatever you have on hand.
Despite that, though, he’s still your prince from the sandbox. That part would never change.
Things are good.
–
“ So, Hinata asked me how far we’ve gone again .”
You sigh out deeply through your nose when you hear that.
You’re in an otherwise empty lab, just after 7pm. Your studies had gone extremely well, and you’re on track to receive Honors, but unfortunately, that had come with the added responsibility of a rather rigorous independent study project. Your third year began with a pile of journal articles and the keys to your advisor’s lab, which you now use after working hours in order to develop your thesis.
You’re prepping materials for another round of experiments that you’ll run starting tomorrow, when Kageyama calls. You’ve got your headphones in, phone in your back pocket as you run around the room organizing. You can tell by the background noise that he’s riding his bike.
“You know, he is awfully interested in our physical relationship. What does he want, a threesome or something?” There’s a long pause after you say that, one where you can feel his desire to pick a fight. “I’m guessing you didn’t find that funny.”
“ Oh, could you tell? I was trying to figure out how to make my silence angrier .”
Ever since he’d picked up the concept of sarcasm from Hinata, you often have to wonder if that’s what he’s doing or if he’s still just being blunt.
“So what did you end up telling him?” You pull a blank chart from the drawer at your desk and open your laptop to check your notes. You have to document which chemicals you plan on using so you can file the report for clearance.
“That we fuck like bunnies and often in public.”
That was certainly sarcasm.
“You’re funny.”
“He thought so, too.”
Apparently, it was not sarcasm.
You look up from your work, staring out the window in disbelief. “You actually told him that?! ”
He laughs on the other end.
“Well, he didn’t believe me anyway, so–”
“You are so annoying, Kageyama-”
“ I work hard at it .”
You just shake your head, a laugh leaving you. “So? What did he end up telling you that you need to do?”
Kageyama sighs on the other end. “ I knew you would say that .”
He’d stopped listening blindly to the words of his high school friend group. Hinata asks every few months about your relationship because he’s painfully nosy, and Tsukishima continues to insist that it’s actually because Kageyama is a specimen worth scientific analysis and that it’s shocking that he’d managed to get you back and keep you.
Yamaguchi is the only helpful one and therefore the only one that you meet up regularly with for coffee.
Rather than just doing whatever it is that Hinata thinks you two should be doing, however, Kageyama always brings it to you, asking if you think that’s true or if he should kick his friend’s ass. Most times, it’s the latter.
This time, Kageyama surprises you.
“ He didn’t suggest anything. I didn’t give him anything for him to go off of.”
You hum with interest. “Why?”
“ Because we kiss, and we hold hands, and we spend the night at each other’s houses, and there was that one time we both drank too much and then you jumped me as soon as we were alone- ”
“Oh, my God.” You groan under your breath, wishing he would let that go already. You were drunk and he was particularly pretty that night. And, if you remember correctly – and you do – he had wasted no time slipping his hands under your shirt when you’d started kissing him, so it wasn’t exactly one-sided.
“ -so I guess there was just nothing to tell him. The only thing he would really tell me anyway is that we should have sex, but I think if he’d said that to me, I would have thrown him out a window, so… ”
You flush but say nothing, only offering him a hum of acknowledgment. You two still haven’t gone that far, because Kageyama isn’t ready.
‘It’s one thing to learn to be a good boyfriend,’ He’d said. ‘ But I feel like, if I don’t do this right, I could hurt you. If I’m not good at knowing how to treat you – if I’m selfish with this, even on accident – then something bad would happen between us. ’
You had completely understood, and you’d just thanked him for being honest with you about it. It was back when you’d first started college, back when he still couldn’t read you the way he can now. It wasn’t priority for you, not enough to feel neglected and never enough to pressure him about it.
You had both still been kids back then. You weren’t ready either, to be honest. So it had just never come up again.
Even just a few months ago, on that night when you’d both gotten drunk and ended up in his bed, his hands fumbling for places he’d never been brave enough to go while sober, you had woken up to a guilty look on his face. He’d apologized so earnestly, terrified he’d gone too far, that he hadn’t done it right. It had taken you almost an hour to bring him down, assuring him that you’d had fun and that absolutely nothing was wrong.
You’d known then that even though he can read you perfectly now, sometimes better than you realize, he’s still worried about it. But it’s not like you’re in any rush to get there. You’re both extremely busy, and you barely have time to see each other outside of Friday and Saturday nights, which you’d both decided would be the time when no one else was allowed to contact you.
Just you and him on your couch with bad takeout, your phones lying forgotten in the kitchen. No teammates, no emails from your advisor, nothing.
