chapter 8: raze everything to the ground
chapters: 8 / 15
pairing: miya osamu x f! reader
genre: romance, angst, fluff, inarizaki shenanigans
summary: miya osamu does not dare set fire to his heart. it burns anyway.
(prev / next)
You drop all plans at trying to make Miya Osamu yours.
And it’s fine. He doesn’t owe you anything, he’s already been generous enough to let you into his life as a friend. There’s no obligation to see you in any romantic light. You’re not entitled to that. He’s just not receptive to your advances and sure, you might mope about it for an hour or two, watch a weepy tv drama with a lead that kinda looks like Osamu (but his eyes are so much warmer, his crooked smile is so much more charming), stuff your face with the onigiris that he gave to you -
It’s fine. It’s really, absolutely, completely fine.
Kaiyo and Suzuki-san plot Suna’s death when you spill what went down at your planned romantic night out with Osamu. Suzuki-san grumbles about never letting that bastard have fresh onigiris any more. Kaiyo goes a step further, plotting to poison the chuupets that he has a sweet tooth for.
“You can’t keep plannin’ to murder my friends”, Atsumu says despairingly. “We don’t have enough space to hide their bodies.”
“We’ll dump Rin in the ocean”, Kaiyo says. “He’ll make good fish food.”
Atsumu just groans.
Vengeful friends aside (it’s kinda nice to have someone on your side for once, you have to admit), nothing much changes. You’ve already achieved a semblance of happiness, and the only hurdle to holding on to that is to keep from wanting more, so you just need to discipline your mind from wandering off into daydreams starring Osamu (holding hands, watching stars - gods, STOP) and mourning what could’ve been, how much happier you could’ve been (stop stop stop) -
“You sure you’re okay?”
“‘Course”, you reply, swallowing bile. Lying comes easier to you now. “How’s your opening party going? Need any help?”
He looks at you with doubt, but you smile at him until your cheeks hurt, chattering away about how excited you are about his party. Steps of a lonely dance you’re all too familiar with, waltzing away from uncomfortable truths. “I’ll be tryin’ out a couple of new dishes, wanna see what y’all think about it”, he says, still frowning, but he’s distracted with the happy prospect of everyone he loves his new restaurant, the shine of its wooden countertops, the large billboard that displays his reworked menu that he forgets his worries about you easily enough.
“You’ll be there, right?” he finally says after a long ramble about how the builders have done a great job, how he’s been tryin’ out the new kitchen and it works like a dream, how he can’t wait to show off his fancy rice cooker to Shinsuke ‘cos he’s finally doin’ his rice some justice.
“I’ll be there to help out”, you answer.
He shakes his head at you. “That’s not what I’m gettin’ at, silly. It’s your place too.”
Only in the sense that your name is on the title deed and you’re finally accepting rent for it from him, but you don’t recognise the place when you walk in. Gone are the creaking floorboards, the blood red noren, the wooden framed doorways with a lantern hanging by the road. It’s a modern, open space, blonde wood with a touch of concrete, plenty of soft furnishings and natural lighting from the skylights and sweeping windows. By letting Osamu do whatever he wants with the ruins of your family’s restaurant is probably the equivalent of dancing on your ancestors’ graves and your parents are probably gnashing their teeth and cursing their ungrateful offspring, but he’s achieved what you’ve asked of him - to create an inviting, lovely space for guests to come and be comforted and fed.
A place where one can be happy. If you don’t recognise the place at all, he’s achieved that and more.
It also seems that he, in turn does not recognise you - dolled up by an insistent Miya Kaiyo, who teaches you that no, a mascara wand is not a deadly weapon, despite it’s intimidating appearance, wearing a dress that flutters around your knees unlike the usual shapeless, boxy garments you dress yourself in (at work, that’s what you’re provided with, off work, you just like to be comfortable). His eyebrows draw together until he figures out who you are, then his mouth gapes open, like a fish gasping for its last breath.
Before you can approach him though, he’s suddenly crowded by a gaggle of obaa-chans, long time customers of the shop who seem to have adopted him, cooing and pinching his cheeks despite the fact that his actual mom (who you are going to give a wide, wide berth tonight) is watching indulgently that her son is being swarmed. You greet Suzuki-san instead after leaving your gift of ume bonsai, a miniature plum blossom tree in a terracotta pot in a corner of the shop.
“You should say hi to the boss instead”, she tells you crossly but it’s not as if she’s averse to you stepping into the back to relive poor Miyamura-san of his designated job to run back and forth between the front of the house and the back kitchen to replenish the buffet line of onigiris and pickles and steaming pork bone and bitter melon soup.
It’s during one of those trips that you’re knocked off your orbit by a Suna Rintaro who looks marginally less likely to spit at the world, though he’s still scowling. Keep doing that and your face might freeze in place if the wind changes, you feel like telling him, but you lose the thought immediately as he shoves his hands in his pockets, looking down the length of his nose at you, like you’re a bug on the floor he’s been ordered not to step on.
“Samu told me to apologise to you”, he blurts out, tone abrupt. “Sorry for being rude.”
You stop yourself from wringing your hands, letting them twitch uselessly, a pair of injured lovebirds fluttering at your sides. “It’s fine”, you repeat your favourite refrain these days though it’s clear you’re not convincing anyone when he snorts rudely at you.
“Clearly not”, he retorts, glowering. He’s an angry dark cloud floating about a roomful of joy and you’re tempted to ask him to tone it down lest he spoil ‘Samu’s party, but something, something smooths out the unhappy creases in his face.
“But I guess it doesn’t matter. Love sucks, doesn’t it. Fuck this shit.”
He looks down at you with something akin to pity before stalking off, an animal licking his wounds, too quick to exit the scene before you can grab his arm and demand what exactly he means by that. You keep an eye on him after that, watching him pace around the back, knocking back shots of sake and shochu, wrinkling his nose presumably at the bitterness trickling down his throat but he seems relatively harmless.
Your attention from Suna Rintarou is pulled once Osamu climbs onto a chair, cheeks flushed red and ruddy with the alcohol flowing freely in the room.
“A toast”, he calls hoarsely. The crowd cheers.
To Suzuki-san, he exclaims, to Morita-san, to Ishida-san, to Miyamura-kun, his trusty crew. They raise a glass to him, and cheer kanpei! “Don’t burn down the place again”, Morita and Ishida chorus and Osamu just rolls his eyes and laughs.
It’s not an unpleasant surprise when he turns to you, though the sudden focus of everyone’s attention on you makes you feel like you’ve ingested a flaming piece of coal.
“To my landlady”, he chuckles, eyes bright. “My sensei. My friend. Thanks again for teachin’ me. For trustin’ me. I couldn’t do this without you.”
He moves on just as your heart can explodes out of your chest in a shower of confetti and fireworks. You stagger, knocked off your feet as you grab a chair to regain your balance, reminding yourself to act normally, smile and breathe, damnit. Thankfully, everyone’s focus has moved on, everyone aww-ing as he thanks his parents (his mother chokes up, wipes away a tear) for allowing their son in the kitchen (a dig at his grandmother, who’s thankfully not in attendance today), laughs when he mentions “Kaiyo, my long suffering accountant, chief gremlin and my sister in everything but blood - ” (he accepts a bear hug), calls out to Shin-chan and Sho-chan (they only laugh when he calls them both demon spawn, and promptly start arguing who’s more demonlike), and of course he concludes with -
“To ‘Tsumu, my twin. Though I still think maybe life would’ve been easier if I ate you in the womb”.
The gathered crowd guffaws as Atsumu yells back that he should’a smothered him in his sleep, and it probably would’ve devolved into yet another (good-natured) Miya twin brawl if not for the quick thinking of Suzuki-san, who puts on some music and Miyamura-kun who pops up like a magician, brandishing onigiris instead of rabbits, and you take advantage of the commotion to grab your bag and slip away, into the alley where you can sit on the steps of the backdoor to the restaurant, simmer yourself in the conflicting emotions battling for dominance in the cavern of your chest.
Head between knees, you don’t know if you should cry or laugh. But before you can do either - or both, really, the heavy thud thud of footsteps approaching interrupts you and Miya Osamu squeezes in beside you even though his sudden appearance is really quite inconvenient for the romantic feelings you have for him that you’re trying so so hard to raze into the ground.
“I didn’t manage to say a proper hello just now - so, hi there”, he smiles boyishly, a halo of gold on his head from nearby streetlamps.
“Hi”, you can’t stop yourself from smiling back, drinking in the sight of him, all to yourself for once. Your heart struggles against the iron restraints you’ve clamped it down with, but you hold firm. “Now that you’ve said hello, you really should get back to your party.”
“It can wait”, he replies, untucking his apron. “Did you eat? Still hungry?”
“I’m at a party you’re throwing - so, yes. I’m gonna be full for days.” He laughs, throwing his head back and something, something inside you clenches, keeps your heart in a burning bind. “You should really go back in with your guests, ‘Samu. But - um. Congratulations on your new place. It’s amazing. I knew it would be.”
He gazes at you with a soft, indulgent smile. “Thanks”, he murmurs, a whisper that you want to hold in your palms, brand the memory of this exact moment, drive it red-hot into your flesh, carve it into your bones to hopefully keep that horrible, greedy, grasping side of you that wants him, that wants far too much at bay.
Keep moving forward, eyes on the horizon and don’t look back.
“I’ve got a present for you”, you say, opening your bag. “I left my other gift - an ume bonsai out in the front, though Suzuki-san said you’ll probably end up killing it, so she suggests you give it to Kita-san for safekeeping instead, but anyway - here you go.
Your father’s knife.
