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four months

summary: love like yours is undoubtedly eternal, but when you haven’t seen your boyfriend in 4 months, it's easy to think twice.

word count: 4.8 k

pairing(s): akaashi keiji x reader

genre | includes: sfw, poc-friendly reader, fem!reader, established relationship, long-distance relationship, lots of swearing (i couldn’t help myself), reader has a step-father (and he sucks), minor violence (people just get slapped it’s nothing crazy)

author’s note: i spent like 3 weeks on this and it ended up only being 4k words im gonna cry- anyway i’ve had this idea for a long time so i’m happy its out of my head. it’s based off of some hc that i read a really long time ago, but i wanted to expand on it and add my own little twists. i wrote this for the climax and proceeded to avoid writing the climax for as long as humanly possible. please ignore if the formatting looks a little funky in the beginning, i’ve been wrestling with html for 3 hours now and i’m a little tired. enough talking, enjoy!

Bokuto-san, are you sure this is okay You; 5:53pm

Yes im sure! I asked the coaches and everything Plus i owe u for tutoring me in english last year Bokuto K.; 5:54pm

I told you that you don’t have to pay me back. You did most of the work. You’re very intelligent Bokuto-san But I’m glad it’s okay. That's one less thing to worry about You; 5:56pm

THANKS (L/N)! I think Akaashi’s smartness has been rubbing off on me But what else r u worried abt? Bokuto K.; 5:57pm

It’s nothing You; 5:57pm

I don’t think its nothing (l/n). I want to help if i can Bokuto K.; 5:58pm

I guess I’m just worried that Keiji doesn’t want to see me It’s stupid, I know You; 6:01pm

I don’t think that’s stupid at all!! But you should see how sad Akaashi is without you He doesn’t smile a lot, but when he does, it’s almost always because of you HEY! Send a message to him right now and you’ll see Bokuto K.; 6:03pm

Okay..? You; 6:03pm

[Attachment: 1 Image] See!!! Bokuto K.; 6:04pm

Thank you, Bokuto-san Really You; 6:07pm

Of course! It’s my job as ur senpai to make sure ur ok Did I do a good job??? Bokuto K.; 6:08pm

Yes, Bokuto-san. You really did You; 6:08pm

Of course I did!! Break’s over! I gotta go. See ya soon (l/n) And I promise not to spill the secret!!! Bokuto K.; 6:10pm

Pinky promise? You; 6:10pm

Pinky promise!! Bokuto K.; 6:10pm

Alright, have fun! You; 6:11pm

You scrolled back up to the picture Bokuto had just sent you with a small smile on your face. The image was blurryㅡobviously rushed as if Bokuto was trying not to get caughtㅡbut it was perfect for you. The gym's fluorescent lighting cast a halo in the gaps between your boyfriend’s unruly hair and danced in the gunmetal undertones of the eye you could see. Just as your upperclassman promised, the smallest smileㅡinvisible to the untrained eyeㅡsat comfortably on his lips. The photo was taken from the side, so you only saw the tenderness in his left eye, but you couldn’t stop your heart from swelling 3 times its size knowing you were the cause of such a fulfilling gaze. Who knew the most beautiful man in your life could get more beautiful? And all because you’d sent him a simple heart.

Maybe Bokuto was right. Keiji would be excited to see you.

But maybe he was wrong. You hadn’t seen your boyfriend in almost 4 months. Don’t ask. It was messy, it was stupid, it was super fucking annoying.

ㅡㅡㅡ

You scratched the skin just below your skirt while waiting for the vending machine to process the numbers you punched in. Everyone at Fukuroudani knew that this was the best and worst machine on campus. It carried the best drinks in the largest sizes, but was near impossible to operate. Depending on the time of day, day of the week, and phase of the moon you could get your drink within 3 minutes or 15. The moon was obviously not in a favorable position, because, not including the 4 times your 1000 yen had been spat back into your hands, you’d been waiting in front of the machine for 8 minutes and 37 seconds… 38… 39…

Saved from your agony, the machine began to hum and push your drink forward. Finally. You spoke too soon, you realized, as your purchase got caught in between the racks and the glass. You knew exactly what you had to do, but had no energy to do so. A quick glance at the clock showed how little time you had left of your lunchㅡwas it worth it? Remembering that the price of this same drink was almost double at the konbini near your house, you decided it was. With fierce determination behind your eyes, you shifted your weight and swung every ounce of strength into a strategically placed kick on the machine’s side. Okay so maybe I should start stretching again. That should not have hurt as much as it did. I might have actually pulled a muscle. Rubbing at your leg again, you crouched to grab your drink from the slot and straightened immediately when you heard high-pitched whistles come from behind you. You didn’t have to turn, but you did anyway if only to glare at the group of 3rd years trying to rile you up.

“Aren’t all of you 18? Are you trying to catch a case by catcalling a first year? That’s what I thought. Respectfully, go fuck yourselves,” you seethed as you snatched your drink, popped the tab, and left the scene before a wandering teacher tried to reprimand you for cursing out your seniors.

Sore, irritated, and drink acquired at the expense of most of your lunch break, you stormed back to your classroom knowing you could air your grievances to Keiji about the occurrences of the 15 minutes since you’d seen him last. Thank God you were eating with him today. Not a day goes by that you aren’t grateful for how reliable your boyfriend is. You could count on him to say what you needed to hear whenever you needed it.

What you weren’t counting on was sliding open the classroom doors to find some girl leaning onto your desk and into Keiji’s personal space. His eyes shot to you when he heard the door connect with the wall and you could almost hear his plea for help. His eyes widened ever so slightly and he gave you a near indiscernible inclination of the head, your shared sign language’s way of saying, “I don’t know how I found myself in this situation, but I want to leave.” It was normally reserved for nosy neighborhood aunties trying to introduce their nieces and nephews to the both of you, but the wordless communication you both had been building since you were young was just as effective now.

If you weren’t angry before (you were), you were beyond agitated now. Was this not Japan? Was everyone not taught respect at a young age? Did you wake up this morning in an alternate nightmare universe where everything was ever-so-slightly more inconvenient than what your emotional reserves for the day were willing to handle? You didn’t realize you were clenching your fists until some of your drink dribbled onto the back of your hand. You also didn’t realize your feet were moving until you were right in front of the pair.

“Keiji, baby, who’s this?” Akaashi winced at the sickly sweetness in your tone, this was the side of you he avoided at all costs: the affectionately titled, Overworked And Underpayed Customer Service Employee Meets Pissed Off Soccer Mom. In less coded words, the side of you that used politeness as the final barrier between you and righteous fury. For anyone that knew you, it was a terrifying place to be. But for you, this stage was rather cathartic. It was a neat segue that allowed you to welcome the rage that flushed your system clean of any of your usual friendliness and settled on top of your bones like molten rock over the side of a volcano. The look in your eyes read danger and the mystery girl ignored all the signs.

“Oh don’t mind me. I won’t be relevant to you much longer. You can call me Yasunobu, but Keiji here can call me Naoko,” an offending hand rested on Akaashi’s bicep as she giggled. I’m too young to get my blood pressure monitored, but I just might have to after this. You felt your eye twitch.

“Yasunobu-san, I don’t think my boyfriend likes you clinging to him like that. Please let him go,” if this was the Disney movie Inside Out, the little emotion people in your brain would be celebrating and shaking hands like they were at NASA coordinating a successful moon landing. You managed to talk without cursing her entire bloodline, that was impressive.

“I think it’s fine, he isn’t saying anything,” Yasunobu leaned in further and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek. What the fuck this is literal harassment- “but don’t worry. I’ll get out of your hair. Don’t forget to text me, Keiji.” Her now devilish smile stretched wider when your brow furrowed. Yasunobu’s eyes roved over your boyfriend once more, before she pushed off your desk and adjusted her clothes dramatically.

“Move it, whore,” Akaashi just barely stood from his seat in time to catch you. Did she just fucking shove me? It took you no time to regain your balance.

“Run that by me again. I don’t think I heard you correctly,” our words were louder than you’d intended and soon everyone in the room was looking at the 3 of you, eager to soak up the drama for this week. Especially because you were involved. Now, don’t misunderstand, you have a great reputation. Abrasive at times, but only when asserting yourself. When you weren’t, you were respectful and generous. Compassionate and hardworking, “a pleasure to have in class” as teachers say. But everyone knew that you were a ticking time bomb. Not quite hotheaded, but definitely not slow to anger. Normally, you could catch yourself when your self-control was about to slip, but stories spread like forestfire of the minor incidents in which staggered breathing didn’t do its due diligence. Very rarely did anyone step out of line enough for you to put them in their place, but now that it was happening, everyone wanted to see it firsthand.

“I said you should get out of my way. You’re deaf and ugly too? No wonder your boyfriend wasn’t pushing me away. Everyone knows he’s too good for you,” the silence in the room was suffocating.

Your boyfriend’s grip on your arm tightened just enough to pull you back from the spiraling thoughts he knew you had lost yourself to. The worst part is that she’s not wrong. Keiji is too good for m-

“(Y/n) just sit, she’s not worth your energy.”

“I know.”

Full of rage, yet somehow numb to the core, you sat. You picked up your drink (it splashed when she pushed you and now the sides were sticky) and took a long sip, nearly draining the entire can. Before you could set it down, it was coming back up to your face, spilling the contents over your nose and cheeks and dripping onto your uniform. You knew the spot between your eyebrows would be sore from the impact the next day. Okay she’s trying to make a statement and humiliate me, cool. Did she have to smack the metal can into my fucking forehead?

“Yasunobu-san I don’t know what you’re trying to prove, but you’ve clearly gone too far. I’m not breaking up with (y/n) to date you. Even if I were going to date someone else, you are the last person I’d choose. All you’ve done is show how ugly your personality is,” Akaashi’s voice was ice as he did he best to dry you off. His focus was no longer on the girl who was now flushed red at her plan blowing up in her face.

“I’m sorry, (y/n). I’m proud of you for not losing your temper,” Akaashi had no clue how things had gotten so out of control. He was just glad it was over. Lunch was going to end soon and the teacher would come and make sure Yasunobu got the discipline she deserved.

That would be too easy though.

Before Akaashi knew what was happening, you were pushing past him and grabbing the girl’s quickly descending hand.

“First you flirt with him, then you try to slap him? Are you crazy?” you seethed. This would go down as your worst lunch break in high school history. It didn’t get much worse than this. This was a textbook American high school movie conflict, and you were driving the bus straight into Regina George.

“Don’t touch me,” Yasunobu hissed as she snatched her hand away and sent it flying back at your face in full force. Gasps went around the room and you distantly acknowledged someone running out of the room in search of a teacher. She smirked in victory as you stared at the floor and held your cheek. She just fucking slapped me.

“That actually almost hurt a little,” you mumbled. There was a pregnant pause as the whole room held its breath. This was the type of out-of-line behavior that would unleash the side of you no one was previously dumb enough to intentionally provoke. The only question now was: what were you going to do?

You didn’t keep anyone waiting long. Your hand descended in a swift arc onto the girl’s face. It was no ordinary slap. It was the deafening kind. Your palm was cupped as it clapped against her ear and sent her tumbling to the floor. You knew it was a one and done ordeal; nobody took a slap like the one you dealt out without being knocked off their equilibrium for a while.

“Someone take her to the nurse’s office, she’ll need to lie down for a bit,” was what you wanted to say, but before you could open your mouth, 3 teachers burst into the room. All they saw was a girl sobbing hysterically on the floor (when did she start crying?) and you standing over her.

“(l/n), you’re with me. You have a lot of explaining to do.”

Well, shit.

ㅡㅡㅡ

It was worse than you thought. A lot worse. That fact didn’t dawn on you until you sat with your mother and step-father on the opposite side of the table from Yasunobu and her parents. The three of them were dressed to the teeth with name brand clothing and clutching their bags like you were going to rob them. Her stuck-up parents shifted haughtily and narrowed their eyes whenever you glanced in their direction, so you kept your eyes glued to the wall behind them. Apparently the nasty behavior was hereditary. The teacher who dragged you out of the classroom, Suzuki-sensei, a third year science teacher, alongside the principal entered the silent room to debrief both sets of parents on the situation and dole out the consequences. You were expecting a severe scolding and extra cleaning duties at the worst. Suzuki-sensei was on your side, as were many othersㅡeye-witness accounts all reported much of the same thing, it was obvious what the truth was, but the Yasunobu family was one of the largest benefactors of the academy. As long as Naoko continued with her crocodile tears, Fukuroudani was at risk.

Suzuki-sensei pulled your family aside, promising to do everything in his power to ensure Yasunobu didn’t get off scot-free. As for your punishment, there was nothing you could do. Trust me, your mother tried. Funding was far more important than a single student, no matter how promising of a student you were.

So one formal, written apology and a lot of screaming matches later, you were temporarily unenrolled from Fukuroudani Academy and shipped off to an all-girls etiquette school. Your mother, bless her heart, tried to reason with your step-father, but he wasn’t having it. He’d been looking for any reason to send you away and make room in the house for his children and wasn’t keen on letting this opportunity slip away (that was another can of worms for another day).

“She’s too volatile.”

“I’ve been trying to tell you for months that she has an attitude problem.”

“Assault over a boy? I told you he was bad news.”

“It’s for the best.”

Even if it wasn’t, you found yourself stuck in a correctional environment to manage behavior that you didn’t have. Cut off from your friends, your mother, and the love of your life, you were miserable. There was only so much a phone call could do. Skype calls were hard to coordinate with your momㅡshe was working when you were free, you were asleep when she was on breakㅡand the rare face-to-face visits you had were all too short for your liking.

The only hope you clung to was the promise of it only lasting one semester.

And you made it. Nothing would ever compare to the 4 months in hell you experienced, but now you were on the other side, shaking near imperceptibly on the train towards Shinzen High School. Shortly after school let out for the summer, you met with your mother to celebrate. She was the one who planted the idea you were now carrying out into your head.

“(y/n), why don’t you surprise Keiji at training camp? He doesn’t expect to see you until he gets back. I think it would make his day. His mother told me he’s been miserable without you,” You knew your genius came from your mom, moments like this only solidified it.

It was a great idea, you wouldn’t be 6 stops (oh my god 6 stops) away from the high school if it wasn’t. You were just scared. 4 months was a long time. Naoko could have sunk her claws into Keiji in that time. Of course, he wouldn’t have texted you every waking moment of the day and called you late into the night if that was the case, but it was still a possibility. Even if it wasn’t, he could have changed. You could have changed. That was the entire point of your absence anyway. You were miraculously stubborn, but there was only so much you could reject. The lifestyle you’d been forced into was not easily ignored. What if the things he loved most about you were gone? What if when he saw you, his eyes didn’t widen then crinkle at the corners when he smiled? Would he pull his large, loving hands out of your own and neglect to fidget with them in the way he knew you loved?

What if the Akaashi Keiji waiting for you at Shinzen High wasn’t yours?

You couldn’t take that heartbreak.

It was impossible to envision a life without Keiji, you couldn’t remember a time before him. Your life has been intricately intertwined with his since before you could walk. He did life with you. Before any of your friends, you showed him when you first learned how to tie your shoes. He taught you the kanji for beautiful and wrote it on the back of your hand everyday in second grade. Even though you sucked, you helped him practice volleyball on Sundays in middle school. You opened your Fukuroudani acceptance letters together and swore on your hearts that you’d never tell another soul how hard you both cried. His growing pains were your own. If he was gone, who would tutor Bokuto-san with you? Who would joke about your mother loving him more than you? Who would remind you that you were never too flawed to be loved?

An announcement over the train’s speaker scared you out of your thoughts. Your attention shifted to the monitor overhead, but you couldn’t make out the map through the mistiness of your eyes. Stupid Keiji making you love him enough to cry in public. If you told him about this he’d laugh at you, so he’ll just never know. Bringing a sweaty palm to wipe your face, your breath hitched at the now clear map in front of you. 2 stops to go. You could just get off at the next stop and take the next train going in the opposite direction. It’s not like Keiji is going to die. You’ll see him when he gets back from camp. That might be easier.

But you’re (l/n) (y/n), self-proclaimed baddest bitch alive. Bad bitches don’t go back on their word. Besides, you’d already bothered Bokuto-san and the coaches to allow you to stay for the rest of the week. It would be rude to not show up last minute, especially after all the time they’d spent trying to accommodate you. Were you going to waste their time over some silly doubt? No way. The most loving boy on the planet was (unknowingly) waiting for you and he would be happy to see you. You missed him and he missed you too. You wouldn’t have to scroll very far in your texts to prove it. You could do this. You were going to do this.

With your mind made up, you exhaled deeply and shook all the bad thoughts out of your head. As if the universe was encouraging you to move before you changed your mind, the train screeched to a stop as it pulled into the station closest to the high school. Duffel bag hanging securely over your shoulder, you broke through the commuters moving too slowly for your liking and inhaled the fresh summer air that you’d been denied in the stuffy train compartment.

You pulled up the GPS on your phone and punched in the address for Shinzen High school with surprisingly stable fingers. A smile grew on your face as you looked at your ETA; in less than 20 minutes you’d be reunited with Keiji. You couldn’t wait.

But in the meantime, you had to plan how you were going to scare the shit out of him.

ㅡㅡㅡ

The configuration of Shinzen wasn’t all that different from that of Fukuroudani. You could navigate the empty school grounds with little difficulty, letting intuition guide you. You hummed a song with no rhythm as you moved, two-stepping and spinning to the cicada orchestra filling in the background with soft miin-miins.

Boisterous laughter cut through the previously still air and you knew immediately that you were in the right place. The smell of meat and overlapping chatter lead you behind the gyms where you found a large group of, unsurprisingly, ravished-looking, disheveled boys making excited conversation as the managers (you assume because you recognize Yukie and Kaori) buzz around the grill. Hoping to find your boyfriend or one of his teammates, you shuffled a little closer to the scene and elevated yourself on the tips of your toes. Your nose wrinkled in displeasure as you realized they all look the same: tall, athletic, sweaty teenage boys.

A cluster of blue caught your attention from the corner of your eye and you locked on to the two-toned hair of your school’s captain. Bingo. Just as you were going to step in the direction of the Fukuroudani team, you were stopped by another familiar face.

“Ah, Kuroo-san! It’s been a while,” a large grin spread across your features as you leaned in for a side hug. He got under your skin so easily, but you were proud to call Kuroo a friend. He was one of the few people that could set off your hair trigger and live to tell the tale. You were getting soft. You couldn’t count on all your fingers and toes how many times Bokuto came crashing into Keiji’s house with Kuroo at his side. Very rarely did movie dates stay as just the two of you. Knowing Kuroo Tetsurou the way you did, this hug would end with his knuckles digging into your scalp and your elbow in his gut.

