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mackjlee9 · 2 years

Note

congratulations on 2k! sugawara koshi with #1 'you look good in my clothes' and #20 from the first fluff list and #49, #76, #98 from the smut list. top male reader thanks!

Thank you for requesting~ ☺

Fluff Prompts; 'You look really good in my clothes' & 'Oh my god, you never told me you can cook'.

Smut Prompts; 'You're going to cum untouched, do you understand?', 'You know I'm holding back from fucking you over the kitchen counter, don't push your luck' & 'I never thought you'd say that, fuck, that's hot'.

Warning; implied kitchen sex & breeding, grinding, nipple play.

Sugawara Koushi [Haikyuu!!]

Please, enjoy the event~

It was early in the morning, the miraculous occasion where (M/n) woke up from his slumber before his partner. And seeing Koushi laying on the bed, deep breaths as he slept peacefully, made him want to do something a little different and special for him.

Getting up from the bed, he put on a pair of sweatpants he found laying around and walked to the bathroom so he could wash his face, and proceeded to head to the kitchen, looking around the cabinets and the fridge to find what he could cook for breakfast. Well, it was close to midday, so it'll be more like lunch.

Not in complete silence -because he can not do stuff without vibing to music- he played his playlist at a low volume, low enough that he could still hear it clearly. He finished cooking within the next forty minutes and he was now washing the dirty dishes and used, and those that were left from the night before. (M/n) was distracted, moving his body around to the rhythm of the music, so he didn't hear Koushi as he walked in behind him after being awoken by the wonderful smell of food.

Wrapping his pale, slim arms around the (h/c) haired male, he hummed quietly with the music, nuzzling onto (M/n)'s back.

Feeling a wide, bright smile stretch along his face, he turned around after drying his hands, he was done washing anyway. He looked at Koushi up and down, while the silver-haired male stared at him with a sleepy look in his eyes.

"You look really good in my clothes," he mumbled, leaning closer to press a sweet, short peck on Koushi's lips, who chuckled softly and hugged him tighter.

"I love wearing your clothes, so is a win-win situation," (M/n) hummed and nodded, before holding Koushi's arms, breaking their embrace.

"Come on, the food will get cold," (M/n) guided Koushi to the set table, where the food was still steaming hot. The silver-haired male sat down and stared at the various plates in front of him, making (M/n) observe him, wondering if there was something he didn't like. "Is everything alright?"

Koushi blinked and nodded, picking up his chopsticks and a spoon, as he reached for what he wanted to eat first, "Where did you buy all of this?"

Oh, so that was what he was wondering.

(M/n) only chuckled, causing Koushi to look up at him, chewing his food and swallowing it before talking again.

"What's so funny?" He said with a short laugh, getting more food in his mouth soon after.

"It's nothing, sweetie, and I cooked this," Koushi stopped moving for a moment, before glancing up at him, the chopsticks in his hand moved around in a way to signal 'all of this?', "I cooked it for you."

After a few seconds of silence, Koushi laughs at the situation, "Oh my god, you never told me you can cook," (M/n) just shrugged with a wide smile.

"You never asked."

//////

When they were done with breakfast, they took every dirty dish back to the kitchen, (M/n) washed them while Koushi dried them and put them back. Everything was nice and the quiet was comfortable.

But Koushi, just suddenly started feeling a little... needy, to put it simply. It may have been the sight of (M/n) still shirtless, or the way his sweatpants hung low on his hips, maybe it was the sound of his voice, it might've even been the memories of the previous night clouding his mind all of the sudden. But it just happened, and he wasn't sure why.

He took a step behind (M/n) as he finished drying the counter and his hands, when Koushi's hands were pressed against his abdomen, slowly but surely rubbing on his skin as they reached further and further down than expected. His slim, longer fingers pressed on the outline of his cock, stroking him up and down over his clothes.

(M/n) sighed and turned around, placing a hand on Koushi's face as he leaned closer to kiss him. He didn't really mind Koushi's touch, but he wanted to play with him for a little while, after all, they woke up barely two hours ago. Breaking their kiss, (M/n) started making his way down to his neck, nibbling playfully on his sensitive skin, his hands caressing his nipples over his shirt, making him squirm and gasp.

Koushi felt how his erection was pressing against his underwear, mostly likely wetting it too, so he let go of (M/n)'s cock and reached to touch himself, but he was stopped the second he barely graced his leaking tip.

He was now pinned against the counter, both of his hands held behind him, (M/n) leaning down, pressing their bodies together.

"You're going to cum untouched, do you understand?" His free hand held the hem of his shirt, lifting it as he leaned down, attaching his lips to his perky pink nipples, swirling his tongue around it, causing Koushi to squirm in his grip, his hips grinding down on (M/n)'s thigh since his leg was placed in between his.

