you would think pouting would work on barou but unfortunately it doesn’t bc if he says no it was for a good reason (unfortunately 💔) he gives you a forehead kiss though and a massage
it hits you that your feelings for Katsuki might be romantic. not when he brings you around his friends, not when he kisses you good morning, not when you stay the night without sleeping together-
but the first time you meet his ex wife. She floats into the gathering like a dream and Katsuki immediately stands to greet her, looping his arm over her shoulder. casually, like he's done it a million times, he presses a kiss into her hair before pulling awaym
"This is my mom's intern," he says and it rings hollow in your skull.
new year superstitions (or some shit) | bakugo katsuki
wc: 1.4k
summary: bakugo's never believed in timing things for luck (or: affection is hard, but bakugo thinks it's about damn time he tries harder)
contains: written with f!reader in mind but can be read as gn!, aged up!pro-hero bakugo (mid-twenties), reader is described as pretty, vaguely alludes to reader's quirk, established relationship, fluff.
you slip into bakugo's space just a few minutes shy of touching the new year.
everywhere around you is loud, lively in the way new year's eve parties go; a group of people down the street stand outside of a bar, waving their streamers and blowing on small trumpets to welcome the next hour. from a distance, fireworks are shooting up to the sky, right above some luxury hotel having its annual countdown.
it's neither bakugo's thing nor yours to be up this late, partaking in celebrations like this, but he supposes some things are worth experiencing at least once—
the scent of your perfume hits him before he sees you, the space around him tightening in that familiar way the air around you shifts when you hold your breath. you smile, a small, gentle lift of your lips that falls into pace with your blink. pretty.
warmth pools in his stomach, building slowly to crawl its way up his neck and over his ears, overflowing to dust his cheeks.
"thought you looked a little lonely over here," you mumble, stifling your giggle as you watch him turn pink.
he furrows his brows, a soft "tsk," escaping his lips out of habit as his head turns to you. you always tease him like this; he should be getting used to it by now.
a gust of wind picks up from your spot on the balcony, pushing the glass door shut. the noise from inside muffles to dull chatter, the beat of tonight's music recognizable only by the subtle vibrations on the metal railing resting against his back.
the winter breeze seems to have tapped you, too, as you tuck your chin deeper into the red scarf around your neck.
"y'should've stayed inside," he nods to you then to the balcony door, crossing his arms, "s'cold here."
you frown, inching closer, just enough that you could loop your arm with his if you wanted, "sometimes, i can't tell if you're bad at taking hints or just really good at ignoring them."
he eyes you from the side, red vermillion the shade of your scarf—the one he gifted you just a few days ago for christmas. you pout, loosening the fabric around your neck so he can hear you clearly.
"you know," you take in a shaky breath, "this is the f-first time we're at s-something like this as y-y'know…” you pause, glancing at him to gauge his reaction, “t-together."
his nose turns a shade of pink darker; it's true, and he can hear you clearly—every tremor, every shiver. he sees you pretty clearly too, the softest hint of red on your lips. this relationship with you is new, just a little over a couple of months, and it makes him think—
"k-katsuki, are you e-even—"
it's reflex when he does it―his hand shooting out to grip your elbow, pulling you closer into his parka. right where you were standing lands a small clump of snow, fallen from the balcony of the unit above.
you look up almost immediately, a little flustered.
"s-sorry―"
bakugo feels warm despite the cold, heat blazing across his entire face as little puffs of air tickle his neck when you speak. like he said, this relationship with you is new, and though he's held you a few times already, affection, in any capacity is still something he's getting used to.
and you're aware of that too; of course you are. but when you push yourself away to create some space―
"told you s'fuckin cold."
―he keeps his other hand on your back, holding you into place.
bakugo is intense in most aspects; he meets things headfirst with no hesitation, but being this close to you makes him feel weird, a kind of unusual he thinks he should approach with caution―as if to keep himself from ruining the moment.
so his eyes wander. down the street, on the view behind you; they focus on the wisps of your hair ruffled from the earlier breeze, the tips of your eyelashes, blinking. then slowly and carefully, they land on you.
and you―
you beam, eyes widening momentarily before flashing him the brightest smile. it stills him so much that he doesn't notice your hands loosening the scarf around your neck even more, unwinding the fabric until the lengthened ends sit on your palms.
it's when you say "okay," gently and so... so... sweetly, that he feels the softness of wool hit the tips of his ears and down his neck. an ache spreads throughout his chest as he locks eyes with yours, tongue pushing against the roof of his mouth for another tsk―but you beat him to it, your finger coming up to press against his lips.