It’s your favorite part of the week, and you know it’s his, too, because he always gets extremely affectionate on those two nights, his hands lingering on your skin and his lips on yours any chance he gets. That’s as far as he ever goes, and you’re more than happy with that. His attention, his time, his love – it’s all more than enough.
“ -guess I was kind of thinking about it, though… Or… I don’t know, I’ve been thinking for a few months… since that night… I don’t know.”
You have an inkling of what he’s talking about, your nerves suddenly on edge as you stop writing, giving him your full attention. You twirl your pen around your fingers, leaning back in your chair and putting your work aside.
“Thinking about…?”
There’s nothing but the sound of wind in your ears for a moment. It doesn’t sound like he’s in traffic anymore, which means he’s on campus. He must be close by.
“ I don’t know… I kind of feel like I might be ready…?”
You freeze, wondering if you’d heard correctly, and your phone slips and falls out of your back pocket in that stretch of silence. It clatters to the floor loudly, and you know Kageyama hears it on the other end, his voice judgmental in your headphones.
“ Hey. Alive and unharmed, please. I don’t ask for much .”
You laugh nervously and shake your head, reaching down for your phone. That’s the first thing he’d said when he’d learned that you’d be spending 20 hours a week locked in a chemistry lab this year.
‘Try your best to stay alive and unharmed, okay?’
He’d had no idea that the chemicals are all safety locked, because of course he wouldn’t, so he thinks you’re just in a room surrounded by shelves of corrosive liquids all day.
“What, you gonna cancel the wedding if your girlfriend gets a really awful, face-altering chemical burn? That’s low, Kageyama.” You joke, checking your phone for scratches and then setting it on your desk. He jokes back with ease, his social skills having improved so much over the last few years that he can even go toe to toe with Tsukishima when he’s feeling particularly sarcastic.
“ No, I’m gonna cancel the wedding if my girlfriend manages to blow herself up, because that’s just embarrassing .” You laugh again, louder when he adds, “ -a national volleyball champion marrying someone who trips over her own feet? Pass. ”
“ Wow -” You throw your head back, your laugh echoing in the empty room. “You’ve gotten meaner over the last few years-”
“ Yeah, well, you grew up and became a mini Kuroo, which might be worse .”
You snort, letting a semi-comfortable silence settle between you as you think about what he’d said. That he might be ready. The thought of taking that step with him had always given you a little rush of butterflies, but they’d been easy enough to put in a box for another time.
Now… your hands are starting to sweat and your stomach is flipping.
You hear his bike start to slow, the wind less harsh in the mic of his headphones. He sighs quietly.
“ Almost done with work? ”
You survey your desk. You’d gotten enough done to call it a day.
“I suppose I could schedule you in.”
“ Funny. Get down here .” He cuts the call without another word.
You grin, packing up and checking that the lab is in order as you’re heading out.
Kageyama’s sitting on a bench outside, bouncing his knee while he waits for you. He stands when he sees you, eyes a little wary.
“Hey…”
You smile wide as you run to meet him. He looks nervous. Probably because you hadn’t said anything when he’d told you he’s ready.
You can fix that.
You reach for his hoodie when you’re close, fisting the material in your hand and dragging him down to meet you. You plant your lips on his, stepping up onto your tiptoes to make things easier.
“ You sure that’s what you want? ” You whisper against his mouth, feeling the way he smiles when he hears it.
He doesn’t answer, just taking your face in his hands and pushing his lips harder against yours.
“ Let’s go home .”
–
It doesn’t happen that night.
You sit together on the couch in your apartment after dinner, but he must be more tired than he’d realized, because he’s asleep, head in your lap, less than ten minutes later. You just smile down at him, carding your fingers through his hair and scratching softly at his scalp for a few minutes. He eventually mumbles under his breath at the feeling, turning and burying his face in your stomach.
His quiet words, muffled in your shirt, reach you in the comfortable silence of your apartment.
“ Love you… ”
Your heart skips. He’s said it before, in the darkness of his bedroom with you wrapped in his arms. At the end of a phone call while he’s abroad for a game. In the middle of a fight, said with frustration and your cheeks squeezed between his fingers, because even when you’re not listening to him – even when he has to grab your face and make you look at him just to get you to focus on him – he still loves you.
And now this, when he’s asleep and has no idea what he’s just said. When he has no control over his thoughts and the way they take form on his tongue. When he can still feel you here with him, even when he’s not here at all.
He says it then, and you can finally see just how deep those words run for him. How engrained they are in his soul, just as they are in yours.
You fall asleep like that, fingers tangled in his hair and his words fresh in your memory.
–
You wake the next morning to the sound of rustling, the bed dipping next to you. It must be early, the sky outside your window still a bit dark. Had he carried you here?
“ Kags… ?”