Koushi lets out whines and whimpers, progressively getting louder and desperate, needily grinding his hips faster. "Please, (M/n), I... I don't think I c-can't cum if you don't... touch me~" his words make (M/n)'s cock twitch in the confinement of his clothes, the lewd and erotic moans that Koushi was letting out right next to his ear only fueled him even more.

"You know I'm holding back from fucking you over the kitchen counter, don't push your luck," Koushi's eyes shut tight, struggling to break free from (M/n)'s grip. He wants to touch him too, he wants to feel his cock inside him, fucking him dumb on the kitchen counter, he doesn't care.

He wants it now.

"Do it~ please, do it... I want you in-inside me, filling me up... so good with your cock," Koushi's body quivered as he came in his underwear, a dazed look in his teary grey eyes, "I need you to fill me up with your cum~"

Staring at Koushi with a look of disbelief, (M/n) couldn't hold back the smirk that stretched his lips. "I never thought you'd say that, fuck, that's hot." He let go of Koushi's hands, reaching to hold his thighs, picking him up on the counter. "I hope you don't regret this, Koushi."

(I really hope this is what you wanted)

#.mackjlee9's 2k event #haikyuu x reader #sugawara koushi x reader #haikyuu #sub!haikyuu #sub!sugawara #male reader #top male reader #reader insert #x reader #lime #writing event #fluff prompts #smut prompts

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spacieboi · 2 years

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𝐈 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐆𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

𝙏𝙮𝙥𝙚. 𝖫𝗂𝗆𝖾 (𝖽𝗋𝖺𝖻𝖻𝗅𝖾)

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜. 𝖨𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗓𝗎𝗆𝗂 𝖧𝖺𝗃𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝘾𝙬. 𝖢𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣��. 0.3𝗄

*slam* The sound of you being pushed against the wall of the storage closet vibrated through your body.

Wet lips travel down your neck as a knee separated your thighs.

"Mmm" a soft moan slipped from your lips. Legs were losing feeling the deeper his teeth sunk into your skin.

"Haijme~" your silky voice sang softly in his ear.

You bit your tongue ashamed that you let his name slip past.

You were lucky he was running late. That he wasn't here just yet. If Oikawa ever found out you were banging his best friend behind his back-

"Ugh~" a sharp pain shot through the skin of your breast.

"You better not be thinking of him" Iwaizumi's eyes stare daggers into yours as his lips forged a hickey on your chest.

"No- it's just, mm what if he finds out?" He lifts his head to level yours.

"And so what if he does?" He turns you body around and you feel him pressed against your ass.

The heat between your legs burns as his voice creeps in your ear "Who gives a rats ass about what he thinks? After the amount of times he's cheated on you, he doesn't have a place to be mad."

Whimpers leave your mouth as he kisses down your back.

"You deserve so much better, Y/n. Just say the word and I can give you that"

You thought about it although there was really no point to it. The feels Hajime was giving you in this moment made it completely unfair for you to make a logical decision.

Of course you chose to let him have his way with you. Besides he was right, after the many times you found Oikawa with other girls again and again, after he promised it would end. You deserved to have this, just once.

"Give it to me Hajime" you feel a smirk spread on his lips.

"That's my good girl~"

Just as your shorts were coming down you heard his voice.

"Alright guys- wait, has anyone seen Iwa?"

"Damn bastard" Hajime pulls away from you.

You sigh and attempt to fix yourself. Just then you realize how much of a mess you were.

“This isn’t over, Love” his large hand gripped around your throat. His eyes glazed over your face before fixating on your lips.

“I can give you better”

A/n: sorry for the long hiatus. Major writers block but I finally somewhat finished something even though it’s short. Hope you can forgive me, better (and longer) works coming 🙏🏾

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bokutosmochi · 2 years

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SUMMER OF '16 ♡ BOKUTO KOTARO

bokuto kotaro x gn!reader

ingredients? bokuto reminiscing about your first fight and the way it for resolved, all the way back during the summer of 2016.

what's it? fluff, angst if you squint real hard.

allergen warning/s? reader is called pretty

sugar level? 1.6k

regulars? @hanayanetwork

parlor's note? written for @hanayanetwork's summer collab! the masterlist here, so check out everyone else's work if ya want!

also this is the shortest one shot i've written pls 😭😭

bon appetit!

maybe some people would disagree, but being of twenty seven years of age, bokuto would like to think he's had quite a few life experiences. perhaps not as much as most, but it's nothing to sneeze at either. the fact that he's a world renowned volleyball player who's played all over the country, has even played in the tokyo olympics only supports that fact.

traveling as frequently as he does and meeting as many people he does gives you some life experience.

and luckily for him, most of these life experiences are good and memorable. when the day he turns grey and frail comes, he will not look back at his youthful years with sadness in his golden eyes, instead, there is happiness. he has done everything he wanted to do, he chased his dreams, and pursued his passions.