The hon-deba that’s been passed down through your family for generations, the knife your father used to scale, clean and fillet fish whole, earn his place in the restaurant not merely by birthright, but by his talent, hard work and skill. It’s single bevelled, the blade shaved down from years of work, until it fit perfectly in your father’s hand but it’s always sat uneasily in yours.
“I’d like for you to have this”, you say, unsheathing it, smiling as it flashes silver, reflecting the streetlight.
“No - ”
“But you have to give me 100 yen as payment for it. Just to honour the old wives’ tale - lest this gift sever our friendship.”
He makes no move to take it.
“You can’t give away your family’s knife just like that - ”
“It’d be better off with you. It’ll just rot with me if I hold on to it”, you insist, pushing it into his lap.
“Maybe you could something with it, cook again -”
This knife only holds bad memories for you. Ghosts linger whenever it sits in your palm, and even if you hide it away in some hidden corner of your home, at best it will gather dust and dirt, at worst, it will haunt you, remind you of your shortcomings and failures like a malevolent god.
“It’ll have a better home with you. You’ll do good with it, feed so many people with it, build them up, make them stronger. You’ll use this knife as it was intended to, for people, to bring them happiness and comfort with food.”
“It’s your family’s heirloom -”
“I don’t have any family left, and I want to give it to you.”
“Why”, he finally says, slowly, ponderously as if he’s considering every word that spills out of his mouth. “Why are you always so nice to me?”
“Because you are the best person I know”, you reply. “Because I like you.”
Osamu just looks at you with wide, wide eyes. “Me?” he breathes.
He’s giving you a lifeboat, a way to charter yourself out of the mess you’ve made, but it’s too late. You’ve already surrendered to the depths of your feelings for him, allowing yourself to drown in the honey-gold pools of his eyes.
It’s too late. Water has already filled your lungs, choking you with salt. Any flicker of hope is snuffed out as he crams himself away from you, eyes shuttered and dark.
Later, you will blame the blue-dark haze of night and the yellow-gold light that dances along every inch of his skin for making him look almost other-worldly, for tricking you into being honest with him for once. Later, you will blame the sake that Morita foisted upon you for the fog in your mind and the pork bone soup that you know Osamu placed on the menu for you, because you forget to hide behind a veneer of politeness, of detachment.
But in that moment, that split second when you realise you’ve essentially done the equivalent of pouring gasoline on your heart and setting it on fire, you’re frozen in place, unable to run and save yourself. You can only watch the water rush in, the world ablaze.
“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”
You’re not sure if you’re trying to placate him or you. Probably to coax his shoulders down from about his ears, ease him out of the wide-eyed stare he’s levelling at you. You’re fine - you expected this, you’re not even disappointed because you knew this would happen, saw it barrelling towards you like a freight train a mile away and that’s fine, it’s wholly, completely, absolutely fine.
“I’m going to see if Miyamura-kun needs any more help, it still seemed pretty busy in there last I checked.”
You slip away and he lets you, still clutching your father’s knife in what seems to be utter shock.
The party’s already winding down. Shoma is sitting placidly in a corner playing with Asami, Shino chattering away with her father’s teammates both past and present (you’ll be able to tell if you’re jumping right if there’s a pow! when you take off from the balls of your feet - like a rocket, Shoyo? - honestly, I have no idea how Shin-chan is following anything you idiots are saying) but most are packing up, making it easy for you to blend in with everyone else and escape out of the restaurant and into the cold city streets.
Kombu-chan greets you with a sniff as she always does, wriggling away when you try to entice her into your lap.
“Looks like you don’t want me tonight either”, you chuckle humourlessly. “Probably should get used to that. Actually, I don’t even know why I’m not used to that already.”
She just licks her paws, meticulously cleaning the lily-pink pads of her tiny feet, clearly not bothered enough to listen to you monologue on about the sad, sad state of your life, the disappointment you have no right to feel, the unwelcome prospect of having to face Miya Osamu come tomorrow or the day after and put on a smile to pretend that you haven’t just embarrassed yourself by admitting to having feelings for him that he does not reciprocate, how you wish you’d just sewn your mouth shut and hunkered back in your cave, isolating yourself from the world once again -
The doorbell rings.
Kombu-chan stiffens, casting you a look that you clearly read as what now, what dares disturbs my slumber as you unfold yourself from your seat on the floor, ready to fend off some travelling salesman with no concept of time, jumping back a step when you realise Miya Osamu’s standing right outside your door.
“Can I come in?” he asks, though he’s never had to in all the time you’ve known him.
“Of course”, you murmur, flitting into the kitchen to boil water for tea, a nervous reflex. He doesn’t follow you, waiting by your dining table, feet tapping an off-tempo rhythm on the linoleum floor. When you serve him his cup of steaming green tea, he pushes your father’s knife back at you, saying without preamble -
“I wouldn’t be able to make you happy.”
“Oh”, you reply stupidly, taking the knife from him. “Okay.”
His brow creases. “Okay”, he says. “I’m not makin’ any sense, and you probably want to throw me out cos I know I’m an ungrateful bastard - ”
“You don’t owe me anything, Osamu”, you interrupt. “I meant what I said - you are still the best man I know, and that still hasn’t changed.”
“This is what I mean”, he pinches the bridge of his nose. “You - I - gods. I just didn’t want you to be under the impression that I’d be able to make you happy. You deserve so much better than me -”
You weigh his words, turning them individually like seashells, swimming through tea leaves trying to divine if he means what he says at face value, or if he’s just trying to let you down politely with that trademark kindness of his. He’s brought you so much happiness through his friendship alone, leading out from your self-imposed exile out into the sun, and every step forward you’ve made in pursuit of happiness is aided and guided by him so he can’t truly, possibly mean what he says.
“ - there are better places to look to for happiness. I’ve always been happiest with my restaurants, feedin’ people, makin’ them happy - maybe that’s somethin’ you wanna reconsider -”
(your scars itch again, a low, simmering burn)
“Ah”, you say, the puzzle pieces before you clicking together. “I see.”
He stares at you, wide-eyed. There’s a flush burning its way up the column of his neck, slow-roasting the pink apples of his cheeks. “I just - I was just puttin’ it out there for you to reconsider cos I think it’s a waste -”
(a waste, he says.)
“Thank you, Osamu”, you interject, smiling so widely that your teeth ache as if you’ve been gorging yourself on candy all day. “It’s getting late.”
His mouth snaps shut.
“I - “ he looks baffled, pained. “I put my big foot in my fat mouth, didn’t I?”
“Not at all”, you say breezily. “I understand where you’re coming from completely.”
You place the knife carefully on the table when you stand, making your way to the entryway to open the door in a clear invitation to leave that Osamu has no choice but to heed out of politeness. “Of course, don’t worry about it. And it’s late, Osamu, you have the grand opening tomorrow. You should go home, you need a good night’s rest.”
Patiently, you wait until he laces up his shoes, until he asks you, once, twice if you’re really okay, to which you reply with a smile that you’re fine, and a too-cheery goodnight, Osamu, until he really doesn’t have any further reason to stall, retreating back down the corridor, waving hesitantly at you as he disappears into the lift.
(your scars gape open into fresh wounds.)
a/n: yes i know i'm evil for leaving y'all on a cliffhanger til i'm back in september so! feel free to scream at me and drop by my inbox!
The best tweet to ever come out of Twitter.com
Ticking Dine Bomb
PAIRING: timeskip!Miya Atsumu x fem!reader x timeskip!Sakusa Kiyoomi
GENRE: smut (18+)
TAGS + WARNINGS: threesome, fingering, nipple play, double penetration, oral (m receiving), creampie, light manhandling, cum eating, dacryphilia if you squint
Let me know if I missed anything.
WORD COUNT: 4.7k
SUMMARY: With your boss making you work overtime (because of course she does), you now have less time to prepare for your dinner date. Getting ready shouldn't be as stressful as it is, and your lovers are kind enough to help you relax.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello I am alive :)
© creative-crybaby, do not repost or modify
The loud slam of the apartment door startles Sakusa and Atsumu. Before either of them can go to investigate, you’re already speed-walking into the bedroom, unbuttoning your blouse as you try to avoid stumbling. A string of apologies and curses cascade from your lips as you rush past the faux-blonde, who offers you a low whistle as he catches the sight of your bra.
“Hello to you, too,” he muses, watching you fumble through your shared closet. You don’t bother scolding him for his sultry tone; you can worry about that later. That supposed concern now belongs to your lovers from your lack of response. A large hand gently lands on your shoulder, halting your movements.
“Are you okay?” Sakusa asks as you turn to face him. You remember to breathe. Shoulders dropping, you place your hand on top of his.
“Sorry,” you mumble, brows creasing as you shut your eyes. “My boss asked me to stay behind to help her with something. Said it wouldn’t take long.” You pinch the bridge of your nose with a sigh. “I should’ve known better. Today of all days…”
“Our reservation’s in half-n’-hour,” Atsumu chimes in. “We can even help ya if ya want.”
“I feel like a mess,” you groan, walking over to the vanity. Giving your makeup a once-over, you press your lips in a thin line. “At least I won’t have to redo my makeup. Maybe a little touch-up.”
“Like I said,” the setter drawls, leaning over your hunched frame with a sly grin, “we can help ya.”
Your expression twists into one of annoyance as you stand up straight. It’s only then you notice how well-dressed your lovers are. While they’re both sporting black dress pants, Sakusa’s buttoning up his black vest over a simple white button-down with its sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and Atsumu, a maroon button-up. With the latter catching your dazed stare, his smile shifts to a smirk. The familiar look is enough to snap you out of it.