“Yes it has, (L/N). You know, I was expecting a more formal greeting. A 90 degree bow, a western-style curtsy even? Did you truly learn nothing from your time away?” As if on cue, he began to tug you into his sweaty (ew) torso and push your head around.

“Oi let me go, you menace,” you grumbled as you tried to push him off of you, “Etiquette school was just housewife training with calculus. I’m not going to worship the ground you walk on.” Finally breaking free, the two of you held a childish glare before relaxing into soft peals of laughter.

“Bokuto already told me that you were coming. Don’t worry, I’m the only one who knows. He's actually kept his mouth shut aside from that,” Kuroo placated the worry that filled your eyes for a brief moment before pointing in the direction you were heading before, “Akaashi should be down there. Go get your mopey little boyfriend.”

Kuroo pushed you lightly, not giving you the chance to say something snarky. At the call of your name you turn back around and are greeted with a look of sincerity not often acquainted with Kuroo Tetsurou’s face, “It’s good to have you back, honestly. It hasn’t been the same without you.”

“It’s good to be back.”

Mission back in mind, you set back off to find Keiji. Your quickened steps were filled with a giddiness that you knew had flooded every cell of your body. Though your worry and doubt were shed long before you set foot on campus, you couldn’t help but notice the effervescent fluttering in your stomach as it lept to your throat and back several times over. Less than a minute now.

Head on a swivel, you must have looked lost or insane staring into groups of unfamiliar people and muttering in mild irritation when you couldn’t find what you were looking for.

“I could have sworn I just saw them? How does a group of 15 people just disappear?”

So focused on your task, you didn’t notice the eyes and whispers following you. Who were you? Didn’t they have this area reserved? What were you looking for? Should they tell a coach? Speculations bloomed in every conversation trying to place a story on you. None the wiser, you pressed on.

“I swear to God, if he’s in the bathroom or something- oh,” there, sitting demurely at the table full of your schoolmates, facing away from you, was Keiji. His hair was messier than usual and from behind you could tell he was just about ready to sink into the bench beneath him. The only thing holding him up was the arm he propped on the table and the palm he rested his cheek on. You understood. Training camp was no joke. No text message could properly convey the amount of work everyone put in this week. You could practically hear his inner monologue begging whatever deity took pity on him to send a shot of espresso from the sky. You weren’t coffee, but you could deliver an equally effective shock to his system.

In a swift motion, the bag on your shoulder was sailing through the air and colliding with his back. He was slow to react from exhaustion and you almost felt bad, but it would pay off in 5...4...3...2…

“Bokuto-san, it’s been a long day, please don’t throw things at me. There are easier ways to get my attention…” Keiji exhaled deeply as he turned around to scold Bokuto only to remember the captain was sitting right across from him. His confused eyes blinked dumbly when they finally saw you. All was silent as the surrounding players watched with bated breath.

Holding back a chuckle was proving more and more difficult as realization slid onto your boyfriend’s face, so you settled for a smirk and a lifted brow. It didn’t last long because the recognition on his face softened into something akin to fondness, to love, to coming home. The look was deeper than the crinkling of eyelids that normally translated into Keiji’s nonverbal love. It was a look you weren’t ready for, but something you couldn’t have gone another second without. You found quickly that you couldn’t keep your smirk up much longer and it was replaced with trembling lips. Amber rays of the setting sun honeyed the gaze you both shared; it was at times like this that you wished you were able to draw because you dreaded the day when every detail of this moment was lost in your memory.

(Little did you know, you would find yourself locked in a similar gaze less than 10 years from now, right after your wedding veil was lifted over your eyes.)

Akaashi Keiji is known as an ethereal being to those who don’t know him, if only they could see him now, scrambling to his feet and over the bench, barely stopping himself from face-planting into the grass. Gone was the poise that followed his every movementㅡhis only focus was pulling you into his chest and burying his face into the crook of your neck. The pull of your arms around his neck was automatic; your body had not forgotten how right it felt to be slotted with his. You could have stood there, wrapped in his embrace until you both became one with the grass below your feet. Instead you squeezed him tighter and relished in the chance to feel him again.

“I missed you.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“I know.”

4 months was a long time, but in comparison to the eternity you were going to love Keiji for, it was nothing at all.

© mamasbakeria 2021. do not repost, translate (without permission), or modify

pamamanhikan with timeskip! half-filipino! iwaizumi hajime

creds/request from my bb @nanaomiomi (I MISS YOU SM MWAH)

if you don’t know what “pamamanhikan” is, DW I DIDN’T EITHER LMAO

pamamanhikan: meeting your partners family/parents. (traditionally: groom meeting the bride’s family to show marriage is not between just the two people, but the entire family) (ty for telling me <3)

non-gender specified! filipino!reader (idk if it works gender neutrally so i didn't add reader pronouns) enjoy! cw: light language

CONGRATS READER YOU’RE ENGAGED TO KUYA HAJI 🥳🥳

both your families decided to keep filipino tradition, and do pamamanhikan.

you guys agreed, so now iwa and his family are on his way to your house.

both of you have met each other’s families before, and your families know a little bit of each other, so it’s mainly a "get to know each other" session.

when haji’s family arrives, they bring some gifts like their family adobo, wine, and soda.

your family made some delicious food like lumpia, sinigang, and turon for desert. (lumpia: eggrolls, sinigang: sour soup with vegetables and meat, turon: banana with brown sugar wrapped in spring roll wrapper; fried.)

the parents introduce themselves to each other and it’s going really smoothly! the conversation is general and small.

after the small talk, haji will ask your parents for your their permission to marry you.

HE’S LOWKEY SWEATING HIS ASS OFF EVEN THOUGH HE’S SURE EVERYTHING WILL BE FINE

“nay, tay, pinapayagan kong magkasal si y/n?” (mom, dad, will you allow me to marry y/n?) (nay and tay is used a shortened version of nanay and tatay, as a nickname used by your partner in this case)

“oo. pwede yan hajime” (yes. that’s allowed hajime)

claps and cheers from you and his family. (you guys def call him out for being nervous and he denies it)

now, in celebration, you guys eat dinner! sm good fucking food god bless and your families get to know each other.

your moms compliment each other on the foods they cooked, share recipes, and cooking tips.

your dads talk about work and about you two.

again, they’re getting to know each other so they talk about themselves, where they’re from, their jobs, etc.

you and haji will have small conversation while they have their one on one talks and you’ll tease him even more for being nervous from earlier.

“awww was my fiancé nervous on what my parents would say 🥺”- you

*shoves food in your mouth* “no. i don’t know what you saw mahal ko” (mahal ko- my love)

giggles from both of you AND YOUR FAMILIES GIVING YOU TWO THE KILIG LOOK (kilig- giddy feeling toward romance)

you guys won't have many plans for your wedding yet (this is happening a few weeks after he proposed), but you’ll share the little information you two have planned so far like who’s being invited, attire ideas, and a vague idea what the venue will be like/when it would seasonally be.

BE PREPARED FOR ALL THE EMBARRASSING STORIES FROM YOUR CHILDHOODS

you guys will die of embarrassment before you even get married

your dad will show baby videos that are really funny and haji’s parents will show embarrassing photos they didn’t get the chance to show you yet.

(watch one of them be haji’s messy face after eating ice cream HAHAHAH)

all of the parents will give you two advice for married life and relationships in general like to trust each other, make time for each other, never go to bed angry, and more.

CUE THE “kung nasaktan ka yung baby ko sapakin kita hajime ha.” FROM YOUR DAD LMAO (if you hurt my baby i'll punch you okay hajime.)

*nervous gulp* “opo tay” (yes dad)

OFC IT’S JUST A PLAYFUL JOKE BC THEY LOVE HIM BUT just a warning

“hoi, y/n. kung hihirapan ka kasi tigas olo si hajime, sabihin mo sa akin” - haji’s dad (hey, y/n. if you have a hard time because hajime is stubborn, tell me)

“why am i being attacked” - haji

“same to you hajime. i'll throw my tsinelas at y/n” - your mom (tsinelas- slippers)

“WH- WHY” - you

laughs from all of you guys

overall it was a great experience and really fun night for everyone. all of you are now well acquainted and your parents might hang out together sometimes bc they have SO MUCH CHISMIS and enjoy each other

“sige. we’ll be heading out!”

“ingat kayo!”

you kiss haji goodbye and YOUR PARENTS WILL KILIG: “eeeee!!!”

I HOPE YOU ENOYED THAT BB! i tried my best to research to make pamamanhikan accurate as possible but it may be vague.

I RELIED SO HARD ON TRANSLATION SITES FOR THIS PLS MAHIHIRAPAN KO SA TAGALOG BWISIT

if you have any more requests, leave some in my asks :)

aoba johsai masterlist

half-filipino!iwaizumi and reader make oikawa try balut for the first time (scenario/hc)

creds to @jesus-christ-super-ace for the idea mwah mwah mwah

reader is implied as filipino and gn!reader as always.

this is more of a platonic writing between oikawa and filo iwa and reader, but there’s a hint of ✨relationship✨ for you and iwa.

for dialogue, t=tooru h=hajime y= you

CW: LOTS OF CURSING LMAOO OUR CURSES SOUND SO BAD TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH 💀💀

god i hope my characterization for oikawa is accurate enough 💀💀

this all started when oikawa and iwa chan made a bet.

if iwa lost, he would have to take oikawa out to lunch, but if oikawa lost, he’d have to try balut. (balut: duck embryo that is boiled and eaten from the shell)

oikawa ended up overestimating himself and lost to iwa chan.

iwa tells you about the forfeit oikawa has to do, and YOU IMMEDIATELY WANT IN.

i saw a post that said oikawa was prolly a sore loser and I 100% AGREE esp in this case. oikawa alr knows what balut is, AND HE DOES NOT WANNA EAT IT

he’d act all whiny, come up with reasons how iwa didn’t win, and avoid the forfeit at all costs. i mean i don’t blame him IT’S AN EMBRYO.

so here you two are. LITERALLY dragging oikawa from his house to yours to force him to eat balut.

t: “NOOO I DON’T WANT TO. STOP. KIDNAPPERS. I DON’T KNOW THEM.”

h: *bonks oikawa’s head* “PUTANGINA KA SHITTYKAWA GUSTO MO SAPAKIN KITA?? (you bitch (there’s really no exact translation for putangina mo) shittykawa you want me to smack you??) THIS IS YOUR CONSEQUENCE FOR COMING UP WITH THE BET IN THE FIRST PLACE”

t: “BUT IWA CHAN YOU ALREADY SAPAK-ED ME. Y/N-CHAN HELPPP” (HIS TAGALOG WOULD BE SO SLANGED TOO PLS)

y: “do you hear something hajime?”

h: “nah. i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

t: *proceeds to whine even more*

when you three finally reach your intended destination with the balut waiting on the table, oikawa tries to bolt out your premises, only to get thrown over iwaizumi’s shoulder.

h: "don't make us tie you down gago" (gago: asshole/bitch. just an insult LMAO)

iwa would offer to eat one first himself to show oikawa it really isn't a big deal even though his O.A ass still thought otherwise.

if you also like balut, you'll eat one with haji saying how delicious it is and how oikawa is really missing out.

if you don't like balut, (like me) (DON'T ATTACK ME PLS I HAVEN'T HAD IT IN A WHILE I'LL TRY AGAIN NEXT TIME I HAVE IT TO SEE IF MY OPINION CHANGED) you'll try it with oikawa to make it better.

omg oikawa gags so many times bc he really doesn't wanna do it and you and haji are just like

"gago ka pala :|. kainin mo na. ang tagal ka." (son of a bitch :|. just eat it you’re taking too long)

during the time tooru stalls to eat the damn thing, you and haji are sharing other snacks like boy bawang and skyflakes like the power couple you are.

t: "iwa-chan, y/n-chan :(((( stop flirting it's gross"

y: "by the time you're done that SINGLE balut there won't be any choc nut for you so bilisin mo." (choc nut: filipino candy bar. bilisin mo: hurry up)

both your eyes are literally glued to him so he won't spit it out or run away again.

when he FINALLY decided to eat it he'll close his eyes so hard and sadly chew it.

y: "how is it"

t: "i don’t like itt"

h: "too bad you only ate half of it when you have to eat the whole thing."

he'll eat the rest while downing some mango juice (gina brand ofc)

his review is literally "never again. no. i respect your food but it's not exquisite in my taste bud's opinion."

in addition, you and tooru managed to come up with a plan yourselves. you guys literally have telepathy, and knew what the other was thinking with one mischievous look. iwa was so sus tho.

t: "iwa-chan!! what is this called again"

h: "anak ng- choc nut"

y: "you mean CHOC ON DEEZ NUTS" (I'M SO SORRY I LITERALLY CAME UP WITH IT IN THE MOMENT I HAD TO INCLUDE IT BAHAHAH)

you and oikawa just burst out laughing while iwa is there like 🙂🩴

haji is literally about to grab his tsinelas (slipper) and sampal (slap) you guys right there and then. he will def take away the choc nut and make tooru eat another balut. (joke lang...unless? 😟)

after the balut shenanigans, the three of you will hang out and continue to eat filipino food oikawa is actually familiar with, be chismosas (gossipers or “tea spillers” in modern terms), and do what you all do on normal hangouts. all of you get to third wheel each other LMAOO.

I HOPE THIS IS OKAY I REALLY TRIED LMAO

GUYS ARE YOU PROUD I DIDN’T USE GOOGLE TRANSLATE AT ALL FOR THIS SCENARIO :DD (if something is wrong filo moots pls tell me 😀)

i should start tagging my kuya iwa supporters. lmao. @jesus-christ-super-ace @nanaomiomi <3 yall frfr 🤪

aoba josai masterlist

being in a relationship with semi eita headcanons

HEHEHE @nanaomiomi FOR OUR BELOVED SEMI BC HE’S UNDERRATED AF :|

i literally love him sm i just want a warm ol hug from him :))

SIMPS FOR SEMI ENJOY <3 gn! reader

HIS SMILE IS SO AHHHH 😩😮‍💨😩😮‍💨🦋🦋🦋

he’s a bit of a tsundere but only before dating and in the early stages of your relationship.

tendou would’ve teased him about his crush on you before dating and he’d be SOOO annoyed.

like tendou would give him the “oooo it’s your crushhh” look. and smirk at him a lot.

tendou would also hint at you and semi on your crushes on each other

he wouldn’t be like >:( tsundere but he just doesn’t make his feelings obvious/known to you, and tells you to shut up if you do things that make him blush.

he just doesn’t wanna embarrass himself or mess up pls 🙄🤚🏼💕

he isn’t tsukki level tsundere but he’s like iwaizumi in a way. THINKING ABOUT IT HE’D BE A LOT LIKE HIM LMAO.

he would be kind to you and be genuinely interested in things you do/what you have to say.

but he was a teensy bit shy at first

reon def had to calm him down before his first date with you AHAHAH

“semi, don’t panic tm! everything will turn out great. don’t lose your head”

“i’m not panicking. i’m not even nervous i’m perfectly chill. cool headed.”

*cue the blanked face stare and blink from reon* LMAO

ONCE HE GETS COMFORTABLE IN THE RELATIONSHIP HE’S SUCHHHHH A SWEETHEART

you guys would have matched black painted nails. (YOU GUYS WOULD DO EACH OTHERS NAILS IM SO SOFT)

omg bonus you’d have a matching white/glitter nail on the same finger 🥲🥺

he makes playlists with songs that remind him of you or playlists for you in general.

he sends songs that reminds him of you.

HE GIVES YOU THE SOFT SMILE HE LOVES YOU SM

literally has sm love and adoration for you it’s insane

he writes songs for/about you

if you guys are chilling together you can hear him softly humming songs he recently got into.

or when you guys are going to sleep he’ll hum or softly sing until you fall asleep

WHILE HE DOES THAT HE KISSES YOUR TEMPLE WHILE PLAYING WITH YOUR HAIR GOD I LOVE HIM #im in need of a female semi

i headcanon that he pushes himself to work harder and overworks himself since shirabu became the regular setter.

you have to reassure him that he’s enough and HELP HIM NOT TO OVER WORK

his pet names for you include hummingbird (PLS I HEADCANON THAT SM), my love, bub, babe.

HE LOVESSS giving you forehead and temple kisses omg.

in public he’d hold your hand or put his arm around your shoulder.

TENDOU BACK AT IT AGAIN WITH TEASING YOU TWO AGHAHAHAHA

“ahhh young love. isn’t it cute?”

pls tendou would take sm pics of you two tho and you’d ask him to send them to you

he likes playing the guitar for you.

if you don’t know how to play he’ll try to teach you sometimes and then kiss your hand if you complain that your fingers hurt after 😩😩

if you do know how to play, if you play a song, he’ll pick a riff or fingerpick the song along with you.

sitting on his lap to do his eyeliner for fun.

blasting “i wanna be yours” by arctic monkeys while making out 😮‍💨😮‍💨

suppperrrr attentive. like he always checks up on you and makes sure you’re doing okay mentally and physically.

you’re his personal stylist and he asks you on opinions on his clothing bc tendou said he “looks uncool” in casual clothes 💀💀

HE GETS ANNOYED WHEN TENDOU CALLS HIM SEMI SEMI BUT IF YOU EVER CALL HIM IT HE WON’T MIND <3333

all in all, i love semi sm :,). GOD #i need a female semi pt.2 <33

shiratorizawa masterlist semi eita spotify playlist

watching trese w kuya iwa and oikawa hcs? 👁👁

bestie romeo back at it again with the kuya iwa hc ideas.