"s'cold," you giggle, a hint of teasing.
he narrows his gaze, about to retort when you both hear muffled shouts from inside the party, "ten... nine... eight..."
the group of friends down the street seem to be in on it too, echoes in unison, shouting, "seven... six... five... four..."
and from afar, right where the hotel is situated, are the numbers "three... two... one..." lit up on the sky.
you tug on bakugo's parka to draw his attention; the expression on your face is something he can't quite decipher―winter on your cheeks and your lower lip pulled between your teeth. the air around him tightens again, evidenced by the way you suck in a breath.
then, it happens all too fast―the way you tiptoe up just that little bit; your fingertips stamping chills down the edges of his scarred cheek. you kiss bakugo right as the new year strikes and the moment happens too quickly for him to notice.
"happy new year, katsuki," you whisper, close enough that it tickles his chin. it must have been a small peck, it must have been. he can only assume as he blinks it back to memory.
you've kissed before―three times to be exact, four counting this one. and he's not opposed to it (what kind of idiot would be?); in full truth, he fucking loves it.
but, affection is hard, and fuck, it's always been you initiating it―
"sorry, too much?" you mumble sheepishly, pressing your lips together, "just figured since it's the new year and all..."
―which is even more fucked by the fact that you feel the need to apologize for it.
he stares at you, bewildered out of his fucking mind that he still hasn't grown the damn balls to kiss you himself.
so, to hell with new year superstitions, he thinks; bakugo's never believed in playing to luck and chance in the first place. he'll kiss you right now because he wants to―
because it's what he's been wanting to do since the start of tonight, since yesterday, since a week ago; since you kissed him the very first time and all he could do was stand there, trying to act like the very feel of his lips pressed against yours didn't make his mind howitzer impact right in that moment.
―it just so happens that it's the new year, and it's about damn time he grows the balls to initiate it for once.
his hand reaches for your cheek before you can take a step back, fingers slotting themselves by your ear and resting against the edge of your jaw. your eyebrows shoot up, the look in your eyes something between confused and surprised. his thumb slides itself across your cheek before swiping down to touch the edge of your lips, feeling.
there's a dull warmth beneath the pads of his fingertips, heating up when he leans in. the air tightens; breath on hold as his nose bumps into your skin, and it's faint, the slightest touch of your lips against his. your eyes fall shut before his do, and he shivers, a slight tremble as he deepens the kiss.
he starts out slowly, uncertain, moving his lips tentatively. it's a push and pull―soft, quick pecks sandwiched between longer, drawn out touching. it almost feels like this moment's been suspended amidst all the noise, lips locked and gliding, lingering; he swears he can feel you grinning.
your fingers grip the fabric of his parka and tug, and he sees it as a signal to be rougher, taking your bottom lip between his and slightly biting. you squeak the tiniest bit, but it's enough to make him pull away completely, eyes wide as his thumb presses against your chin.
"fuck," he whispers, catching his breath as he tugs just enough that he can see the inside of your lower lip, "did i hurt you?"
he's squinting, brows furrowed while looking for any sign of blood when you shake your head, stopping him. his gaze shifts to take you in―your glossy lips, slick with spit; your eyes, completely blown but somehow still twinkling, and when you giggle, he almost finds it cruel you have to look so fucking pretty.