“You can help by finding me something nice to wear,” you huff, lightly pushing at his chest. The faux-blonde gives you a pout before dragging himself to the closet.
The wing spiker approaches you once more. “Is there any way I can help?”
You hum, eyes trailing towards the vanity. “Help me fix my makeup?”
The ravenette nods, gently holding your chin to raise and get a better look at your face. With almost nothing needing fixing, he scans through your lipstick collection before picking his favourite shade of burgundy. You exhale through your nose, too tired to offer a full laugh at his choice.
“Make sure to pick a dress that’ll match her makeup,” Sakusa orders without removing his focus from you.
“Shouldn’t it be the other way ‘round when gettin’ ready?” Atsumu grumbles as he whips his head around to face the other athlete, his accent growing thicker from frustration. When he gets no response, the setter sulkily returns on his journey to find you something to wear.
You, meanwhile, keep your eyes on Sakusa with heavy lids as he concentrates on your lips. He drags the lipstick across your pout with absolute delicacy and precision, not leaving a single spot unpainted with the bold colour. His focus only intensifies as he traces your cupid’s bow, though it doesn’t diminish once he’s done. How can he stop staring when you’re this breathtaking?
The next part, while it may involve a bit of a mess, is always his favourite. As if by muscle memory, your lips part enough for him to slide in his thumb. With eyes darker than the bottom of the ocean, it’s almost impossible to notice them dim as you suckle on the digit before he slowly pulls it out. He barely acknowledges the ring of dark red around his thumb, his gaze now meeting yours as he feels his cock stir in his slacks.
As much as he’d love to have your lips wrapped around something else, his fantasies are cut short once the other volleyball player approaches you two with a dress hooked over his arm.
“Why do ya always get to do the fun part?” Atsumu whines, having noticed the previous tension. His childishness earns him an unamused expression from the wing spiker and a tired blink from you.
“I do a better job with the application,” Sakusa states, causing the faux-blonde to pout. The latter quickly regains composure, however, as he remembers his task. He holds up a long, dark chocolate dress with thin straps that cross down the open back, and you reward him with an approving nod. The ravenette merely hums. “Looks like you do have some common fashion sense.”
The older Miya twin grumbles a “yeah, yeah” before setting the dress down on the vanity chair. His attention back on you, a grin spreads across his face as he wraps his arms around you from behind. With a light tug to your unbuttoned blouse–you forgot you were still wearing it–he peppers kisses across your exposed neck.
“Let’s get the rest of this off, shall we?” he drawls, sliding the top off your shoulders. From his position, Atsumu has the perfect angle to stare down at your chest, the bra he bought for you for Valentine’s day layered with a tan lace on a beige-white base.
Sakusa, while he would normally scold the other athlete, is in no position to do so as his eyes wander south. With his staring being of no help, he decides to lower himself to the ground, large hands on your hips as he looks up at you for permission. You nod, and he shimmies your skirt down your legs, exposing matching panties under a sheer layer of black tights.
You feel Atsumu’s lips spread into a smile against your skin, but you can’t seem to copy his energy.
“So tense,” he mumbles. “Ya really ought to quit yer job. It’s killin’ ya.”
“I love my work,” you sigh, tilting your head to the side to expose more of your neck to him. “I just don’t feel the same way about the people I do it with.”
“Still,” Sakusa interjects, hooking his fingers past the waistband of your tights, “it’s difficult to enjoy something you love in a bad environment.”
A chuckle sneaks past your lips as he slips the article of clothing down your legs. You miss the sharp intake of air from the wing spiker as he continues his actions, but with the growing smirk pressed against the junction of your neck, it’s clear that Atsumu heard him.
“You’re one to talk,” you smile in amusement, peering down at the ravenette. “Knowing you two, you’d still find a way to play volleyball even if the world was ending. Especially you, ‘Tsumu. Don’t think ‘Samu hasn’t told me about your high school shenanigans.”
While Sakusa holds back a snort, Atsumu doesn’t bother hiding his frown as he presses his cheek against yours.
“That’s different,” groans the faux-blonde. “We have a good captain; yer boss keeps leechin’ onto ya. It’s stressin’ ya out, even when yer at home with us.” The calloused hands holding your waist now take their time gliding up your body to tug teasingly at your bra straps. “Ya gotta relax, angel. Let us help ya.”
Soft lips find the sensitive spot behind your ear, though you don’t give them any time to have their fun. You turn your head to face the setter.
“I need to get changed,” you huff.
Atsumu shrugs. “Ya don’t need to.”
“I’m not showing up to a fancy restaurant in my underwear.”
“I don’t see an issue—”
“That’s enough, Atsumu,” Sakusa interrupts, glaring at the other athlete. Despite the weight his gaze holds, having his hands lay on your hips strips some of the wing spiker’s intimidation away.
“What?” Atsumu feigns innocence as he peers down at the other male. “Ya don’t think she looks good in this? I could stare at her all day.”
That makes two of us, is what Sakusa would say if it were the point he was trying to get across. The lace from your panties merges its pattern with his fingerprints, and the urge to remove the useless article of clothing makes his fingers twitch.
“I’m not disagreeing with you,” he responds carefully. “I just don’t think we should be adding to her stress.”
“That’s what I’m sayin’!” The setter exclaims. “We can take some of that stress away.”
“I’m right here, you know,” you huff, removing the faux-blonde’s hands from your body.
“So, what d’ya say?” Atsumu’s voice drops an octave as he rests his chin on your shoulder. Sakusa rises from his spot, his hands not leaving your hips as he places his forehead on yours.
“You don’t have to,” he assures. “We want to help, that’s all.”
Even in a more serious moment, the older Miya twin snickers. “We?”
Before the ravenette can respond, you hold his face, cradling it in your hands.
“Okay,” you almost whisper, studying his face. “As long as we don’t miss our reservation.”
“Are you sure?” A drop of worry glides out with his words, camouflaging with the help of a stoic expression.
You nod. “I think I’ve earned a break.”
“Yeah, ya do.” Soft butterfly kisses sprinkle onto your skin as another pair of hands find their way back on your body, one sliding up to pull at one of your bra straps.
“That means no teasing.” Your voice and expression are stern as you turn to face Atsumu. His giddiness doesn’t falter; if anything, he hooks his arms behind your knees and back and lifts you from your spot. You yelp, and the setter approaches the bed before Sakusa can say anything.
“Let’s get to it,” the faux-blonde proclaims, placing you on the mattress before hastily unbuttoning his shirt and settling next to you. His lips attach to your neck, suckling your skin wherever they please as the ravenette joins you two on the bed.
“No marks, ‘Tsumu,” you sigh shakily, eyes fluttering as he continues his actions and unclasping your bra. The wing spiker helps remove the undergarment, though his hands soon trail down to rest on your thighs. “I’m serious. I won’t have time to cover it with makeup.”
He doesn’t put up a fight, pulling away from your neck and instead helping you change your position for you to lean against the headboard.
“Then how ‘bout I mark these instead?” The older male smirks down at your chest, leaning to wrap his lips around your nipple. Your fingers rake through his locks as he does so, though you don’t get a chance to look down as Sakusa gently grabs your chin to make you face him.
“Look at me while I touch you.” His voice may be naturally more on the quiet side, but it doesn’t make his order any less stern. The hand on your thigh trails up to the waistband of your underwear, sliding past it and coming in contact with your slick-stained cunt. Onyx eyes droop as their owner continues to gather your essence before two of his fingers find your clit. A strangled moan threatens to burst past your painted lips as he rubs tight circles, but you don’t dare look away from him.
A familiar excitement blooms in your belly as Atsumu tweaks at your neglected bud, humming against your chest as the setter has his fun with you. Your grip on his bleached hair tightens and burns his scalp deliciously, and the ravenette takes the opportunity to slide a finger in your sopping hole. You refrain from bucking your hips as he finds your sweet spot, massaging it with a curl of his long digit. It’s not long until he adds another finger, your wetness used as a lubricant.
For a moment, your previous concerns seem to abandon your body. The dark pools your lover has for irises keep you in a trance, refraining you from closing your eyes or even thinking about anything other than what the athletes have to offer you.
“Poor thing,” Sakusa tuts. You suppose that’s his way of cooing, though this is as kind as he’ll get with either of you in bed. “Never catching a break with that boss of yours, hm?”
All you can do is whimper, and you feel Atsumu smile against your chest.
“Don’t worry,” his voice drops an octave, “we’ll take real good care of ya.”
“Then quit wasting time,” you huff from neediness and frustration. The wing spiker narrows his eyes at you, but doesn’t say anything as his gaze trails to his teammate, who begrudgingly pops your nipple out of his mouth from the silent message. With their help, you’re on your hands and knees, the boisterous Miya twin behind you and the silent ravenette kneeling before you, his bulge mere inches away from your face.
“If we weren’t on a time limit,” Sakusa says as he unzips his slacks, “I would’ve done something about that attitude of yours.” His pants are barely around his thighs when he holds his leaking cock before you. Unlike the faux-blonde, he’s chosen to keep everything else on, and while you’d love to see everything under the fabric, you can’t deny that him keeping his attire on is even more attractive. “There’s always next time, I suppose.”
Calloused hands tug at your panties before bringing them down as far as possible in one motion. The cool air hitting your soaked pussy has it clenching, an action you know has Atsumu grinning lopsidedly without even needing to look at him. But with your other lover peering down at you with lust bleeding into his eyes, you can’t find yourself caring. Even if you did, the leaking cock tapping against your lips would advise you to keep your focus up front. You know better than to go against that rule.