He says nothing, but there’s more shifting and then something’s hitting the mattress beside you lightly. You skim your hand along the sheet until you find it, your eyes still closed. It’s soft, and when you bring it to your face, you realize it’s his t-shirt, still warm with his body heat.
You drape the thing over your face with a gentle smile, breathing in his scent and trying your best not to be soothed back to sleep by it.
And then you feel a hand on your waist, nimble fingers slipping under your shirt and pushing it up along your ribs. His mouth is warm on the newly exposed skin.
“‘m sorry I fell asleep…”
Your stomach flips when you realize what’s happening, and you’re suddenly wide awake. His mouth lifts off just enough that he can whisper to you, his bottom lip dragging along your skin as he moves up your torso.
“ I wanted it to be last night… ”
Your fingers start to go numb when he makes eyes contact with you, his gaze darkened with something you’ve never seen before. He climbs on top of you, caging you into the mattress with his elbows and dipping his head so he can attach his mouth to your neck, his lips hot on your skin.
You tilt your head to the side, mostly to give him better access, but also so that you can see the time flashing back at you from the alarm clock on your bedside table. It’s almost 6am.
“D-Don’t you have practice…?” It’s Saturday morning, which means practice is early, because there are no classes.
“It was cancelled.” He nips at your earlobe, and you feel him breathe a laugh into your ear when you shiver.
“I feel like you’re lying.” They have a game in two weeks. There’s no way it was cancelled.
He just hums into your skin, nibbling on a spot under your ear and finding your hand with his, lacing your fingers together on the pillow. “They can survive a day without me. I have something more important to do.”
You can’t help the sigh that leaves you when he shifts between your legs, nudging your thighs apart so he can lay his body between them.
“And w-what would that be?” Your body feels warm, your head hot and fuzzy. You can’t focus on anything except the way his lips feel against your skin, the way he’s pressing his hips against yours, half-hard already.
“ Have to apologize to my girlfriend for making her wait .” He mumbles it against your throat, his tongue peeking out and swiping gently at your pulse point. Your thighs flex around his hips as a reflex, and he’s grinding down shallowly into you unconsciously. Your free hand trembles as you grip at his bicep.
“Wasn’t waiting… It’s okay…” You try to shake your head for emphasis, to show him that you don’t feel neglected, but your head is so heavy and foggy that you’re not really sure how successful you are. “‘s no rush…”
“No?” His lips move down your skin, hand leaving yours as he travels down to the collar of your shirt and then disappears, his mouth finding that exposed skin of your stomach again. His fingers dance along your ribs and under your shirt, stopping just under the swell of your breasts. “But I’m in a rush.”
“Huh?” You barely lift your head off the pillow, meeting his eyes shallowly. He just grins, kissing down your navel and bringing his hands down so he can tug carefully at the waistband of your shorts. He buries his face there, kissing along the marks your shorts left on you and nipping at your hip bones. His mouth starts to water as he thinks of all the skin he hasn’t touched yet. Claimed yet.
He plans to change that.
“ You’re not in a rush, but-” He leaves your navel alone, sliding down easily and pushing his hands against the hem of your shorts so he can have more access to you. So he can be closer.
He wraps his hands around your thighs, mouth finding your inner thigh easily. You’re warm, soft. His grip on you tightens.
“-now that I know what I want, and how much I want it, I want it now.” He meets your eyes, your own wide and nervous. Your thighs tremble just slightly under his touch. “So I’m in a rush. That okay?”
You just nod, your head falling back against the pillow as you breathe out an unsteady ‘ Okay… ’. You can’t help but jump when his tongue laps against your thigh, and then his voice is reaching your ears, a whisper of your name. You just hum unsteadily to let him know you’re listening.
“ I’m going to need your help… ” He just hold your thighs tight when you lift your head to look at him. “ I can’t do this without you .”
Your stomach flips at how innocently he’s looking at you, despite being in such a compromising place. It never fails to affect you, when he’s so blunt about the fact that he needs you. For a man with a face so neutral, a stare so empty, he’d always been vocal about wanting you by his side, ever since that confession in the park all those years ago.
You don’t think you’ll ever get used to it.
“ Okay… I’m here… ”
He breathes a sigh of relief, pressing his lips to your thigh one more time before letting you go, climbing over you again so he can push his mouth against yours.
His fingers curl around the hem of your shirt, and, with a nod from you at his curious tug, he pulls the thing up and over your head in one motion. You fall back against the bed, fisting the sheets in your hands as you lie there under him, chest exposed for the first time.
He stares down at you, settling back on his knees and letting your shirt slip from his fingers and onto the floor without even realizing. He just stares, lips parted as his eyes dart between your breasts and up to your face.