"it's just your canines," you smile, "i like them."
fuck, he really should've done this sooner.
a/n: this ended up way longer than i planned woops! haven't written bakugo in a while but i miss the guy!! and i wanted to write him so terribly flustered and bad at affection but being so frustrated because he wants to try!!! and he should be better than this!! anyway! i had this idea around christmas time but couldn't write it in time for the new year because i got sick. so it's a little late, but i hope you enjoy!
i'm not sure if you remember my dear willow @willossom, but you sent me a request a good while back for one of my events with the prompt: saying "i love you" in all the ways you aren't used to for bakugo, and this reminded me loads of it!! 🥺 though this isn't the written request for that one yet (i have something else planned for it), i just wanted to let you know that i thought of you while writing this!!!
comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡
>>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.
honestly it took me quite long to decide if this would be a sequel to my previous hiori post paired with facefucking (wip spoilers omg) or just the good ol overstimulation... and i ended up choosing overstimulation! hope y'all like it <3
your head is spinning, ears buzzing. a burning feeling that starts on your thighs, goes up to your core and reaches your back, washes over your tired body alongside with the overwhelming pleasure you've been given. your legs are spread widely, the suple skin on your inner thighs drenched in sweat and cum, just like the sheets under you.
hiori finds the sight adorable. how you writhe at the slightest touch, flesh sticky, slippery and so sensitive it makes you cry out his name loudly whenever his lips merely ghost over your neck. your chest rise and fall quickly, exposing your heavy breathing and attempt to ground yourself, to come back from the abyss you're fallen into.
your eyes are shut, but hiori knows what he would see through them if they were open. your clouded, broken brain trying to process the avalanche of sensations your body is sending, a blank mind with no thought in it.
but he doesn't want you to rest, not yet. his thumb is fast to press down your swollen, abused clit, middle and ring finger roughly entering your insides and curling against your sensitive walls, your cunt clenching and spasming around them. the wail you let out bounces off the walls, your back arching a good couple of inches away from the mattress and eyes rolling to the back of your skull, that burning feeling intensifying in your core.
hiori's breath fans against your collarbone when he chuckles at your reaction, watching you lose yourself in pleasure once more with amused eyes, a smirk stretching his pretty lips as his hand works magic in your cunt, taking you to your climax in no time due to how sensitive your previous orgasms made you.
babbles of his name spill from your mouth along with "no!" and "can't!" in a high-pitched tone, your fingers desperately wrapping around his wrist in a failed attempt to make him stop. it's too much, the way he keeps hitting your overused sweet spot again and again, thumbing your overstimulated nub at the same time his teeth nibbles at your jaw, sucking hickeys on your sweaty skin... it makes you go insane, that familiar knot in your stomach snapping once more like it did countless times in the last hours.
"that's it, love. so pretty when you lose control." you can't even hear him with the buzzing sound in your ears, cumming with a indecipherable scream as your toes curl in the air, throat dry and sore.
you can't take it anymore, every new orgasm is like fireworks exploding right inside your head, a train hitting you and shredding your body to pieces, crushing your bones. your vision goes white and your ears deaf, it's like you're not even there, completely unable to even sense the boy's presence above you.
when you come down from your high, it's like you've ran a marathon. you breath heavily, air burning your lungs as it invades your nostrils, hair sticking to both your forehead and neck due to the absurd amount of sweat. your eyes flutter open to look at your boyfriend when you feel his face pressing against your thigh, his fingers massaging your hip as he watches you collecting yourself.
"n–oo more... plea–se..." your voice is hoarse, choked as you plead and grab onto his blue locks, trying to push him away from your overstimulated pussy. tears pool on your lashes before falling down your cheeks, orbs sparkling.
the way you cry stirs something inside hiori, you look so pretty with your swollen eyes staring at him, hair disheveled as you look a total mess, completely ruined – and suddenly he needs to see more of this side of you.
he easily forces your legs open, wide enough for him to get in between them, dick throbbing against his abdomen as he notices how desperate you gaze up, looking so fragile it makes him want to break you – and that's exactly what he's gonna do. one of his hands guides his cock up and down your cunt, head nudging your clit and leaving a glob of pre-cum on it, all while you try to arch your body away from the stimulation, his free hand securely placed on your waist keeping you right where you are.
"you look so cute... cry a little more for me, angel."
wc: 2.1k
tags: 18+ only, and they were roommates, the complete and utter objectification of rintarou suna's hands, hand kink, oral fixation, finger sucking, fingering
-> requested
“What?”
Suna’s voice startles you from your drifting train of thought, and the back of your neck heats up in embarrassment as you peel your gaze away from the sight of his fingertips drumming against his mouth, turning your focus back to the television.
It was accidental—the birth of this oddly distracting fixation.