BEING FR- I FORGOT A LOT OF THE THINGS THAT HAPPENED SO THIS IS PROLLY VAGUE

gn! reader (ALSO: t = tooru oikawa; h = hajime iwaizumi; y/n = you)

CW! SOME SPOILERS FROM TRESE. READ AT YOUR OWN WILL. ALSO, slight language

watching trese with oikawa and half-filipino! iwaizumi

you and iwa would’ve watched it already, but oikawa brings it up one day when he sees it while finding what to watch on netflix.

t: iwa channn, y/n channn!! did you watch that new filipino anime that came out on netflix yet??

h: yea what about it?

t: CAN YOU GUYS WATCH WITH MEEE I WANT TO WATCH A FILIPINO ANIME WITH MY IRL FILIPINO FRIENDS PLEASEEEE

y/n: im down!! we can educate you on our culture and myths too.

you’re all either at oikawa’s house or haji’s, but if you’re at haji’s, he’ll have filipino snacks for all of you to really enhance the experience.

we got everything like boy bawang, balut, oishi shrimp chips, piattos, otap, pancit canton, literally anything bruh. (choc nut for nuno)

you and hajime will be cuddling on the couch or be closer to each other than oikawa and he’s there third wheeling like 💀💀

t: huh it’s getting a little cold in here don’t you think

h: *throws him a blanket* here that’ll fix it

I FEEL LIKE OIKAWA IS A MOVIE/SHOW TALKER

like in serious parts he’ll shut up and pay attention but otherwise he’ll just be talking and asking about it at random parts sm you’ll have to rewind a lot.

t: ooh what’s that

y/n: it’s a duwende

t: *tries to say it for the next 5 minutes*

y/n: tooru i will throw this remote at you i’ll help you learn it later just sh for now

HIM BEING LOWKEY SURPRISED/SCARED AT THE ASWANGS AND WHEN HE SEES NUNO

t: OH MY GOD WHAT IS THAT

h: nuno is a spirit of the elderly. if you don’t say “tabi tabi po” on their property they will curse you. he reminds me of you.

t: IWA CHANNNN ARE YOU CALLING ME UGLY 😞

y/n: 😀☝🏼 NO well maybe BUT NO IT’S BC YOU’RE A CHISMOSA TANGINA (chismosa: gossiper. tangina = bitch)

when moments like the prison attack happen with the thing with the prisoner, he actually wants to chat about it and his opinion before the next episode. it turns into a whole deep conversation.

this makes watching stuff with oikawa so fun and worthwhile.

you guys would be watching in tagalog dub and he’d be shocked to find out some of the things haji calls him are so rude.

t: OH HE JUST SAID WHAT YOU CALL ME IWA. YOU CALL ME A GAGO- … I THOUGHT YOU SAID THAT MEANS IM TALENTED 😞

WHEN THE WIND ELEMENTS GET THEIR PRIZE OF GETTING LAID BY KAMBAL (pls that was so humorous i can’t) OIKAWA MAKES SM SMUG COMMENTS you guys end up laughing a lot.

t: woah ho ho getting action i seee 👀 kambal went to town that night hehe

during the final battle he gets so upset when everything starts going wrong.

t: WHY’D THEY KILL CAPTAIN GURRERO WHAT

t: KAMBAL AREN’T SUPPOSED TO DO THAT WHY WHAT ARE THEY DOING NO

don’t forget his tagalog would be pretty slanged but he’s trying

lowkey predicted the ending tho. he’d be like “is this some ending where the lesson is family is stronger than anything or something”

5 minutes later: “Malakas nga ang lukso ng dugo, pero hindi matitinag ang pamilya.” (the bond of blood might be strong, but the bond of family is stronger)

t: I KNEW IT HAH YOU HEARD ME RIGHT

you and iwa: SHUSH WATCH THE DAMN SHOW OIKAWA

all in all, oikawa would really enjoy trese. he likes the folklore and he got to learn more about his besties.

he finds all of the aswangs and creatures very cool and interesting even tho they may look ugly/scary to him.

he liked that it was funny and really showed the culture of the philippines. he ofc would say all this to both you and haji.

he would text you two in the middle of the night that he got a nightmare of a tiyanak or xa mul. you guys would lowk laugh but reassure him they aren’t real for like two weeks.

he’d also swear he saw the white lady of balente drive while walking home from practice even though we’re in japan???

you guys wouldn’t express it, but you guys both appreciate oikawa enjoying it and his willingness to know more about the legends and myths from where you two came from. oikawa def knows you two feel this way tho.

BAM DONE. I HOPE YOU LIKE BESTIE ROMEO I ENJOYED WRITING THIS.

aoba johsai masterlist

tags: @nanaomiomi @jesus-christ-super-ace

easy: a semi eita songfic/ficlet

» hey!! it's been a while, sorry bout that. my mental health had been very poor and i hit a huge creativity block. BUT i'm good now! also @nanaomiomi ENJOY THE MEAL.

» i'm going to try to break my block with this songfic so enjoy! it may be bad so don't judge too hard :,) gn! reader

4:02 pm

it’s a saturday afternoon, and you’re sitting on semi’s bed, while he’s at his desk trying to create a new song. in the dim, tidy, room, the light of his desk lamp beamed below him. you were both in comfortable silence excluding the video audios that’ll occasionally play from your phone.

he rests his guitar on his lap and rubs his eyes.

“babe you should take a break you’ve been at it for a while,” you tell him a little concerned.

“you think so? i guess i could stop for a bit.” he sits up from his chair, puts his light wooded guitar on its stand, and walks over to you on the bed. he sits down, and pulls you on his lap to cuddle you.

“you overwork yourself sometimes love,” you tell him setting down your phone and snuggling into his neck.

he looks down at you, “i’m working on it i promise,” he kisses your temple while playing with your hair, “i’m taking a break by cuddling my amazing s/o now. that’s way better than working.”

you agreed while wrapping your arms around his waist, holding onto him like there’s no tomorrow.

“can you sing me a song?” you ask softly, “maybe it’ll spark some inspiration.” he nods accepting your request, and starts to think of a song to sing for you. he starts to hum the song “easy” by mac ayers, but you suddenly shot your head up to look at him.

he looks at you worriedly, “what’s wrong? are you okay?”

“use your words!!! your humming is very pretty, but i think your voice is even prettier,” you replied pouting and in a jokingly offended tone.

he chuckles at your reaction, “i was only joking buttercup,” he pats your head back to the crook of his neck, “relax now i’ll ‘use my words’ this time.”

“oh you heard what they say, oh the more things change, the more they stay the same, ain’t that a shame.”

he starts to softly tap a beat on your arm as he feels your warm smile on his neck. as he continues to sing the song, you softly hum along to the song that was familiar to both of you. you decide to join him for the chorus.

“i can say that loving you is easy. i don’t need to prove a single thing. somewhere along the way, i guess you got under my skin”

“there’s my angel’s voice,” he says smiling, lightly teasing you.

“shut uppppppp,” you say hiding your pink face in his shirt.

“don't worry you know i love it when you sing.” he smiles and closes his eyes as he starts to ease into the music. you, on the other hand, close your eyes from the wave of relaxation you get as he sings.

“whatcha’ say, starry eyed? how you love to smile and watch the clouds reside.”

semi is probably the best boyfriend you’ll ever have. he’s everything you’d want in a boyfriend. sweet, kind, romantic, handsome, charming, caring, everything. there’s nowhere you’d rather be, than in your boyfriends arms. it reminds you how lucky you really are to have him.

semi, on the other hand, thinks back to the earlier stages of your relationship. at the beginning, he was a bit of a tsundere. despite his early antics, he still managed to get you to fall for him. he’d often wonder how he could get a person as wonderful as you. to him you’re perfect, his angel, his. that alone is crazy to him.

as he starts to sing the repeated chorus, he feels your breathing become steady and realizes you fell asleep. he predicted this would happen, it always does, but why would he turn down the opportunity to have you cuddled against him? he sings the last lines of the song in a hushed tone.

“i put all my cards out on the table. you ain’t ever gonna show your hand. i would rather hold you close than try to understand.”

with one final glance and kiss on your head, he pushes the hair that fell to the front of your face aside.

“i love you, y/n. i’m really lucky i get to call you mine,” he whispers to you as he falls asleep, resting his cheek on your head.

that’s the end! this was probably pretty rough since it’s been a while since i’ve written. hope you enjoyed nonetheless :,)

shiratorizawa masterlist

THIS 😢😢😢😢 i love. omg.

PUT MY LIPS TO SOMETHING ┊  MIYA OSAMU 

synopsis: after a string of terrible dates taking a break sounded ideal. then Miya Osamu happens, and you find yourself back at square one. foolish, hoping, and hungry.

tags: GN reader, post timeskip, (blind) first date, reader is a foodie (and has a big appetite), implied bad past experiences (ppl mean about said apetite), insecurities (not about weight), strangers to lovers, sharing food + feeding each other, flirting, romantic + sexual tension, first kisses, *slaps roof of kitchen* you can fit so much Love into this thing!!!!!!!

wc: 5K

The evening laid bare in strokes of colour. The air is tepid. People part around your inert figure as you stand to the side and watch, shifting awkwardly between each foot. You were ten minutes early. And it seemed so was your date.

You exhale, palm laid over your rapidly beating heart. You’re not sure what your expectations were after agreeing to let Saeko set you up on this blind date but Miya Osamu exceeded. A beautiful stranger. Tall, broad shouldered with dark hair and hooded eyes. The dress shirt he’s wearing is close to a second skin, drawn tight around his back and clinging just slightly to his soft middle, shirtsleeves rolled to the crook of his arms.

On a whole you trusted her judgment. Apparently he owned the small restaurant she and her colleagues frequent for their lunch hour. She promised that he was handsome, which was plain to see, and effused repeatedly that the two of you would work well together. Nevertheless you can’t help feeling cautious.

Dating has been… tricky at best. A game to some, a way to keep score. The search for validation. A means to an end. A fleeting cure to boredom. You don’t think you’re particularly bad at meeting new people, but it can’t be ignored that you don’t have much to show for it thus far.

You’re aware enough to discern the root cause. You loved food—that’s the long and short of it. You savoured meals to the very last crumb, seeking out the various flavours on your tongue to really get to the heart of the dish. Because that’s what food did: it loved back.

Dates often treated you like a different creature entirely upon witnessing your appetite. Poorly veiled embarrassment, or concern, or disdain as you sat across from one another and ate. Different in a lesser way, in a distasteful way, as though they were sampling fine wine for the flavour and you were just drinking for the sake of getting drunk, when it was quite the reverse.

Anyone would think you behaved like an animal. Your table manners were fine. You treated the staff with respect. You made conversation and asked questions, even when they made no effort themselves, and tried to make the best of the evening.

With every failed attempt at making a connection you were beginning to grow lonely. The presence of your loved ones and their families, their partners and their children, never truly filled that cavernous ache in your chest. Poured in like morning sun with hopes to warm you from the inside out, perhaps, only all that ever did was make the hole more obvious to you.

Taking a break from the scene sounded ideal. Then Miya Osamu happened to see a photo of you over Saeko’s shoulder, expressed his interest, and you found yourself back at square one. Foolish, hoping, and hungry.

There’s phantom heat around your fingers. The gentle squeeze of Saeko’s hands as she sent you off. “This one will be different,” she told you. With her words echoing in your thoughts, you pat down either side of your hips, ironing out the creases, and start toward him.

Osamu is leaning against the outer wall now, scrolling on his phone. A warm musk fills your senses as the distance shortens. Smooth notes of oakmoss and vanilla. He must notice your approach in his periphery, because he straightens up and steps forward, turning to face you with an apprehensive smile. The attraction between you becomes tangible before either of you speak a word.

"Hi," you smile back, oddly at ease to see that he is equally nervous. "Miya, right? I think I'm here to meet you".

The tension slips from his posture and from yours in turn. His smile grows and deepens the crinkles by his eyes as his gaze sweeps over you. Dawn casts the street in a peachy tint and it dapples across his cheeks in a  faux blush. "Sure hope so," he says. "Call me Osamu. Ya look beautiful, by the way".

Something rouses in your chest. You're warm now. His accent is unfairly charming, like the rest of him. "Thank you," you reply, lingering on the delicate silver chain around his wrist, and how the folded fabric of his sleeve strains around his forearm. "So do you".

"Beautiful?" Osamu echoes, brow arched with the teasing lilt in his voice.

You hum, drawn to the natural heat emitting from his body. "S'what I said, isn't it?"

"So you did," he murmurs, the low timbre settling over you like silk. When your eyes meet he rocks back on his heels, clearing his throat and gesturing to the restaurant he picked for tonight. "I made a reservation for us. Wanna head in?"

"I'd love to".

As if entering another world, the noise lowers into a pleasant din. You step through the tall latticed doors into what appears to be a bistro-style restaurant. All autumn pigments and harmony. Family owned, from what you recall after searching it up last night. The main dining area has a romantic ambience to it, balmy toned lanterns centred on each table and an open kitchen where the chef is lovingly making a yakisoba dish.

"Tanaka mentioned yer a bit of a foodie," you blink from your appreciative stupor and glance at Osamu. "Apparently they serve really good European food here so," he rubs at the back of his neck, a little pink and unsure, his shoulder jerking in a loose shrug. "Thought'cha might like it".

Your heartbeat floods your ears. "I really like it," you say, hushed, flustered at his thoughtfulness. Before he's able to respond a host has approached, young and dressed in a well pressed black vest, not a thread out of place. He bends into a perfect bow.

“It is a pleasure to welcome you this evening. Will it be a table for two?”

Osamu sidles closer. There's presence at your lower back, his hand lingering, and you decide to lean into it. “There should be a reservation for two under the name Miya,” he nods. The host brightens.

“Of course! Right this way".

The host takes off toward the rear dining area, hidden from view. Osamu encourages you forward and as you walk together he leans to whisper in your ear, "We haven't seen the best part yet".

You immediately understand what he's referring to as you're led through a pair of golden drapes and into a conservatory space that looks out on a lustrous bamboo grove and a small koi pond. Your table is right by the stretch of windows, offering a lovely view. It steals the breath straight from your lungs, “Osamu…”

Once seated the host returns to offer you a pair of damp towels on a tray. Osamu orders a drink while he wipes his hands, and then you do the same. You sink into the cushioned back of your chair. A shoe brushes your ankle and retreats to settle alongside it, just a couple of inches. The centrepiece gently breathes to life, illuminating the table.

Anticipation trickles back in as Osamu voices his gratitude and you realise you’ll need to order in front of him. His focus turns to you as the host departs, discerning your expression. “D’ya wanna order a starter first?” he asks, sliding a menu to you.

The menu is thick and glossy. You make a commiserate sound, thumb plucking at the corner of the card. “Everything sounds really good. I’ve never had carottes ra—âpées,” you murmur, skimming excitedly over the dishes and listing off the things that catch your eye.

A low chuckle interrupts your train of thought. Rather than underlying irritation, you’re met with amusement and curiosity. “Really do like yer food, huh?”

Heat floods your body, and you resist the urge to grimace. “Sorry, I can get carried away. Is there anything you want to try?”

“Thinking of getting grilled octopus and canola to start and the sea bream for main,” he recites, studying you in the low light. Muffled are the far off sounds of meat popping on the hot stove-top and you can smell a sweet, coconut-like aroma. “Don’t need to be embarrassed y’know. I’m a food lover too”.

You perk up noticeably in your seat and Osamu’s expression near melts into sheepishness. “You run a restaurant, right? Saeko mentioned”.

“Ah, yeah. Onigiri Miya. Nothin’ as grand as this,” he gestures to the surroundings offhandedly. Your eyes linger on the flex of his throat as he swallows, pride bleeding into his voice. “Won a Food Made Good award though, just last month”.

“No kidding. Congrats Osamu, that’s amazing,” you grin, instinctively leaning into his magnetism and resting your hands on the table surface. Osamu seems to mirror your movement without meaning to. “Have you always wanted to run a restaurant?”

“Never really thought about it. Up to the end of my second year I assumed I’d fall into somethin’,” he admits. “I sorta hit the ground running after graduating. My brother too—”

“Excuse the interruption. I have your drinks,” interjects a new timid voice. The server shuffles forward to set the glasses between you on the table and then fumbles for her notepad, clicking the cap down. “Are you both ready to order?”

Osamu recovers and recites his choice for starter and main, and you do so afterwards without second thought. It’s nice, being at ease. Sitting opposite Osamu feels natural. The glass is cold against your palm, ice cubes clinking softly as you bring it up your lips and drink. You nudged the conversation forward before it could wilt. “You were saying, about your brother?”

“Atsumu. He’s my twin brother,” Osamu begins with a small smile, poorly hidden behind the rim of his glass. He sets it down, watching the amber liquid ripple. “Played volleyball since we were kids, but he always loved it a little more than I did. So while I racked up every business permit and licence I could get and he dove first into division one”.

“You both sound pretty brave, in your own right”.

“Thanks,” Osamu grinned and you got the impression that you very much said the right thing. “Brave is a new one. We’re used to bein’ called reckless idiots”.

“Tomayto tomahto,” you tease, lifting an arm and crossing your fingers together. After another sip, “Gotta be a little bit of both, right?”

“You’re right about that,” he conceded. Mouth thinning as if to rein in his smile, he reached up to needlessly fix his hair. “How about yerself, what do you do?”

Attraction hung over the table, an incorporeal anticipant thing that swells as the evening unfolds. Darkness enveloped the bamboo grove and activated the small aureate floor lights placed between the culms. You fall into natural conversation over your starter dishes. You share laughter. Tender and succulent; you share food, too, leaning forward to pluck a sample from his plate, offering your own. Not a single grimace.

Every other first date pales in comparison.

Osamu watches you with a hooded gaze warmed by his second pint of beer. There’s a certain satisfaction to him, contentment. The tip of his tongue peeks out to catch an errant drop. He nudges his ankle to your calf again when the server returns to clear away your starter plates, and you don't move away.

“Can I ask why you’re single, and what you’re looking for?”

“Finally, the hard hittin’ questions”.

You laugh, “We’ve got to get over the boring first date spiel at some point tonight”.

Osamu rumbles his assent, rests his chin in his palm, casting an idle glance to the garden as he thinks. “Think my answer’s kinda standard. At first I never had the time ‘cause of the restaurant, didn’t think it’d be fair,” he  begins, and his mouth twists into a little self-effacing smirk. “When I thought I was ready I tried some’a those dating apps but nothin’ ever clicked for me”.

“I get it. Gauging chemistry is harder online,” you affirm softly, readjusting your seat as the server steps up to set down your main dishes, inclining her head in greeting but with enough grace not to interrupt. Osamu voices his gratitude, sliding his plate closer. The grilled tai is a beautiful fleshy pink colour, garnished with sprouts and hosta leaves.

“Ma says I’m a romantic,” he continues sheepishly, plucking up his chopsticks. “I’d prefer to meet someone naturally, face to face. To really feel it when ya click with each other”.

“Yeah?” there’s an ache blooming in your cheeks as you glanced down at your food. The plate is still hot to touch. You pinch your chopsticks and inhale the rich scent of saffron, garlic and onion, and beneath it all sharp notes from an open flame. “I think we’re doing pretty good on that front”.

“Better than I hoped,” he murmurs, supple and full of promise. The hair on your arms prickles. When was the last time anyone looked at you like that, you wonder. “Soon as Tanaka caught on that I saw your picture on her phone she was determined to appeal ya to me. Thought it might be too good to be true”.

You hum around your first mouthful, feeling much the same way. Saeko had worked hard to strong arm you into meeting him. The food falls apart gently on your tongue and suddenly your agreeable noise becomes a pleased crescendo, taken by the rich smoky flavours.