“But my lipstick…” You feel stupid for uttering them, but the words fly out before your brain can stop them from existing.
Sakusa raises a brow. “I chose that colour for a reason.”
He slides his tip into your warm mouth, letting out a sigh while doing so. Bit by bit, you take more of him in until you reach the beauty mark near the base. A groan comes from both men; Sakusa for the heavenly sensation and Atsumu, the lewd display. You don’t feel the latter take the next step at his end (pun intended?) until the former slowly removes himself from the caverns of your mouth until only his tip remains. Another cock teases your pussy, collecting your slick to use as lube before nudging at your hole. A tight fit, but the setter takes his time filling you up, even going so far as to lean forward to reach for your clit to give it some well-deserved attention.
Whatever tears planned on blooming out, you force to vanish. With the ravenette’s intent on smearing your lipstick on his cock, you don’t want to ruin your makeup more than he already will. (The all too familiar glint in his eyes already tells you that much.) At least he won’t go rough on you; your energy’s been sucked out of you thanks to work, and this little session was for you just as much as it was for your lovers. It’s why you give a small mewl of appreciation when Atsumu starts his thrusts nice and slow, rubbing your hip soothingly while muttering words of appreciation under his breath. Sakusa, on the other hand, uses your throat for his pleasure, though his strokes are gentle as his eyes bore down at you hungrily. They did the work, but you were technically in charge.
It doesn’t take long for the faux-blonde to find your sweet spot, causing your eyes to cross momentarily and a muffled moan to gurgle out. Through your hazy vision, you catch the dark red lipstick ring at the base of the wing spiker’s cock, a gradience following up the shaft every time he pulls back. Such a bold and intimidating colour, yet even what you can make out of the sight has you clenching around the other cock inside you. Both lovers let out their respective sounds of pleasure, synchronizing and tickling your eardrums. You feel full, and your eyelids droop from lust and fatigue. You still want more, and you almost forget about your time limit.
Almost, as in, you catch your alarm clock on your nightstand, eyes trailing to the bright red numbers.
“Eyes on me,” the ravenette commands, causing your gaze to snap back to the front. You feel his stare, and your face grows warmer when you hear Atsumu snicker.
“Yer supposed to relax, remember?” he quips, his accent growing thicker.
You let out a silent whine before taking more of Sakusa’s cock as an apology. You refrain from gagging when you feel his tip prod the back of your throat, but it doesn’t stop the tears from sneaking back up to the corners of your eyes. At least your introverted lover was kind enough to wipe them away.
Had you the energy, you’d tell them to pick up the pace. For now, you’re grateful for the distraction. With both athletes stretching you open deliciously, culprits of the heat pooling in your lower stomach, you make yourself relax.
That is until the calloused finger is back rubbing harsh circles on your clit. You almost jolt in shock from the sudden change. Atsumu doesn’t speed up all that much, but he does add more force, hitting deep enough for you to feel him rearranging your guts. Over your muffled squeals, you hear Sakusa scoff, but not speak up about his teammate’s spontaneity.
“Feel good, angel?” the setter rasps, a drop of sweat cascading down his forehead. “Can’t help m’self. Not when ya keep squeezin’ me like that. Shit—”
With your eyes rolling to the back of your head, you hardly notice yourself moving back to meet his thrusts, jaw going slack and neglecting the cock before you.
Sakusa loathes messes. Anything unkempt or disorganized creates this itch somewhere he can’t locate but definitely needs to scratch.
The sight of you, however, with drool trailing down your chin, lipstick smeared, and tears threatening to drop and ruin everything—makes his cock twitch.
You’re downright filthy.
His dick finds itself back in your warm mouth, making itself at home as it explores more of the wet cavern. A soft gagging sound from the back of your throat travels up his spine, and the ravenette can’t help the groan that escapes him as he sees the mess you make of his shaft.
Atsumu’s in no better condition. Not only does he get his own view of the action up front, but you’re just as messy from where he’s standing. A thick ring of white hugs the base of his cock as a layer of slick coats it. You don’t seem to want to let go of him, and whatever sound of reason his brain can muster is masked with the light squelching and pap pap pap from his skin slapping yours.
He’s selfish, he knows. This is all for you, of course. Though, there’s no reason for him to not have his fun. With your boss stealing you from him and his teammate, it’s only natural for the faux-blonde to miss you as much as he does.
You’re exhausted when you’re back home to them. The setter will pout when you can’t afford the attention he desperately craves, though his heart can only choke at your drained state as you trudge to bed. Oh, how he’d love to give your boss a piece of his mind (not that you’d let him, much to his disappointment). For now, he can happily give you the appreciation you’ve been deprived of. He’s just going to do it his own way.
Even when words fail you, your body finds a way to show gratitude. Moans and wails turned gags hit the walls in the room with every thrust from both ends, tears fogging your vision and thoughts as you let your lovers take care of you. You grow dizzy, a spiral not only in your head, but your lower stomach, churning as your release grows near.
A sudden warm bitterness attacks your tastebuds as you try not to choke on the liquid filling your mouth. Sakusa stills his hips with a drawn-out groan, spurts of white painting your tongue and throat as well as the corners of your lips. Even in your far-away state, you swallow some without much struggle, and the ravenette lovingly caresses your cheek.
With your mouth free, so are your cries of pleasure. You know better than to look away from the wing spiker even after he’s finished, and with begging eyes and a tear-stained face, you offer pure desperation as his air of nonchalance returns while he tucks himself back in his slacks.
You haven’t forgotten about Atsumu. You couldn’t even if you wanted to, not when he’s still pounding into you like an animal, lifting you to press your back against his chest. He pulls you into a messy kiss, swirling his tongue in your mouth as he swallows some of his teammate’s remaining cum. He hastily pulls away with a satisfied hum and smile, eyes drooping as he sees how he further messed up your makeup.
Surprisingly, he’s not as vocal as he normally is, as the setter can only seem to pant heavily along with his deep strokes. If you could see him properly, you’d find his focus fixed on where you two connect, where your ass and his hips create a loud noise on impact, where you mix your arousal, more than enough for lubrication.
It’s lewd enough to have him fill you up with his load, and the extra warmth has you following him with your own orgasm. If the setter’s arm wasn’t around you, your body would have toppled down onto the mattress from the tidal wave of your high, legs trembling from such a sensation.
“Shit!” Atsumu heaves, body stiff against yours. “That’s it, baby.”
The last thing you vaguely see is Sakusa before your frame flops onto the bed, gasping for oxygen. You feel the faux-blonde slide out of you, making you groan as you twitch from the loss. A coherent thought has yet to make its way into your head, though you barely catch the mattress tipping and rising as your lovers move around to prepare to clean up.
You’re not sure how long it took you to calm down, just that a large, calloused hand rubbed your back while a soft voice uttered praise, a familiar accent pulling at the corners of your lips. A fluffy material touches your skin, and you shiver from sensitivity as it wipes away as much of the cum oozing out of your spent cunt. You hear a whispered apology with every one of your physical reactions, but the other touches from your lovers keep you calm during the process.
It’s such a shame the bliss is cut short, though, as you seem to recall your time limit. Jolting up, you snap your head to the alarm clock.
“Shit!” you gasp as you read the numbers. You rapidly push yourself off the mattress, quick to grab your dress from its resting spot. “Shitshitshitshitshit—”
Your reflection silences you as you catch yourself in the mirror. The subtle makeup you sported for work would’ve been fine for tonight’s occasion had it not been completely ruined from your tears’ abuse. The burgundy lipstick is mostly on parts of your face where it shouldn’t be, along with your mascara and eyeshadow. Hell, it’s all destroyed: you’ve seen final girls in horror films more presentable than you.
A low whistle catches your attention—Atsumu stands behind you, admiring his reflection. (How you didn’t notice him sooner, you have no idea.) Some of your lipstick is smeared across his mouth from your mini makeout session; he smirks before wiping the mess off with the back of his hand.
“Say what ya’ will about Omi-Omi’s piss-poor attitude,” he chuckles, “he’s got good taste. This colour suits us both, don’tcha think?”
“I heard that,” said lover grumbles as he enters the room. When did he leave? “The bath’s ready for you, dear.”
His gaze softens upon landing on your wrecked form. Your eyes don’t return the love, instead staring at him incredulously.
“How can you two be so calm?” Your exasperation is evident in your voice as you rapidly try to fix your hair. “We’re late.”
Your lovers share a look before nodding. Hoisting you over his shoulder, Atsumu then strides out of the room, following his teammate as you slap his back, barking at them to put you down and how they promised they’d help you get ready and not be late.
Sakusa hums as you all enter the bathroom. “We said we’d help you relax. I don’t recall ever truly agreeing to finish before we need to leave.”
Your expression falls into one of hopelessness as Atsumu snickers, gently settling you down. Water fills the tub, bubbles decorating the outline as the scent of vanilla reaches your nose. Your body immediately relaxes at the familiarity, though you’re still on edge.
“But…” Words fail you, and you hate it. “Tonight… the—”
“Don’t worry,” the setter waves off dismissively as he gets some makeup wipes. “I’ll call to cancel.” He offers a grin for good measure, softly removing the mess from your face the best he can. “Tell ‘em an emergency came up. Not like they’re gonna investigate us.”
Sakusa nods in agreement as he removes his clothes. Once he’s fully nude (and you get an eyeful), he carefully steps into the tub before bringing his arms out to you. With no more energy to argue, you take his hands, letting him assist you while the faux-blonde momentarily leaves the room.
With you nestled in the water between the ravenette’s long legs and leaning against his chest, you’re certain you could fall asleep at any moment. Soft kisses trickle onto your shoulder, tickling the skin there and making you squirm.