Suna’s been your roommate for nearly six months, an arrangement of convenience when your prior roommate bailed with hardly a week’s notice and left you scrambling for someone to take over the second bedroom. Given that he was in between apartments and had been crashing on Atsumu’s couch for nearly a month at that point, it worked out in both your favor and his.
You even managed to convince yourself that the slightly inconvenient attraction you felt for your friend was negligible in the face of the prospect of trying to carry the bills for the apartment solo—that, or the inevitable stress of finding a complete stranger to move in instead.
And it was fine, for a little while.
Between work and cramming for finals, you hardly had time to dwell over things like how unfairly attractive he looks with his mussed bedhead and tired eyes when he makes his way out into the kitchen in the morning, or your newfound burden of knowledge of a tattoo that exists on the curve of his hip (courtesy of your single bathroom dwelling and a conveniently low-slung towel).
But three weeks and four days ago on an unsuspecting Wednesday afternoon, Suna unknowingly smashed every single precarious eggshell you’d been tiptoeing over with what you’d mistakenly thought was practiced ease.
Suna leans forward now, elbows resting on his knees as he watches the movie that you’ve hardly been paying attention to, and he idly drags the side of his thumb against his bottom lip.
Warmth stirs in your gut. You think back to that day, the slice of cake sitting atop a small white plate in the middle of the kitchen. The easy way your fork cut through the icing and down its soft center. The gentle mirth in Suna’s eyes as he stood on the other side of the island and listened to you recount a silly story from work.
The even easier way he’d reached across the expanse of marble countertop, wordlessly swiping away a rogue bit of frosting from the corner of your mouth with his thumb, leaving you to flounder for your words mid-sentence as he casually licked it off after.
To Suna, it was clearly nothing, given the way he’s carried on since like it never even happened.
For you, it’s become a Problem™.
Because now you can’t stop thinking about his stupid goddamn hands.
His large hands with those long, slender fingers and neatly kept nails.
It really doesn’t help that you’ve spent enough time watching him play volleyball to know the extent of their power, the quick dexterity with which he effortlessly blocks and serves, the impressive amount of control he can leverage with his digits curled around the ball’s surface.
Logically, they’re just hands.
This is what you try to tell yourself when you’re free from the stifling, one-sided terrarium of unrequited pining that you’ve turned your cozy third floor apartment into. You let your eyes sweep downward when you’re at work, when you’re in class, while you’re walking the aisles at the grocery store—and there’s not a goddamn single hand that passes through your line of sight that sets your heart racing like the ones that belong to your roommate.
Now you can hardly catch his eye in the bathroom mirror when you reach across the counter while he’s brushing his teeth without feeling warm all over at the sight of his fingers wrapped around his toothbrush.
Just last week, you nearly choked on your own dinner when you glanced up across the kitchen table to find him pressing his mouth to a piece of rice clinging to his knuckle.
The loose, uninhibited state your thoughts pile into at night doesn’t help your current predicament in the slightest, as you’ve begun to find yourself restless as you dwell on other things—other places Suna’s hands could slide and cup and grasp.
You’ve imagined how they’d feel pressed down on your tongue or molded against your breasts. Wrapped around your hips. Lodged deep in the slick of your cunt.
Spread, curled, grasping and thrusting until you’re coming so hard on nothing but the precise stretch of his digits that you can barely breathe.
It’s a date with someone who isn’t Suna, of all things, that brings it all crashing to a head.
Glancing down at your phone as it lights up on the bathroom counter, you groan when the time flashes across the screen. You’re running late.
“Wow, where are you headed?” Suna curiously pokes his head into the bathroom, and his eyes widen a fraction when he notices your outfit.
“Shit,” you gasp, jumping at the sudden sound of his voice and smearing a line of lipstick beyond the corner of your mouth in the process. The applicator clatters into the sink.
Whipping around, you inhale, clutching the edges of the counter with both hands as you blink at your roommate in surprise.
“Sorry,” he says, wincing.
“I have a date,” you tell him, words coming out in a rush.
Suna blinks, and while he’s in no way the most talkative person you’ve ever met, you’ve also yet to see him at a loss for words like he seems to be now. You don’t bother adding that the date in question is for the express purpose of giving you reprieve from the pathetically Pavlovian response you’ve developed to the mere sight of his hands.