After swallowing you grow self-conscious; the weight of Osamu’s focused attention is heavy. Rather than embarrassment, the flush tinting his cheeks seems to be something else entirely. He has a chunk of grilled tai between his chopsticks, halted halfway to his lips. “Is it that good?” he teases, strained.

There’s no true malice or ill intent behind it. It’s lighthearted—you could even delude yourself into thinking he sounded fond. You kick your lips, inhibitions worn a fraction after a glass of liquor. “I’d say that’s obvious,” you smiled. “It tastes amazing. Thank you, for picking this place”.

“S’been my pleasure believe me,” he says, finally taking a bite of his own. Like him, you observe how his expression flickers as the flavour fills his senses. A flare in soft surprise, rippling as he chews and discerns the texture. His eyelids flutter closed, lashes fanning out over the high point of his cheeks, and open in the next breath to catch you staring.

“Is it that good?” you echo coyly. Osamu smirks, a glimmer in his eye. He picks up a small piece of the tai sandwiched with a hosta leaf and cups his hand beneath it while offering you a try.

“See for yaself,” he says. Energy simmers under your skin, all buzzing heat and jitters. You quickly sip your drink, rinsing your palate before shuffling closer to the table's edge and lean forward, lips eagerly parting to take the morsel into your mouth. A hitched breath. Osamu holds your gaze while you parse the hints of dashi broth and ginger.

“God. You weren’t wrong. The texture is perfect…” you stop yourself from rambling further and swipe your bottom lip as you recline in your chair, chopsticks poised like pincers. Pulse quickening behind your ribs you copy his actions, taking a sample of your dish for him to try. “Try mine too?” you offer, abashed.

Osamu struggles to temper his grin. Words aren’t necessary. He props himself onto his elbows and stretches forward, pink mouth wrapping around the end of your chopsticks. Closer now you notice the soft cupid’s bow on his top lip. He draws back with a soft groan as he chews—the sound ripples down your spine.

“Never tasted anything like that. Almost has a tangy bite to it,” he praised.

“Right? It’s amazing how they managed to marry earthy and briny together. I think it’s a Spanish dish, maybe,” you wonder aloud, eyes sweeping over the table. “How have I never been here before?”

“It’s my first time too, a friend recommended it. Heard they’ve only been open a year and some,” he tells you. Eventually the conversation slows as eating takes precedence. The server flits in and out to take your empty glasses, bringing refills. Sitting there, now with an empty plate and your third drink half full, a different spirit entirely sifts inside you.

Osamu admires you over the rim of his beer. “I never got to ask earlier,” he mused. “Are ya looking for a serious relationship or…?”

You scarcely hear him, preoccupied with staring at his other loosely curled hand beside the centrepiece. If he notices he doesn’t mention it. “I am. I’ve been trying. Any more than this I might actually fit the definition of a serial dater,” you admit, in an attempt to reciprocate some of his prior vulnerability. “But all I want is to settle down. Find someone”.

About to take another sip, Osamu's fingers slip slightly on the condensation around his pint. “Yer serious?” he baulks. His accent is thicker, rough. You wince at his tone. “Sorry, sorry. I just have a hard time believin’ nobody snatched you up yet”.

Feeling a little like a damn has broken in your chest, you nod. “Maybe I tried too hard. Somehow showing genuine interest only ever puts them off more,” a brittle bout of laughter breaks the delicate quiet, and you begin tearing at a napkin to distract yourself. “And most of them didn’t really… like my appetite. I embarrassed them sometimes, I think”.

Agitation on your behalf flickers in his expression; brows drawn taut, jaw clenched, it flies over his face and smooths out just as quickly. “That’s bullshit,” he said, sounding far calmer than he had looked. Warmth encompasses your hands and your fingers pause their repetitive motions. Osamu runs his thumb over your knuckles. “‘Scuse my manners. But ya not embarrassing in the slightest. There’s nothin’ more satisfying than watching someone eat well”.

A slow smile pulls at your lips. The napkin is in pieces. You sense his caution in crossing any boundaries, pressure alleviating as though to pull away, so you overturn your wrist and thread your fingers together. “I think so too,” you reply. “Not much better than good food and good company”.

“Guess we’ve covered all the bases,” he murmurs, squeezing until your palms kiss. “Feel like sharing some desserts with me?”

The hunger in your heart rears its head. Mentally you send a good word to Saeko, knowing you owe her more than a drink or two for this. “Can’t say no to that,” you return, voice a little thick. Whatever will prolong the night.

Dessert ends up being a beautiful burnt honey cake. It comes with a creamer of liqueur laced chocolate sauce that strays as you pour it. Osamu watches you clean a wayward thread of melted chocolate from wrist to heel with your tongue, grey eyes overcast with something heady. You feel a pulse of magnetised desire where there’d been none before as wet fingers popped free of your mouth.

It’s delicious, you're sure. You can hardly remember anything beyond the face he makes as he tries it.

The end of the date looms with dreadful finality. Osamu pays the bill in full despite your countless protests. You walk through the front dining area, busier than it had been, and in passing you bow your head toward the chef working behind the bar and the host at the entrance.

“Thank you very much,” he acknowledges politely. “Please come again”.

It’s jarring to step back out from the restaurant’s welcome embrace into the street. “Guess this is it,” you inhale deeply and move to Osamu’s side to sap him of his warmth, wrapping yourself around his arm. He pulls you closer and you yield like putty, partly the need to shield from the crisp, late night air and partly the desire to prolong your time together.

“Did you walk here?” he asks, rubbing your hip. Your hand is splayed over his chest, heat seeping through the fabric, heart tapping against your palm.

“I got dropped off,” you reply. “I’ll have a car pick me up”. Osamu dithers for a moment, visibly searching for the right words. He rubs at his neck—a nervous habit you’ve noticed.

Whatever you were expecting it wasn’t, “Are ya still hungry?”

Your mouth opens and closes. True, there’s no real physical ache of hunger but you would hardly describe yourself as full, or sated. “…I could eat,” you confess. Osamu grins at that, dark hair haloed by the streetlight. “Why?”

“My restaurant isn’t far from here. If yer comfortable with it, the cab can pick you up from there and I’ll make a treat for the ride home,” he says. He must take your brief silence to mean discomfort, because he continues on. “Ya can say no,” he murmurs, thumb stroking back and forth at your waist. “Just didn’t want the night to end yet”.

The offer strikes a chord within you, and you feel like you could burst. You want. Guided by fleeting impulse you press a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. He startles and then moves as if to chase it. Your breath catches as you come together in a soft, chaste press of lips.

“I’d like that,” you rasp, patting at his chest and unwilling to part. There’s relaxed, padded muscle underneath. “What’s the address?”

After receiving the address you input it into your phone, scheduling the taxi to pick you up in around thirty minutes—at Osamu’s suggestion. As promised the restaurant is no more than a five minute walk, tucked away alongside a few other establishments. You notice the Onigiri Miya sign fixed above the door displaying his logo, but the shutters are down.

“Gotta head in through the side,” he explains quietly. You nod, clasping both hands around his forearm and letting him lead. The clink of his keys fills the silence, followed by a series of clicks. The door opens and he flicks the switch on. You squint at the intrusive light that floods the space, blinking to adjust, and make a low inquisitive noise as you meander through.

The interior errs on traditional, and it works well. Hanging along the accent wall is a banner of the shop name written in calligraphy, and other various artworks are littered throughout showcasing appreciation for the local agriculture.

Osamu disappears into the back amidst your exploring. You duck beneath the curtain draped across the doorway to find him. The kitchen is small, an obvious compromise to make room for more dining space. Food preparation is dedicated to the heart of the kitchen on an island-like setup, while dishwashing and such are pushed to the perimeter. Osamu embodies it comfortably and confidently.

Hands wrung against your stomach, you lean to get a closer look at what he’s doing. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Osamu stops, still poised to reach for the water bowl next to his workstation. There are multiple others set out, each seemingly with a different ingredient. His mouth pulls into a boyish grin. “Don’t worry about that,” he says, inclining his head to the stool opposite. “Just sit there looking pretty and I’ll feed ya something good”.

You bite the inside of your cheek and wonder if it’s possible for butterflies to hatch in your chest. A fuzzy giddiness that spreads to the tips of your fingers, and you want to kiss him again. “Promise?”

“Promise”.

Lowering onto the stool, you watch raptly as he wets his fingers and takes a pinch of salt to rub into his  hands. Skin glistens under the pale florescence. Osamu's visage wanes, and you're struck by how at home he looks.

“So,” you speak, if only to fill the silence—and to hear his voice again. “What made you fall in love with food?”

Osamu scoops the cooked rice from a nearby bowl into his palm and starts to shape it. He doesn’t pause in his motions, even with the contemplative tilt of his head. “Lots’a reasons, really,” he says. “Earliest one I can remember is when I made breakfast for my gran for the first time. Ma helped out, ‘cause I was only five or six, but I was real proud of myself”.

“That’s cute,” you murmur, a nascent fondness stirring inside your body at the imagined young Osamu that flashes through your mind. “Did it turn out any good?”

Deft fingers knead a shallow dip into the centre of the rice ball. “Course it didn’t, I used way too much salt. But she still ate it, and it made her feel better”.

“Because she loves you”.

Osamu meets your eyes. Outside, droplets stutter out a drowsy staccato against the windows, cohesive with the beat of your heart. The moment feels pheromonic, like when you know something is just right the second you find it. “Yeah,” he murmurs. His mouth curls up and he tucks some of the nearby ingredients into the rice. “See, yer getting it”.

That's what it is. Osamu likes to take care of people. Your focus falls to deft fingers, gently folding the rice over, as though tucking it in. He gives it a triangular shape, adorned with a slice of nori, and sets it into a small cardboard tray. Without preamble, he reaches to start another.

"Y'know, first time I ever confessed to someone it was with onigiri," Osamu tells you, unheeding of the wellspring he opened in your chest. "Made 'em that same morning, had a speech and everything. Never told anyone I was gonna do it".

You hum and scoot closer, folding your arms atop the island. It's cold ot the touch. Osamu appears to blossom further under your avid attention. He repeats the steps, pressing new filling carefully into the heart of the rice and admits, "Got rejected, though".

Your face falls. "I'm sorry, Osamu".

"It's fine. In the end I gave one of 'em to 'Tsumu, and I ate the other," he shrugs, looking rather happy for someone talking about their botched first confession. "Know what he told me?"

"What?"

"Looks me dead in the eyes and goes 'What the hell, 'Samu. Are ya holdin' out on me? These taste better than usual'," Osamu pitches his voice as he recites the memory, presumably mocking his brother. You laugh, and he ducks his chin to hide his grin. "I remember missin' three serves that day. He told me since I suck so bad at volleyball I should be a chef instead. Idiot doesn't even remember he said it, but..."

While he had meant his words to be light you heard the significance beneath it. You rise from your seat. Osamu tucks the third and final onigiri into the tray and lets his focus stray toward you. Featherlight strokes up his forearm, you rest your cheek against his shoulder. You peer through your lashes and look at Osamu's face, at a tentative beginning.

"And now you're here," you say, reaching to cup his warm cheek. He leans into it, lids fluttering as your thumb traces an arc beneath his eye. His ears are warm against the tips of your fingers. "You did it".

"Yeah," Osamu releases a shaky breath. "Is it—can I kiss ya again?"

Your answer comes with the tilt of your head. Osamu kisses you, solemnly sweet. You can faintly taste the beer he drank. He's warm, firm under your hands. You feel him smile against your mouth and smile back, nipping at his plush lower lip. The intensity grows as a strong arm coils around your waist, his wet, rice soiled hand held away from your clothes. Your fingers slip into his hair as his tongue dips into the seam, slides over your own and along the grooves in your teeth, drinking the whine right from your mouth.

"Osamu," you sigh, pushing harder, needing to be closer, and yet he is pulling further away. "Noo, come back".

"Greedy thing" he rasps. His voice is infused with warm laughter. You hum as he kisses you again, similar to the first. It's quick and chaste, and with too much finality for your taste. "I know. But I'm pretty sure that's yer ride waiting outside".

You sniff haughtily, following his line of sight to the car headlights filtering in through the windows. "Wait. Let me walk ya out," he mumbles, turning away to find a towel to wipe his hands on. Meanwhile you gingerly pick up the takeout tray of onigiri and cradle it to your front, as though something precious.

"Ready?"

The night is colder than you remember, and you'd only been out of it for a short time. Sparse raindrops pitter patter on the pavements, leaving dark little dots on the concrete. Osamu walks ahead to check with the driver and then waves you over, opening the door himself.

"What a charmer," you tease, turning into him once more and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you, Osamu. I had a really great night".

"Good enough to see me again?"

The crinkles by his eyes are knowing, aware that he needn't ask at all. And the thought that you could be another person for Osamu to take care of—it satiates the ache.

"Maybe I can cook for you next time," you say as you climb into the backseat. Osamu bends, peering into the car.

"Promise?"

Loneliness is just another form of hunger. You realise that now.

"I promise".

In karasuno bus

Yn: I.. have to go number 3

Daichi who was sittingbeside yn: number 3?

Hinata: OMG YN HAS TO GO NUMBER 3

Daichi turns to look at yn: what's number 3??

Yn who puked on his lap:

Daichi: oh..

wearing his teammates jacket

feat. oikawa tooru, bokuto koutarou, atsumu miya

warnings: boys being jealous little idiots ;)

oikawa tooru:

It was another late night of Oikawa practicing.

Originally you’d come to the gym in the hopes of coaxing him out early. But sometimes even you didn’t have enough pull to stop Oikawa when he got like this–so, knowing how important this was to Oikawa, you settled for finding yourself a small nook on the bleachers and getting a start on your homework.

Most of the boys had left, leaving just you, Oikawa and Iwaizumi (who, like you, found it hard to leave Oikawa on nights like this–even thought he’d never admit to it).

Keep reading

around the world - y. nishinoya x f!reader smau

"She can't stay in one place for long. Luckily, neither can he."

summary: nishinoya is pretty sure he's met the girl of his dreams after he has a fling with a travel vlogger in brazil. she's pretty sure that she needs to get as far away from nishinoya yuu as she can before she falls in love with him. unfortunately for her, he doesn't make it easy.

OR nishinoya follows the girl of his dreams around the world.

tags: strangers to friends (with benefits) to lovers, PINING, idiots in love, smau

warnings: cursing, not nsfw but they do have sex, drug and alcohol usage, nishinoya is an insane person (affectionate), oikawa, kms/kys jokes

PLEASE NOTE: any and all pictures used of real people in this smau are placeholders! there will be no physical attributes assigned to yn.

chapters:

introductions: oikawa tooru hate club | fifth wheeling

chapter one: day one, brazil, rio de janiero

chapter two: coming soon...

i’m your biggest fan <3 (repost)

fanboy!au where you’re their favorite character in the show haikyuu!! gn reader. Some suggestive but no actual nsfw

kuroo

lurker stan who snaps when you start gaining popularity and doesn't let anyone forget that he was there ‘since the debut date'

will refuse to believe in any au! where you're not single

absolutely haaaates the love interest you have in canon and his line of defense against it is "cant they just be friends? yall are lame for shipping them when all they did was hold hands and kiss a few times lmaoo"

has a private insta account for fanarts

if the mangaka ever releases post time skip material where you're with your love interest kuroo literally gaslights himself and others into believing it's just a cover up

if he sees someone wearing hq merch in public he'll be like "oh, my sister likes that show. who's ur favorite?" and then judges them based on their answer

the opposite of bokuto, he finds other y/n stans annoying and sees them as competition

so possessive of you and thinks he's the only one who truly actually loves you

makes hcs in his head of icks for you and forces himself to love you regardless #scorpio

tries to write y/n x reader but it's all so obviously self insert

"y/n ran their hands through your messy black hair and tugged your 6'5 frame in for a kiss"

when ppl come at him for not being inclusive he says it's just his style of writing

anon: "um u literally put your name in there. your name is tetsurou isn't it?"

starts putting a header with "dont like, dont read. haters and antis will be blocked on site 🙃"

only kenma knows about his obsession fixation and its only bc he saw kuroo's laptop wallpaper once (you setting up for a serve with your shorts riding up your thighs a bit)

bokuto

never actually watched hq, but saw a post of you on his dash and fell in love

bases all his knowledge off of fanon opinions

religiously checks character polls to see where you're at

makes a bunch of burner accounts to vote and posts the poll link on his personal fb

pops into his relatives' dms to get them to vote for you. 

"hi great auntie hope the surgery went well <3 this is bokuto's son kotarou btw!! i went to the potluck last year lol. anyways can u just click this link and vote for 'y/n l/n' please?? thank u <3 ur new hair looks great <3″

buys all fan merch specific to you; your game jersey, a replica hoodie you wore in season 2, a cosplay of your school uniform, etc

absolutely wears it in public with no shame and will geek out if anybody recognizes it

"how do you feel about [main character]?" "who??? idk them lol. anyways so about y/n..." 

literally doesn't know anything about the show but is obsessed with you

on tinder puts "its ok if ur not but looking for someone like y/n l/n😍😍😍" in his bio

oikawa

oikawa sitting crisscross applesauce on the floor in his room, booty shorts and a crop top with his hair back in a pink bunny hairband surrounded by bergamot grapefruit candles, holding a piece of frankincense "i am in the world of haikyuu. i am y/n l/ns boyfriend. there are infinite universes." jdksla

"soft stan" to the death (🙄) he will never. lewd. his. baby

a y/n apologist even if ur pre-redemption arc

makes a tumblr account just so he can reblog fanfics and comment "this is ooc lmao" or "my angel would never"

the one making fan theories

will skip class even if he has an exam to see the hq movie in theaters

goes in sweatpants, sunglasses + crocs and keeps his hood on the entire time

obnoxiously shushes anyone who talks during the movie but gasps loudly whenever u come on screen

somehow finds a way to bootleg the movie in 4k and takes a bunch of screenshots of u afterwards

posts the best pics on his fan blog with an obnoxious ass watermark over your cheek

only reads smut to "quality check" them 🤨

daichi

an actual soft stan

if he sees any sexy content with you he will blush hard as he reports the user for inappropriate conduct

reads oikawa's fan theories and feeds into it

asks questions on anon like "what do you think of y/ns character development in episode 7? what does this tell us about them?"

sits and stares at his wallpaper of you for an unhealthy amount of time. swears he needs to do it in order to sleep properly

suga gets him tickets to a convention and he cant sleep the night before

literally vibrating in excitement when he gets there and goes straight to all the vendors with your merch. 

he's so hesitant to buy anything but he can't look away and hovers so bad jdksks

side eyes anyone who has naughty fanart of you or sexualized cosplays

asahi and suga surprise him with your nendo at the end of the day and he bursts into tears right there LMAOO

ushijima

casually reads the nastiest smut in public with a straight face jdkskak

"toshi, come get dinner!" "ok, hold on, mom. after they come." "after who goes where? did you invite someone over, honey?" he doesn't respond and keeps reading.

sends the same request to multiple blogs. "hi y/n getting creampied by a tall male reader who has strong legs and a wide chest." "can you write y/n x male reader breeding kink please" "male reader x y/n + prompt 24 'gonna take all my cum like a good slut, right?' please"

if tendou is reading shounen jump and you're in it, he'll read over tendou's shoulder from like three inches away

tendou stops lending him them bc toshi never returns it or he gives it back a week later with crinkly pages HMMM

has a large poster of you over his bed

speaks to it like you're a real person.