“He’s right, you know,” Sakusa mutters against you. “We’re just trying to take care of you. You shouldn’t force yourself to do something you obviously don’t have the energy for.”
You smile fondly down at the water, then snicker. “You sure this isn’t just an excuse to avoid being near a crowd, Omi? It’s a pretty popular restaurant, after all. Tough to even get a reservation.”
He scoffs, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You refrain from teasing him any further when your other lover reenters the bathroom, his phone held up to his ear. His gaze meets yours, making his lips curl upwards before he ends the call.
“All settled,” he grins, walking closer to you. “See? Not that big of a deal.”
You don’t get to retort, not when your stomach grumbles. You copy the sound with your throat in annoyance, and Atsumu chuckles as your face grows warm.
“We can order food once we’re cleaned up,” the wing spiker suggests. “Whatever you want.”
“I can call ‘Samu,” the faux-blonde adds, ready to open his phone again.
“Leave him alone,” you sigh, gently grabbing onto his wrist. “Can’t keep going to him for food, ‘Tsumu.”
“What? Just helpin’ ma’ twin’s business. ‘Sides, yer his favourite customer.”
You tiredly pout at the smug undertone, though that doesn’t stop your lovers from looking at you in adoration. While Sakusa holds you close, the setter gently pinches your cheek with a smile.
Even with some of your energy back, it’s nice seeing you give yourself a break. Your shoulders relax, your body far less tense as you seemingly melt in the ravenette’s arms. When was the last time you gave some time to yourself? Even at night, when you should be resting, you find your dreams consumed with a workload that’s yet to come.
For now, though, you’re safe. You’d have loved to get all dressed up to spend the evening with your lovers, but you suppose you understand why keeping you home was necessary. You’re not as alert, but your surroundings are clear.
It’s when Atsumu joins you in the tub do your remaining anxieties dissolve into the water. A successful bomb defusion, where the rapid ticking of your heart ceases and leaves a rhythm of delicacy in its wake.
© creative-crybaby, do not repost or modify
How They Act When They Walk Past You 〜 🚶
“Who has the the hairspray?! Jean do you?! We need the HAIRSPRAY?!?!” You can hear the camera clicking, feel the fan blowing and the spot light is on him and him alone. Yes, that is the Paris Vogue stylist team. His actual team is probably walking behind like “we don’t know him, he’s not ours”. You brush something off your head…is that glitter?
Oikawa, Bokuto, Kuroo
Walks by nothing much…except that your there. He takes one glance at you, then another and another…mm just one more and then he’s good to go to class…okay maybe just one more look-
Osamu, Sakusa, Kenma, Shirabu
Chest puffed, big strides, stretching and trying to flex their muscles. He’s so close to just dropping to ground and doing push ups, counting from like some ridiculous number like 167 idk. He will take his friends bags from them and carries it just to try and further flex. In case you didn’t notice that he’s been “really working out” lately 💪
Yamamoto, Yaku, Tanaka, Noya, Terushima, Kyoutani
You’re honestly kind of worried you scared him in some way and didn’t say realise. He keeps walking toward and away from you while quietly muttering something nervously. In Japan you trace the kanji for person on your hand and “swallow it” when your nervous and these guys have done it plenty.
Aone, Asahi, Daichi, Yamaguchi, Kinoshita, Narita, Kageyama, Goshiki, Kindaichi, Yahaba, Ren, Lev, Shibayama, Gin
All confidence, zero fear. He goes right up to you or makes the biggest scene, “Y/N! Y/N-CHAN! L/N-CHAN! HeEeEy!” They are genuinely so excited to see you and no one can ever beat their level of energy when it comes to this.
Tendou, Hinata, Akagi, Inuoka, Koganegawa
“Oh, Y/N-san yo,” *slight head nod to acknowledge you’re there and keeps walking* later *internally* “OH MY GOD SHE WAVED AT ME WOJSODKSMJS OH MY GO- LORD HAVE MERCY, BROTHERS WE 👏MUST👏 STAY 👏FOCUSED-”
Genuinely makes your heart skip a beat. He’s so casual, so calm about it and he does actually look cool
Tsukishima, Iwaizumi, Sugawara, Konoha, Kunimi, Semi, Ennoshita, Mattsun, Makki, Kai, Aran
He’s sees you and a small smile breaks on his face then he keep walking
Suna, Kita, Ushijima, Akaashi, Futakuchi, Fukunaga
Clingy Sakusa pre timeskip
suna rintarou (26) ejp raijin & all-star team middle blocker
[ on twt ]
ATSUMU, sugawara, goshiki, OIKAWA, TSUKISHIMA, kuroo, tendou, SUNA, SEMI
"what's wrong baby?" Suna coos, eyes glinting with mischief. "thought you wanted to do my eyeliner"
"mhm, hold- hold still," you pant as he shifts his hips, cock burying deeper inside you. he's tilting his head back and you're chasing him, gasping at the increased friction as his cock drags across your walls. with one hand slipping up your shirt, he uses the other to rub quick circles on your clit, grinning as the bottle of eyeliner falls- your hands scrambling to find purchase on his shoulders.
"wait, rin wait just-", the rest of your words are lost in a moan as he lazily thrusts up, leaning forward to bite your lower lip.
" i think it's time i mess up your eyeliner, pretty baby."
inarizaki players as your bf ! #￼
☆ featuring. atsumu, osamu, suna, kita, aran (in order)
sorry kita and arans are short, i got lazy 😭 suna’s part is kinda long bc i love him sm
MIYA ATSUMU -
- your relationship with him is definitely the “she fell first but he fell harder” type trope.
- i feel like atsumu’s s/o would definitely be someone smart, like really smart.
- he loves just watching you do your homework, he finds you so pretty when you focus on your work, and he just sits there with his head plopped on top of his crossed arms, staring at you in adoration
- you guys probably first met when you were assigned to be his tutor. his teachers had warned him that if his grades didn’t start improving then he’d be suspended from the volleyball team, this was the only reason he accepted tutoring.
- at first you guys probably didn’t get along, but seeing him look so determined to study just for volleyball actually made him kinda cute.
- after a while, atsumu had realized he’d fallen for you too- maybe because he couldn’t get you out of his head- or maybe because he actually started looking forward for tutoring.
- he finally asked you out after a couple weeks- and surprisingly to him, you said yes !
- now that you two are dating, you better brace yourself. because atsumu is probably VERY clingy.
- he constantly tells you to come over to watch him practice, and sometimes he forgets you have your own life, cause he just wants you by his side 24/7.
MIYA OSAMU -
- you guys are definitely the friends to lovers trope !
- osamu would definitely want a partner that’s in love with food just as much as he is- he wants someone that can cook, that can bake, and someone that can finally realize that he is his own person. not “atsumu’s twin brother”.
- he first met you probably at the school cafeteria. (ik a lot of people say cafeteria food is bad but i have a feeling that osamu eats that shi upp 😭 he probably begs suna for some of his cafeteria food cause he actually likes it)
- “hey aren’t you a student? why are you serving as a lunch lady”, he asks. now osamu is a lot of things but most of all- he’s pretty observant. if he sees your face once he automatically knows who you are.
- you told him you volunteered cause they needed an extra hand cooking and stuff and thats when his eyes lit up- you were the one who made the cafeteria food actually taste good.
- he asked for your number so maybe you could talk more about different recipes and different foods you could try together.
- you started talking more and became friends. the moment he really fell for you and realized he likes you was when he asked for you to come over, atsumu was on a run and wouldn’t come back till way later so the house was his.
- when you came over you two just talked casually, and when you started cooking with him, you saw a smile on his face that you’ve never seen before.
- after cooking and eating, you two were cleaning up the dishes, you were washing them, while he was drying them.
- “hey i had a lot of fun today.” he said out of nowhere. “yeah me too, we should do this more.” it went quiet after you said that, and you turned to look at him, he looked like he was thinking hard.
- “this is probably a bad time but i just wanna get it over with, i have a crush on you. its fine if you don’t like me back i ju-“
- he couldn’t even finish his sentence, you turned off the faucet and dropped whatever dish was in your hand and just kissed him. it seemed to sudden but it all felt so right.
- you guys started dating a week after that, atsumu was kinda shocked. he knew his brother had a crush on you, but what he didn’t know was that you actually liked him back. atsumu could’ve sworn you were head over heels for him- not osamu, but then again that’s just atsumu’s big ego talking.
- osamu as a boyfriend is definitely chill- but he’s constantly freaking out in the inside, insecure that you’d leave him for his brother, but he’d never tell you about that.
SUNA RINTAROU -
- suna mfing rintarouuu <333333 (could u tell he’s my fav? hfiajshdak)
- brothers best friend trope with him omgggg !! ur probably the “i hate you” gf and he’s the “i love you too” bf
- imagine being the miya twins’ sister and crushing on your brothers’ best friend !! and him crushing on you backkkk ?!!!?!!
- your brother’s definitely dragged you to sign up as manager, and when you got the position you remembered that suna rintarou is also apart of the boys volleyball team.. yeah you have had a crush on him for a while.
- you first met him when your brothers invited him over to your house, you didn’t think much of him at first, sure he was attractive but he was quiet, didn’t say anything to you, just a small wave when you were introduced to him.
- he started to come over frequently, but still said nothing to you- you didn’t mind though. at that time you haven’t formed a crush on him yet.
- it wasn’t till his 7th? visit to your house that he said something to you that wasn’t a “hey” or “excuse me”. the moment was quite embarrassing however.
