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#kenma
tons-of-vball-huns · 21 hours ago
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[a/n: this is slowly becoming a kenma-themed blog huh?
requests are open! please lemme know what you want. you can dm me as well!]
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kenma’s favorite hobby other than playing video games is creating a clothing scarcity in your wardrobe by stealing “borrowing” them. your clothes? oh, no no, sweetie. they’re his clothes now. if you make a mention of the clothes being yours, he’d be all like “yours??? no, these are mine.” you can’t stop him, you can only through him off kilter by wearing his clothes. he should’ve expected it but he honestly didn’t because… well, he was too caught up in taking in your scent from “his” clothes that he forgot you could just pull out an uno-reverse card out of “nowhere”. he wouldn’t really mind though — this just means that when he finally gets them back, they’ll all be infused with your scent.
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tiny-is-sad-100 · 2 days ago
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Literally one person asked for this but I’m here to feed my little chicklets so. Enjoy
Kenna’s kinks
Fucken rollplay. Often ceo and assistant
Daddy AND mommy kink. He’s a switch. He enjoys being put in his place as well as doing the place putting.
Spit. I refuse to comment any further. alr it’s something about your tits covered in him. If that makes sense
Spanking. He likes the jiggle
Bondage. Just seeing your helpless little self. There’s nothing you can do to stop him from taking what he wants. Not that you would.
AHEM
Hands 😀. He adores how beautiful they are. And in my mind he dabbles in the arts and knows how difficult it is to draw them so.
B R E E D I N G. Stuffing you like a damn thanksgiving turkey. Which leads me to my next kink
Tummy bulge. It makes the poor man drool. Hence the spit kink.
I does oral count? Yeahhhh.. yea. He lives pearl divin. There wasn’t ever a time he was bad at it. He’s never failed to make you cum on his face
@springday19 Here babes. Also thank you for interacting!! It really helps.
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amjustagirl · 8 hours ago
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castles in the air: chapter 2
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chapters: one.// two.// three.// four.// five.// six.// seven.// eight.// nine.// ten.//
pairing: kuroo tetsuro x f! reader genre: university romantic dramedy, mild angst, fluff wc: 6k summary: kuroo tetsuro is your pain in the ass classmate. that’s all. really.
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The semester hits the midway mark almost too quickly. 
Training grows harder, his captain unrelenting in his demands for more drills, more laps, more practice matches. His fingers ache, more calluses grow, thick and ugly on his palms, and he’d fall asleep in class far more often if you weren’t there to prod him awake. But it’s worth it, he tells himself. He holds on to his starting position because the team’s regular middle blockers are either injured, on academic probation or off in Europe on exchange, so his peers watch with envy when he gets to play almost every match, the defensive cornerstone when the team prepares its march to the intercollegiate championships.
He misses the camaraderie built with Yaku and Kai, the knowledge that they have each other’s back, the unwavering trust formed over years of working towards the same goal. The university team’s not half-bad, the seniors refrain from hazing the juniors (save for Sato-san, who prefers to shoot barbs, the immense chip on his shoulder from having to retake his first year screwing with his brain a bit), and he’s pretty sure he’ll make firm friends with the guys from his batch, but still - he misses his team.  
“Why work so hard when you’re not gonna go pro after college?” you ask, after a project meeting that you had to barge into his room to remind him about, his catnap stretching into an hour-long siesta that he’s horrified at himself for taking.  
“Cos I love the game”, he says simply. “I wanna play as long as I can.”
You don’t sniff at him, nor do you stare at him disapprovingly. Instead, you just peer over your laptop screen as you crouch on his bed. “Well. Just - just don’t burn yourself out.” 
“Are you concerned about me?” he asks slyly, propping his head up to stare at you. 
As expected, your head whips back to your work. “Psh. Concerned that I might lose a competitor, more like. Topping the cohort won’t be as sweet if you weren’t there.” 
“Cocky, I see. Let’s see who’s crying when they release the results - “
“As if! Considering the amount you’ve been studying, which is barely anything at the rate you’re going, you’re going the one who’s left crying  -” 
Ouch, that stings. With competition season drawing close, he has to admit that he really hasn’t been hitting the books as much as he should be, his notes are in shambles, his undone work is piling up, not because of procrastination but out of a sheer lack of time, and - yeah, he has to admit you’re probably right. 
“Oh well”, he remarks. “Guess you’ll be dropping me as a project mate next semester then.”
You stare at him as if he’s grown another head with gravity defying hair. 
“Kuroo Tetsurou, do you really think so little of me?” you say quietly, curling back behind the screen, almost as if he’s hurt you with careless words. 
“I uh - “
Then he sees it, you giving yourself an almost imperceptible shake, shoulders straightening. 
“Well”, you say briskly, flipping over your screen to show him an empty schedule that to his horror, is marked - ‘STUDY SCHEDULE FOR IDIOTS’, in bright red. “Let’s make sure your grades don’t suffer too much, in that case.” 
It’s testament to your strength of personality that he finds himself tucked into a corner of the library with you and your other friends to study and revise for exams almost every night after practice. 
“What”, you ask indignantly when he does a double take, shocked at the fact that you willingly associate with other living, breathing beings. “Did you think you were the only one with friends?” 
“Kinda”, he drawls. “Especially since you’re so -”
“I dare you to finish that sentence”, you growl, pointing a pen threateningly over his wrist. He closes his mouth with an exaggerated snap. 
Your tiny circle of friends are welcoming to him, even though they do look a little taken aback when you drag him in the first time but it’s cosy, companionable, and he gets a lot more work done than he’d have been able to by himself. It certainly helps that you lend him your notes, even though you grumble good naturedly, and he’s pretty sure he’s the only classmate you lend your carefully prepared notes to, because Sato-san and the rest of his team groans in envy when they catch a glimpse of your notes in his bag. 
“Gotta give the rest of us a chance”, Sato repeats his insult, laughing to himself. “You and that machine - what an unfair combination!” 