“There’s—” he belatedly motions toward your face, where you can feel the smudged trail of lipstick.
You should probably turn around and start digging around under the sink for makeup remover, but predictably, you’re too focused on…yes…his hands.
When you make no move to clean yourself up, Suna takes a step forward, the toes of his socks brushing against your bare feet. He reaches out, eyes focused on the corner of your mouth, and swipes two fingers over the mess.
You stand there, rooted to the spot, the dizzying rush of blood in your ears hindering your ability to tell him that wiping it with his bare hands isn’t going to do anything.
And then his fingertips softly feather over the upper edges of your mouth.
You meet his gaze, your ribcage shuddering at the intensity of it, and before you’re fully aware of what you’re doing, your head tips back just enough to let his fingers slip to the plush center of your bottom lip.
Suna stares at you, unblinking, and he applies just enough pressure to part your lips.
Hot, insistent sparks of arousal flood your nervous system, setting alight the trail of desire that’s been steadily coating your better judgment like sticky, rich honey.
You lean forward, your hips and thighs brushing against his, and take Suna’s fingers into your mouth.
Whatever you were feeling before, whatever petty fantasies you’ve imagined in the quiet beneath your sheets, they pale in comparison to this—to the feeling of your tongue wrapped around Suna’s slender digits. The pressure of them against your tongue as the saliva pools in your mouth. The molten path that blazes through your gut when he pushes in further, from the second knuckle to the third.
A moan crawls up your throat, drool slipping out past your lips and down your chin as you suck, and you’d be embarrassed—if not for the hitch of his breath, the appreciative, answering groan that leaves Suna as he cups the side of your neck with his free hand.
The counter presses into your backside as Suna’s body presses more firmly into yours, his thumb scraping beneath your chin as he watches you come untethered.
“Fuck,” he mutters as you shudder at the friction he draws between your legs, desperately trying to take his fingers even deeper into the wet recesses of your warm mouth.
Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know the errant swipe of your lipstick is likely nothing compared to the state of your lips as a whole right now.
And Suna seems to know exactly what you’re thinking, because without warning, he turns you around to face the mirror.
He’s hard, you can feel him pressing into your backside as the bite of the counter meets your hips.
“You’re a mess,” he murmurs softly against the shell of your ear, eyes dark as he finds yours in the mirror.
He’s not wrong—you are a mess. Lipstick is smeared well past the boundary of your mouth, and his fingers are stained red and slick with your saliva. Your chest heaves.
Suna slides his fingers back into your mouth, and this time, he watches you watch yourself as you suck on them, observes the none-too-subtle shudder that wracks down your spine at the depraved sight before you.
He smooths out the wrinkles in your dress, hand trailing down your front.
Your cunt aches.
“Suna…,” you gasp out.
He doesn’t break eye contact as he mouths at the curve of your jaw.
“…please…”
He adds a third finger as you continue to suck, and teeth drag down the side of your neck, his lips a hot brand as he presses them to your nape.
“Rin—”
The fingers in your mouth curl, and you place a hand over his, slowly tugging up the skirt of your dress.
“I thought you had a date,” he rasps, your phone vibrating beside you as a text message flashes across the screen.
“Change of plans,” you gasp as his hand slips out of your grip, rucking up the skirt of your dress to reveal the pretty, lacy panties beneath.
“You sure?” he asks, eyes finding yours in the mirror again, fingertips toying with the waistband of your underwear. His fingers leave your mouth, slipping down your front to caress your collarbone.
You nod.
Suna’s hand slips lower, gliding into your underwear, and he exhales when his fingers find the full extent of what a mess he’s made of you.
“And I thought your mouth was wet.” He sounds amused, but his tone is rougher now, the hard press of his erection against the globes of your ass more insistent as he begins to finger your slit.
You gasp at the sensation, your legs sliding further apart as your entire body relaxes into his, your head tipping back against his shoulder. His free hand finds a home loosely splayed across the throat that you’ve bared to him.
A slender finger slips easily into your wet hole, and the pleasure from that alone has your entire spine arching, hips eagerly rocking into his touch.