but with all those dreams and all those passions, you've always remained to be number one in his heart.

and with all those life experiences and memories, his favorites are the ones that you are a part of. specifically, one that happened in the summer of twenty sixteen, his last year at fukurodani academy more than a few years ago.

he didn't really know what to do, other than to pout around. he knew he had to do something, but what ever that something may be left him slumped. he's tried to ask akaashi for help, but the young man just shook his head and told him it was not his area of expertise. he was so desperate he's even asked konoha who only gave him a stern pat on the back and wished him luck. "you got yourself into this, captain. you can get yourself out."

now bokuto wasn't usually this helpless, no matter what anyone else thought about him and his emo mode, but this is different. he's just had a big fight with his partner and while he was well aware that this is completely normal for couples to go through, this is his first serious relationship and this is their first fight. they've argued before, yeah, and they've definitely had a few disagreements here and there, but this time, you weren't speaking to him, and if he was being completely honest with himself, he had no idea why.

he admits he's said some awful words he didn't mean, but you have too, didn't you? and yes, the whole reason you got to that fight in the first place was because he was not able to spend much time with you, his volleyball practice taking most of his waking time, you were aware of his dedication to the sport before saying "yes" to going on a date with him, didn't you? after all, he was the ace of the school's volleyball team

he wandered the park for no particular reason, he simply wanted to clear his head for a few minutes, hoping that the warm rays of the sun would give him the solution he was looking for, wandering around like a lost puppy when he spotted you in the field of flowers.

you looked at peace, hair blowing in the wind and ruffling it all over the place, yet in his eyes, you still looked picture perfect. if he ever told you that, he reckons you'd laugh and shake your head at him, maybe playfully slap his arm, but that didn't change a single thing.

you were seated on a white and red checkered blanket, protecting you from the grass it was laid out on top of and in your hands were flowers he did not know the same of. they looked wonderful though, light and soft colored rather than being bright. it kind of reminded him of the state of your relationship right now. there was love, as he hoped there always will be between the two of you, yet he did not bound to you the way he always does when he spots you at school or as he does when he's headed to your home so you two can walk to fukurodani together, spend some time with each other and talk about the odd dream you've had during the night before he went to morning practice. instead, he walked over to you calmly, not uttering a single word when he sits down next to you.

you did not talk to him. not yet, anyway. the only reason he knew that you knew he was there was the small glance you gave him when he sat down, making sure that a random man was not taking up your personal space and now that he was near you, he saw what you were doing.

well, if he thought that this imagery was picture perfect before, then he's sure of it now. he's not quite sure what he's done in his life or in his past life to deserve this, but regardless of what it is, he's glad. never in his wildest dreams could he find something better than the scenery of you sat on the grass, the morning sun bathing you in it's glorious light, painting your skin in a gorgeous gold with the chime of the ice cream truck in the distance as you made a flower crown, bunching blue and white flowers together and tying them all neatly.

it was only when you clicked your tongue that he snapped out of his daydream of sorts. "was thinking of making you one as a peace offering." you started, unable to look him in the eyes and focusing on the wire on your lap, twiddling it between your fingers, tying the flowers together. "i know i said some.. not nice words and i didn't mean any of it. i'm sorry, kou." you stared up at him sadly and bokuto swears there are tears on the corner of your eyes. he can't stand the thought of you being sad, nevermind the sight of you being sad so he's quick to pull you in a bear hug - his specialty -, desperate to comfort you because other than the fact that he doesn't want to see an ounce of pain in your eyes, he also knows he's at fault. you both are.

"i'm sorry too, baby owl! didn't mean any of it either. i get too caught up in my emotions, you know that. i'll work on it, baby. promise!" he snuggled his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply when he is met with the familiar scent of you -- of home.

you smile and nod a bit, resting your head on his chest and holding his hand in yours. "you're forgiven, kou." you place a kiss to his knuckles and lean forward, grabbing the flower crown in front of you made from a combination of dusty miller, white yarrows, peonies, and spray roses, light blue baby's breaths, and blue carnations. "here, i made you this."

and at that, he brightened up. "for me?" his eyes were as bright as the sun shining in the summer sky, lovely as the feeling of freedom summer vacation gives you. you nodded smiling at him, glad that he liked your present when he lowered his head. "can you put it on me, baby?"

you hummed in response and started to put the blue and white flower crown on him. "might be a little tight, not exactly sure if it'll fit." but you know that even if it didn't, bokuto would do anything in the world to make it, even if it takes something as simple as cutting his hair or as complex and impossible as giving you the moon, although he'd probably argue that it's not impossible, it's just really hard.

to your surprise and delight though, those two options were not needed. the flower crown fit him snuggly.

you laughed at the sight of your boyfriend rolling his eyes upwards, trying to see your handcrafted gift to no avail. the telltale signs of his emo mode was slowly showing, little by little, his hair was deflating so without hesitation, you grabbed your phone and got on the camera app, switching it to selfie mode. "here you go, kou."