“If you can’t beat them, join ‘em”, he chuckles a little hollowly, swallowing the sudden urge to argue that it’s unfair to reduce you to that unkind nickname. Because Sato is his teammate, his senior. He can’t jeopardise any good will he has on the team but still, his words sting. He’s glad you aren’t around to hear the insults thrown your way, though he thinks you’re strong enough to ignore them anyway. Your sense of humour would probably even allow you to laugh at that horrid nickname - a machine - even if it’s inherently dehumanising, dismissive of all the hard work and effort you pour into your studies. 
“Why bother working so hard when you could just marry a rich husband?” You make a sound of discontent at his words and he adds quickly - “And hey, come to think of it, maybe I should start looking for a rich wife.”
It’s not his best day, not when he’s a little cranky after a hard practice where his captain yelled at him for not jumping high enough, fast enough to block the spikers, and you don’t let up on him either, drilling him on his finance calculations, on his marketing strategies until his head swims with figures and disjointed words, and he just needs a break from this relentless grind that’s slowly but surely wearing him down. 
“My mom was a housewife all her life”, you tell him. “My dad made sure we were always comfortable, but I tend to think my mom feels like she might’ve preferred a little more independence, especially when my brothers and I grew older.” 
Exhaustion forgotten, he thinks of his own mother. He sees her twice-yearly, once on mother’s day, once on New Year’s where she brings him to the shrine to pray, and while she shows some maternal affection for him, sending him money at regular intervals, asking about his studies, he’s never dared ask if she’s ever regretted walking out of his and his sister’s lives when she looks much happier, brighter even - than back when they all were a family, back when the walls would shake from the force of her arguments with his dad. 
“Sure”, he says. “Independence is good, I guess.” 
He thinks about his father, curled up in a corner, drunk out of his mind, cursing his ex-wife. He thinks about his sister, having to go to their obaa-san instead of their mom when she got her first period, met her first boyfriend. He thinks about himself, having to explain to his classmates with a strained smile that his mother doesn’t live with them anymore. 
“You don’t sound convinced. Please don’t tell me you’re one of those gross dudes that think a woman’s proper place is in the kitchen.”
The thing about you is that you’re far more perceptive than you have any right to be. 
“I just -”, he pauses, mindful that he might be treading into dangerous, murky waters. “Independence is all well and good, but I think you and your siblings benefitted from your mom being around for you.” 
You tilt your head, fortunately doesn’t take offense as he feared. “Yes”, you say slowly, the words treacle in your mouth. “But I’d like to think I can have the best of both worlds by having a husband who loves and supports me in whatever I choose to do. I guess I’m greedy - my dreams make me sound like I want to build castles in the sky but I’m not, really. All I want is a meaningful career of my own. All  I want is a family of my own. I don’t think it’s too much to ask for.” 
“That doesn’t sound like too much at all”, he remarks, taking a swig of coffee even though it tastes like wet dirt, in a bid to keep awake. 
“Of course you don’t - you’re a man. That’s always been your birthright”, you reply, mouth twisting, your tone more bitter than the coffee currently swirling in his gut. 
“I think the solution is to find yourself a nice husband who’d let you do what you want.”
“A decent man who respects that I’m entitled to do what I want”, you retort and he laughs, raising his hands up in defense. 
“As if any man could stop you from doing what you want”, he chortles, and you roll your eyes, pinch his arm playfully as he dodges your attacks. 
So yes - you’re headstrong and efficient, smart as a whip, good at your work. He highly doubts anyone would ever consider you a machine if they spend more than five minutes with you outside of class. You’re so easy to chat with, so easy to tease. There aren’t any airs about you, because you’re unabashedly you, scowling at him when he points out a mistake you’ve made in your work, laughing too loudly about some stupid chemistry joke he’s made, falling asleep on your books like a floppy seal when you try (and fail) to wean yourself off coffee yet again.  
“Why don’t you have more friends? From class, at least. Most young people these days have more friends, y’know?” 
You click your tongue against your teeth, mouthing indignantly young people at him. Another night spent in the library studying, your small circle of friends breaking up in favour of human pursuits like food and sleep. But midterms are coming, you seem to not mind spending a little time tutoring him on the finer points of accounting and cash flow forecasts, and he needs all the help he can get.
“Did we not just spend two hours sitting among my friends?” you reply pointedly. “Or did you think they’re just goldfish - “
“Oi, don’t put words in my mouth, princess”, he shoots back. “You know what I meant. You don’t seem to have friends in class except me - is it because I’m special?” 
“You’re really fishing for compliments here, aren’t you?” 
He gives you a flash of his patented smirk, leans back in his chair. “Nah, just wondering why no one else seems to have caught on to your fantastic personality.” 
You stare at him, obviously searching for the punchline in his words, but he just smirks back at you. 
“I don’t really find making friends easily. A relic from high school, I suppose. It’s even more difficult in business school where everyone seems a bit transactional.” You wrinkle your nose, spinning a pen in your fingers. “They didn’t really take much notice of me until the end of last semester when our grades were announced and then suddenly all they wanted to talk about were assignments and job placements and -” you sigh through your nose, forehead wrinkling. “They didn’t really see me as a person. That makes me wonder whether they see me for who I am, or for what I can do for them.”  
“But here we are - “ 
“Are we friends? I didn’t realise that”, you tease, as he pouts playfully, hand to heart. 
“You wound me, princess, you really do.” 
“Fine, I guess we’re friends”, you answer, a fond smile on your face that he can’t help but wish he saw more of. “You made me a business proposition, I fed you ramen, now you tease me about my books and I tutor you because you like to pretend to be a dumb jock, so here we are.” 
“Here we are indeed”, he replies, smirk smoothing out into a smile.  
It’s their loss, he figures, if they don’t want to be your friend. It’s their loss if they don’t get to see you as a human being, just a soulless machine, racking up points and scoring top marks, someone inhuman, soaring past them in the stratosphere. They don’t get to see the moments when you doubt yourself, when you hunch over yourself whenever you get poor feedback on your projects, when you pour your heart and soul into your work, shouldering more than your share when he falls short without complaint. 