“I…”
You cave when he trails off, finally bringing your arms up to your chest and hiding yourself, your face burning. Kageyama’s eyes widen, gaze flying up to meet yours firmly.
“What? What happened?” His fingers hover nervously over your arms while he watches you. “What did I do?”
You just shake your head, your ears ringing as you start to feel warm all over. “Nothing, I just… got nervous… that you wouldn’t like them…”
You watch his face, previously so vulnerable and scared that he’d screwed up, fall into a perfect deadpan.
You know that face.
With a click of his tongue, he closes his fingers around your wrists and pulls them off of your chest, pinning them above your head.
“Stop being annoying.”
You scoff, not even slightly offended but still shocked he’d switched up on you like that.
“What the hell-”
“ Smartest fucking girl I know -” He’s mumbling to himself as he presses your wrists down into the pillow. He leans back onto his heels with a shake of his head. “- and you can still be so stupid sometimes .”
“Kag-” You jolt, cutting off, because he’s sliding his fingers up along your ribs and enveloping both of your breasts in his hands at the same time. He’d felt them over your bra before, that night that he’d gotten extra handsy, but to look down and see the way he’s got both hands cupping them, kneading gently with an excited glint in his eye – it makes you realize that you have nothing to be worried about.
Not with him.
“Can I…” He glances up at you, swallowing quickly. “Can I do what I want?”
Your stomach drops, heat building in your navel at the way he’s asking you to let him have his way.
“Yeah… Whatever you want…” You nod, and then your eyes widen, because he’s dropping his hands from your chest to your waist again, fingers hooking into your shorts. You meet his anxious glance with one of your own, but you lift your hips and let him undress you, let him explore. Let him get to know you better, because he’s always saying that that’s what he wants more than anything else.
Kageyama drops your shorts and panties to ground with your shirt, and then he’s hooking both hands behind your thighs and prying them open, letting them drape over his own. You inhale sharply at being so suddenly exposed, and your hands fly down instinctively to cover yourself, but they’re caught easily in his hold.
He sends you one withering look, daring you to try again, but he holds your wrists with the utmost care, feeling your fingers wrap nervously around his own as he stares down at you.
“You’re really pretty… You sure this is all mine?” He can’t take his eyes off of you, not even when your hips shift nervously under the weight of his stare. You whine his name, feeling vulnerable like this.
“I thought there was something you wanted to do…”
He doesn’t bother to look up at you when he responds. “I’m doing it.”
You breathe out a laugh of disbelief, shaking your head.
“Come on, you’re making me nervous again.”
Finally, he looks at you, seeing how anxious your gaze is. How your lips are pursed, how your eyes are begging him not to look so intensely.
He can’t help but smile.
Releasing your hands, he climbs back over you and lowers his lips to yours, gentle but firm. Sure that this is what he wants.
You slide your hands into his hair, anchoring yourself to him and trying not to gasp too loudly when he lowers his hips back down to yours, pressing the fabric of his sweats against your bare core. He pushes his tongue carefully against the seam of your lips, angling his head for a better fit when you part your lips for him.
You’re so focused on kissing him, on feeling the way he brushes his tongue against yours and makes your head swim, that you don’t feel one of his hands finding your breast until he’s cupping it and kneading softly.
“ This okay? ” He murmurs against your lips, growing bolder when you nod earnestly.
“Little more is okay, too…” You feel him try again, feel his thumb pass over your nipple and then find it again when you twitch at the feeling. He focuses his attention there and flicks at it a few times, a weak moan leaving him when you dig your teeth into his bottom lip and pull it into his mouth in response.
The hands you have in his hair grip tighter, and you’re whispering his name against his lips, because he’s bucking his hips forward unconsciously again, bumping up against your core and sending a shock through your skin.
He does it again, on purpose this time, because he likes the little shiver that runs through you, the way you lift your hips to meet his halfway. He likes how you feel under him, your skin soft under his hands and your core wet, starting to soak through his sweats and boxers the longer he touches you.
He drops his mouth to that spot under your ear that he likes, his heart pounding in his ears and his pants tight on him when you whisper into his ear, that ‘ Tobio ’ a half-moan and full of desire. Full of him and everything you want him to do to you.
And when he feels you push at his sweats with a shaky hand – when you arch your back and press your chest against his, asking him quietly to please take them off – he wants nothing more than to make you his.
With a sigh that holds everything he’s nervous about – hurting you, not being able to make you feel good, fucking this up – he leans away just enough to reach over for your bedside table, for the box that sits on top.
You had gone together to the convenience store last night, standing together in mortification and confusion by the condoms. He hadn’t known what size to get. He’d been so lost, and there had been so many options.