- you were getting dressed to go to your friends house, when all of a sudden your door opens with suna rintarou just standing there. it takes both of you a whole minute to process the situation and that’s when embarrassment strikes, “oh my god.. im so so so sorry.. uh i was looking for the bathroom, wrong room sorry..”. he seems calm on the outside but on the inside this man is literally going insane. yeah okay maybe he’s thought you’re kinda really cute, but he didn’t know you enough to like you, so what was this ? a small crush i guess.
- “its uh fine..”, that’s when he closes the door and practically tried to erase any memory of whatever the hell just happened. after that moment, you were finally dressed and when you left downstairs you had tapped the back of who you had thought was one of your brothers, “hey im going ou-“ it wasn’t til he turned his head, you noticed that wasn’t in fact one of your brothers- but instead the man who had just seen you in your undergarments a couple minutes ago.
- flustered still from what had happened, you quickly apologized and told him that you thought he was one of your brothers. he excused it. “hey wait, where are my brothers ?“ you asked, “uhh atsumu’s shitting.. and osamu ran to get snacks in the store.” you giggled at him, and started small talk.
- after that you and him constantly had your little small talks every time he’d come over to hang out with your brothers.
- you both kinda developed a crush on each other because of that..
- when he saw you at the gym, he thought you were there just to watch your brothers practice but when he heard you were becoming the new manager- he saw this as an opportunity to get even closer to you.
- this boy broo 😭 constantly flirting with u during practice istgg!!
- he will never do it in front of ur brothers cause for some reason he’s scared of them 😭 ??
- literally gets you flustered any time he can.. like he’ll do that thing where he wipes the sweat by lifting his shirt to show off his abs AHHHHH… and boy does he notice when you look at him .. pls he knows he’s hot and attractive
- this boy is literally WHIPPED for you, even before you two started dating, he did anything to get closer to you. he’d ask to use the bathroom during practice just to end up going to the water fountain where he’ll see you filling up water bottles and ask if you need help!! he’d also block hard spikes on purpose just to get his fingers to get injured so he could go over to you and ask you to tape them. (probably does that on purpose just so you could hold his hand..)
- the moment he asks you out is just out of nowhere. he’s walking you to your class while you tell him about how your day is going, all of a sudden he just stops walking, “anyways my next cla- rintarou? why’d you stop?”, you asked, he begged you to call him by his first name btw. “y/n i like you” he blurted it out of absolutely nowhere. the minute he said that the bell rang and his stupid ass thought you didn’t hear him 😭
- so he pulled you in closer and whispered in your ear, “i like you, a lot, will you let me be your boyfriend.”, you didn’t know what to say, so instead of saying anything you just pulled him in for a long kiss. “yes. duh.”
- dating him is literally SO FUNNN!! he does anything and everything just for you <33
- he’s definitely the type to barge into your class, disrupting the lesson and your teacher just stares at him, “can i help you?” is all she says and he just says, “yeah i just wanted to say hi y/n” its literally so embarrassing but he loves it smm, all of your classmates just go “oohhhhhhh” and you literally whisper “i hate you” even though he can’t hear you, he could read it off your lips.
- he does little shenanigans to try and impress you <333 like he would stuff your locker with little toys and treats and add a note like “meet me in the rooftop pretty ;)”.
- he probably bangs little pebbles against your window in one of your classes, so when you look out the window during class you just see him holding a giant sign thats like, “hi y/n”
- he decided to give hush money to literally the whole school to not tell your brothers you two are dating 😭 and it took your brothers 5 months to find out you and rin are dating, and they only found out when they barged into your room only to find you and suna making out on your bed.
- to say the least- they were not happy about this, and continued to threaten suna (jokingly obvi)
- during the time your brothers didn’t know about your relationship, suna would sneak into your room late at night to cuddle with you, sometimes he’d sleep over and wake up extra early to sneak out of your house, just to not get caught
- this man probably knows about the sidewalk rule !! he is also very hygenic and probably smells like vanilla 24/7 ( i swear i love me a man who actually smells good )￼
- as a boyfriend he’s probably very clingy, but will never admit it. he just wants to be with you all the time. his love language is probably physical touch and quality time.
- in summary he is very much in love with you and cannot deny it. he is quite perfectly best boyfriend material 😫 <33
KITA SHINSUKE -
- probably childhood friends to lovers !! <333
- you two are like two completely different people 😭 ! kita is more calm and collected, meanwhile you’re a little chaotic and all over the place, but trust me thats what he loves about you!
- you’ve been friends since day one, and probably met cause your moms were good friends, which led to you two meeting at a young age.
- as you two grew older, you stayed friends and you often visited him at his grandma’s, you helped kita and his grandma doing chores. you were pretty clumsy to say the least and you always apologized for it. you’d think that kita was mad about it but he thought it was cute how clumsy you were.
- you both matured throughout time and ended up going to the same schools. it wasn’t till your third year of high school that he finally confessed to you at graduation. it took him so long cause he was VERY nervous- but with the help of his volleyball team, they pushed him to confess to you!
- dating kita shinsuke is an absolute dream come true!! this man will do anything in his power to make you happy.
- i just know that he uses all 5 love languages <33 and especially acts of service and words of affirmation! he constantly reminds you of how much he loves and adores you, and uses the smallest things to remind you that too, like massaging your back after a long day, buying your favorite flowers even if theres no occasion, and overall making you happy.
ARAN OJIRO -
- aran omfgbsjhdbs he is so fine oml
- i feel like you guys would def be that friends w benefit shit
- you’re ALWAYSSS flirting but whenever people ask u if you’re dating you’re just like “whatttt??? nahhh we’re just best friends, nothing more!”
- i swear to god “friends” my ass BECAUSE YOU TWO ACT LIKE YOU’VE BEEN DATING FOR YEARS !!
- you’d literally drink out of the same cups, cuddle n shit, make playlists for each other and all that couple stuff !!
- every time you guys say you aren’t dating it hurts both of you a little bit. its so clear that you both have feelings for each other, but not one of you dare say anything!!
- the only way you two started to admit feelings was when atsumu got so pissed at the whole “we’re just friends” shit that he accidentally let it slip, “y/n god how stupid can you be?!!?! aran literally LOVESSS YOU.” it didn’t take you long to run over to where he was.
- “y/n do you need someth-“ you cut him off just by saying “be my boyfriend” and thats when he placed his hand on the back of your head, pulling you in for a kiss.
- you guys automatically started dating and let me just say that this man has to be second best boyfriend material next to suna he literally worships you. like he would kiss on the ground you walk on.
- he is so in love w you, like you can’t tell me otherwise.
- tbh your dynamic with him didn’t change, only because you guys acted like you were dating before you did !!
Imagine fucking Atsumu in the college library while trying to study for finals but he just wants a quickie in the backside of the library 🥵🥵
i um uh hm AHHHH THIS!!! THIS!!!!!!!!!!!! i literally wrote this as if i were possessed... the atsumuification of kat...
THANK YOU FOR THE IDEA!!!!! <3
college atsumu x reader (nsfw).
slender, long fingers gently slide up and down your thigh, tracing the slit on your satin maxi skirt, and you attempt to fight back the shivers that rack your body, but to no avail.
“you look pretty in that skirt. is it new?”
with a huff that causes your bangs to flutter, you put down your pencil for what seems to be about the hundredth time within 30 minutes. you had come to the library with atsumu to finish up some homework so that the two of you could enjoy the weekend together without having to worry about assignments (aka just laze around in the dorm and lose track of time), but it seemed that atsumu’s only goal was to distract you.
giving your textbook one last glance (and jotting down a reminder to ask tsukishima for the homework), you stand up abruptly, pushing your chair back in the process. atsumu jolts back, surprised at your sudden movement, a trace of worry on his face in fear that he had pushed you a bit too far.
you grab him by his shirt and pull him up with you, mentally thanking the heavens that your section of the library was empty, before dragging him away from the table.
“shut the fuck up and follow me. you asked for this, right?”
atsumu blinks, feeling his dick twitch slightly at the domineering tone in your voice, before allowing him to get hauled away.
you don’t stop until you’ve reached the art history section of the library, before pushing atsumu against one of the bookcases. it’s almost comical how you have the volleyball player cornered like this, with one arm extended to case him in, and another knee placed between his legs.
“this is what you wanted, right?” you tilt your head to one side, as if mocking him.
your free hand is down at his waist, your fingers running along the waistband of his shorts. with one finger, you pull back the band ever-so slightly, before letting it snap back on his skin.
atsumu whimpers lowly at your confidence, his hips bucking up into the air.
you faux pout at him, your hand slipping into his shorts to palm at his cock through his underwear. a part of it is damp from the pre cum leaking from his tip, and you decide to rub there especially hard.
“little baby can’t even control his dick, aw. how cute.”
his lips part slightly, panting at the little relief that you’re giving him. it’s actually painful how hard he is, and atsumu swears he feels his dick getting blue.
“wanna fuck you, please baby. i swear, i won’t bother you like that again.”
you contemplate whether you should tease him a bit further, but the thought of having to cram 3 chapters of physics on a sunday night helps you make the right decision.