“We did it!” you squeal at the end of the term, when your professor beams at you both, awards you the top grade for your project along with a long review. 
“Of course we did”, he replies smugly. The taste of success is addictive, oh-too-sweet. He chuckles when you shove at his shoulder playfully, catches your hand to rub it in that - “I told you you’d have no regrets partnering with me.”
“Kuroo Tetsurou, it baffles me how you’re so bloody annoying -” 
“Let’s go out to celebrate” he adds, ignoring her barb, still riding the high of success. “I’ll buy you dinner tonight!” 
“Not fish again. You’re such an old man”, you tease. 
“You need fish for docosa-haxaeonic acid”, he retorts, but you only tug at his sleeve, impatient when he’s dangling the promise of food before you. 
You both end up at the ramen shop anyway. It’s become your regular hang-out spot, both yours and his, so much so that the old oji-san recognises his order, grumbles when he doesn’t come in for more than a week. But the old oji-san’s clear favourite is you, always leaning over to ask how your week’s been, feeding you an extra ramen egg or bamboo shoots, and Kuroo points out that it’s probably because you’ve bought his crusty heart by chatting with him about he and his wife’s favourite long running soap operas, even bought him a bottle of sake to celebrate his birthday once you’ve learnt the date. 
“It’s called being a decent human being and listening when people talk about themselves, Kuroo.”
“You’re just sucking up for no reason”, he retorts and you chuckle, chopsticks held aloft. 
“It’s called being kind, you fool. Look it up, someday”, you retort before stuffing yourself full of ramen noodles, which you declare to the oji-san to be the best in Tokyo, nay, the world, as you always do. He swears the old man is about to declare you his honourary grand-daughter at this rate. Well - his grandparents would obviously love you too, his grandma’s been complaining that she misses him bringing his friends home, and she can’t wait til the day comes that he brings a nice girl home to meet her wait - he shakes his head clear of that thought, choosing to wolf down ramen instead of exploring that stray alley his brain seems intent on leading him down.
“Earth to Kuroo”, you call, leaning in, eyes gleaming with that sharp, mischievous tilt, an expression that you adopt too-frequently when you think you’ve gotten the better of him. You wave a hand across his face, and he jolts back, as if he’s fallen out of a dream. 
“Alien acid ate up your brain?”  
“Pfft, there’s no such thing.” He makes a show of shaking himself awake. “Just thinking about exams.” 
“You’ll do just fine”, you say dismissively, kicking his shin. “I’m sure of it.” 
“Cos if not it’d mean your tutoring skills suck?” 
“No! Because it’d mean your brain sucks, if all my tutoring didn’t help you one bit - ”
He pays the old man and compliments him for making the best ramen in the world, as he always does, though the old man only truly perks up when you wave at him and promise to come again soon before stepping back into the world outside. Summer is long gone, autumn is on its way out, and winter, with its chilly gales and bleak, short days, is about to arrive in full force. He tucks himself into his coat - Nekoma red, of course, gloves on his hands when he notices you try to zip your coat all the way to the hollow of your throat, shrugging your shoulders in a bid to hide the exposed skin of your neck to the nipping  winter cold.
Receives, bumps, one touches - movements on court that are honed through many years of training, movements that come naturally without his brain having to be engaged too much, but even though this particular movement is new, he doesn’t even realise he’s unwinding the wool scarf from his neck until he’s tugged you close, tilting your chin up gently to wrap it around your neck. 
“My skin’s a lot thicker than yours, so you better make sure you wrap up nice and warm”, he tells you with as much bravado as he can muster,  since you seem to be stricken silent from shock. 
You tuck your chin into the cloud of woolen weave, as you walk beside him, and he’s wondering if he’s wrong for acting over-familiar with you - you’re a friend, but you’re also a girl, and he wonders if his actions might be misconstrued when you glance at him, almost as if you’re looking at him for the first time. 
“Cat got your tongue, princess?”, he asks, his tongue engaging before his brain stops it from its instinct to provoke, to annoy. 
Luckily, your regular scowl crosses your face, and he knows you’re both back on familiar grounds. 
“I just didn’t know you could be nice”, you say airily, tossing your hair behind your shoulder as you dash ahead, laughing merrily. 
“I’ve always been nice to my friends!” he yells, white puffs streaming behind him as he chases after you. 
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Your classmates notice around the same time he does that you’re actually friends. 
“Wow, I didn’t know that frigid bitch could actually be human”, Sato comments idly during a break in practice. “What did you do, charm your way into her pants? You gotta tell us if there’s really a stick up her arse if you do.” 
He bites his tongue yet again, preventing him from spitting out some acerbic remark or two. “We’re just friends”, he manages to say with a veneer of politeness. “We work well together.”
“Good for you”, Sato replies. “It’d be a joke if anyone wanted to date that bitch.” 
His mood doesn’t lighten when he turns up at your room for his usual study session after dinner, eyebrows drawn together, a weathervane for his stormy mood. You take one glance at him and snap your laptop shut. 
“Out with it”, you say. “What’s bothering you?” 
“Nothing!” he says too quickly. “Everything’s fine.” 
You obviously don’t believe him. “Did Sato screw up serves again? Or did your captain say something to you? You can’t be stressed about schoolwork, you’re actually ahead, which is good - “ 
“It’s fine”, he stresses, grimacing. “Can you just drop it?” 
Oops. He may have said that a little too sharply because you flinch back into your seat, wincing slightly, even though you try to cover that up with a quick shake of your shoulders, an impassive expression sliding back on your face. He didn’t mean to snap at you - you’re not the cause of his ire, far from it. 
So he fixes it the only way he knows how. 
“Wanna grab ice cream?” 
“What?!” you stare at him, flummoxed.  “It’s a school night and it’s cold, Kuroo!” 
“Perfect weather for ice cream then”, he chortles. “Any weather’s perfect for ice cream. I don’t know a time or situation that’s not a good time for it. C’mon, I know a place that we can study at - or not, since you said we’re ahead.” 