You had watched him stand in the aisle with a box marked ‘Medium ’ for so long – long enough that you’d left him there to grab some snacks, to give him space – that by the time you’d come back, arms full of chips and drinks, he was still standing there, staring down at it. He’d switched it out for the large ones at the last second, and you’d tried not to blush at the implication.
Now, as you’re pushing his pants past his hips and staring down at his cock as it slaps lewdly against his navel, you’re realizing that he’d probably made the right choice in that store last night.
He fumbles for the box when he feels the cold air on his hot skin, and it falls to the floor. He swears under his breath, his voice shaky, and he reaches down for it. You watch him carefully, seeing the color of his ears and the flush of his cheeks. He meets your eyes nervously as he’s lifting back up onto the bed.
“ S-Sorry… ” He sits back on his heels, tearing into the box with shaking hands and pulling a condom out, throwing the rest onto the bed next to you. He starts to rip into the foil, but his hands are trembling so bad that he just ends up dropping the packet onto the mattress, between your legs. “Fuck, sorry-”
“Kags-” You sit up, fingers touching the back of his hand when he reaches for it again. He meets your eyes, and you can see that he’s more than nervous. He’s scared. “What is it?”
“I-” He swallows. “I just don’t want to ruin this.”
“You won’t.” You’d been so nervous this whole time, giving him that shy look while he’d been touching you. But now your gaze is firm, unyielding. “You won’t ruin this. You want this, right?”
“So much.” He nods harshly, trying to convey to you how badly he wants this. He’s just scared. “I want this so much.”
“Okay. That’s all that matters, then… Remember? What you want, and what I want. That’s what matters.” When he just blinks, nodding slowly but still unsure, you take his face in your hands and force him to meet your eyes. “It’s me, Tobio.”
Kageyama stills.
It’s you.
The girl from the sandbox, all those years ago, with that princess costume. Asking him to be your prince. Beaming when he’d said yes.
The girl who would cheer for him at every game, screaming his name like there was no one else, like there would never be anyone else.
The girl who’d sacrificed pieces of herself to make him happy, even when he’d been clueless and stupid, too caught in himself to see everything you were giving up for someone as undeserving as him.
The girl who’d tried to leave his side. Who’d left him lost in his head when you weren’t where you were supposed to be, anywhere he would turn, searching for you.
The girl who’d forced him to grow up, loving him and caring for him in a way that he would never find again. The girl who laughs and cries for him, the girl who fights with him and for him, because you’d promised never to leave his side again, and you’d stuck firmly to that decision, no matter how impossible he can be sometimes.
The girl who had looked at him – had seen how much he struggles to understand people’s emotions, how selfish and unaware he can be – and had only ever seen a boy that she’d wanted to spend the rest of her life with.
“It’s you…”
You smile at the dumb look on his face, empty and processing, and nod. “It’s me. I’m not going anyw– mm- ”
Kageyama surges forward, cutting you off and pushing his lips against yours urgently. You hold tight to him as he knocks you off balance, your head meeting the pillow as he kisses you with everything he has. Finds your hand in the sheets and holds tight, like he never wants to let go. Whispers ‘I love you’ against your lips, like it’s not enough for him to say it – he needs you to feel it.
And then he leans away, leaving you to catch your breath with your hand pressed to your heart while he reaches for that forgotten packet lying between your thighs.
He rips it open easily – still nervous, but sure of himself – and rolls the condom on carefully. He scoots his hips toward yours, laying your thighs flat over his, and meets your eyes again as he’s lining himself up at your entrance.
You smile sweetly, nervously. “You’re sure?”
He smiles back, a soft laugh leaving him on his next breath. “I thought that was supposed to be my line.”
There’s no hesitation in your voice when you respond.
“ I’ve always been sure. ”
Kageyama Tobio learns in that moment that not all heartbreak is bad.
His eyelids flutter as he looks down at you, breath caught in his throat. Your fingers find his wrist, and your smile knocks the wind right out of him.
Neither of you say a word as he nudges the tip of his cock past your entrance.
You inhale sharply at the sting, and he stops, eyes wide as he watches you. You nod after a breath, and he keeps going.
He drops his head, feeling how tight you are, how hard it is to push into you. You bring his lips to yours, kissing him and letting him know silently that this is okay, that this is normal. That he’s not messing this up.
You cling to him, burying your head in the crook of his neck when he drops down over you with a shaky sigh. His hips finally meet yours, and all you can feel is your heart beating, everywhere. In your head, in your chest, in your ears. In the place when your body meets his, the place that almost seems to pulse with his heartbeat, too.
His lips find yours, and you kiss him with your hands buried in his hair, holding him close as you tell him everything that you don’t have the breath to say.