he gave you a playful kiss on the cheek, complete with a smack! when he pulled away as he grabbed the device from you.

if his eyes could get any brighter, if his smile could get any bigger, it did. "baby! it looks so cool! i almost look as pretty as you!"

you shook your head at him, feeling the apple of your cheeks heat up and the butterflies flutter around in your stomach. "you are pretty, kou. the prettiest boy i've ever seen!"

he let out a gasp, a joyful sound coming out of his mouth and you swear that you'd do anything, say anything just to hear that sound again. "really?? you mean that??

you giggled at him, weaving a hand through his hair. "course i do kou."

and just like that, the fight was long forgotten. he snuggled up to you and asked you if you could teach him how to make flower crowns too so you could match and you did, albeit the one he made you looked a lot sloppier than the one you made for him. it didn't matter, you knew it came from the heart and thats all that mattered. after all, since bokuto loved it so much, he decided to get those two flower crowns preserved, a remembrance of the summer of '16.

i get: reblog

you get: the flower crown

do we have a deal?

#hanayanetwork #tahonet #order of the day!#order up for bokuto!#one matcha mochi #with a side of coconut italian ice #with a side of lime italian ice #bokuto #bokuto x reader #bokuto one shot #bokuto kotaro #bokuto kotaro x reader #bokuto kotaro one shot #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! one shot #tokyometronetwork

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sora-inoue · 2 years

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hey, I'm new to tumbler but I love writing books or short stories. I'm willing to write anything to an extant.

#obey me #fruit basket #haikyuu!!#x reader #kuroko's basketball #fairy tail #anime #mha #teenwolf #smut/fluff/lime/lemon #oneshot #long reads #marvel #dc #kamisama kiss #ask me literally anything

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brights-place · 6 months

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Haikyuu Boys and Their Scent

A/N: I went out shopping with friends to a market and passed by candles and lotions along with perfumes and thought about Haikyuu characters and what they would smell like in my view. I enjoyed writing this and I might do this to other characters too. Enjoy these everybody these are just Headcannons on what I think they’d smell like. List: Miyagi Boys, Tokyo Boys, [Here]

Inarazaki

Aran: Ginger, Clove, and Lemon Kita: Cedarwood, Patchouli, Balsam Wood, and Vanilla Ren: Guava, Peach, and Lychee Atsumu: Bergamot, Neroli, and Orange Osamu: Tonka, Amaretto, and Musk Ginijima: Apple, Lemon, Lime, and Grape Suna: Lemon Zest, Lime, Lemon grass, and Malt Riseki: Grape-Jasmine, Violet, and Strawberry-Geranium Akagi: Brandywine, Raspberry, and Rose Kosaku: Vanilla, Caramel, Sandalwood

Kamomedai

Hoshiumi: Orange peel, Blueberry, Lemon Zest Hirugami: Blackberry, spun sugar, milky notes

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nagisa-666 · 8 months

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《Hello! My name is Nagisa! I'm a fanfic writer! I created this blog to make one shots for these shows!:》

|♡Haikyuu!♡|

|♡The disastrous life of Saiki K♡|

|♡Obey me! Shall we date?♡|

|♡Tokyo Revengers♡|

|♡My Hero Academia♡|

|♡Kimetsu No Yaiba♡|

|♡One piece♡|

|♡Kotaro Lives Alone♡|

|♡SPY X FAMILY♡|

|♡Twisted Wonderland♡|

|♡Monster High♡|

|♡Overlord♡|

|♡Record of Ragnarok♡|

|♡Blue Lock♡|

《THESE ARE CROSS POSTED TO WATTPAD!》

《I CAN write: ANGST, FLUFF, YANDERE, BASED READERS》

《I WILL NOT write : NONCON, SMUT, LIME, INCEST, SHOWS NOT LISTED, OC'S》

All of the oneshots that I post (that I do not reblog or give credit to the og writers) are mine! Please do not claim, take, modify, or translate my works!

CURRENTLY WRITING:

Empty, maybe you should request something?

FINISHED WRITING

《HAIKYUU!!》

Empty

《THE DISASTEROUS LIFE OF SAIKI K》

Empty

《OBEY ME! SHALL WE DATE?》

Empty

《TOKYO REVENGERS》

Muzan! F! Reader x Tokyo Revengers

Itadori! F! Reader x Tokyo Revengers

《MY HERO ACADEMIA》

Empty

《KIMETSU NO YAIBA》

Empty

《ONE PIECE》

Tanjiro! F! x Yan! One piece

《KOTARO LIVES ALONE》

Empty

《SPY X FAMILY》

Empty

《TWISTED WONDERLAND》

Empty

《MONSTER HIGH》

Empty

《OVERLORD》

Drew! (Dislyte) M! Reader x Overlord

《RECORD OF RAGNAROK》

Empty

《BLUE LOCK》

Bakugo! M! Reader x Blue Lock

《MY WORKS!》

https://www.quotev.com/story/16120472/Snakes-Eye

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kazuyummy · 7 months

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🧁 dessert moodboards!