“I thought you only eat old man things like fish”, you jab, but allow yourself to be swept off to a tiny ice cream parlour just off campus. It’s definitely a step up from the combini ice cream the Nekoma team used to eat by the bulk, swirls of strawberry pink in white vanilla, chocolate parfaits abound, a sweet treat you and he both deserve after a hard week at school. 
You settle into a small booth at the back of the store, digging in with a tiny wooden spoon only after he prompts you. “Just admit it’s the best ice cream in the world already”, he teases as your eyes immediately widen when you take your first bite of the overflowing sundae he’s ordered for you to share. 
“It’s good”, you admit, through a mouthful of delicious, creamy ice cream, matcha and chocolate and azuki beans all melding together. It’s horrendously indulgent, because he orders you a huge vat of hot chocolate to go with it, along with pillow-like marshmallows that you giggle at, popping two in your mouth and puffing your cheeks out like a child. He aches to poke your cheeks and laugh at you, but keeps his hands firmly to himself. 
“See”, he says when the urge passes. “Ice cream is always good. In every situation, in every season, having ice cream is like, the go-to. You’ll weed out the weirdos in your life fairly quickly by screening them by their reactions to ice cream  -” 
“Please don’t soliloquise about ice cream, you’re clearly the weirdo here”, you joke, as he clutches his chest, acting affronted. 
“Hey!” 
You scrabble against his arm as he steal the sundae away, he smears ice cream against your nose resulting in a loud, indignant squawk and well retaliation is clearly in order - 
Long story short, you both get asked politely to leave (though the store owner winks at him for some undecipherable reason- he’s become fond of the obaa-chan by now), and you both sit outside on the curb, finishing your ice cream like two happy fools.  
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Winter means a brief respite from school, at least at the turn of the year. 
The good thing about attending university in Tokyo is that he’s able to make frequent trips back home to visit his family, so they don’t make any complaints when he makes plans to hang out with the Nekoma team at an izakaya to count down the new year. Yaku and Kai are both in attendance despite the former playing for the Falcons, though with the waves he’s made in the V-league, he won’t be surprised if Yakkun told him he’s headed for Europe in the next year or two, and the latter busy with his studies at the Tokyo University of Agriculture. With Kenma, Fukunaga and Yamamoto graduating in a matter of months, he’s not sure when he’ll get to see his whole team again. He’s not going to miss a chance like this for the world. 
“Lev! Did you seriously grow taller again?!” 
“Yaku-senpai - you look shorter than ever!” 
“I dare you to say that when I can reach you!!!”
“Yaku senpai, please don’t murder Lev, we’ve got nationals in two weeks -” 
None of them can drink just yet, even though Kuroo’s definitely stolen sips of beer from his seniors before, but they’re still by far the rowdiest bunch in the diner. It’s a good thing Fukunaga’s aunt runs the place, and she’s always been fond of the Nekoma team, having fed them over the years, so it’s fine if they all sit around, bickering with each other, ordering so much food that the table groans under the weight of laden dishes. 
He’s debating the pros and cons of playing for a university team versus going pro directly with Yamamoto when the door slides open, and a familiar figure stumbles in, the wind howling outside strong enough to knock a person off their feet. 
“Kuroo?” 
He glances up and his mouth promptly falls open.
“Princess? Wha-what are you doing here?”
It’s probably the wrong move to address you with the affectionate nickname he initially adopted to provoke you, with his team falling silent, watching as their usually unruffled captain turns traffic light red at the sight of a slip of a girl - but they don’t know that he’s so accustomed to seeing you dressed in an oversized hoodie, comfortable pyjamas even, when he’s invaded your room to study - that his brain short-circuits at the sight of you in a form fitting sweater dress that highlights every dip and curve of your form. 
“I live near here, remember? Some of my friends dragged me out to count down the new year, like you it seems!” A gaggle of girls wave over at you, before Fukunaga’s aunt ushers them towards a table at the other end of the diner. “Is this your high school team?”
Yamamoto nods so vigorously he nearly falls out of his chair, not even bothering to hide the fact that he’s eavesdropping shamelessly. You laugh at his antics, introducing yourself to him, and the younger boy looks like he’s about to rocket out of his chair when you ask if he’s the powerful wing spiker that Kuroo told you about, conveniently leaving out the fact that Kuroo’s mentioned that he’s a little over-enthusiastic, almost to a fault. 
“I’m Nekoma’s ace now!” Yamamoto half shouts, puffing his chest, as Shibayama and Inouka hide their smiles behind their hands. 
“I’m sure you are”, you reply, your smile so bright and earnest that Kuroo has to stamp down the urge to push Yamamoto away from you. “He’s said so many good things about you!” 
Yamamoto looks like he’s about to burst into tears, but Kuroo can’t seem to catch a break when Yaku leans over to introduce himself. “I didn’t know Kuroo had a girlfriend!”
Now Kuroo wants to stamp Yaku into the ground. From the frying pan, straight into the fire.  
“Oh!” you toss a look his way, biting down on your bottom lip. “N-no, you got it wrong. We’re just friends!” 
“That makes sense”, Yaku says. “We traded having a manager for having Kuroo as our captain.” 
You laugh again. He wonders if this is the most he’s ever heard you laugh - it just has to be at his expense, in front of his old team. 
“Is that so?” 
“Everyone thinks he’s a pain, but he’s really just an old man despite his Yakuza-like hair, if you haven’t realised by now. They all think we’ve been tormented by him for years, which is kinda true  - ” 
“Right”, Kuroo manages to get between the two of you, gesturing wildly. “That’s enough - don’t you have to hang out with your friends?” 
Yamamoto is still staring even after you’ve flitted away. Yaku is still grinning, mouth stretched wide.  