“Sensitive,” he observes, curling the digit against your plush, slick inner walls.
You whimper.
It’d be so much easier to stumble into his bedroom or yours, to be splayed wide across the sheets, hips arching up off of the mattress as he sinks three fingers deep. But it’s the filthy sight of yourself in the mirror that keeps you firmly rooted to the spot, body wholly overheated with arousal and desire.
Your legs spread a bit wider of their own accord, your balance going slightly askew, and Suna holds you fast as you writhe when one finger becomes two. Arousal drips from your folds, coating his hand and soaking into your underwear. The tightness of your hole relents around the stretch, and your throbbing clit aches as his palm firmly rocks against it.
An unhinged laugh threatens to burst out of you as you think about the last time a guy fingered you—the abysmal way you’d had to fake an orgasm out of pity just to get him to give up as your enjoyment petered out further with each overenthusiastic stroke.
You think about now, how your entire body’s been reduced to a livewire of heady pleasure, ready to burst on a hair trigger. Suna could probably stop moving his hand altogether and you’d still end up trembling and moaning and gushing all over his fingers before long anyway.
And it’s the sensation of his fingers sliding back into your mouth that finally sends you over the edge. The bright line of bulbs across the top of the mirror merge into one as your vision goes white, your climax rocking through you with reckless abandon. Suna’s nose slides against your cheek and he exhales roughly, his own muscles taut as his fingers guide you through it.
Your phone vibrates again on the counter.
“I can’t believe you’re standing up your date,” he murmurs, teasing, teeth nipping at your earlobe.
He’s still hard.
“I mean, I guess I can go looking like this,” you reply, making a circular gesture at yourself while you turn to face him.
Suna catches your chin in his hand, gently.
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
You dart your tongue out, letting it poke against the tip of his thumb.
The corner of his mouth curves upward as he leans in to kiss you.
@ufo-ikawa & @isseikuns have such a big brains thank you sm for suggesting these things
iwaizumi likes to stretch in the living room before and after he goes on runs in the mornings. that in itself isn’t a problem, because he’s your roommate and the living room is a common area that he’s free to use as he sees fit.
the problem is that he doesn’t like to wear a shirt when he does it.
it’s inappropriate (distracting) and sweaty (swoon-worthy). it’s gross (he’s absolutely gorgeous, with muscles sculpted like he belonged on a pedestal in greece).
you’d made the mistake of walking into the living room once while he was stretching out his shoulders. the piece of toast you’d had in your mouth almost fell out when you’d watched the way the muscles on his back rippled and flexed with each movement, the early morning sun catching on the droplets of sweat rolling down his skin and making him glisten. each time he twisted his torso, you caught an eyeful of the dewy sheen coating his toned abs and chest.
you were greedily tracking a drop of sweat rolling down the side of his throat when he’d turned around and locked eyes with you. the two of you had held eye contact for an extremely awkward minute before he’d smirked knowingly, holding out his waterbottle and asking if you were thirsty.
a part of you died in the living room that day.
your relationship with iwaizumi was a little complicated. complicated as in you weren’t even sure if the two of you were friends.
your old roommate had moved out unexpectedly, rent was too high to handle alone, and he was a friend of a friend that needed a place to stay. your mutual friend had nothing but nice things to say about him, so the first time you’d met him was when he was moving in.
other than the living room stretching, he was a decent roommate. he spent most of his at the gym or on campus, and when he was home, he was quiet and clean. he always took out the trash when it was full, didn’t play music too loud, did his dishes when he was done in the kitchen, and did his fair share of sweeping and cleaning the bathroom.
but that moment in the living room might have been one of the longest period of time you’ve spent together in the two months you’d lived under the same roof.
and you’d eyed him like a vulture eyed a carcass.
since then, you’d made it a rule that you didn’t leave your room until you’d heard the front door open and close. stomach rumbling for breakfast? guess you were starving. needed to use the bathroom? too bad, you were going to hold it.
you should have known this was going to be an issue when he’d taken a shower that first night, stepping out of your shared bathroom in nothing but a towel slung low across his hips.
iwaizumi is hot, and every time you see his body wash in the shower (that you share) or you hear him groan quietly while he stretches (shirtless) you’re reminded of the fact.
it also doesn’t help that he’s so nice. he always makes enough dinner for the both of you whenever he cooks, leaving a note with your name atop neatly stored away leftovers. he leaves extra coffee in the pot for you in the mornings. he lays a blanket over you when you fall asleep studying at the dinner table.
every nerve in you screams that he’s boyfriend material, but he’d rarely shown an interest in you other than cohabitational friendship.