"sweetheart, i bought groceries today. you like fruit, right? me too. let's eat."

sits there on his bed eating an apple and just straight up vibing next to your poster 

this is how he heals himself

suga

an exclusive stan. he doesn't believe in being a multi stan

will cut you out from group shot posters and pin it on his 'my dream future✈️💸💘' moodboard

somehow has 17k followers from only posting phd level y/n x gn!reader fluff and grammarly sponsors his posts

but his likes are filled with straight filth

tries to convert everyone into a y/n stan 

makes a "what kind of person you are according to your fave in hq" as an excuse to lowkey roast everyone who isn't you

has a licensed figure of you and sometimes he rubs a finger over your ass oh boy

leaks raws and spoilers from his sideblog

kageyama 

tries to make fanart but has no skills. posts his stick figure drawings anyways and warns all 2 of his bot followers to 'not steal or use without permission'

you know that girl who brought her life sized hq cutout to take her senior portraits? that's him and his y/n cut out 

frames the photo and keeps it by his bedside

reads smut on the train with his screen at 100% brightness

someone snaps a pic and he becomes a meme but he doesn't care

even if he hates your favorite foods, he forces himself to eat it

has a small picture of you in his wallet and watches it lovingly on the way home when hes not reading smut 

sees someone with a keychain of you in public and stops functioning 

jaywalks across the street and goes straight up to ask them, "where did you get this? how much was it? can i buy it from you? do you have more?"

unironically looks into those marriages where people marry anime characters/inanimate objects 

genuinely thinks you’re a real person in the world somewhere and believes in soulmate!au irl

his therapist needs a therapist

masterlist

pink magnolia, part one

washio tatsuki doesn’t need love. he needs drugs, women, and people to stop making him work so damn hard. a chance meeting with a daycare worker flips that all upside down and changes him—for the good and the bad.

pairing: mafia underboss washio tatsuki x daycare worker f!reader with hair, 8.1k, part one of two (nsfw, 18+, minors dni)

warnings: graphic depictions of murder/death, depictions of abuse, depictions of prostitution, depictions of drug use, heavy degradation, hair pulling, pussy slapping, oral (m!receiving), face fucking, breeding kink (no pregnancy kink), overstimulation, dacryphilia, spit kink, thigh fucking,

thanks to: i owe @vanille–kiss and @anime-nymph my life <3 <3 <3 betaing and ideas are mostly all them and i am forever thankful!

banner by the amazing @vanille–kiss — please go check out her works!! she is amazing!

tagging: @hqintheclub, @anime-central, @stargirl2898, @erinoikawa, @betheydochaos, @miyarinrin, @antique-remains, @theoriginaleclipse, @rinsangel

join my taglist here! tipjar (not necessary) here!

part one || part two || black petunia || red peony || white lily || mafia au masterlist

The thing about being an underboss in the mob is that no one questions him.

People know why Washio Tatsuki is there when he comes calling. It’s why their eyes grow wide, why they try to scramble away, why they beg for their lives before he sends a knife into their gut or a bullet into their skulls. Underlings bow their heads whenever he walks into the Raijin parlors, quickly making space for him at his favorite table, no matter how powerful the clientele sitting there is. Women flock to him, draping their arms over his shoulders with flirtatious giggles before riding his cock with loud moans and watery eyes.

It’s also why his sister Kana agrees to let him pick up his nephew from daycare for the foreseeable future, even though her shitty husband is vehemently against it. He can hear them fighting from the other room as he lounges on the couch, arm swung over the back, a half-drunk beer in his hand.

“You can’t let him—”

“He won’t do anything to Kaito, he’s a good uncle!”

“He’s part of the—” Her husband pauses. “You know what he does.”

Yeah, and what he does paid for the entire apartment he’s currently sitting in, watching the 5-year-old Kaito draw stick figure policemen on the floor.

“Why the policemen, kid?”

“They’re cool,” Kaito responds with a boyish grin. “They get to carry guns!”

Washio snorts and finishes off his beer, suddenly very aware of the gun hidden on his hip.

The only reason he is bothering to pick Kaito up in the first place is because some tech mogul owes Suna a large amount of money and refuses to pay up. Washio prefers to spend his time in places filled with bags of white powder than places with snot-faced kids, but this is the only place Ninomiya Shintarou has been spotted alone lately. He must really love his kid to pick her up every day from the daycare, or maybe he thinks that the Raijin clan won’t attack him if he has his daughter with him. Either way, the guy is more slippery than a goddamn fish.

So he walks up to the lemon-colored building, past the pink magnolia trees lining the front walkway, and throws open the door.

The place is a zoo, screaming kids running around with their plushies dragging along the ground, or smashing their toys along the wooden floor. There are a handful of teachers trying to round up the students for an afternoon snack, and some of the kids listen while others continue to laugh with their friends. One boy who can barely even walk on his own comes to a stop right in front of Washio’s feet, big eyes blinking up at him, the blanket in his hand falling to the ground when he opens his mouth—

—and absolutely wails.

This isn’t the first time a kid has cried from looking at his face; he’s gotten used to how downright menacing he can look when his face is resting. It’s worked in his favor ever since he was recruited into the Raijin clan in high school, but that doesn’t mean his ears aren’t shattering with how loud this boy is crying.

“Jesus kid, shut up,” he grumbles but it does nothing.

Hurried feet pound across the floor and there’s a gasp of “Natsuki!”—and that’s when Washio sees you for the first time.

Your red and blue checkered apron is stained on the bottom and covers your khakis and black t-shirt. You’re pretty—too pretty to be stuck in such an ugly get-up anyway—and you kneel down next to the boy, scooping him up in your arms. He calms down slightly, quieting down enough so that you can stand up and blink at the underboss before you.

“Can I help you with anything?”

“Nope.” Washio shrugs, taking a look around. He doesn’t see Kaito but that doesn’t surprise him. The kid’s always been popular, just like Kana always was. “I’m gonna hang for a bit.”

“No, you won’t,” you counter with a narrowing of your eyes. “What’s your name? Are you on the designated pick-up list?”

“Definitely not.” Washio stares at you and the way your lips set at his answer. “Listen, I’m here for Kaito.”

“You can’t just walk in here and demand to see a child. You’re a stranger.” You glance behind you, checking on the other workers still rounding up the kids before dropping your voice. “If you don’t leave, I’m going to call the police.”

“Calm the fuck down, lady. I’m not a stranger, I’m his uncle.”

“Even so, Kaito’s pick-up time is at 6PM and it’s 4PM. You can come back later after I’ve called Kaito’s mother.”

Washio crosses his arms over his chest as he regards you. The crying boy is fast asleep against your shoulder so there’s no way you can bar him entry. You’re tiny compared to him anyway, looking like you haven’t worked out a day in your life, probably because you’re too tired after wrangling up brats all day. You wouldn’t last a day in the parlors, not with all the grabby men who sit at the tables, betting their savings just to get a girl to finally fawn over them.

So he shrugs and walks past you into the daycare. Who are you to stop him?

Well, you might not be able to stop him, but the police you call certainly can.

Washio didn’t actually expect you to go through with it, but two men in blue uniforms and ugly yellow vests show up barely fifteen minutes after he’s taken a seat in a much-too-small pink plastic chair, watching Kaito play with his friends. He stares at you incredulously as you take a breath and ask him to step outside, the two men behind you silently backing you up. It nearly makes him laugh, the power you think you have just because you called the cops. Once that protection is gone, it would be easy enough to make you disappear, one way or another.

“Like I told this lady before,” he grinds out between clenched teeth. “I’m Kaito’s uncle.”

“My name isn’t lady,” you huff and give your name before crossing your arms over your chest. “And I called Kana-san—”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake—”

“—And,” you continue after the interruption, tone clipped with your annoyance. “I’m asking you to wait outside until she arrives.”

You’re not asking him anything. You’re telling him, commanding him with the back-up of two fat old men and the correct assumption that he won’t cause a scene in front of a bunch of toddlers. He sighs, slapping his thighs as he stands with one last glare to you.

“Sure, queen, whatever you want.”

Kana is none-too-pleased when she rolls up in her crappy old car, the motor sputtering as she throws it in park and turns the car off. It isn’t her exasperated expression Washio is focused on, but the fact that her tires are still bald and old. He had given her money for new tires just last week—what happened to it?

“Tatsuki,” she sighs when he comes up to the landing where he’s been waiting for thirty minutes. “What did you do now?”

“Hell if I know.”

“So you do know him?” You question after bowing and offering greetings. “Is he really your brother?”

“Yes, he’s my idiot younger brother, Washio Tatsuki,” Kana sighs and turns to him. “You know for a—” Then she pauses, glancing at the police officers still standing around. “A powerful guy, you’re a right dumbass.”

“I’m not the one who called you down here when a phone call woulda been fine, but whatever.”

“Excuse me!” You huff discontentedly, and Washio only regards you with an annoyed glare.

The police officers excuse themselves; Kana explains that he’ll be picking Kaito up for the foreseeable future; you begrudgingly agree, the smile on your face stretched a little too far to be believable. When Kana leaves, Washio turns to you with a tilted grin.

“Well, I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other, huh?”

“I guess.”

By the look on your face, you’d rather take a bullet to the face than let him back into the daycare, but you step aside anyway.

If you’re serious about that, Washio thinks with amusement as he steps inside and reclaims his tiny pink throne, he’s definitely the guy who can make it happen.

It’s cute how you think glaring at him will make him go away. He arrives around 3 or 4PM every day, sitting in a wooden chair (Kaito stole his pink throne a few days ago), waiting for Ninomiya Shintarou to show his face. The mogul hasn’t been back since he was spotted last week which is probably good for him, because if he showed up now, he wouldn’t be showing up ever again.

Still, it’s a perfect opportunity to observe you as you flit around the room, taking care of the little punks who always need your attention. In fact, he’s pretty sure he’s never even seen you take a break while your other co-workers definitely have. Washio knows some of these kids as children of the rich politicians around the city—the daycare is private and expensive for a reason, after all—and the rest, well, he doesn’t really give a shit.

“Why do you keep coming so early?” You ask him one afternoon when he strolls in, nose scrunching up when you smell the nicotine on his breath. “You don’t need to come until 6PM.”

“Why? Do you miss me when I’m gone?” Washio teases as he walks past you, eyes flickering down to your annoyed expression. It’s cute. Most girls fawn over him because of what’s in his wallet and his pants, but you’re the only one who challenges him. Probably because you don’t realize exactly who you’re dealing with; Washio is sure you’d change your tune pretty quickly if you ever stared at the end of his gun barrel.

“No,” you emphasize as you follow him. “You scare the children when you sit in the playroom like some kind of… mob boss.”

Well, no shit.

“You sure it’s just the brats?” Washio stops and turns to you, and you nearly run into him with how hot you were on his heels. “You sure you aren’t scared of me, too?”

“I’m not scared of you,” you immediately answer, and by the hardened look on your face, Washio knows you’re completely serious. Maybe he should fix that. “I’m—”

He doesn’t know what you’re going to say. There’s a high-pitched cry from the playroom and you both look over to see Kaito on the ground, holding onto his knee after tripping over the leg of a table. Washio’s at his side in a minute, pulling him up to sit and checking his leg for any cuts or scrapes. When he sees there’s nothing, he chortles.

“Alright, quit crying.”

“Uncle Tatsuki,” Kaito whines. “Hurts.”

“Yeah, yeah, but it could be worse, kiddo,” he laments, putting a hand on the top of his head. “What do we say about pain?”

“It’s terp- uhh, tremper, uhh- temporary.”

“Yup. Unless you’re dead. You dead?” Kaito shakes his little head, tears still leaking from the corners of his eyes but no longer crying. “Didn’t think so. So get up and go play with your friends.”

Kaito mumbles ‘okay’, and as soon as he’s on his feet again, he takes off, running around like there wasn’t a commotion in the first place. Washio turns his head to the right and sees you standing there, a curious tilt to your head, a light smile on your face. It makes his heart thump against his will, and his frown sets as he stands up.

“What?”

“I didn’t know you were such a good uncle.”

Washio smirks. “You fallin’ for me or something? I can be a nice guy.”

“I said a good uncle, not a good person,” you frown and turn on your heel.

Washio watches you go to the next room, bending down on your knees to help a little girl color some picture in a coloring book. He only realizes he’s been staring the entire time when a kid bumps into his legs and nearly falls over. He forces himself not to look at you; keeps an eye on the door until it’s time to take Kaito back home; pretends he doesn’t see your gaze lingering on his back as he walks out, Kaito’s sweaty little hand locked with his.

As soon as he’s free, he’s at the parlor, one of the girls draped all over his lap as he swipes bills from rich but shitty poker players. He doesn’t even bother taking her to a hotel; she’s bent over for him in the bathroom, fingers clinging to the sink as he fucks her harshly from behind. His pupils are dilated, body so hot as he snaps his hips into hers, the cocaine buzzing through his system making him feel alive. He doesn’t even know her name, doesn’t bother to learn it, because it’s not like he’s ever going to see her again.

He slaps a hand down on her clit, making her yelp and cling harder to the porcelain, and a hand in the back of her long locks jerks her head up to look at him through the mirror.

“Fuck, you want it?” He asks with his labored breaths, sweat pouring down every crevasse of his body. “You want my cum? Want me to breed this little pussy?”

“Y-Yes!” she chirps, but he knows it’s a lie. They always say whatever he wants to hear in the heat of the moment; he knows no one truly wants him anyway.

Not that he can blame them. He wouldn’t want to start a family with himself either, not with the shitty childhood he had. Absentee father, drug addict mother—you know, one of those stupid backstories you see for the villain in all the movies, giving an excuse for their “vile behavior.” When his mother overdosed, it was only him and Kana left, the two Washio siblings against the world. She supported him through everything, making sure he was keeping up with his studies, not that school ever fucking meant anything. It definitely didn’t matter when he came home to see Kana beaten and bloodied, trembling at the feet of some old, fat, sick fuck who called her “his property.”

“I’m sorry, Tatsuki,” she had whispered as he helped her clean up the cuts on her arms and face. “I didn’t want you to find out like this.”

She had to keep them afloat somehow, didn’t she? Kana was always a pretty girl, popular and caring, with too many suitors to count. And now she had too many clients to count, spreading her legs and selling her body just so she could put food on the table and support him through high school. It pissed him off so badly that he followed that disgusting John, walked right up to him in the back alley as he was smoking and sent a piece of wood straight to the back of his head. Washio beat him within an inch of his life, standing over the man’s bloody and tattered body, adrenaline making his weak little hands shake. He had been so ready to kill him, but—

“You got balls, kid.”

There Kurosu Norimune stood, amusement on his face as he walked closer, suit crisp and wrinkles on his face even crisper. He took one look at the shaking man at his feet before sending a leather loafer right into his side. The John groaned and turned over, his swollen face nearly unrecognizable.

“This guy’s pretty powerful.”

“Don’t care,” Washio spit, crossing his arms over his chest. “You with the cops or something?”

“Far from it,” Norimune laughed and shuffled around in his maroon suit jacket, handing over a business card from a sleek golden card holder. “Here. Could use more crazy fucks like you around.”

If he stopped to think about it, he would have known the offer was too good to be true. The card read “club owner”, but the guard lingering at the end of the alley and the private driver screamed something else. But Washio Tatsuki wasn’t thinking. He was raging—angry at the John, angry at his sister, angry at the world for birthing him into some shithole with no way out.

So he picked up the phone as soon as he got home and pledged his allegiance to the former Raijin clan head at the age of 16.

“That fucker won’t hurt you again,” he told Kana about a week later when she wiped the blood from his cheek and neck and patched up the cuts on his knuckles.

And he never did. Washio made sure of it when he buried him six feet under.

The singer at Ushijima’s Harajuku club is absolute shit.

Or maybe it’s just his mood, because on top of having no leads on Ninomiya, Kana just texted him asking him to pick Kaito up from daycare, even though he said he couldn’t today.

Why can’t your husband do it? He texts back.

He’s busy, is Kana’s simple answer.

Suna sits with Ushijima and Sakusa in a booth at The Cygnus, talking about who knows what because he doesn’t care. After a few angry messages, he slams his phone down on the bar top and nurses a drink, listening to the lifeless girl croon about heartbreak and bullshit.

“Washio,” Suna eventually calls him, and the underboss obediently follows, stuffing his hands in his pockets as they make their way out of the club. When they slip into the car, Suna looks at him from the corner of his eye. “Nothing?”

“Guy’s a fuckin’ snake, Boss. He’ll show up eventually.”

Suna hums his answer, but Washio knows his boss better than that. He’s none-too-pleased, hands settled on his lap, one leg crossed over the other. It’s taking too long for Suna’s liking, but hell, it’s taking too long for his liking, too.

It was his idea to wait inside the daycare instead of lingering outside—easier to keep an eye on the place, easier to pursue Ninomiya if he showed up and happened to run again, easier to overhear the workers talking. They didn’t look up what the daughter looked like, only her name and where she went to daycare. Suna was very clear that he didn’t want to bring a kid into the mess just because her father owed millions of yen to the mob. So Washio came up with the idea, using Kaito as a tool to wait for the asshole to show his face, but it’s all been for naught cause the guy hasn’t shown up before Kaito needs to get home. He’s about to say fuck it and switch to a stakeout (fuck, he hates stakeouts, they’re so boring) when Suna clears his throat.

“Then he figured out you’re there. Stay late and see if he comes. But if he doesn’t show his face by the end of the week, wait outside instead.”

“Sure, Boss.”

Tonight’s the perfect opportunity since Kana said she had to work late. He shows up just a few minutes after 7PM, walking into the building to see your surprised expression as you wait in the foyer, Kaito clutching your hand tightly.

“I didn’t expect to see you today. Kana-san told me she would be late.”

“Yeah, well, I’m here instead,” he grits out. He’s pissed off, eyes flashing murderously behind him to see—no one. Are you here alone? “Where’s everyone else?”

You glance to your right where a few children sit and play between a tornado of toys, broken crayons, and stick figure drawings before you turn back.