“She’s a pretty girl - not my type though, I still prefer girls with short hair. She’s definitely more your type though, Kuroo, maybe you should - ” 
For some reason, his brain stops working when it comes to you, so his tongue moves yet again of its volition as he snaps, a little too loudly, “She’s a bossy know-it-all, just like you. She’s definitely not my type either - ”
Yaku stiffens in his seat. “Did you just call me a bossy, know-it-all?” 
He’s too preoccupied defending himself from a roundhouse kick from Yaku to notice that you looked up  at him from your seat, a furrow in your brow that remains throughout the night, even after the everyone counts the year down in unison, the ridiculous variety show playing on the TV finally coming to an end. 
He's shepherding his kouhai out, bowing deeply to thank Fukunaga's aunt for her hospitality when he catches sight of you again, standing by the side of the road as you wave your friends off. 
"It's late", Kai pipes up from behind him unexpectedly. "You should go walk her home."
Ever the voice of reason, his trusty vice captain. He ignores the catcalls from his idiot team when he approaches you for the second time of the night, tries not to flinch when you turn to gaze at him, eyes flinty, though for the life of him, he can't imagine why. 
"C'mon princess." He runs a hand through his hair, shifting uncomfortably. "I'll walk you home, lead the way."
"I can take care of myself just fine", you tell him pertly. "You don't have to go out of your way for someone who’s just a bossy know it all -" 
"Stop being stubborn, it's late. Young people these days lack common sense, seriously -" 
You ignore him, start storming off into the shadowed streets. Luckily, his long legs more than make up the head start you’ve gained on him, hand outstretched to grab the back of your coat. 
“What’s with you today? You’re more stubborn than usual.” 
You whirl around, shaking his hand off. "Oh, just add being stubborn to your description of me as a bossy know-it-all, that's just fine by me!" He frowns in confusion, as you speed up into a slow job, as if intent to shake him off. It makes no difference, he matches your pace easily.
“Stop!” He pulls at your coat sleeve, an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object. Physics wins out, and he manages to drag you to a halt. He’s just glad you aren’t armed with a fork or pen, your usual choice of weapon because that might tilt the balance in your favour instead. 
“Fuck right off, Kuroo Tetsuro!” 
This is not how he wanted to spend the first minutes of the new year, spitting and avoiding the claws of a hell-cat. Not to mention the fact that the situation he’s in probably looks really suspicious to any passerby - a guy chasing after a girl, even after she’s told him in no uncertain terms to leave her the hell alone. But he wants to see what you see, even though he’s insistent that no insult was intended. 
“What’s with you today? I’ve called you a bossy know-it-all before, and you’ve never taken issue with it. In fact, you just insult me right back - I think my favourite insult to-date is pompous, rooster-headed prick, so it’s not like the vocabulary I used is new, and I seriously don’t understand why you’re pissed at me right now.” 
“Do you even hear yourself?” You spin on your heel, jab a finger into his chest. “I don’t care that you called me a bossy know-it-all, you gaping asshole! I just - I just thought -” 
“Thought what?” he echoes, seriously confused when you stop short, gaze suddenly losing its heat, falling like a comet discovering gravity for the first time. 
“It’s nothing”, you say firmly, marching on ahead towards the traffic junction. The roads are still busy with cars, even in the suburbs. “Really. Nothing. Everything’s just fine.”
“Oi, weren’t you mad at me?” 
You shake your head, resolutely staring at the road ahead. “I forgive you for being stupid, Kuroo Tetsuro. I think stupidity’s a blight on your gender,  it’s not just confined to you.” 
He stumbles over a stray crack in the pavement, before catching himself. When he recovers from his shock, it melds into confusion at your sudden magnanimity. “Uh, thanks I guess?” Then, because he knows food is the way to soothe the annoyance in your soul, he grins - “I was gonna offer to buy you dinner and ice cream, buy your forgiveness, you know - but I suppose that’s not needed anymore, huh.” 
You snort, loud and clear in the night. “You’re absolutely buying me ramen when we’re back at school.”
The traffic light changes from red to green. He moves forward, a step behind you. 
“It was my turn to buy dinner next, so it’s no loss to buy ramen for you anyway.” 
A familiar eye-roll tips him off to your next move, an elbow to his ribs which he dodges, sidestepping your attack neatly. “You’re annoying”, you grumble, and he just chortles, replying with a quip he knows will frustrate you to no-end. 
“Nah, I’m just Kuroo Tetsuro. Always at your service, princess.” 
“Those words are synonymous now, I swear -” 
Your bickering tapers off when you finally reach your parents’ apartment building, a modest, four storey block that’s thankfully just a bus ride away from his grandparents’ home. He should be happy his night’s almost over because it’s late, the night air growing colder with every passing minute, and he needs to be up early to continue revising for the upcoming exams. But he can’t help but drag his feet, prolong the time he has with you. 
“You sure you’re not still mad at me?” 
He doesn’t need you to know that he teeters on the knife edge of being snarky and annoying - Yaku, and to a far lesser, gentler, extent, Kai too, have both made it very clear that his way with provocative taunts can land him in hot water at times, so he’s also learnt to apologise, where needed. He’ll let you slap him if you’re still mad (not that you’ve actually used enough force to hurt him before, sans the time you stabbed with your fork for stealing your dinner), or throw yet another pen at him (that he’ll dodge anyway). He just doesn’t want to spend the first day of the year fighting with you. 
“And if I am, what’re you going to do about it?” 
He promptly drops onto his knees. Your mouth promptly drops open. 
“W-what are you doing?!” 
His jeans will survive the dirt and dust, even if obaa-chan might complain a little about him dirtying her pristine washing machine. “I’m very good at grovelling”, he informs you, laughing aloud as you dart forward to try tugging him to his feet, ignoring your hissing that you really don’t need to attract the attention of your neighbours, thank you very much! But there’s no way in hell you’d be able to lift a load that’s at least seventy kilograms of pure muscle, no matter how much you threaten said load, so he waits until you pant, exhausted, resorting instead to cheap tricks like prodding his nose with an indignant finger. 