-
everything goes to hell when his best friend comes to visit.
iwaizumi gave you a heads up beforehand, of course. not that you’d have an issue with it, he rarely even invites people over to study. but the second oikawa tooru step through the door, you wonder how the hell this person was friends with ‘iwa-chan.’
because while oikawa talked and talked to fill space, iwaizumi only added the occasional huff or puff, maybe a snark comment here and there, but otherwise didn’t really engage. they were like day and night, these two childhood best friends.
in fact, iwaizumi didn’t really seem to care for what oikawa said until he’d turned to you and said, “so you’re the roommate that iwa-chan thinks--”
your roommate’s hand had slapped the back of his head before he could finish, fist balling into his shirt collar to tug him into his room.
you can’t help but wonder what he would have said, if iwaizumi hadn’t stopped him.
-
on friday night, oikawa finally convinces his iwa-chan to take him clubbing. he asks you if you want to come, of course, but you’ve just finished a particularly draining exam, and were planning on an eventful night consisting of a long soak in the tub, followed by ice cream and netflix as a reward.
you end up heading to bed a little earlier than expected, but not before flicking on the stove light for iwaizumi and oikawa, who will undoubtedly stumble in drunk, if the snaps the latter had sent you were any indicator.
so you curl up in bed, shutting your eyes and trying not to think about how good your roommate looked in that black button up and dark jeans.
-
when you slowly blink awake the next morning, the first thing you realize is that you’re uncomfortably warm. too warm, considering you always turned on the ac before bed.
the next thing you realize is that there’s something heavy draped across your waist, and you almost scream when you realize that it’s someone’s arm. a brief glance to your side confirms that it’s—
—it’s iwaizumi. he’s shirtless beside you, snoring quietly and smelling faintly of booze.
you breath a long breath through your nose, trying to will your erratic heartbeat to calm as you planned your escape. you were trapped with your roommate on one side, and the wall on the other. this would not be easy.
okay, first things first, you need to get his arm off.
carefully, you slide a hand under his forearm. his skin is warm and smooth, perfectly tanned from running in the california sun, and the corded muscles underneath feel like defined bedrock.
as soon as you begin to lift in the slightest, he reacts by tightening his arm around your waist, nudging his face into the junction of your shoulder and neck. you hold your breath when he gazes up at you with heavy lids, humming lazily before murmuring your name.
“don’t leave bed yet,” he mumbles almost incoherently, breath hot against your skin, sending tingles up your spine and making you gasp lightly.
you feel him stiffen against you, eyes blinking awake a little wider this time when he whispers, “am i awake right now?”
did he think he was dreaming? of you?
you can’t find it in you to give him a verbal answer, so you just swallow thickly and nod before he peeled himself away from you, muttering a quiet, fuck, under his breath as he rolls out of bed.
“i’m sorry,” he says, not looking you in the eye, the tips of his ears turning a questionable shade of crimson. “i clearly wasn’t thinking straight last night, i thought this was my room and that i was just drea—” he cuts himself off, the red crawling down his neck. “i know i probably made you uncomfortable.”
“it’s fine,” you assure him quickly, feeling heat rise to your own face as you tried to avoid glancing over the defined crevices of his chest and abs. “it was an accident, right?”
“right,” he nods.
neither of you say anything for a very long time.
“you should get some sleep,” you tell him. “you look like hell.”
he glances at the door, scratching the back of his neck. “you know, i think— i think shittykawa is in my bed. that might’ve been why i…”
you raise a brow. “shittykawa?”
“oikawa,” he explains quickly. “do you want to just make breakfast instead?”
breakfast doesn’t seem like a horrible idea, and it’s unlikely either of you are going to be able to sleep after this, so…
your stomach grumbles in response, the corner of iwaizumi’s mouth quirking up a little.
yousharknotpass
kaledo-art
2087
annaxmalina