“fine.” you lean against the bookcase across from him and lift up your skirt, allowing your pretty pussy to be on display.
you’re not any wearing underwear. atsumu’s jaw drops momentarily before he pulls his dick out, hissing at the feeling of the cool air of the library hits his cock.
he’s fucking into you like a dog in heat, holding one of your legs up and pressing you against the books so that he could bottom out into you. his pace is sloppy, and it’s obvious that he’s drunk on the feeling of your wet pussy. his other hand is gripping your jaw tightly, turning your head so that the two of you could sloppily make out.
his lips start to trail down, kissing wetly at your neck, before going down to your shoulder. he’s biting you, and you tighten up at the pain. he grunts in response, slowing down his pace momentarily in an effort to draw out his orgasm, not wanting to cum too fast.
his pelvis is brushing against your clit with each thrust, and you can’t help but grind into him every time, brain buzzing at the added stimulation. you let out a shuddered gasp, your eyes momentarily rolling back into your head, before you feel the hot coil in your stomach snap.
you’re creaming on his cock, a familiar white ring lining the base of his dick, and your clenching so tight that atsumu thinks that his dick’s circulation is going to get cut off.
“so tight, ah-“ atsumu swears he’s drooling at how good you feel, and he’s thrusting into you even harder now, desperate to obtain the high that he’s so close to reaching.
atsumu’s loud when he cums, the type to curse, so you hook two fingers into his mouth as he cums in an attempt to stifle the noise. he lets out a garbled moan, his tongue wrapping around your fingers, his mouth sucking you so obediently.
he snaps his hips forward a few more times, riding out his high, before cumming inside you, painting your insides white with his creamy cum. you can feel some of it spilling out, and shudder at the warmth.
he’s panting, his eyes unfocused and slightly dazed. he traces the outline of the bite mark on your shoulder, before giving you a lazy grin.
“we should do this again, yea?”
you giggle at how breathy he sounds, kissing him sweetly on the lips.
“i don’t think so.”
my full page piece for @kitafanzine 🥰
Cut to the Chase
PAIRING: timeskip!Suna Rintarou x fem!reader
GENRE: smut (18+)
TAGS + WARNINGS: fingering, nipple play, light manhandling, masturbation (f), hair-pulling, cum eating, biting, use of bunny once, mating press
Let me know if I missed anything.
WORD COUNT: 3.1k
SUMMARY: You really like Suna’s new haircut. All characters are 18+
© creative-crybaby, do not repost or modify
“Are you going to let me in?”
You and Suna stare at each other as he waits at your door. Or rather, his expression appears bored while his eyes show a mix of impatience and confusion as your gaze holds awe.
“All right,” the middle blocker huffs before carefully squeezing past you, “I’ll just…”
Your focus follows him as the athlete makes himself at home. You don’t bother scolding him for rummaging through your fridge for a drink, nor when he kicks his feet onto your coffee table as he sits on the couch. Your lack of response earns you a glimpse from the corner of his eye, but no comment as he takes a sip.
“Any starters for our movie marath—”
“You got a haircut.”
His head snaps towards where you stand a few feet away from him. “That’s what’s got you staring?”
You nod slowly.
Suna sighs. “Well, yeah. I did; it was getting long. Got in the way when playing.”
You finally move from your spot, joining him on the couch as he places his drink on the table. You’re still in a trance, though your friend isn’t as uncomfortable.
“It’s nice,” you hum, twirling a few strands between your index finger and thumb. “You look hot.”
Narrow eyes widen at your bold comment that you don’t seem to realize you made. The middle blocker quickly regains composure, subconsciously leaning into your touch as he swings his legs off the coffee table.
“Was I not hot before?” he quips, his tone coming off as uninterested. You don’t stop playing with his locks as you softly shake your head.
“You were plenty hot before,” you almost whisper. “I just think this cut suits you more.”
“Pull it then.” Suna leans in a bit closer, and it’s only then do you catch his intense stare. Your hand freezes in place, your actions finally dawning on you as your face grows warm. You don’t get the chance to move as your friend grabs hold of your wrist, amusement twinkling in his gaze. “Why’d you stop?”
It’s not the first time he’s teased you. He likes flustering you: with your eyes widening and brows creasing while you attempt to stammer out a comeback, you never fail to entertain the middle blocker with your embarrassment. Your reaction is more frozen this time, but he’s satisfied anyway, bringing a half-smile to his face. An expression outside of boredom is a rarity coming from him, and anything resembling emotion on his face is a beauty you’d engrave in your memory for as long as you have known each other. Even with you being on the receiving end of his teasing, that lazy attempt of a smile only enhances the fox-like features that make him so irresistible.
You twist your arm out of his hold and then grab Suna’s face to pull him into a kiss. He’s taken aback–the quiet gasp he let out told you that much–though he’s quick to reciprocate after the initial shock. It’s messy, with tongues swirling around each other and teeth gently nibbling on swollen lips. The hold on his cheeks slides back up to his hair, grip tightening followed by light tugs. The middle blocker pulls away with a groan.
“Straight to it, huh?” he pants, a lazy smirk making way to his features. You don’t bother answering, not with words, anyway: pulling him back into another kiss, shimmying onto his lap while his arms wrap around your waist. Your hands are twisted back into his locks, nails lightly grazing his scalp and making him release the prettiest sounds you’ve ever heard.
He’s poking you. The opportunity to tease him is right there, though you aren’t in any state to do so. With your panties wetly hugging your pussy, you have no right. Instead, you indulge, grinding against his crotch and relishing in the friction. Your actions make Suna slide his hands down to your hips, aiding you in your movements. You pull away from the makeout session hastily.
“Rin,” you whimper as he dips his head to nibble at your neck. Your thighs twitch at his tongue dancing across your skin, and your grip on his hair tightens. “Rin, please.”
The middle blocker hums, halting his actions. “Please?”
You don’t answer, too busy trying to steady your breathing, and he bites down at the junction of your neck. You yelp as he pulls away to peer down at you, his hold dangerously close to your ass. He even stops grinding, leaving you to sit on his hard-on. His expression is stoic, as it usually is, though you know he’s anything but bored. You catch the dilation of his pupils as his eyes lock on yours, the greyish-yellow irises mere thin rings outlining the abysses. You want to drown in them; in your breathless state, you probably already are.
“Please,” you pant, pressing your chest against his, “please, fuck me.”
That’s all it took to get your head to rest against the couch’s arm and the handsome athlete to hover over your frame. Suna makes quick work of discarding your shorts while you attempt to remove your t-shirt. Attempt as in your current position prevents you from pulling it past your head. Your brows crease in frustration, though a large hand gently tugs the article of clothing out of your grasp by its hem, bringing it to your lips.
“We don’t need any noise complaints,” he tells you like it’s a statement, yet the implications have your cheeks burning. Slowly, you part your lips, biting down gently on the cotton material. You have to refrain from covering your bare chest from his intense stare, keeping them at your sides while they mindlessly yank at the waistband of your panties.
Panties? You’re crossing one thigh over the other now, trying and failing to cover yourself as bashfulness consumes you. Suna’s eyelids droop.
“You’re getting shy on me now?” he muses, slowly rising from his hunched position. You pull him back down by his collar in a panic.
“No!” you stammer, your shirt slipping out of your mouth. “I want this. Want you. Please, touch me.”
The middle blocker hums, head lolling to the side. “Yeah?”
Without warning, his head dips down, soft lips attaching to one of your nipples and immediately flicking it with his tongue. You yelp, and he takes your shirt, bringing it back to your mouth. His hand plays with the other breast as you bite down on the article of clothing, your thighs rubbing together for friction.
“Rin…” The fabric muffles your whines, but Suna’s name swims in his ears perfectly, earning you a groan. He tugs harshly at your buds, making you gasp as his other hand glides down your soft tummy and halts at your panties. You’re so occupied with grasping at his locks once more and his mouth that you hardly notice him toying with your underwear’s waistband, dipping his fingers in.
“Shit,” he grunts against your chest, digits dancing around in the puddle of your slick. “You’re soaked, bunny. So soon?”
You bite down harder when he gently swipes at your clit. “Need you now, Rin. I can take it.”
The middle blocker sits back up, much to your disappointment, and he yanks your panties down. His eyes are glued to the string of slick connecting you to the material, the intensity making you hug your chest as he removes the article of clothing. He’s right; you’re dripping, so close to staining the couch if he didn’t swipe at your cunt once more. You’re about to complain about his lack of nudity, only to be silenced by the sight of him sucking the essence off his fingers.
“Gotta prep you first,” is all he says, palming his budge at the display before him. Spreading your thighs further apart, Suna gets a better view of your cunt before sliding in a digit. It reaches far deeper than you ever could, and you mewl. There’s more than enough of your slick to use as lubricant, and it doesn’t take long for him to start moving. You catch the light furrow of his brows as he seems to concentrate on your pleasure, and you mask your laughter by exhaling through your nose. Ever the sloth, putting effort into things outside of maybe volleyball isn’t Suna’s style. But with how he observes your reactions to his finger inside you–plus the shimmer in them once he finds your sweet spot–your hold on your shirt tightens in bashfulness.
He adds another finger, causing you to groan from the stretch. Three of your fingers would barely count as an equivalent, and the middle blocker catches your pained expression.
“Once you take my cock,” he drawls, “you’ll be grateful I did this.”
He curls his digits inside you, better attacking the sensitive area and making your hips buck as you silently wail. His pace quickens, his unoccupied hand laying flat against your lower stomach, and you gasp.
The last time you came this soon was when you first tried mapping out your body. You knew you’d be home alone and even cut your nails for the occasion. With open legs and a shaky breath, you reached downwards, experimentally playing with your pussy until you discovered what you wanted. And you didn’t stop once you found your clit, rubbing it until your entire body shuddered and the pleasure morphed into pain.
You seem to relive that memory as Suna skillfully touched you how no one else has. And when he slides his fingers out, you whine at the emptiness that follows.
“Don’t worry,” he almost coos, pausing to suck his fingers clean once more. “I’m not done yet.”