“Two people called off sick so I’ve been alone most of the day, and some parents are late.”

Now that he’s looking closely, there are bags under your eyes and you look so tired, obviously run ragged from a long day full of excited toddlers. From the look of the place, you won’t be leaving here til 9 or 10PM, depending on when these parents show up. He looks down at Kaito, the little boy blinking up at him with a smile.

“Are we going home now?”

“In a bit,” Washio says before he shrugs off his shoes.

“Washio-san—”

“I’ll help,” he grits out. “This place is a fuckin’ disaster.”

“Wait, huh? No, no I’m okay, really, I just—”

“I said I’m gonna help,” he deadpans before looking down at Kaito. “Can you play with your friends for a little? Got some work to do.”

He looks bummed but he says okay, running into the room and taking off his little backpack. You glance up at Washio before he shrugs, hands stuffed in his pockets as he follows his nephew. He cleans the place up a little bit, organizing the toys, sweeping the floors, helping you prepare snacks for the three children who are still there just after 8PM. Kaito sits with two girls, one of them in pigtails, one of them with a ribbon in her hair, watching cartoons and sipping on their apple juice boxes.

When you finally get a chance to sit down on the floor, you stretch out your legs with a sigh.

“Thank you, Washio-san. That was… kind.”

Kind is not a word he’d use to describe himself, especially not when he’s planning to use your naivety for his own benefit.

“Told you I could be a nice guy.” He snorts, ruffling the back of his head. “You stay late like this all the time?”

“Lately, yes. A couple of parents have pushed their times later and later. I don’t mind because I love the children but…” You sigh, eyes landing on the girl with pigtails. “She stays the longest. Lately Ninomiya-san can’t pick her up until 9 or so. He suddenly switched about a week ago.”

“Ninomiya Shintarou?”

You turn your head back to him with a nod. “Do you know him?”

Got’em.

“Yeah, he’s some tech mogul,” he lies easily, leaning back on his hands. “Didn’t think Kaito was friends with some famous guy’s kid.”

“Kaito is a kind boy. He has a lot of friends.” There’s a flick of your eyes over to him before you shyly mumble, “It must run in the family.”

Whoa. Whoa. What is happening here? Are you… are you flirting with him? He’s used to swipes of hands over thighs and arms, little giggles or kisses to his neck and cheek, crafty little grinds against his cock as women sit in his lap. He certainly isn’t used to fidgety daycare workers who keep glancing at him out of the corner of their eyes, biting down on their lips the longer he doesn’t answer.

So he tests it. He knocks his knee against yours and nearly laughs when you push back slightly and don’t retreat. You glance over, reaching out for him, and for a second he thinks you’re going to touch him. But then you fix the twisted strap of the apron he put on while doing the dishes, patting his shoulder before dropping your hand.

“It fits you. The apron, I mean. Not working here.”

“The fuck?” He asks with amusement. “You saying I was a shitty help or something?”

“Stop swearing in front of the children,” you hiss before shaking your head. “No, I mean, it doesn’t fit you. You should be doing something else.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a security guard or something, you have an angry enough face for it.”

Well, you’re close enough.

“This face has made more than a few kids cry. Adults too, probably.”

You laugh, covering your mouth with your hand as you try to contain your giggles. It’s cu—nope. No. He can’t think that. Now that he knows when Ninomiya will show up, he won’t have anything to do with you. Kana can go back to picking up Kaito, her husband can go back to being a lazy piece of shit, and he can go back to doing what he does best instead of sitting in a daycare like some lame ass private investigator on a mission.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you say as you try to calm yourself down. “I shouldn’t laugh but—but I remember Natsuki crying and it’s just so funny.”

“Shut the hell up,” he grumbles, grabbing onto your hand and pulling it away from your face. You try to contain your giggles by pressing your lips together but your face twists with the effort to stay neutral and quiet. “Or else I’ll make you shut up.”

Your face drops immediately, the shift in the air quicker than a bullet to the brain. You stare up at him as he holds your hand, bottom lip trembling when he crawls to his knees, his large body hovering over yours. You have to crane your neck back, lips parting as your breathing picks up slightly, eyes locked on his.

“How?” You breathe out, and you look surprised you even asked him that out loud, eyes widening.

“I can think of a few ways,” he mumbles back, thumb on your lower lip dragging it down slightly.

His cock twitches in his pants when you squeeze his hand, squirming on your ass like you’re trying to calm yourself down, breathing coming even heavier now. Fuck, he wants you so bad. Wants to take you right here on the floor of this daycare, wants to make you tremble more than you already are. Based on that hooded look on your face, you want him too. Kaito laughs about something from the cartoon, and Washio immediately pulls away from you, tugging his hand from your grip. What is he doing? He’s got the info he needs; he doesn’t need to stick around this place anymore after tonight. But then he looks at you, the disappointed tilt to your lips, a sad crinkle to your eyebrows, and that feeling of needing to have you comes back ten-fold.

Shit, this is a fucking mess.

“Should take him home,” he mutters as he rises to his feet, throwing off the apron and letting it pool on the ground. “Kaito, let’s go.”

“But Uncle Tatsuki, the policemen just—”

“Now, kid.”

Washio doesn’t deal with hearts, or feelings, or love, or any of that shit. He deals with guns and knives, blood and guts, white lines on tables, and messy meetings in back rooms.

That’s why he doesn’t look back as he walks out of the daycare.

Suna is a pretty fair boss, all things considered.

Sure, he might be missing a third of his ear from when he tried to take over the clan a while back, but he’s still alive and still the underboss.

That’s more than he can say for Ninomiya Shintarou.

Washio had shown up the next day and waited outside, and just after 9PM, the mogul had come to pick up his daughter, just like you said he would. Washio followed them, keeping a distance until they pulled into the parking garage of Ninomiya’s apartment building. Ninomiya hadn’t been two steps out of the driver’s side door before Washio set a hand on his shoulder, giving him a stretched smile that didn’t meet his eyes.

“Nice to finally meet you.” He glanced into the backseat of the car where his daughter slept in the back then looked back to the shaking man. “Might want to call your wife.”

Ninomiya did, and Washio watched him pass off the daughter in the parking lot elevators before mumbling something about work coming up. A quick drive to the local park later, and Suna Rintarou sat in Ninomiya’s passenger’s seat, drumming his gloved hands on his knee. Washio sat in the backseat, gun in his gloved hand, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

“The money?” Suna asked calmly. Ninomiya had sputtered his answer—there’s some in the glove box, please, I can get more later—but Suna put his hand up to shut him up. “I looked into your company. It’s not doing so well, is it?”

“I-It’s only a setback.”

“So you’ll have the full amount for me by tomorrow?”

“I… I need more time.”

“I think I’ve been more than lenient,” Suna deadpanned, then glanced back to Washio with that all-knowing look. “Washio.”

Washio wrapped his hand around the man’s jaw, forcing it open even though he struggled to get free. That didn’t stop him from setting the barrel of his gun into the man’s mouth and pressing the trigger. Ninomiya went limp immediately, and Washio was quick to wrap his fingers around the handle, finger on the trigger like it was natural, all before rigor mortis could set in. Then the Raijins exited the car, wiped their faces clean of the blood spatter, and drove off together, business effectively finished.

The morning news called it the suicide of a nearly ruined man who thought he had no other options. The police said that they were looking into where he purchased the firearm but “currently do not expect foul play.” The tech company was quick to release a statement, stating that while this was a tragic loss, they would somehow survive and endure. The Raijin clan involvement was erased as quickly as the CCTV tapes from the parking garage, all for a measly half a million yen, not even one-fifth of what Ninomiya owed them.

“Here,” Suna had said, throwing a wad of bills his way as soon as they made it back to his penthouse. “Go gamble with it.”

But he didn’t want to gamble. All he could think about was you.

Now that the Ninomiya shit is over, Washio knows there’s no reason for him to be standing outside, watching the pink magnolias sway in the night breeze. Kana picked up Kaito hours ago now that Washio didn’t need to anymore; workers and children slowly trickled out one-by-one until the daycare went quiet; he can see only one shadow crossing in and out of the closed front window, signaling that you’re still inside. That’s when he slips to the front door, hands stuffed in his pockets.

The knock is loud as it echoes in the quiet night, and your footsteps pound on the wooden flooring as you come to answer.

“I’m sorry, we’re—Washio-san?”

You’re not wearing your apron anymore, and your hair isn’t in its usual ponytail. It floats around your cheeks, framing your face that twists in confusion.

“What are you doing here? Kaito went home hours ago.”

“I’m not here for Kaito,” he answers before he reaches out and grabs onto your upper arm. That feeling from the last time he saw you, the one where he needs to have you, is even stronger now, multiplied when you grab into his shirt with a little gasp. “I’m here for you.”

“Wha—” Your squeak interrupts your answer as he pushes you back, the door slamming shut after he nudges it with his foot. “Washio-san!” You whine when your back collides with the wall, a framed picture next to your head shaking at the force. “Wait—”

“Told you I’d shut you up,” he mutters before forcing his lips onto yours.

There’s a jolt of lightning that spreads through his veins when you immediately kiss him back, arms thrown around his shoulders to hold him close to you. Your lips move together quickly, your fingers tightening in the back of his shirt when he presses his body against yours. You part your lips for him as soon as he swipes your lower lip, and his hand crawls up the back of your head until his fingers are tangled in your hair. He gives a tug and you moan into his mouth, tongue pressing even harder, moving even quicker.

Washio pulls back to run his wet lips all over your chin and neck, tongue darting over your pulse point before he bites down hard. The moan you let out goes straight to his cock, and his hand in your hair jerks your head to the side so he has more room to work with.

“Wait—” You whimper when his free hand ghosts down your front, tugging your t-shirt out of your pants with a few harsh pulls.

“Fuck, I waited yesterday,” he growls into your skin as he licks and sucks at your sensitive flesh. “I saw how bad you wanted this. Don’t fuckin’ lie to me.”

“No, I—I want to but not, ah, not here—”

But your fingers are already tugging at the hem of his shirt, hands pushing into his undershirt so you can run your hands all over his skin. Your nails dig into his sides, pulling his crotch flush against yours so you can start grinding his hardening cock against your covered cunt. It makes him curse into your skin, grinding just a little bit harder until you groan.

Washio pulls back so he can throw your shirt off, eyes glazing over your chest before he follows suit. You gasp as soon as he’s shirtless, eyes wide as you get a good look at his tattoos for the first time. They spiral all down his arms and chest, mixtures of black, blue, and green ink, swirls of Raijins, vines, and thorns.

“What…. Wait, are you—?”

“I just like them.” His lie is smooth. “I’m about to make you see God and you’re worried about some fuckin’ ink?”

Then he’s back on you without waiting for your response, lips and tongue meeting yours, hands on your hips keeping you flush against him. The previous hesitance is quickly forgotten; you’re practically humping him now, needy little whimpers muffled by his mouth, your fingers hurrying to undo his belt.

“I… I work here,” you babble with a gasp, fingers quickly opening the clasp and undoing his button and zipper. When your fingers brush over the growing bulge in his pants, he grunts, hands moving to cup your ass and squeeze hard. “I shouldn’t.”

“Who the fuck cares,” he grumbles before forcing your pants down.

Your panties are the furthest thing from sexy but for some reason, it goes straight to his aching cock anyway. You weren’t expecting to get fucked but here you are, arching into him as soon as he tugs up the bottom of your bra and starts sucking on one of your nipples. You quick fingers undo the clasp and throw it aside so he has more room to lick and nibble on your nubs, tugging harshly with his teeth to make you groan. He does the same for the other side, rolling your hardened nipples between his fingers and tongue, laughing at the way your hips grind at nothing.

“You’re a needy little slut, aren’t you?” He mocks as his fingers pull down your cotton panties in one go.

“Yes, touch me, touch me, please,” you beg.

He certainly wasn’t expecting that. Washio pauses for a moment, looking up at your flushed cheeks, your trembling lips, your dilated pupils, your heaving chest. He can’t remember the last time he’s been this turned on, ready to plunge into your cunt over and over until you’re begging him to stop; break you until you can’t walk out of this fucking daycare without his help.

He settles on his knees in between your legs, spreading your folds with his fingers before spitting. You coo, shifting your legs open for him more so he can do it again. He watches his white saliva drip down your quivering hole before he groans and licks it up, swirling his tongue around your clit before pulling back.

“Washio-san,” you whine, hands coming to his hair to push him closer. “Don’t… don’t tease me.”

“Sluts like you deserve to be teased,” he smirks, fingers running up and down your folds before he pushes his middle finger inside. Fuck, you’re soaked, sucking in his finger as he starts to pump, walls fluttering around his quick pace. “Look how fuckin’ wet you are when I haven’t even done anything.”

“Want you,” you moan, head falling back against the wall as you grind your cunt into his finger. “More, please, I need mo-ah!”

You gasp sharply when he leans forward, licking up your clit and circling around the nub. He takes it into his mouth at the same time he pushes a second finger into you; your groan sinks into his skin and makes him move faster, grip tight on your ass to keep your cunt close to his face. The sounds of your wet pussy are loud, but his harsh sucks to your clit and your whines are even louder. You sound so pretty when you’re so needy, your cunt clenching down around his fingers when he starts to scissor them and drag them along your walls.

Washio chances a glance up and nearly cums right then and there when he sees you’re staring at him—bleary eyes focused on the way he eats you out, bottom lip pulled in between your teeth. No one’s ever looked at him like that, never looked so good grinding into his face and begging him to make them cum. He groans into your cunt, fingers and mouth working faster until you’re falling apart beneath him, whines high-pitched and ringing in the quiet building.

He fucks you through it, tongue circling your clit, fingers roughly dragging along your spasming walls. When your thighs clench up and you harshly tug on his hair, he pulls away, slipping his fingers out of you. They’re covered in your slick, all the way down to his palm, and he wastes no time stuffing them into your open mouth. You squeal around his fingers as he presses down on your tongue, eyes flashing as he stands up to tower over you.

“I’m just getting started with you,” he growls as he spreads your spit all over your tongue, body nearly singing at the way your mouth falls open even further and the way your eyes focus on his every move. “Fuck, get on your knees.”

You comply immediately, sitting on your knees in front of him, not even waiting for him to tell you what to do before you’re tugging at his pants and boxers, dragging them down to his ankles. His cock bobs at his stomach, twitching at the way you lick your lips as you stare at it for a moment before looking up at him.

“The fuck you waiting for?” He digs his hands into your hair again, tugging you closer by your roots and making you moan. “Show me what that slutty mouth can do.”

You’re eager to comply, hand wrapping around the base of his cock so you can take it in your mouth. Washio can tell you’re a bit unpracticed, starting off with little nervous licks to the underside of his cock, but the moment he sighs fuck, you gain a little confidence. You start to bob your head, tongue running all along his length as you move, circling around his tip before doing it again. Your fingernails dig into his thighs as he tugs your hair one more time, your groan around his cock making him shiver.

When you hollow your cheeks and move faster, he curses again, bucking his hips into your mouth. You choke for just a second before taking him even deeper, watery eyes landing on him as you bob. It makes him moan, holding the back of your head as he starts to move. You stop moving and let him fuck your mouth, lips tight around his pistoning cock as he thrusts faster. Fuck, he could cum like this, fill up your mouth and make you swallow it down before he fills your cunt instead. When his balls tingle, he rips his cock from your mouth, saliva still connected to your tongue.

“Lay down.”

He fishes his wallet out of his back pocket as you do, kicking his jeans and boxers away as he reaches for his condom. He curses when he realizes he only has one left, especially with the way you part your legs for him, fingers holding open your wet folds so he can see your glistening cunt.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters, cock throbbing angrily as he fumbles to open the condom and slide it on. When has he ever fumbled anything? He settles on his knees between your legs, hiking them up around his shoulders and grinding his cock along your folds.

“Washio-san,” you whimper, calves flexing against his shoulders as you bite down on one of your fingers.

“I’m not sure you fucking deserve it, slut. Ask me nicely.”

“Please,” you immediately beg him, humping your hips against his grinding cock, hair beautifully splayed out beneath you. “Fuck me, I need it, need your cock.” He only chuckles, making sure to bump your swollen clit with the head of his dick to make you whine even louder. Washio can see the way your face scrunches up like you’re thinking, and then your ankles lock behind his head, holding his face between your calves. “Tatsuki, please.”

Good fucking god. His cock twitches as he lines up his length with your cunt. It’s so easy to push inside with how wet you are, and he shudders when he bottoms out. Your tight walls pulse around his cock, head thrown back with a moan when he pulls out and thrusts back in. He clings to your thighs as he starts a quick pace, one that has you squirming underneath him and arching off the floor. You tug at your own nipples, rolling the hard nubs between your fingers as you try to match him stroke for stroke.

“Who knew this slutty pussy could be so tight, huh?” He mocks, giving an extra harsh slap of his hips to make you cry out. You bite down on your bottom lip so hard that Washio thinks it may start bleeding, fingers gropping even tighter on your tits. He leans forward a little to hit even better, and you practically sob when he hits something deep within you. Your clit is wet with your slick when he touches it, and your body jerks off the ground as soon as he starts rubbing quick circles.

“Tatsuki!” Your voice is breathless, eyes glazed as you stare up at him, looking utterly in bliss. “Harder.”

Fuck. He obliges, one hand moving to your hip to keep you in place as he fucks you even harder. His thumb on your clit matches his quick and brutal pace, and he can feel your orgasm creeping up, walls clenching down on him so hard he grunts. His own orgasm is looming, balls tightening and shiver running up his spine as he splits you in half. He leans down even further, nearly pressing your knees to your chest, chasing his high with heavy grunts.

“Gonna fuck a baby into you,” he grinds out between clenched teeth. “You want that, don’t you, you little whore? Want a little brat of your own to run around here. Huh? Want me to make you a mommy?”

“Yes!” You sob, legs tightening around his head even further. There’s something different about it this time—he feels it when you open your eyes, half-lidded and watery, scratching at his upper arms with your request. “Give it to me, please Tatsuki, want it, want—”

A loud cry rips from your throat when your orgasm slams into you, and Washio thinks he might have stopped breathing for a second with how tightly you clamp down on his cock. Your whole body is shaking, arching and shuddering off the ground as you cling to him, thighs trembling on his shoulders. He slams into you a few more times before he empties himself into the condom, goosebumps rising on his skin, arms shaking as he clings to you. God, you feel so good around him, the pleasure buzzing through his system making him feel so alive.

It’s not enough. He needs more. His cock is still half-hard when he pulls it out of you, sliding off the condom and tying it off before throwing it elsewhere. You look so fucked out, eyes drooping as you fight to catch your breath, and his cock twitches when he sees how much of your juices has leaked out of your cunt and covers your folds and thighs. He parts your legs again, and your eyes shoot open with a yelp when he slaps his cock against your swollen clit.