“Kuroo Tetsuro, you stop this right now! Get up, or help me, I will hurt you -”
“I’ll get up after you accept my apology - I don’t think my heart could take it if you’re mad with me, princess.” 
He presses his hand to said heart, both to assure you of his sincerity and act as a shield in case you do decide to stab him right in the chest, which he won’t put past you, considering the way your eyebrows telegraph the way you’re fluctuating between exasperation and annoyance. 
“I didn’t hear any apology from you.” You eventually settle on exasperation, the better option in his opinion, even though there’s a vaguely murderous glint to your eyes that he doesn’t quite like. 
He scrambles to his feet. “I’m sorry for calling you a bossy, know-it-all”, he says contritely. “Please forgive me. I’d have a terrible year if you don’t.” 
“Fine”, you grumble, tone impatient, but he’ll take it as a win, since there’s no bodily harm inflicted upon him yet. “You’re still an asshole, Kuroo Tetsuro.”
“I’ll accept your insult, fair maiden, even though an apology was all I sought”, he says blithely. He’s courting danger right now, the equivalent of prodding nitrogen triiodide just to see what happens (it’ll explode, that’s what), but you surprise him when you don’t react, eyebrows suspiciously straight as you stare him down. 
“Did I say something wrong again?” 
This time, your eyebrows waver. He’s not sure if it’s a good thing. 
“Good night, Kuroo”, you say, so quietly that he has to strain to hear it. Then you reach for his face, and he flinches back, expecting a punch, a slap, a smack, but all he gets is a brush of your thumb against his cheek. It leaves a spark of warmth in its wake, heat rising in his chest despite it being the first day of January, deep in the winter's chill, but then you retract your hand, quicker than any attack of yours. 
“Happy New Year”, he vaguely hears you say, as you look away. “I hope you have a good year, Kuroo.”  
“Happy New Year”, he replies, watching and waiting until you disappear into the lift lobby, until the lift doors hide you from him.
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m.list.~ taglist.~
a/n: hope you guys are enjoying the fluffy goodness between these two dorks. 
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malibusmoke · 8 hours ago
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Camboy Kenma × Male Reader
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note: If Kenma was going to act like a little slut, then you would just have to treat him like one
tw: vouyerism, exhibitionism, dub-con, throat fucking, slight dacryphilia, dirty talk, feminisation, sex toy, NSFW, pet names, Top!Male!Reader, Bottom!Kenma
You were tired, working hard for hours, your body covered in scrapes from practice. You walked towards your flat, stretching lightly. It was evening, just beginning to get dark, and you missed your boyfriend.
You stepped into your apartment and shut the door behind you, opting to phone Kenma straight away. The phone buzzed, once, twice, three times. Strange, you thought to yourself. Kenma always picks up quickly, especially if it’s from you.
You sigh and place it down as it goes to voicemail, walking to your bedroom. You were pent up, and if Kenma wasn’t going to help you, then you’d have to sort it out yourself.
Opening the laptop from your discarded school bag, you flick open to a new tab. Needing to find something quickly you opened up the first website on the search page. Scrolling through the streams you noticed that they were all pretty amatuer; your eyes settled on one in particular, “BBb0y”.
A man, seated on the edge of a bed. A too-large sweatshirt was hanging off his slim frame, showing off both of his collar bones. It wasn't long enough to cover his underwear, lacy pink things that were so small they didn't even bother with a pattern. His legs were completely nude, apart from a pair of thigh highs, leaving a couple inches of his pale, soft-looking legs bare. 
He was pretty, and the viewer count at the bottom of the screen showed he was popular, too. You joined the stream.
His head was cut off from view of the camera, and you couldn’t tell if he was speaking or not. Your eyes flickered to the chat screen. New messages were rolling in every few seconds, most of them were thirsty, some were donating money, some were in languages you couldn't read. You turned up the volume and turned your eyes to the video again.
A thin choker sat around the boy's exposed neck, a small bell sitting between his collar bones. His Adams apple bobbes with every teasing word, “Hmmm, make it a little more. 50 and I'll take off the sweater.” The chat exploded with rushed donations, but there was something about his soft voice that seemed familiar…
The boy hummed in appreciation, and lifted the jumper to expose a soft but toned stomach, and dusty pink nipples. The boy in question had turned his back to the camera, legs spread wide apart to properly show off his ass, bulge barely covered. Your dick twitched in appreciation, It looked so round and firm. Almost like Kenma’s.  
The boy arched his back, rocking down towards the bed with small rolls of his hips. You bit down on your lip, fuck, how good he would look bouncing on your cock right now. The chat exploded as he hooked his thumbs into the top of his panties, slowly pulling them down. 
Lonely_boy69: 100 if you moan my name when you cum🥛
4er0sm1th: I’ll make it 200! (;
ПапаДом: О, черт возьми, повернись и сожги этот член для меня.
His half-hard cock sprung free, bobbing cutely as his pink tip leaked pre-cum. You palm your hardening dick as he let out low, breathy moans, his back arching in pleasure as he began to finger himself.
He paused slightly, wiggling his ass at the camera before slapping one of his cheeks harshly, fuck, you wished it was your handprint there. The boy leaned back and you caught a glimpse of his hair- shoulder length and blonde. Your eyes narrow. No. It couldn’t be. 
“BBb0y” spread his legs wider, bringing a pink dildo to rest against his stretched hole. You’d seen that before somewhere... The head slowly pressed inside without too much resistance, a loud, drawn-out moan falling from his lips at the stretch.
 “Ah, g-give me a minute to adjust,” He whispered, panting loudly. One arm hooked under his knee, bringing it towards his chest, while his other hand slowly worked the toy in deeper. His toes curled as he bottomed out, only the base of the toy sticking out of him now. His lips were open in a silent cry as he brought his legs closer to his chest, showing his ass off properly to the camera. 
Something was off about him, you thought, stroking your dick softly. You hummed and picked up your phone again, and phoned Kenma as you spread pre around your throbbing head. A minute passed as it dialed, and what happened next caused a sick grin to come to your face.