You stay like that for a while, and then he’s tensing, because you had clenched around him unconsciously, finally finding the stretch less painful and more pleasurable.
He pulls his mouth away, leaning back so you can prop yourself up on your elbows and then pressing his forehead against yours. You both stare down at the junction of your bodies, breath mingling in the space between you as you fight to calm your hearts.
After a moment, you slide your gaze up to his, only to find that he’s already looking at you. His eyes are full of something – something soft, soft and warm and his – and your stomach flips harshly. You clench again without meaning to, and that look in his eye is gone, disappearing when his eyes roll back briefly, eyelids fluttering at the feeling of you around him.
“I-I’m sorry…”
He only laughs breathily, eyes still shut, and shakes his head.
“Yeah, so am I.” He heaves out another breath, finally finding your gaze again. “This is torture.”
You blink, realizing what he means. “Oh! You can move now, Tobio, I’m fine-”
“You’re telling me that now ?” He looks distraught, and you can’t help but laugh. “Do you have any idea how much self-control it- agh- ” He shakes his head again, dropping his head to your shoulder and knocking you back onto the bed. He tangles his fingers in your hair, speaking into the crook of your neck. “You’re killing me here.”
You shift your hips, intending to apologize, but the feeling of him buried inside of you like this when you move has you gasping. He does the same, your name a half-moan in your skin. He pulls his hips back gently without removing his face from your neck, and you both breath shakily when he pushes into you again, slow but less uncertain than the first time.
The moan that tumbles out of your mouth is amplified by his own, low and harsh in your ear.
“You-” He moves again, and you start to crave the stretch he gives you when he pushes into you again. “-you feel-”
“ Kageyama… ” You cling to his arms, burying your face in his skin and wrapping an arm around his neck to keep him close like this. “It feels-” You cut off, moaning when he snaps his hips harshly.
Neither of you are able to form any coherent thoughts, and you can tell that he’s close when he reaches almost frantically for your hand, gripping so tight that his knuckles turn white.
He doesn’t last long, not when your moans are so close to his ear like this, flying straight down his spine and into a spot just under his bellybutton, shocking his system and shoving him closer and closer to something he can’t even begin to describe.
He comes with your name on his tongue, his face buried in your neck and your hand in his the only thing keeping him grounded. You mewl at the feeling, the sound forcing his hips forward one last time and drawing his name out of your mouth.
You feel full of him, your heart pounding harshly in your ears as he collapses on top of you. You keep your arm wrapped firmly around his neck, holding him against you. He catches his breath like that, his chest heaving against yours as he comes down from his high.
And then his fingers are wiggling against yours in your joined hands, and it almost aches to pry your fingers off of his when he pulls his hand away, sore from the tight grip.
He reaches down blindly, and you think he’s going to lean away from you and pull out.
But he just skims his shaking fingers over your skin, reaching between you and brushing over your core. He stops moving when you jolt against him, and he knows he’s found your clit. He stays firmly there, his middle finger circling the spot gently and adjusting to the way your body responds, the way your back arches and you breathe in harshly at the feeling.
“W-What are you–”
“ You didn’t finish .” He mumbles against your skin. He can tell because you’re still clenching around him, your walls fluttering every time he does something you like. “ ‘m I doing okay? ”
“It’s perfect.” Your eyes start to fill with tears, your heart swelling with emotion. You hide your face in his neck. “ You’re perfect -”
“ Marry me. ”
You almost think for a second that he hadn’t said it. His fingers never stop moving, and he pulls you closer and closer to the edge, still buried inside of you, as if he hadn’t said anything at all.
But you know he had, because he’s saying it again, even as your head is starting to fill with white static at the way he’s touching you.
“Let’s get married.” He pulls his head away from your neck, and his eyes are meeting yours. “Please. Marry me. Let me make you happy.”
His fingers swipe over your clit, and those tears that were filling your eyes are spilling over now, your chest drowning in that feeling of love that you’d become so familiar with over the years. It forces a choked sob out of you, and you’re nodding frantically as he’s nudging the tips of his fingers against that spot again.
He laughs breathily, and if you could see through your tears, you would know that he’s staring down at you like he’s never seen something so perfect. Your tears stream down your face and onto the pillow, and the feeling growing in the pit of your stomach has you reaching for his shoulders to pull him back down.
“ I love you– ”
Kageyama drops his head to your shoulder as you come undone, your body twitching and your back arching as you cry for him. He holds you tight, murmuring his love into your ear as you come down, breathing hard against his skin.
You lie there, wrapped up in him as you sob, because you can’t find your breath and because he’s holding you like you’re somehow still not close enough.
“I love you…”
His words are soft in your ears, soft against your tears.
“I’ve loved since before I knew what that meant.”