“Tatsuki—”

“Fuck,” he groans when he does it again, sliding his hardening cock through your folds to coat it in your slick. “Look how fucking messy you are.”

You moan, hips starting to follow his movements as you scratch at the wooden floor. “Because of you.”

“Don’t blame me, you slut. You were drippin’ before I even got here, weren’t you?” He slaps his cock against your clit again, once, twice, three times before slipping the head inside. Fuck, he can’t do that. He pulls out just as quickly as he pushed in, fingers trembling with his slipping restraint.

“I’m not on birth control,” you whisper nervously as you grind against him. “But… but if you—”

“Flip over,” he demands. When you blink at him, his eyes narrow. “Hands and knees.”

You do as he commands, shaking your ass at him once you’re settled on your forearms. He rewards you with a hard slap to your ass, making you jump and squeak before you push back. His cock slips easily between your thighs, rubbing against your wet and swollen folds as he starts to rock against you. Goddamnit, the first thing he’s going to do before he goes home is buy some more condoms because it isn’t enough. Your thighs are warm and sticky, but it’s nothing like your cunt.

“God, I wanna fuck you so bad,” he pants as he grips your hips tighter, pistoning you against his cock, the sound of his skin against yours ringing in the room. “Teach your slutty little pussy who it belongs to, huh?”

“Tatsuki,” you whine as you look over your shoulder at him. There are tears in your eyes as you push back against him, nails digging into the flooring. “Fuck me, fuck me, please.”

When his cockhead brushes your clit, you keen, back arching even more. He slips a hand around your waist, fingers immediately finding your clit and slapping. You cry out, shaking your head when he does it again. The tears in your eyes slip down your cheeks as you look at him, whimpering when he slaps for a third time.

“I-I can’t, can’t, too sensitive.”

“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” he compliments as he works his cock even faster, fingers rubbing your clit in tandem with his quick strokes against folds. Even though you said you couldn’t, you’re whimpering anyway, wet eyes stuck on his expression as you grind against his fingers and cock. “Falling apart for my cock. You want it that bad?”

“Yes!” You gasp, body starting to tremble again as drool begins to slip out of the corner of your mouth. “Yes, give it to me, give it—”

“Shit.”

He moves faster, more desperately, chasing the heat in his stomach, the twitch in his thighs and cock. You’re so loud when you cum for the third time, even when you try to muffle it with your fist, gushing all over his cock as he ruts between your thighs. It doesn’t take long for him to follow, his cum painting your stomach and thighs white and dripping to the floor.

Washio catches you before you can collapse, flipping you over to your back as his eyes roam all over your body. You’re filthy, covered in your juices, his cum, and your sweat, hair clinging to your forehead and cheeks. Your eyes are closed, still fighting to catch your breath, tear stains on your hot cheeks. It’s absolutely beautiful.

“No one else,” he says suddenly, and your tired eyes slide open to regard him. “No one else gets to see you like this, got it?”

“Are you saying I’m yours?”

“I’m saying this pussy is mine.”

You giggle, a sleepy little sound that makes his heart jump faster than it was while fucking you a minute ago. “Maybe you should ask it on a date first then.”

He’s about to say no way but then there’s a brush against his fingers. When he looks down, Washio sees you’ve grabbed onto his pointer and middle finger, holding the two close in your hand as your eyes slip closed.

“One,” he says against his better judgment and tries to ignore your sleepy smile. “Only one.”

pink magnolia, part two

washio tatsuki doesn’t need love. he needs drugs, women, and people to stop making him work so damn hard. a chance meeting with a daycare worker flips that all upside down and changes him—for the good and the bad.

pairing: mafia underboss washio tatsuki x daycare worker f!reader with hair, 7.9k, part two of two (nsfw, 18+, minors dni)

warnings: pregnancy, graphic depictions of murder/death, depictions of abuse, depictions of drug use, depictions of withdrawal, heavy degradation, breeding kink, mentioned pregnancy kink, implied stalking, family man washio?!

thanks to: i owe @vanille–kiss and @anime-nymph my life <3 <3 <3 betaing and ideas are mostly all them and i am forever thankful!

banner by the amazing @vanille–kiss — please go check out her works!! she is amazing!

tagging: @hqintheclub, @anime-central, @stargirl2898, @erinoikawa, @betheydochaos, @miyarinrin, @antique-remains, @theoriginaleclipse, @rinsangel, @sleepy-demon-baby, @jojowantstocry, sunaspillowprincess, bresilienne-ami, @kittycatkrissa, @scentedflower

join my taglist here! tipjar (not necessary) here!

part one || part two || black petunia || red peony || white lily || mafia au masterlist

That’s all it was supposed to be. One date, one more chance to fuck you until all you could sob was his name. It started like that anyway—you bent over the love motel bed, the chair, the tub, juices flowing down your thighs and tears flowing from your eyes.

Then it was another and another. He convinced himself it was only right to wine and dine you before fucking you silly; it’s what you deserved for being his good little slut, for taking his cock so well, drool sliding down your chin as you sucked on his fingers. This was good enough for the both of you.

Until it wasn’t, because you were adamant you wanted more than that. You wanted someone to call your own; someone who had no problem calling you their girlfriend; someone who had no issue showing you off, arm slung over your shoulder, your waist, your ass, all to prove you were taken. Washio Tatsuki didn’t do ‘girlfriends’. He did late night fucks and lines of coke before gambling his money away, wandering hands groping at everything he could find.

And yet he said yes, God fucking knows why. Maybe it was how good you took him; maybe it was how you challenged him whenever he pissed you off. Or maybe it was the fact that he looked at his phone a lot more now, his face softening up whenever you texted him, heart racing whenever he skipped the poker parlors and went to your apartment instead.

So one date turned into one month that turned into one year. One whole fucking year, summed up into one expensive dinner, one tight black dress, one night where he didn’t let you leave bed once, making you cum over and over again on his fingers, his tongue, his cock. One year of you ignoring the red flags he knows you see—the lack of details about his “security” job, the amount of times he has to slip out late at night and comes back “acting strange”, the feigned ignorance about his tattoos, the refusal to move in together even though he’s basically living in your apartment anyway. One year of hiding who he is: the hits of cocaine, the hits on his winning poker hands, the hits that Suna sends him on in the name of the Raijin clan.

You don’t say anything when he comes to you, surely smelling like iron from whoever’s blood. You always welcome him with arms thrown over his shoulders, a smile after you kiss him, warm dinners that you made from scratch. It feels like home, not that Washio knows what home even means after the way he grew up. He thought Kana might know, but her shitty husband walked out a few months ago after stealing her money—well, Washio’s money—and running. (Though he gladly gave it back after Washio broke four of his fingers with a hammer.)

It’s not even a week after the celebration when you text him.

Can you come over? I need to talk to you.

Bad fucking timing, considering that he’s already on the tail of some businessman who decided that threatening to call the police after he lost hundreds of thousands of yen was a good idea. His phone sits heavy in his pocket as he follows the businessman home, and your message burns into his brain, even as he wraps his arms around the man’s neck and drags him into the nearest alley.

The fuck is that message supposed to mean? Are you really about to break up with him now? He’s not going to let you, if that’s what you want. He’s been happy; he never thought he’d be able to use that word in his goddamn life, never thought he’d be able to—

It’s the distraction the businessman needed. Washio didn’t realize his grip had become weaker until his head bounces off the brick building behind him and the businessman struggles to get free. Fuck, that hurt. His head sears with pain, radiating in his skull and spreading all the way to his eyes. The man is able to slip from his grip thanks to the dizziness in Washio’s head and his blurred vision, but it isn’t for long.

Washio lunges after him, tackling him to the wet ground and wrapping his arms around his neck. The businessman chokes and sputters, hands scratching at Washio’s long sleeves to no avail. It isn’t long before he grows limp and quiet in his strong hold, arms falling down to the ground and not moving. Washio hides the body behind a few garbage bags and dials Sarukui, ordering him to come retrieve it. Usually he’d do it himself but he feels like he’s about to throw up—whether from the smack to his head or your message, he isn’t sure—and he’s on the way to your place without waiting.

The pain only gets worse on the way over, and when you open the door for him, he nearly collapses in your arms. You gasp, pulling him into the apartment and helping him over to your couch. His phone and his wallet fall out of his coat when you tug it off for him, and you set them on the coffee table before examining his head.

“You’re bleeding, Tatsuki! What happened?”

“It’s fine, just need to—”

“We should go to the hospital, it’s—”

“I said it’s fine,” he growls out, taking a deep breath. It’s hard to think when his head is pounding this bad. “Just need meds and a shower.”

“Okay,” you relent quietly, helping him stand again. “I’ll get it for you.”

He takes the offered medicine before he wanders off to your shower, letting the hot water flow over his body for much too long. His head stings when the water hits his wound, but luckily it’s not bleeding anymore when he steps out. The pounding in his head has lessened, but he’s still tired, in pain, and ready to go the fuck to sleep.

But then he remembers why he rushed over here in the first place and curses.

He slips into an extra pair of his clothes from your bedroom before he pads back out to the living room, ruffling the back of his wet hair.

“What do you want to talk—”

“Who is Suna Rintarou?” It takes Washio a moment to realize the phone you're holding isn’t your own. It’s his, probably from when you helped him out of his jacket, and you’re clutching onto it so tightly he thinks it might break. There are tears in your eyes as you whisper, “He’s called you four times now. Who is he?”

“He’s my boss.”

“And… and why is he asking about a body?”

What?

It only takes two steps for him to be on you, ripping the phone from your hands and checking the message.

No body. You better find him quickly or you’ll be joining him. This is your only fucking warning.

“Fuck. Fuck,” he growls, stuffing the phone in his sweatpants’ pocket. “Fuck, I gotta go, I’ll be back—”

“Tatsuki!” You shrill, clinging to his arms so he can’t move. “What… what is going on, what is he talking about?”

Washio is silent as he stares at you, considering it for a moment. You were always going to find out sooner or later. There was no way he could keep up the charade of being a hardworking, innocent man forever. But he didn’t want you to find out like this, especially not after he fucked up and pissed Suna off.

You tug on his shirt with a quiet exhale.

“Tatsuki.”

“You already fucking know,” he answers.

Washio thinks he feels his heart breaking when your face drops and you stumble back, bottom lip trembling as you stare at the tattoos underneath his short-sleeved t-shirt. Your breathing picks up, an exhale turning into a sob when you put your hand over your mouth.

“You—…. You’re not…. You’re part of the… Everything you told me was a lie?”

“Not everything.”

“I believed in you.” Tears stream down your face as you stare at him. “Please tell me you aren’t part of the mob, Tatsuki. Please. Tell me you’re lying.”

He can’t. He obviously fucking can’t, but he sure wants to because he can’t stand the betrayed look on your face and the way you can’t even look at him.

“Look—”

“Get out.” It’s so quiet that he barely even hears it, but when it registers, his heart sinks to his stomach and anchors there. “Get out and don’t come back.”

He takes a step closer to you. “Fuck, I—”

“Get out!” You yell, small fists pushing him away before they strike his chest again and again. Your punches don’t hurt him in the least, but they feel like knives plunging deep into his heart over and over again. “You’re a liar and I trusted you. I trusted you, and you—” A sob cuts you off and you push him with surprising force, making him stumble back two steps. “I loved you. I love you, but I can’t be with you if our entire relationship was a lie.”

“For fuck’s sake, I told you it’s not, you have to believe me—”

“How am I supposed to believe you when—”

“Just shut the fuck up already and listen—”

A shrill ring and vibration cut you both off, and Washio looks down at his phone. Suna Rintarou. Fuck, he can’t do this right now. He needs to find the businessman and finish what he started before anything else, and then he can come back and make you listen to him. He nearly shatters his screen with how hard he clutches onto it, and he lets it go two more rings before he slides the answer button.

“Yeah, Boss.”

“Where the fuck are you? Sarukui has eyes on him at his house. If you aren’t there in fifteen minutes, consider yourself dead.”

“...Yes, Boss.”

“Get your head out of your ass and get it together.”

The line goes dead immediately, but Washio doesn’t move. He stares at your blotchy face, at the bags beneath your eyes, at the shaking finger you point towards the door.

“Leave. I don’t want to see you.”

He has to go. Washio knows he does or he won’t be alive to see tomorrow’s sunrise, but every single part of him is begging him to stay, begging him to grab onto your shoulders and bring you into his arms, just like always. Grumble that it’ll be okay, that you’re going to be okay, if you just listen to him.

But he can’t.

“I’ll be back,” he says quietly before he grabs his wallet and coat.

“Don’t—“

“I said I’ll be back.”

Then he slips from your apartment, leaving the echoing sound of your sobs behind.

It’s easy to slip into the businessman’s house; it’s even easier to pull the gun from his belt and shoot him in his bedroom. A quick glance through the man’s phone shows he hasn’t called or messaged anyone, so at least Washio isn’t a dead man walking just yet. Poor bastard probably thought he had enough time to pack and get to safety before calling for help. The bullet in his chest proves that’s false.

Washio calls for the cleaners, this time staying to supervise as they wipe all evidence of wrongdoing away. When the job is finished and the coast is clear, he slips out of the house, but doesn’t make it more than five steps before Sarukui whistles for him. Washio glances up at the CCTV a few yards away. He’s sure the forensic team they hired is already working on wiping the data to make it look like no one was there, so there’s no one to watch Washio slip into the waiting car and drive off.

The base is quiet when they arrive, and Sarukui says nothing as he leads Washio to Suna’s office. Last time he messed up, he lost a third of his ear thanks to insubordination. What will it be this time? His whole ear? A hand? Washio wouldn’t put it past Suna to stab him and leave him for dead like Washio mistakenly did with the businessman.

When he steps into the office and sees seven members of the Raijin clan standing against the wall, he knows it’s going to be so much worse.

Suna regards him from behind his desk, arms folded over his chest.

“Washio.”

Washio bows his head. “Boss.”

“Sit.”

The chair on the other side of the desk has been removed, so Washio lowers himself to his knees and sets his hands on his thighs.

“What should I do with you, Washio?”

The room is deathly quiet, tension as strained as the angry look on Suna’s face. He hasn’t looked this pissed off since Washio challenged him for the clan head role over a year ago. He leans forward in his chair, setting his elbows on the desk.

“Well?”

“You should kill me, Boss.”

“Hm.”

Washio can feel every pair of eyes in the room drilling in the back of his pounding head, his eyes crossing as he stares at Suna’s annoyed expression. The radiating pain in the back of his skull comes back full force, and the heat creeping through his veins threatens to suffocate him.

“Do you deserve to be killed, Washio?”

“Yes, Boss.”

“Why?”

God, this is embarrassing. He feels like a high school student again, powerless to authority, unable to do anything under Suna’s watchful eye.

“I didn’t finish the job and almost got the clan in trouble.”

“Right.” Suna drums his fingers against the desk a few times before he says, “I didn’t realize I had such a dumb fuck as my underboss.” The leather chair squeaks when he stands up, leather shoes clicking on the flooring as he comes to rest against the side of the desk. “Should I find someone else?”

Washio swallows. Maybe this really is it for him. Should he beg for his life? Say it’ll never happen again? Tell Suna the reason he was distracted and the reason his head won’t stop fucking pounding?

“Answer me.”

“…Yes, Boss. You should.”

“Who?” Suna glances around the room to the others standing around, watching the scene unfold. “Who should replace you?”

Washio thinks about it for a moment, but as soon as he opens his mouth to answer, Suna puts his hand up.

“Actually, don’t tell me who I should get. Tell me why it shouldn’t be you.”

How fucking humiliating.

Washio tries not to show the tremble in his voice or the anger lacing his words when he responds, “I’m irresponsible. Reckless. Untrustworthy.”

“And?”

Suna stares at him with those fox-like eyes, and Washio immediately knows what the boss is looking for. The one thing he swore to himself not to be anymore the minute he entered the clan. The one thing he promised Suna he wouldn’t be the moment he became underboss.

The one thing he hates admitting out loud.

“…Useless.”

“Hm.”

Suna disregards him as easily as garbage, eyes flicking to the men standing around the room.

“One hit each and you can leave.”

Washio sits there and takes it, punch after punch to his cheeks as the other clan members get their fill then shuffle from the room. He doesn’t say anything, even as his cheeks burn and blood trickles from his busted lip. Eventually it’s only him and Suna left, and the boss walks closer before slapping his left cheek, then his right cheek.

He keeps his eyes trained forward on the desk, fists tight on his thighs, or else Washio thinks he would fall over. Everything hurts—his head, his cheeks, his heart. But most of all, his pride. He’s spent the last decade of his life trying to become a necessary member of the clan, making sure he did everything he could to gain power and stay alive. Now he was only the underboss in name: he’d lost the trust and prestige that came with the title, regulated to just another useless recruit in the eyes of the others.

“Don’t disappoint me again.”

“Yes, Boss.”

Washio doesn’t look at anyone on the way out. He leaves the base, grabbing the first taxi he can catch at the late hour, and immediately tells the driver your address. It takes way too fucking long because he has to pull over to vomit on the side of the road twice. He’s shaking by the time he reaches your apartment, twisting your doorknob, and—

It won’t open.

It catches on a piece of furniture, only opening a few inches. He can see the lights are on and the shadow of something near the kitchen. He tries the door again but it catches no matter how many times he tries to slam it open.

“Open the door,” he says. Quietly at first, then louder when you don’t answer him. “Open the fucking door.”

He hears you. Hears your light sob, the stuttered gasp you’re trying to hide. Washio tries the knob again, slamming the door a few times to no avail.

“I know you’re there. Let me fucking explain. Just… just open the door so we can talk.”

“Tatsuki, please,” you whimper, deathly quiet and shaky with tears. “Go away.”

He doesn’t know what comes over him. Washio starts kicking and punching the door, throwing his shoulder at it over and over, determined to get it open and make you talk to him. The wood cracks; the door slams against the blockade; but it doesn’t budge more than a few inches.

“Please—just—fuck! Don’t fucking do this, let me in.”

“Tatsuki, stop—”

“I’m calling the police!” A shrill, old voice calls from across the hall, muffled by their closed door.

Fuck, this can’t be happening. You can't be doing this to him. He needs you now more than ever; needs you to wrap your arms around him and whisper that you love him, press a kiss to his forehead before you curl up to his side. But the room is silent as he stands there, heart pounding in his ears harder than the pounding in his head. You don’t say anything; you don’t move an inch, your shadow on the ground completely still when he checks one last time.

He punches the door one more time, swears under his breath, and turns around.