hi dear friends, i've been itching to make some moodboards and thought this would be such a sweet theme! read the instructions below and ask away!

rules: one moodboard per person (for now) so please be off anon (or stay anon but dm me what you requested - otherwise i'll delete the ask). i'd also appreciate if you gave me a follow if you request smth 🥰 fandoms: haikyuu, diamond no ace, attack on titan, hunter x hunter, jujutsu kaisen, my hero academia, tokyo revengers, chainsaw man, shokugeki no souma, demon slayer step one. give me either your self-ship or one character to make the moodboard for. if it's a character, i'll likely get a manga image of them and change colour accordingly, and if it's a self-ship, likely a generic couple picture lmao (or if you have art that would match feel free to dm it but no guarantee i'll use it if i can't fit it in the theme) step two. choose your top three desserts - i will only be doing one moodboard per dessert (first come first serve - but can do the same character multiple times) so if your top choice is taken, i'll go to the next one, etc. feel free to specify a flavour, otherwise i'll make my own choice (ex: if you say cake, i'm gonna choose a specific type like birthday cake) step three. bon appetit! enjoy your dessert 🍧💖

how 'bout some dessert ideas? you are NOT limited to this list - choose anything sweet that your heart desires!

🍰 strawberry shortcake 🍰 macarons 🍰 tiramisu 🍰 blueberry pie 🍰 halo halo 🍰 carrot cake 🍰 madeleines 🍰 sno-cones 🍰 yule log 🍰 panna cotta 🍰 creme brulee 🍰 banana bread 🍰 trifles 🍰 neopolitan ice cream 🍰 chocolate-covered strawberries 🍰 ice cream sundae 🍰 crepes 🍰 key lime pie 🍰 mont-blanc 🍰 s'mores 🍰 lemon cupcakes 🍰 baked alaska 🍰 poached pears 🍰 taro cheesecake 🍰 mango bubble tea 🍰 nanaimo bars 🍰 peach cookies 🍰 egg tarts 🍰

🧁 slots / desserts taken (those in pink are finished):

halo halo - miyuki x cee

red velvet cake - kirishima for nem

tiramisu - tendou for deru

banana bread - aki for dym

@meggsngrits - lemon cake

@ricecrispiebirb - macarons

@heroesfan101 - chocolate truffles

@ricewaves - cream puffs

open

might add more if i have the energy & time (and depending on how this goes ehehe)

dividers from here (closest i could get to credit)

#💬-ani-chats #dessert moodboards #dessert #moodboard #self ship #moodboards

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heich0e · 2 years

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JUST A TASTE - part one: salt miya atsumu/bartender!reader (haikyuu!) ao3 link word count: 3.3k tags: see series masterlist for more tags, enemies to customer service providers, f!reader, frequent mentions of alcohol a/n: this series is heavily informed by my understanding of western bar culture/mixology, so... suspension of disbelief, poetic license, forgive my ignorance, etc. my apologies + pls read at your own risk if that might bother you!

salty dog: 1.5oz gin or vodka, 4oz grapefruit juice, kosher salt, ice, grapefruit slice (optional for garnish). pour kosher salt onto a plate. rub grapefruit slice around the rim (or wet with tips of fingers and grapefruit juice) and dip the glass into the salt. reserve the grapefruit for serving if using. fill glass with ice. add vodka or gin, then top with grapefruit juice. stir gently to combine and garnish with the reserved grapefruit slice.

The most popular cocktail in the first bar you ever worked at was the Long Island iced tea.

You never knew why it was called a Long Island iced tea. The drink wasn't made with tea. You weren't even sure it came from Long Island—though the concoction undeniably stemmed from the excess of the west.

The cocktail's recipe was as complicated as the ambiguous etymology of its name: equal parts vodka, tequila, gin, rum, and triple sec; one and a half parts sour mix; all topped with a splash of coke to give it its familiar amber hue.

Like tea, maybe. If you'd never seen tea before.

The drink was stupid and convoluted, but they could get you fucked up pretty fast and didn't cost too much—which made it a fan-favourite among the broke students that crammed into the bar near your university campus every night of the week. Fridays they were even two for one, and the highest tally of Long Islands you'd ever made in a single night working the closing shift was three hundred and seventeen. It was on a Friday just after midterm week, and you’d almost thrown the last one right at the poor girl who’d ordered it at last call because you were so sick of mixing them.

Needless to say you were happy when you graduated and got a job at a nicer bar further in Osaka's city centre.