You cry harder, squeezing your eyes shut and sobbing into him.
“I was so bad at loving you before.” He finally pulls away so he can meet your eyes. You can barely see him, vision blurry. “But I know how to love you now. You taught me how to love you. I can’t unlearn that.”
Your hands are shaking as they grip his shoulders. He waits until your breath starts to even out, until you’re blinking the tears out of your eyes and finally seeing him. Until your heartbeat can match his.
“Please let me keep loving you.”
You whisper his name, and then nod. He starts to smile, and you beam back at him, your smile watery and fragile. He combs your hair out of your face, wiping your tears away with his thumb while he talks.
“Is that a yes? You’ll marry me?”
You just nod again, leaning your face against his hand.
― tags fem reader, fluff, roommates to something close to lovers, timeskip kiyoomi
― notes wc is 1.8k, i wrote this on a whim so please forgive ooc kiyoomi, also please forgive any grammar mistakes lmao
you and sakusa have been communicating through notes for the past three months.
at first, you had mindlessly written down a few groceries you needed to buy on a sticky note, pasting it onto the fridge so you wouldn’t forget. it included some of the basics: eggs, flour, rice, milk, and other necessities for you and your roommate’s fridge.
then, the next time you came home, you were greeted by a bright yellow sticky note seated next to your pink one. it said:
protein powder
lettuce
masks (the white ones)
between your full-time job and sakusa’s hectic schedule as a professional volleyball player, the two of you hardly saw each other, if at all. especially with sakusa’s new status on the olympic team. it wasn’t bad, per se, as you’d never been the closest to him — he was closed-off and, frankly, intimidating. it was like the man would go to any lengths to avoid interacting with others. regardless, his small addition to your grocery list had made you laugh.
you checked off the items he wanted, and the sticky note was gone the next day.
from then, the two of you only ever communicated with each other this way. one of you would write the groceries they needed to get that weekend, and the other would make their additions to the list. it was effective, simple, and considering how the only post-it notes the either of you owned were offensively bright colors, hard to miss.
after a while, you began adding little comments in addition to the list of items you needed to buy. they were short and sweet, like a thanks! written in the corner of your post-it detailing the items you needed sakusa to buy, or there are leftovers in the fridge after you made too much for dinner. you weren’t expecting sakusa to respond to them, given his stand-offish nature. so, when he did, you were surprised. no; scratch that, you were elated. although his replies weren’t anything extraordinary, just a simple you’re welcome or thank you for the food written in his neat handwriting under your own, it felt like a break in your relationship with sakusa.
despite knowing him for a while now, the two of you stayed as acquaintances and nothing more. but, you couldn’t deny that you wanted to know more about him. and though unconventional, the sticky notes worked perfectly for this.
writing to each other using post-its became such a habit that sakusa bought a magnetic whiteboard. you were only made aware of it when you walked into the kitchen to see it set up. there was a note already written in black marker on the board, stating that the post-it notes were beginning to be a waste of paper. you made sure to write a large thanks, sakusa! with the same marker, adding a few hearts around it.
(and if sakusa flushed red at the sight of his name with hearts surrounding it, only he would know.)
whenever your friends came over, they would question the purpose of the whiteboard. you couldn't blame them; it did take up the better half of your fridge's surface. they had a good laugh when you explained the story behind it, but some asked why couldn’t you just text each other?
and, honestly? you didn’t know either.
you knew it would be more efficient if you were to text sakusa instead of patiently waiting for his replies on the dry-erase board every day. but, if you wanted to, you knew you would’ve done it a while ago; before he even had the idea of buying the whiteboard, back when the two of you were conversing through neon sticky notes and wasting an unnecessary amount of paper.
you surmise it’s because you didn't want to ruin your and sakusa’s relationship — if you could even call it that. texting him would forcefully pull him into your orbit. though you’ve been regularly interacting with him for the past few months, you were aware that you hardly knew anything about the man; small notes and lists only gave you so much information about a person. the whiteboard was a safe in-between — you learn a little more about him and his habits, while not forcing him to interact with you.
well, you think, he’s not obligated to answer my texts, either. you have his number, and it’s not like you haven’t texted him before. there was only so much you could do when you weren’t home to pick up packages or forget to inform him of a repairman coming over.
you mull over the decision, a short text already typed into your conversation with sakusa. your finger hovers over the send button, before you furiously spam the delete key and put your phone down. no, nevermind.
your plan of staying content with your relationship fails miserably.
it’s been a hard few weeks at work, with seemingly endless deadlines you have to meet and an equally endless amount of meetings you’ve had to attend. you feel as if you haven’t had a moment to yourself in forever.
so, when you submit your most recent project to your boss and shut your laptop closed, the first thing on your mind is to go home and rest. your mind is on auto-pilot as you pack your belongings, spitting out no’s to your co-workers' offers to go out drinking. when you’re this tired, the last thing you want to do is wake up with a splitting headache and an awful hangover the next day.
you stumble into your apartment, hastily toeing your heels off. a sigh leaves you, the harsh pressure of the shoe finally being relieved. they’re thrown somewhere in the corner, probably not anywhere close to where they should be, but you’ll deal with that tomorrow. all you want is some sleep. you consider just crashing on the couch and dealing with the consequences tomorrow.