“BBb0y” froze in place, dildo half out of his ass as his phone vibrated in his discarded jumper. He let out a weak chuckle and lent over to turn it off. Your call ended.
Fucking. Slut. If he wanted to be treated like a whore, all he had to do was ask you. But instead, here he was, getting payed to moan *other people's names* as he fucked himself. Did he really think that piece of plastic was better than your dick?
You buttoned up your pants and grabbed your keys. Kenma’s apartment was only a few blocks from here. He needed to be taught a lesson.
_____________________________________________
You had a spare key, and as you pushed his creaky door open, you were met with the sounds of quiet moans. They flowed from his room and as you approached his room, squelching and slick sounds filled your ears.
He hadn’t closed his door and you watched him from the crack- fucking himself with the same pink dildo and fisting his little cock.
“M-make it th-three hundred, hnnng, and i’ll d-do it,” He moaned, and the chat pinged eagerly in response.
You watched in anger as he moaned someone elses name, and pushed open the door. “Heya kenma~!” You say. Your voice was sickly sweet, and Kenma shot up, shocked.
You walked over to him and pushed him back down onto the bed. “So, this is why you weren’t answering my calls, huh?” you tilted the camera angle up to show Kenma’s face, and he turned pale.
“I- i’m sorry, should have told y-” he started
“Yeah. you should have. Too bad all you are is just a. pathetic. little. slut.” You gripped the base of the dildo and pushed it harshly into his puckered ass. He whined at your words. The chat was going haywire, but you ignored it for the time being. “And pathetic little sluts like you  get treated like one.” You pulled the dildo out of his puckered entrance.
“So, get on your knees and suck me slut.” 
Kenma looked up with wide watery eyes, knowing wiser than to argue back. He slowly lowered himself between your legs and turned red as you angled the camera downwards. Making quick work of your belt and trousers, he pulled out your half hard cock.
“Please…” he whispered, staring at his lap. You tutted, pinching his nose. When he opened his mouth to gasp for air you pried his jaw open and thrusted into his hot, wet mouth.
“Oh fuck,” You groaned, bottoming out as Kenma gagged and drooled over your cock, “Youre such a good hole, use that toungue.” Kenma felt your length rising and growing in his throat to hard and leaking and groaned lightly. 
Kenma did as he was told, quivering under your hungry stare as the hand fisted in his hair pushed him back to your base. His efforts to breathe only served as more stimulation for you, and his tongue began to swirl quickly. Teasers pricked his eyes with humiliation with the camera right above.
Slowly you began to thrust, pulling out just enough to chase your orgasm, but never enough to allow Kenma a full breath of air. “That’s it - fuck- little slut,” you grinned, tossing your head back with a sigh. 
Kenma’s mind swirled as you reveled in the heat of his hot mouth, swirling meaningless shapes against your throbbing flesh. The feel of him against your wet muscle set a pulse between your thighs, and you grunted. “Look at the camera, whore. I think they deserve a good show.”
Kenma looked up with tears trailing his soft red cheeks, his own erection throbbing harshly. When you finally pulled out of his throat, he foolishly went to suck in a sharp breath of air, only to have that interrupted by your cock wedging itself there once more and forcing him to audibly choke.
You glanced at the chat screen. They must have thought this was planned. Oh how wrong they were.
MasterGator1: Oh fuck he’s hot! is that his boyfriend?
donaldduckdick: I don’t know who I want to be more….
Lonely_boy69: Yeah fuck that little whore’s throat!
You chuckled and pulled Kenma off your length. “All fours, on the bed.” You trailed his movements with the camera, still talking, “This little slut didn’t tell his daddy what he was doing. Been moaning your guys names with his slutty mouth, pretending this fake piece of shit plastic is better than me.”
You crawled onto the bed and placed the camera facing Kenma before sitting behind him.
“And he’s been making you all pay for it.” The watching count on the video was now in the thousands, “I’ll make sure you get your money for it, won’t I Kenma”
He shivered at your words and nodded weakly. You ground your erection on his plump ass, thrusting it slickly between his lubed cheeks.
“Use your words, bitch.” You growled and teased your flushed tip at his entrance.
“Y-yes!” He sputtered out. “I’m sorry daddy! I’m sorry sir! Y/N!”
You thrusted into his slick entrance feeding him inch after inch as his hole fluttered. You set up a punishing pace, the clap of your hips on his round ass taking up the room.
“I bet you all wish you could stuff his tight little holes.” You grinned, leaning forwards and licking a trip up Kenma’s neck. He mewled, bucking back against you. “How d’ya feel about that Kenma?”
You matched your words with brutal thrusts and your thick cock snapped against his prostate with every movement. Kenma felt his knees go weak at your words and movements, collapsing onto his elbows.
“N-no cock is as -AH!- good as yours sir!” He sobbed at the stimulation.
Your hand fisted his hair and pulled his head up to stare at the camera. His face was flushed and eyes lidded and blown, drool and your precum dripped down his chin and his hair was a mess. You nearly cummed right there as he clenched *hard* around your cock.
“That’s fucking right you slut. Shit- you're so good. My perfect little cocksleeve, baby girl.” 
He looked so beautiful like that, all spread out and moaning your name. Your breathing sped up and you lifted his legs over your shoulders, reaching even deeper into his tight heat.
“I-i’m close Y/N,” Kenma whimpered and reached down to his neglected cock. 
“No way girlie,” you snarled and batted his hand away, thrust knocking the wind out of him. “Cum from my cock, or don’t cum at all.” You knew Kenma hadn’t been able to do that yet so he;d just have to work for it.
朝陽: いっちゃう!
Slutfuck3r: Gonna cum just from his voice!
Kenma whimpered and thrusted himself back against your cock desperate to cum on your long thick cock. You were both brutal, chasing after your orgasm. The bubble of white hot pleasure in your groin was so close to popping. Fuck. 
You thrusted directly into his abused prostate.