It was only supposed to be a temporary gig; just something to keep your lights on while you hunted for a job in your field. But all too quickly the career prospects that had seemed so promising with your diploma fresh in your hand quickly dried up, and so the drinks kept flowing.

The second bar was fancier than the one you’d worked at through college—the kind that named drinks after famous dead people and used coasters. It was frequented most often by young working professionals only slightly older (if at all) than yourself—dressed in suits and loosened ties, shirts unbuttoned at the collar, as they stopped by for a drink on their way home from the office or with a date on a Saturday night who they’d probably swiped right on on some app. You didn’t really mind working there all that much—the tips were more consistent, the spirits better quality, and you didn’t have to deal with obnoxious college boys slurring unsolicited advances at you over the counter while you poured them their fourth sake bomb of the night and resisted the urge to spit in it.

The most popular drink at this bar was a classic kamikaze, branded with a different name to justify the unnecessarily costly price attached to it. The recipe was a classic: equal parts lime juice, vodka, and triple sec; garnished with a slice of lime.

When you would leave the bar at the end of a shift, shuffling lethargically down the road to the humble apartment which you shared with two friends from college, you could still smell the sharp, astringent aroma of the green citrus fruit clinging to the tips of your fingers because of how many limes you'd used as garnish that night.

It was at that second bar that you learned to really enjoy bartending. It was easier to do in that place, when you weren’t focusing on quantity over quality; over making sure the senpai on the other side of the bar wasn’t getting too handsy with the junior girl you’d served one too many lemon sours that evening; over ensuring that someone didn’t steal the framed painting of Jumbo Ozaki off the wall (for the third time that month.)

You found that, over time, the half-assed google searches and scanning job postings at the back of the Saturday newspaper stopped entirely; the books on your nightstand turned from a stack about finding your calling and nailing interviews to titles on mixology and spirits.

You got better at bartending too. You weren’t just fast and efficient (the only good thing that ever came out of that college bar job) but you had a good memory when it came to drinks—quickly becoming a walking encyclopaedia of not just recipes, but facts about spirits, wine, and beer that you used to charm customers into ordering the top shelf offerings, which translated into fatter tips left for you and your impressive wealth of trivia at the end of the night.

And then one day, an opportunity fell in your lap.

“I got a job at that new bar across town—you know the one on the top floor of that crazy high rise?”

You looked up over the steaming bowl of ramen that was commanding the majority of your attention, your chopsticks pausing halfway to your open mouth.

Your coworker and friend, Shoji, peered back at you from the other side of the table after he said his piece. You should of known when he offered to take you out for lunch ahead of your shift that evening he’d had ulterior motives.

“Ah,” you said, popping your food into your mouth and then speaking as you chewed. “Dees ah’ guilt noodows.”

“They are not guilt noodles, thank you.” Shoji laughed, slumping back in his chair as he watched you chew. He seemed to be contemplating something.

Shoji Taiyou was a few years older than you—closer to 35 than he was to your 25—and had been in the bar industry for twice as long as you had. He was still youthful in spite of it, with tattoos on his arm, a buzzed head, and a piercing in his eyebrow—and you rarely noticed the gap in ages between you. Above all else he was a good coworker. Reliable. The two of you had become fast friends when you’d started working at the second bar that took you on just after graduation.

You swallowed your mouthful of food.

“That place is fucking swanky—why the hell did they hire you?” you asked, but the comment had no grounds and you both knew it. He was as good of a bartender as they came, and had taught you a lot in the few years that you’d been working together.

You’d miss him.

“My old friend from college is the manager,” Shoji said, reaching for his own chopsticks and picking out a piece of pork from his bowl. “He’s been trying to convince me to come on board for the past couple of months,” he explained, leaning on his elbow as he watched you fish out a shiitake from your own bowl of broth. “He came in last week to talk to me about it again—remember him?”

You vaguely recalled the man, though you forgot his name. He was wearing a suit and had smiled a lot, showing off his unnaturally white teeth. He’d been pleasant enough.

“He liked you,” Shoji said. “A lot.”

“I’m not interested in getting set up with your buddy even if he does run the fanciest bar in Osaka,” you said with a roll of your eyes, pointing your chopsticks at him warningly.

“He’s married,” Taiyou laughed. “And he doesn’t want to date you, he wants to hire you.”

You paused.

“Me?”

Shoji had twice the wealth of experience you did, so it made sense he’d get scouted by another bar. But you? You were just a college grad who bartended because apparently art history majors were not, in fact, in such a high demand at the moment.

“He said you made him one of the best cocktails he’s had in a long time.”

“I'm pretty sure he only ordered a highball...”

“Just think about it, will ya? He liked you, and I vouched for your skills,” Shoji said with a long-suffering sigh at your recalcitrance, letting his hand hit the table with a determined thud. The broth in your bowl rippled at the impact. “I’m putting in my two weeks today, so that gives you fourteen days to make up your mind as to whether or not you’re coming with me.”