“rough day?” a flat voice asks. you jump at the noise, not expecting anyone to be in your apartment. when you look up, you’re greeted by a tall figure standing in front of you. your eyes take a moment to rack over them, not completely registering that the only other person who has access to your apartment is…
sakusa.
“huh…?” you mutter, blinking a few times to will the tiredness from your eyes. it doesn’t work. sakusa only sighs, stepping from the doorway and further into your home. there’s a look on his face that’s telling you to follow, but when you don’t out of pure shock because he’s here? like, actually here? at home? he rolls his eyes.
“come on,” he says, “there’s food on the stove already.”
you continue to stay silent, causing sakusa to raise an eyebrow. your face is scrunched up, a hand on the wall next to you to support your weight.
“are you…am i hallucinating…?” you mumble, internally debating if you wanted to pinch yourself to make sure that you’re not dreaming in any way. “i thought you weren’t going to be back for a while?”
in response to your delirious rambling, sakusa laughs. it’s rather quiet, but you know he does. you hear the rapid exhalation of air accompanied by a deep rumble coming from his chest, and you can see his shoulders shaking.
he steps closer to you, forcing your bag from your shoulder and practically pulling you with him into your shared living room. you’re tripping over your feet, mind still fuzzy from your tiring day.
“leave it up to you to not be able to think properly after a long day,” he murmurs, setting your bag down on the couch. in your half-awake daze, you’re unable to form a proper response. “i guess you’re not hungry then.”
“well…” you stammer, still trying to get your bearings. “you’re like, never home, sakusa…so how am i supposed to react when you practically teleport in front of me?” you finish, a yawn escaping you. that makes sakusa laugh again.
“for your information, i didn’t teleport in front of you,” he replies, “i heard the door open, so i went to greet my roommate. now, go get ready for bed.”
you disregard what he says, opting to groan when he orders you to get ready for bed. it just seems like so much work. you have to take off your makeup, change, brush your teeth, do your skincare…you think you’d rather crash face-first on your couch, like you were planning on doing earlier. you tell him that much.
sakusa rolls his eyes again. he pushes you towardsthe bathroom, telling you to take off your makeup, while he goes to rummage in your room for sleepwear. what?
you don't have much of a choice, so you follow his directions. beginning with your meticulous skincare routine, you cleanse off your makeup. while you’re drying your face, sakusa knocks on the bathroom door with a fresh pair of pajamas for you to change into.
once you’ve completed your nightly routine, you wander out of the bathroom to find sakusa sitting on the couch. he seems preoccupied with something on his phone, and you have to admit that the sight of him concentrating is rather charming.
thankfully, the cold water you’d splashed onto your face woke you up, so you’re more awake than you were when you’d entered. you’re still horribly tired, and you want nothing but to sleep in the comfort of your bed, but you feel bad going straight to bed without even thanking sakusa for taking care of you. the only way the two of you talked for the last few months was over post-it notes, for god's sake!
“hey, sakusa?” you call, and his attention snaps from his phone to you. “thanks for uh…taking care of me. sorry about all that, i was really tired. or, er, am really tired.” you awkwardly stutter out.
he hums in response, standing up from the couch and taking long strides towards you. thanks to his height, he’s face-to-face with you in no time. he’s close — maybe a little too close for someone you think probably doesn't even consider you a friend. that leads you to another realization: for someone that you knew disliked social interaction, he’s also talked to you an awful lot today.
“if you were really thankful, you’d go to bed right now and eat what i made tomorrow. you’re exhausted.” he bluntly replies. you gape at him for a moment, about to reply, but he cuts you off. “i’ll be home more often. volleyball is in the off-season now.”
you know you should just nod and turn on your heel to go to bed, but there’s a question on the tip of your tongue that slips before you’re able to catch it.
“so… no more whiteboard notes?” you question. sakusa laughs for a third time that night, and you think you’ve hit the jackpot in your slightly delirious state.
he shakes his head. “no more whiteboard notes for now.”
you wake up the next morning, and when you enter the kitchen, you see a yellow sticky note pasted onto the whiteboard. on it, it reads:
we can make these lists together now, so there's no need for either of these.