Kenma’s eyes rolled back into his head, tongue lolling out and moaning loud, “Hnng ah, ah ah! Y/N!” Kenma painted his stomach and bedsheets white as he came, whole body twitching with overstimulation and clenched tight around you. 
It was almost enough to send you over the edge. You shut your eyes tightly and gave a few hard, shallow thrusts before you came. “Oh Fuck!” You grunted out, your hot sticky seed painting Kenma’s insides. You rode out your orgasm as kenma let out loud moans at each tiny movement. 
You pulled out and let him flop onto the mattress, and picked up the camera once more. You checked the screen and saw the donations number was in the thousands, the people watching doubled since you last checked. You pointed the lense to Kenma’s fluttering hole.
Your pearly cum leaked out and down his pale thighs, staining the garters and stockings. “Look at this little cumslut. What are you Kenma, babygirl?” You grinned, lifting his head up and turning him to face the camera.
He could barely form a sentence in his fucked out state, “a-ah a c-cumslut. Y-your c-cumslut Y/N…” He murmured happily.
You stroked his cheek softly, running a thumb over his bitten lips. “That’s right. Mine.” You reached down and lifted the pink dildo from earlier. You collected the spilt cum on the tip and pushed it back inside with the dildo. 
“Mine, all mine. You’re gonna keep my cum inside of your slutty little fuckhole, you little whore. Oh- and don’t think your punishment is done yet sweetie, we still have plenty more time to entertain your viewers~”
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christeningsakusa · 3 hours ago
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[hq boys] their favorite place you rest your head
———
the classic head on shoulder gets them everytime. your hand ever so gently grasping onto their bicep like you are asking for him to protect you- makes his heart soar with pride. will not move an inch while you rest no matter how tired his arm gets.
ᥫ᭡ iwazumi, bokuto, USHIJIMA, kyotani
laying your head on their chest is their favorite. you’ll often listen to their heart beat and drift off to sleep- he’ll be following you soon because the weight of your body is a comfort to them. 9/10 times he will be shirtless, and will beg you to be too just so he can feel you close.
ᥫ᭡ SAMU, hinata, kita, akaashi
you often find your head resting on their lap, and they live for it. it gives them perfect access to run their fingers through your hair or lean down and give your temple a kiss. likes it when you doze off so they can take a picture of you for “safe keeping”
ᥫ᭡ suna, tendou, oikawa, KENMA
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smollcatart · a day ago
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Image description is from before the comic was colored/finished
Courtesy of @suculentt 💕
[ID: There is a comic strip with five panels. The first panel shows the back of Tsukishima Kei from Haikyuu, who is looking at a laptop that shows that he is on a video call with Bokuto Koutaro and Kuroo Tetsuro. The second panel shows Tsukishima, who is wearing his glasses and looking downwards and off to the side while rubbing his neck with his hand, and Yamaguchi Tadashi is carrying a basket of laundry in the background. Tsukishima is saying, "Yeah... last night Tadashi told me that he didn't love me anymore." The third panel shows Tsukishima wide-eyed and embarrassed with a slight blush, and Yamaguchi is more visible. He is still holding the basket of laundry, and he is wearing Tsukishima's uniform for the Sendai Frogs volleyball team. Yamaguchi is saying, "Tsukishima Kei! Stop that!" The fourth panel shows a close up image of Yamaguchi, who is now directly beside Tsukishima. Yamaguchi has his mouth open and eyebrows furrowed slightly, as he says, "I fell asleep without taking his glasses off for him." Tsukishima is looking downwards in the opposite direction, mumbling, "Same difference." The fifth and final panel is a wider image, showing a close up of the laptop screen that Tsukishima is using to video chat with Bokuto and Kuroo. There is a speech bubble in the middle from Yamaguchi, who says, "And! I already apologized!" On the left is a drawing of Bokuto laying on his stomach on a bed with his feet kicking in the air behind him. Resting his chin in his hand as he leans on his elbow, Bokuto is drawn with his hair down, eyes closed, and mouth in a wide, open smile. Bokuto is laughing, with the speech bubble reading, "Ha ha ha!" In the background of his half of the screen is Akaashi Keiji, wearing glasses and hiding his laughter behind his hand while he looks off to the side. On the right is a drawing of Kuroo, who has his mouth open in a wide, slanted smile and tears gathering in his eyes as he laughs at the screen. Behind Kuroo is Kozume Kenma, who is sitting on a chair with a gaming headset on, holding a controller and playing a video game on a TV in the background. Kenma is looking at the screen that Kuroo is also looking at, with raised eyebrows and a question mark drawn beside his face. /End description]
Five additional images are close ups of the comic
Would you want me to put a separate post for the comic by itself? Lmk 💗
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whitlingerdoodles · a month ago
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happy belated birthday kenma, loved your glow up!
(follow me on twitter)
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haikyuuublog · 28 days ago
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PART 9 OF TWEETS AS CHARACTERS:
OIKAWA:
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Twitter: @ grovymango
KENMA:
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Twitter: @ peedekaf
BOKUTO:
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Twitter: @ nicdoroki
KUROO AND KENMA:
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Tumblr: @gilmoregeller and reply by @tatianasemmy and second reply OG
TSUKISHIMA FT. CONCERNED DAICHI:
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Twitter: @ TheDreamGhoul and reply OG
HINATA:
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Tumblr: @dutchgogh
IWAIZUMI FT. OIKAWA SLANDER:
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Twitter: @ stevecarell
KENMA:
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Tumblr: @~apple
OIKAWA:
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Twitter: @ veryanya
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chizuke · a year ago
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the fandom: omg kenma is sooo baby we have to protect him
Kenma:
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adoringhaikyuu · 4 months ago
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smau idea: the tiktok trend where you update them on your day for no reason
(if you are unfamiliar with this i can send a link)
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YOU RANDOMLY UPDATE THEM ON YOUR DAY
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characters: bokuto + kageyama+ kenma + iwaizumi + suna + ushijima + (gn!reader)
warnings: none
notes: i feel like this is eh but here you go <3
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LEAVE A TIP <3 (if you’d like)
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