And you did think about it.

A lot.

You thought about it while you worked that night—shaking a Martini over your shoulder for one of your regulars: a middle aged woman who was meeting with her lawyer as they discussed the third divorce she’d gone through since you started working at the bar.

You thought about it while you shopped for groceries after your closing shift on the eighth day at the 24 hour grocery store by your apartment, choosing between vegetables and ice cream because your budget didn't allow for both. (You chose the ice cream.)

You thought about it while you vacuumed your apartment on the thirteenth day, tripping over the cord of the appliance with a face mask smeared thick across your t-zone that promised to help improve the brightness of your skin. It had been dull as of late, and you chalked it up to too much thinking.

You handed in your notice the next morning.

It hardly feels right to call the third bar you find yourself employed at a simple bar at all when it's so much more than that.

It has stunning views of the city skyline from the top floor of a newly constructed high-rise. There’s polished glass, black marble, and a profusion of other modern finishes decorating the space in a tasteful, luxurious way that never feels too heavy-handed. But your favourite part of the modern, sumptuous bar has to be the atmospheric lighting that casts the entire space in a dim, ethereal glow without ever diminishing the view.

Going to work every day still feels like a dream.

And it’s here that you really get to shine.

The liquors behind the bar are expensive and imported. There are bottles of wine on the wine list that cost more than a month’s rent at your old apartment—which you’ve since given up in favour of a one bedroom closer to your new place of work, that you can afford now on your own thanks to the substantial pay increase you’d gotten when you’d accepted the new position.

The job comes with more responsibility, commensurate to the pay-raise, to be sure—you help to curate drink menus, source new and exciting additions to the spirit shelves and wine list, deal with any issues with distributors that crop up along the way. But you get to mix drinks, ones you come up with yourself, and it’s given you the space you need to thrive.

The clientele of the new bar is elite; politicians, actors, and athletes flock to the space in droves. They're the kind of people who don’t bat an eye at the hefty bills that land in their hands at the end of night, or think twice about how many zeroes they scribble on to the tip at the bottom of their receipt to be split between you and the waitstaff.

All in all, you find the patrons at the downtown bar to be mostly tolerable.

Except for one.

Miya Atsumu: professional volleyball player for the MSBY Black Jackals, part-time heartthrob, and full-time pain in your ass.

He shows up every Friday night with a date—a standing reservation in his name.

He always orders two cocktails.

Never the same one twice.

The women nor the drinks.

It had started a few weeks after you’d begun your new job: a busy Friday evening, as always, and the most popular drink that night seemed to be the cocktail that you and head bartender Shoji had come up with—a slightly more modern take on a classic whiskey sour.

You were in the process of making three more of the evening’s special when a head of peroxide blonde hair suddenly popped into your line of sight. You looked up, meeting a pair of suspiciously soft brown eyes peering at you from the other side of the sparkling bartop.

“Hello,” you greeted the man politely, wiping your damp hands on the apron tied around your waist, condensation from the shaker you’d just been holding clinging to your fingertips. “Can I help you?”

Your eyes flickered down to the man’s hands as he set them on the counter and leaned towards you—long, inarguably elegant fingers wrapped around two cocktails identical to the ones you’d just been preparing. One was mostly drained while the other barely touched, though you could spot the soft ring of a lipstick mark along the edge of the polished glass.

“I was wonderin’ if ya might be able to do me a huge favour,” the man asked, voice teeming with what you were sure was meant to be charm but immediately set your teeth on edge. You couldn’t help but have a sudden, visceral flashback to the college boys who would leer at you over the counter in your first bar, and you found yourself taking a half step back from him without thinking.

His eyes flashed with a quiet confusion at your unsubtle retreat, but he didn’t seem to let it stop him.

“Ya see, my date and I both ordered this cocktail—but she really hates whiskey.”

“It’s a whiskey sour,” you replied, forcing yourself to keep your tone professional though it still came out a little flat. Why someone who hates whiskey would order a drink that was made of it perplexed you—but it happened far more often than you cared to linger on in your line of work.

“I know—and I happen to think it’s delicious—I thought she’d like it too but she says she absolutely can’t drink it.”

“Alright, I’d be happy to make you something else,” you said, tone slightly clipped but still accommodating. “What can I get for you?”

“Well, what would you recommend?” he asked, his blonde head tilting curiously to the side.

Your eyes dropped down to the three almost completed cocktails in front of you, which you’d already allowed to rest for too long thanks to the unexpected distraction. You set about completing them while you spoke with the man.

“Well, she doesn’t like whiskey. What spirit does she like?” You finished garnishing the cocktails, waving over the server who had been waiting for them at the edge of the bar to hand them off.

“Uh, dunno…” The man scratched absentmindedly behind his ear.

You blinked at him blankly, biting back a scoff.