He’s pulling his sweats and boxers halfway down his thighs, and you want to complain about him barely stripping; him exposing his dick to your hazy eyes is what silences you. The middle blocker drags you closer to his hips by your legs, further spreading them before stroking his cock a few times. His gaze doesn’t leave your nude frame as he does so, your shirt escaping the clutches of your teeth and falling onto your chest. He sees the opportunity to messily kiss you while nudging your entrance with his tip.
The first couple of inches is enough to knock the air out of your lungs. It doesn’t help that Suna’s lips are still glued to yours, making your chest burn as he swallows whatever sounds escape your throat. He only pulls away from you once your hips meet his, and you gulp as much oxygen as you can without sputtering coughs.
It’s a stretch, fitting his cock inside you. The fire in your lungs withers away and blooms below as you try to adjust to his size. That flame simmers bit by bit when the athlete brings a hand down to swirl lazy circles around your clit. With a drawn-out moan, your hands return to his hair, moving some strands away from his eyes as he peers down at you.
He’s panting, strings of curses slipping out between large intakes of air as your pussy squeezes him tightly. Your fingers twirling his locks distracts him, and he turns his head slightly to peck your palm.
“You can move now,” you murmur, feeling suddenly shy. Suna hoists your legs over his shoulders with a hum before reeling his hips back.
His first thrust back in isn’t rough, though it’s enough to make you gasp and cry all at once. Your grip tightens on his hair, causing him to grunt. His hand is about to return south to soothe you of your pain, but you stop him by pulling him down to meet his lips once more.
“You good?” he pants in between sloppy kisses. You nod into one of them: an assurance that he can keep going.
“I like it when it hurts,” you exhale against his lips. It’s enough for him to keep going, unsheathing his shaft before slamming back in harder. You shriek into his mouth as he maintains the force and pace, nails digging into his scalp and making him groan in response. Your thighs are pushed up to your chest to bring his face closer to yours, and you’d be thankful for your yoga classes if you weren’t so preoccupied.
“Fuck,” the middle blocker huffs, forehead pressed against yours. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this. No. Fucking. Idea.”
He slams his hips forward to emphasize the last words, forming tears at the corners of your eyes while you cry out. Suna’s confession completely flies over your head as he adjusts his angle to find that spot again, the stars returning to your vision.
“Rin!” You wail, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “Don’t stop! Need you, need your cock! Oh—”
His fingers return to your clit, rubbing the pulsing nub as his thrusts grow sloppy. They don’t fail to hit your sweet spot, though, the constant prodding at the area turning your vision hazy. You’ve never felt so full: so open yet closed up at once as your cunt squeezes him. If you aren’t so focused on your approaching release, you’d probably think that you’re sucking his dick back inside you along with his strokes. Suna definitely notices, your tightness testing his stamina as he tries to hold out for as long as possible. He doesn’t know when his next opportunity will show up where you spread your legs open for him again, if you’ll ever do so again. He’s not letting the moment go to waste.
“‘M close,” you whimper against his warm skin, fingers raking through his hair. Suna would keep them in there forever if he could, laying on your thighs as your hands lull him to sleep.
For now, his mouth is against your ear, telling you whatever dirty thoughts his brain can muster up at this moment. From grunting for you to “take it, fucking take my cock,” to rasping about your “tight, pretty pussy” and how “it was meant to take him.” His filth tickles your hearing and travels downwards. It’s enough to—
“Cumming!” you gasp, pulling him closer (if possible) before the tremors trample over your body. Your thighs quiver on his shoulders as your jaw goes slack, a silent squeak barely managing to jump out your throat as heaven rains down on you.
Meanwhile, the middle blocker has to bite down on your shoulder to avoid cumming. You’ve tightened around him even more that it’s making him dizzy. He can barely continue thrusting, and with you pulling on his locks and setting his scalp on fire, he’s afraid he’ll finish.
He thanks whatever gods are out there as you eventually come down from your high, and he immediately pulls out to pump his cock, your legs dropping onto the couch. He’s spurting ropes of white onto your heaving stomach, breath caught in his throat as you watch with drooping lids.
Large, calloused hands softly rub your thighs as you both break the silence with soft pants. You rub your eyes to stop them from fluttering, catching the handsome athlete in your vision, although somewhat blurry from fatigue and delight from recent events.
“Can’t believe we fucked ‘cause you liked my haircut,” Suna breathes a tired chuckle as he tucks himself back into his sweats. The corners of his lips are barely curved upwards, but that’s the most anyone can usually gain from him.
You hum. “You look pretty.”
“Pretty?” he raises a brow. “I went from hot to pretty?”
“You can be both.” You blink up at him, sight fully returning. With his hair now shorter, it doesn’t stick out as much at the ends as it did back in high school. It looks straighter, too, and darker, contrasting with his pale skin and green eyes beautifully. It droops down as gravity intends it to, though with the abuse it dealt from your constant pulling, some strands reach out wherever they please. Some even cling to his forehead, a light sheen of sweat keeping everything together. Even with the wreck of a description, his beauty never abandons him. “I wanna do that again.”
Suna stretches his neck. “Now?”
“Well,” you giggle tiredly, “not right now. I need a breather first. And to clean up.”
Your fingers mindlessly skate around in the cum stains on your torso as your voice trails off. The athlete leans over to the coffee table, grabbing a few tissues from the box before shifting to face your frame.
“You know,” he starts, wiping the mess off your body, “when I told you to pull my hair, I didn’t mean rip it off my scalp. I wanted shorter hair, not to be bald.”
Greyish-yellow eyes glimpse up at your face before resuming his actions. An apology almost leaves your lips until a memory resurfaces in your brain.
“Was your confession a bluff, too?” you hum.
Suna freezes, his gaze elsewhere. “I’ll get you some water—”
Silence follows. The athlete’s scanning the pattern on your carpet, his eyes seemingly stuck to the ground.
“I wasn’t trying to take advantage of you if that’s what you’re asking,” he mutters, taking more tissues to wrap around the used ones. “I like being your friend.”
He finally looks at you, a blank mask for a face as he waits for your response. You tilt your head to the side.
“I like being your friend, too,” you state thoughtfully. You don’t miss him tensing, no matter how unbothered his expression may appear. “I’d also like to try being more than a friend, too.”
Eyes wide, the middle blocker’s head snaps up before he replaces his emotions with something more indifferent. “Cool. All right, sure.”
You snicker. “I also like having sex with you. And I was serious when I said I want to go again.”
The athlete settles the ball of tissues onto the coffee table, nodding. Despite his face returning to a blank slate, his eyes can’t hide their amusement. “Glad to know we’re on the same page.”
“I still need a break, though.” You offer him a smile, opening your arms as you make grabbing motions with your hands. “Hold me? At least, for now?”
God, if only you knew what you do to him. Maybe you do, and this is your way of getting him closer. He could never say no to you in high school (even if it resulted in Atsumu teasing him), and he certainly can’t say no to you now.
Pulling you into his embrace, Suna falls back onto the couch. You bury your face in his neck with a content sigh, your fingers finding their place in his locks once again. Your naked body feels warm against his clothed build, and he has half a mind to strip, but he doesn’t want to interrupt the moment. Not when he can deal with the minor issue later.
“So,” you muse. Suna’s not sure he likes this newfound wave of cheekiness from you. “Do the twins know about your little hair-pulling kink? Or is this something I’ll need to inform them of?”
You know what—
© creative-crybaby, do not repost or modify
How They Carry You 〜 💕
Note: I didn’t manage to get all the characters bc they’re are so many teams and characters within those teams. If you see the character you wanted, feel free to message me and I can add them on for you :)
Over the shoulder, yeah like a Santa sack, Merry Christmas! They either do it subtly or not so subtly like a toss over their shoulder or have you like one of flour sacks you’d carry in some army work out.
Iwaizumi, Mattsun, Makki, Terushima, Tsukishima
The classic bridal style carry. They’re saying some cheesy as pick up line like “this we’ll be us in a few years” you gag or your laugh up to you but either way he’s low key or high key smug af but it’s pretty cute still and very wholesome. 10/10 would try again.
Kuroo, Atsumu, Suna, Semi, Futakuchi, Sugawara, Kita, Aran, Tendou, Fukunaga, Konoha, Daishou
He’s too shy to face you, he’s face is redder than any of the Nekoma jerseys so instead he piggy backs you. If he carries you in his arms, he’s probably buried his face in your shoulder.
Asahi, Kinnoshita, Aone, Koganegawa, Daichi, Ennoshita, Aran 2.0, Gin, Kageyama, Bokuto, Washio, Kindaichi, Komori, Kai, Hayato, Takeru
The struggle is real. These guys can’t pick you up due to height difference, lack of coordination or too scared they’ll drop bc they clumsy af…otherwise they actually have dropped you…more than once…
Nishinoya, Tanaka, Narita, Yamaguchi, Hinata, Kenma, Lev, Yaku, Yamamoto, Hoshiumi, Oikawa, Yahaba, Akagi, Akaashi
They’re not be big on physical touch or they just feel awkward but they still hold your hand to keep close by their side. They’re trying their best! Please take head pats, dorky smiles, idiotic amounts of flirting and cheek squishes as compensation <3
Sakusa, Kyotani, Waka-chan, Goshiki, Kunimi
we don’t need the memories
this is kind of a continuation of this set from 2 years ago.
So people was wondering if Oikawa meet Atsumu, will they be gang up and be ally or the exact opposite?
And IT IS CANON! if you put Oikawa Tooru and Miya Atsumu together, the two will rips each other throat. (But i believe Oikawa will cry first if this continue)
And do not worry, Iwaizumi can handle this perfectly.