“Alright, well does she like sweet things?” you tried again.

The man pursed his full lips. “Not sure about that either.”

“Is there anything you know about this woman?” The biting comment slipped out before you had the presence of mind to stopper it behind your teeth—and you momentarily panicked, wondering if he was going to take offence.

He merely grinned at you wolfishly.

“I know she's a swimsuit model.”

You very nearly sneered.

You curled your hands into fists out of sight below the bar, counting to five in your mind to calm the rage you felt building in your gut.

“Okay,” you said, turning away and grabbing some ingredients off the wall behind you.

It wasn’t anything particularly complicated—a slightly modified take on an Aperol spritz. The man watched you while you worked, mixing up the two cocktails with a measured hand, offering a few facts about the beverage along the way as you were accustomed to doing.

You finished the drink off with a bit of briney salt spray over the surface of the bubbling beverage, the champagne still fizzing from having only just been poured over the ice.

“What’s that?” the man asked, watching you mist the drinks.

“Saline solution,” you explained, running a clean cloth over the edge of the glass to clean up a little drop that had spilled over the lip. “It’s salty—like the sea. People say it reminds them of the beach.”

“Perfect fer a swimsuit model.” The man nodded approvingly, flashing you a winning smile.

“Sure,” you agreed half-heartedly, handing the drinks to the evening’s most annoying customer over the counter.

“I’ll be sure to let ya know what she thinks!”

You bit back the comment sitting on the tip of your tongue telling him not to bother—catching yourself that second time before saying something you’d regret.

You didn’t need him to come and tell you his date enjoyed her drink—even though he did make a point of doing so on his way out, his cheeks flushed a little pinker and hair a little more dishevelled than it had been when he first approached the bar that evening. The three more rounds of the same cocktail that had been ordered for his table (and the hefty tip he’d left, with specific instructions that it was to go directly to you) really told you everything you needed to know.

It became a routine after that.

Miya comes in on a Friday night, some exorbitantly beautiful woman on his arm, and he’s quickly seated at whatever table the front of house staff has ready and waiting for him.

Moments after that, he rises to approach you at the bar.

He’ll offer you some minute detail about his date (though occasionally it is mercifully pertinent to their drink preferences—like a spirit they enjoy or a flavour they’re partial to) and you’re left to come up with a cocktail that will appeal to them.

“So, what’s the story with this one?” he asks one evening, a few months into the little ritual that has settled between you, leaning over the counter as you whip up a drink for his lady of the week. His hints that night were: daughter of a mogul, refined tastes, wants to get messed up.

“Comes from Monaco. They say the queen devised the recipe herself—all the bubble of champagne but twice the punch. Ladies weren’t allowed to drink hard liquor without it being seen as unbecoming, so this was a way they could get away with it and still have a good time.” You strain the slightly green tinted drink into the waiting champagne flutes below the shaker, watching as the frothy liquid pools in the basin of the glass.

“Nice.” The man nods in approval as you top both drinks off with a float from a freshly popped bottle of champagne. The colour of the drink softens even further with the addition of the effervescent wine, and in the dim light of the bar you can hardly even tell it isn’t pure champagne.

“Two imperials for your prim and proper date.” You slide the drinks over to his waiting hands.

“She won’t be proper fer long." Atsumu winks at you over the counter and you wrinkle your nose in distaste.

Your interactions with the regular customer have also shifted in the weeks since he’d started bothering you with his patronage—far less professional than the tone you’d tried (poorly) to maintain on his first few visits to the bar.

“Revolting,” you mutter.

“Thanks again! I’ll let you know how this one goes.”

“Just leave me a nice tip,” you say dismissively, wiping down the bartop with a clean cloth to prepare for the next drink orders waiting to be filled.

“I always do,” the man chirps back, flashing you the same grin he always does—charming, self-assured, and utterly carefree—as he steps away towards his waiting date once more.

But he’s right: for all of Atsumu’s shenanigans, he always leaves you a very generous tip at the end of the night. He always ensures to stop by on his way out—one arm wrapped around the waist of whatever absurdly good looking woman he’s conned into going out with him that week—to tell you that they loved their drinks and to slide a neatly folded stack of bills towards you across the counter.

He’s annoying, but he’s single-handedly financing your habit of buying the really good ice cream on your weekly grocery trip, so you don’t complain much.

You watch as Atsumu crosses the length of the room to return to his table—this week he’s been seated at one not far from the bar, which affords you the perfect view of him sliding into his seat and handing one of the two drinks you’d just carefully prepared to the woman waiting for him.

She takes a sip and smiles, and you watch as Atsumu reaches out to brush a piece of hair behind her ear, his touch lingering just a moment longer than is necessary.

You look away with a roll of your eyes, setting to work on the numerous orders that have come in since you’d been busy preparing his drinks.

Good tipper or not, he really is completely shameless.

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