Washio always heard that there were some things worse than dying. He never believed it—what could be worse than sitting six feet under, forgotten by all those you care about, their lives continuing without you while your body rotted for bugs to feast on?

But as he descends the stairs, tears blurring his vision, he wishes Suna would have just fucking killed him to end the suffering he feels right now.

A shiver runs down his body as soon as he’s done snorting.

Washio wipes the tip of his nose with his thumb, licking off the excess cocaine before shaking his head. It always hits just right when he’s like this, always makes him feel the best when he’s at his worst.

You aren’t answering his messages or his calls, not that he expected you to. Still, he kept trying, kept calling over and over to no avail, sure that this time would be the charm. When one of the underlings at the parlor pulled the bag of white powder out and asked if he wanted a hit, his response was immediate. He needed something to take the edge off, something to make his head stop hurting so much.

His face is still slightly swollen and bruised from the punches, but he can’t feel it as soon as his high hits. His fingers shake as he grabs onto his phone again. 6:17 PM. You’re at the daycare now, like you always are. If you’re not going to answer his calls and texts, then maybe you’ll answer his knocks on the daycare door instead. He’s reckless as he drives over there, going much too fast to arrive in no time, taking up two spots in the parking lot.

As he stalks over, he sees you handing off one of the students to a parent in the middle of the walkway. They walk away just as you spot him approaching. You don’t have time to turn or run—his hands are around your upper arms and tugging you close, even as you struggle in his grip.

“Tatsuki, let me go!”

“Why the fuck aren’t you answering my calls, huh?”

“Not… not here, please—”

“There is nowhere else to go because you’re fucking avoiding me!” He yells before pulling back, hands so tight on your shoulders that it makes you wince. “What the fuck else am I supposed to do?!”

You stare at him strangely, head tilting to the right as you look at his sweaty forehead and dilated pupils. “Are… are you high?”

“That doesn’t matter—”

“It does matter!” You shout, knocking his hands away from you and taking a step back. Your face twists with a few different emotions—surprise, disappointment, hatred—until it settles into a melancholy frown, your lips trembling. “You need to leave. We can talk when you’re sober.”

“I don’t believe that for a minute.” He runs his hand through his hair, shaking his head a few times as he starts to pace around. “If I leave here, you’re never gonna fucking answer me again, are you? You’re gonna call the cops on me just like your fucking neighbor—”

“No, I—”

“Don’t lie to me—”

“Tatsuki, please.” There’s a sob in your voice, and you put a hand over your mouth to keep from crying. “Please stop this! I can’t be stressed right now. The doctor says it’s—”

You immediately stop talking, your eyes widening as you stare at him. It feels like someone dumped a bucket of cold water over him, his body going numb as he watches the tears cascade down your cheeks. He tries to formulate an answer, but the only thing buzzing around his mind is a horrified, “What?”

“You—you should go.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? What doctor? Are you sick?”

“No, I—” A pause. A deep breath. “I’m pregnant.”

Jesus fucking Christ. How is that possible? He’s always worn a condom because you said birth control makes you sick. There hasn’t been an accident or a condom break ever, so how?

“You fucking serious?”

You nod slowly, a protective hand over your stomach as you whisper. “I went to the doctor this morning. I’m seven weeks, but I had some bleeding so he said I shouldn’t be stressed—”

“Oh my God.” He’s pacing again, tugging at his hair as his mind whirls. Pregnant. Is this what you wanted to talk about last night? This can’t be happening. Did he do something in a past life to deserve all of his shitty karma? “Fuck, and you wanna keep it?”

You face pinches angrily when you reply, “Of course I do.”

“You gotta get rid of it.”

It tumbles from his lips so easily that for a second, it doesn’t even feel like he said it out loud. But he must have, because the hand over your stomach reaches out and immediately swings. The slap you send to his cheek stings when it makes contact, and your hand clenches into a fist before it drops down by your side.

“How dare you.”

“Fuck… listen, I didn’t mean it.”

“How dare you,” you repeat angrily, taking another step away from him. It feels like you’re fading away and if he doesn’t grab hold, he’ll never have you again. “I know this isn’t you, Tatsuki. I choose to believe it’s the drugs talking and not the man I fell in love with.” He tries to interrupt you again but you put your hand up and shake your head. “I’m keeping the baby, so don’t you dare try and show your face to me again unless you’re ready to be a father. Until then, I don’t want to see you.”

“Wait. Wait, just give me a goddamn second—”

“I’ll give you all the time you need,” you tell him quietly, dodging the hand that reaches out for you with another shake of your head. “Don’t contact me until then.”

Then you turn on your heel and rush back inside, leaving him alone in the walkway with only the chirp of the crickets and the flutter of the pink magnolias as they fall to the pavement.

Washio knows he needs to stop. Knows he needs to pull himself together, keep his nose out of the white powder, and focus on being a presentable man who deserves to stand at your side.

The problem is that he doesn’t know how.

It’s been five months since then. Five long months of no contact, of watching you from a distance as you work, of falling into bad habits the minute he turns away because he just isn’t ready. It’s easier to pretend his life is fine when he follows every single order Suna gives him, then goes back to the poker parlors and girls who used to make him happy. But he can’t bring himself to entertain them or sleep with them, even when they drape themselves over his lap and nearly beg for it—so he throws himself into the drugs instead, just so he can feel alive like he used to with you.

Except now if he goes more than a day without it, his body starts shaking, aching and tired until he gets his next fix to make the pain go away. But he doesn’t care—as long as he has his next hit, that’s all he gives a fuck about, because it’s not like he has you waiting for him at home anymore.

He goes to the daycare like he does every morning, watching you climb out of your car and walk up to the building so he can make sure you’re alright. Something about today is different. You get out of the car like normal, fixing your bag over your shoulder, and then turn back because you forgot your phone inside. It takes Washio a moment to realize what it is.

You’re showing.

It’s a warm September day so you’re not wearing a jacket like you have been the past couple weeks. Your long-sleeved t-shirt is enough, and it clings to your stomach as you walk inside and disappear behind the front door. Fuck, it’s real, isn’t it? He’s really going to be a father, really going to have a brat to raise in a few short months.

His own father had been a piece of shit, Kaito’s father just as absent now that the divorce was finalized. He can’t do that to his kid. While he probably won’t be the world’s greatest parent, he needs to be there to watch them grow. To help them stay on a good path because he was never able to. To make a happy place to come home to because that’s all he’s ever fucking wanted.

Washio sets his head against the steering wheel and closes his eyes. He doesn’t know how long he sits there but it’s at least a few hours. When he’s finally ready, he pulls out of the parking lot and heads to Suna’s apartment where he knows the boss will be. Lucky for him, Suna’s med school girl is also there, looking thoroughly fucked as she makes some tea in the kitchen.

“I need your help,” he says to her, eyes flicking over to Suna and back. It’s hard to form the words; hard to make himself spit it out. “I gotta detox.”

“From what?”

“Cocaine.”

“There’s not much I can do,” the girl tells him honestly. “Maybe an IV for fluids and keeping you monitored, but it’s more psychological than physical. Cravings will be intense and you might feel suicidal.” She pauses, glancing over at Suna before asking, “Do you have someone to watch over you?”

He swallows, looking out the large living room windows because he refuses to look at either of them. “No. I’m alone.”

“Then you should stay here.”

“He has his own apartment—” Suna begins to say, but his girlfriend tuts in annoyance.

“I can watch over him after my classes. Make sure he’s fine. It’s only for a week, Rin.”

“Goddamnit, Washio,” Suna grumbles as he stands from the couch. “Always have to make trouble, don’t you?”

Washio laughs, a bitter and hollow sound compared to his usual ones. Trouble. That’s been his middle name since he can remember, starting with the sandbox fights he used to get into as a kid and ending with a bullet in the chest of some businessman who is “missing with no leads.” Suna’s girl sets up a room for him and Washio doesn’t miss the irony. It’s the same one he was stuck in for days, watching over one of the sick, trafficked girls after he lost to Suna in that fight for power. Now it’s not some trafficked girl who is getting hooked up to a bag of fluids but him—the guy who complained that it wasn’t even worth it to help those women.

Karma’s a bitch, isn’t it?

It only takes a few hours for him to feel the first effects. His body is tired and achy, sweat pooling at his brow as he trembles. Suna’s girl gives him those IV fluids but it does jack shit. He sleeps the night away, tossing and turning with the need to get another hit. It’s early morning when his eyes pop open, cleared of the needle in his arm, and though he tries to force himself back to sleep, it’s impossible with his brain screaming at him to find more cocaine as soon as possible.

He’s about to leave the room when he hears Suna’s voice.

“Sakusa said he’d bought three times more than usual in the last couple months but I didn’t think it was all for him.”

“He’s going through something, Rin,” his girlfriend responds quietly. “I think he and his girl broke up a few months ago and he’s taking it hard.”

“Hm.”

“Oh, please,” the girl laughs. “Don’t look at me like that. I still remember how bad you looked after our break up. Love makes you do stupid things.”

Love.

Washio holds the doorknob tightly, setting his forehead on the wood of the door. Does he love you? He doesn’t even have to think about it. ‘Yes’ floats through his mind immediately. He’s never said it but he’s tried to show it—small gifts of jewelry he knows you like, holding you to his chest whenever you watch a movie, eating your cooking even when he hates the dish. Would things have changed if he admitted it out loud? Would you have forgiven him if he finally uttered those three fucking words?

He lets go of the doorknob and trudges back over to the bed, throwing himself down on it. He’s gotta do this for you and the baby, no matter how badly his mind is screaming at him to get more.

He lasts only two more days before he breaks.

If he stays in that room any longer, he thinks he might go insane. The walls have been closing in on him, making it hard to break and even think. The only thing running through his mind is darkness. His life was so much easier when he didn’t give a shit, when he didn’t have a care in the world and only needed to think about himself. Now everything hurts and he’s pretty sure he’s better off dead than stuck in a room that makes him feel claustrophobic for the rest of his life.

The minute he walks outside, he heads straight for the front door. It’s too much to handle; he has to have his fix, has to call Sakusa and get another hit before he loses it. He’s got one foot in his shoe when someone clears their throat.

Suna stands behind him, arms crossed over his chest.

“Where are you going?”

“I gotta go, Boss.”

“No, you don’t.” He looks as bored as usual, shaking his head. “Go take a shower. You don’t want to do this.”

“You don’t—” Washio clenches his fists at his sides. “You don’t fucking get it, Boss.”

“Tatsuki.” The use of his first name makes Washio blink in surprise. “I don’t need to understand to know you’re making a mistake. Take your shoe off.”

“Fuck you, Rin, as if you care about me.”

“I care enough, it’s why you’re still fucking alive after all the bullshit,” Suna counters with narrowed eyes. “Shower.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“That’s an order, Tatsuki.”

Washio doesn’t know what comes over him. He throws his shoe off and charges at Suna, swinging at his boss. He’s tired, lethargic, barely on top of his game, so it’s easy for Suna to grab his wrist and twist it behind his back. Washio winces and tries to get free, but his body is betraying him, weak from withdrawal and days of non-use.

“God—fuck—just let me go, Rin, I need—”

“You need to go take a shower,” Suna repeats, squeezing down on Washio’s wrist so hard he winces. “Now. Before I knock your ass out and make you.”

Washio doesn’t look back at Suna when the boss pushes him away, toward the bathroom at the end of the hall. He sits under the spray for what feels like hours, letting scalding hot water nearly burn the skin of his back off until he’s ready to leave. How long is this going to last? He can’t keep going on like this, wishing for everything to end, wanting something to come and end his suffering.

He forces himself to stay in that room another few days until the shaking has subsided; until the cravings aren’t as intense; until he feels like he can breathe again, the fog lifted, a small light appearing at the end of a very painful and very fucking dark tunnel. When he walks out to the living room, Suna and his girl are leaning against the island in the kitchen, tongues shoved down each others’ throats.

“I’m leaving,” he declares before turning toward the front door, and the med student’s horrified squeak makes him chortle.

“Wait! Wait, Washio-san.” She approaches quickly, worry plastered all over her pretty face. “Someone should go with you, just in case.”

“M’fine.”

“The worst has passed but you can still fall back into bad habits if you go—”

“I’m not going to the parlor,” he promises. He doesn’t look at her as he slips on his shoes. “I’m going home and then I’m going to see her.”

It’s quiet for a moment before the girl nods. “Good luck.”

The worst has passed. Somehow, Washio thinks as the front door clicks closed behind him, he isn’t sure that’s true at all.

Three days.

It takes him three days to actually get out of the car and approach your daycare.

He’s been back to the parlors and clubs, keeping an eye on patrons and dealing with them if they get too rowdy. It was the most difficult thing of his life to decline the hit an underling offered him—he could taste the cocaine on his tongue, feel the rush through his system as he stared at the small baggie—but he did it. He fucking did it. He walked out of the place and immediately came to see you, watching your shadow through the windows to make sure you were doing alright until you locked up and went home.

Washio honestly doesn’t know if he’s ready to beg for your forgiveness but your co-worker forces his hand. It’s usually only you by yourself in the mornings, but today you stand outside with some older woman who looks like she ate some bad tamagoyaki for breakfast. He slips closer to hear what the woman is saying, blood boiling under his skin when he realizes it’s about him.

“—showing, I don’t think it’s appropriate to come to work.”

“I don’t see why it wouldn’t be,” you answer calmly. “Others have gotten pregnant with no issue.”

“They are married. Having an unwed mother is an embarrassment for our daycare and to our clientele. Do you even know who the father is?”

“Of course I do…!”

“Baby,” he interrupts without thinking as he steps forward. He’s never called you baby in his life, but this woman’s pompous attitude is pissing him off. If he were Raijin clan underboss Washio Tatsuki, he’d show her exactly what her sharp tongue would get her. But right now he’s only Washio Tatsuki, your former lover and father of your baby.

You both turn to him and your eyes widen when you see him, your voice a breathy whisper. “Tatsuki…?”

“You forgot your phone this morning,” he lies as he passes you his phone, keeping his hand clutched around yours even though he knows he should pull away. He can’t let go now that he’s finally touching you again, now that he finally is strong enough to stand before you and be the man you need him to be.

“T-Thank you,” you mumble as you use your free hand to set it in your purse.

“You’ve become so forgetful since getting pregnant with our kid, huh? Thought I’d drop it off but—” He glances at the old woman from the corner of his eye with a frown. He almost smirks when she gulps and takes a small step back. “We have a problem?”

“No, no, it’s alright,” you try to placate him, and he almost leaps out of his skin when your hand comes to rest on his upper arm, squeezing once. “This is the owner of the daycare. We were only talking.”

“Oh good, cause I thought I heard something weird.” He hasn’t taken his laser-like eyes off of the owner once, and his stretched smile grows when she quickly shakes her head.

“There’s no issue. Have a good day, both of you.”

As soon as the owner scurries away, you drop your hand from his arm, but he’s quick to grab it, holding onto it like it’s his lifeline keeping him afloat. You both don’t say anything, only staring at each other while the fall breeze whips around you. There’s so many conflicting emotions on your face, your eyebrows raising and dropping, your mouth parting and closing, and he’s sure he isn’t looking much better.

Washio takes a deep breath and immediately drops to his knees. You gasp at the suddenness of it, but he ducks his head down in apology, hands on his thighs.

“M’sorry.” Washio can’t remember the last time he apologized to anyone, but an apology here doesn’t seem like enough for what he’s put you through. “Fuck, I don’t know what else to say.”

“I want to hear everything,” you whisper, and he forces himself to look up and meet your eye. “Don’t lie to me anymore.”

So he does. He tells you about being underboss in the Raijin clan; talks about how he became addicted to drugs and went through withdrawal a few days ago; mentions his shitty father and his drug addict mother and how he refuses to become a useless man like that. You stand in front of him the entire time, listening quietly as he spills his heart like some lame ass romance novel, and when he’s finally done blubbering, you exhale softly.

“If I asked you to leave the clan—”

“I can’t do that. Suna would kill me the second I asked,” he immediately answers, hands clenching even harder on his thighs.

“I’m supposed to just accept this, then?” You whisper, and it hurts his heart to hear how defeated you sound. “Accept who you are and what you do?”

“You don’t have to. I can’t make you do anything. Fuck, if I could, we wouldn’t be here.” Washio runs a hand over his mouth before setting it back on his thigh. “But... what I can do is treat you right. I can protect you and provide for you. Give you everything you need. If you give me another chance, I’ll prove it every day of my fucking life.”

“Tatsuki, I don’t know…”

“I love you.” His sudden confession makes you gasp, and he finally reaches out, grabbing hold of your hands and bringing them in front of his chest. “I fuckin’ mean it, too. Give me a chance and I’ll show you.”

You let him hold your hands for a moment before you shift, lifting them so you can take his cheeks between your palms. There’s a half-smile on your face when you whisper, “Our daughter needs her father.”

“Daughter?” He looks down at your bump and exhales sharply. “Fuck.”

“Do you want to feel her?” You ask. “She’s kicking right now.”

Shit, he’s missed so much. You guide his hands to your stomach, and it only takes a moment for him to feel it. A tiny little shift, then a decently powerful kick that makes him pull back in surprise. You laugh, hands on his wrists when he leans forward to feel it again, his fingers shaking when the baby kicks one more time.

“She really is my fuckin’ kid, huh? Already a fighter.”

“You’re going to have to watch your mouth,” you complain with a pout. “I don’t want her first word to be ‘fuck.’”

“Don’t think I can do that,” he laughs dryly.

“Tatsuki,” you whisper, one hand running up his arm until your fingers are beneath his chin and his attention is on you. “I still don’t trust you… but I need you too, so don’t you dare do this to me anymore. I can’t go through this again.”

“Then you accept me?”

“No, and I don’t think I ever will,” you answer honestly. “But… I’ll try if you do because you’re not getting another chance.”

Washio can only nod, afraid that if he opens his big mouth, he’ll ruin the last chance he’s lucky to even get. Instead he leans forward, wrapping his arms around you and setting his forehead on your stomach, feeling the little kicks of his daughter growing in your stomach. Your fingers thread through his hair as he clings to you, and his quiet whisper of ‘thank you’ is lost in the breeze and chirping of the birds in the bare pink magnolia trees.

The house is quiet when he steps inside and slips his shoes off, locking the front door behind him. Washio pads to the bedroom, stretching out his sore neck on the way. The parlor had been annoying as fuck today, some stupid kids thinking they could swindle the dealer without him finding out. A few kicks to the sides and the stomach and the kids cried they’d never do it again before scurrying off. All he wants to do is shower and relax, but as soon as he opens the bedroom door, he immediately changes his mind.

You sit on the edge of the bed, pretty eyes blinking up at him as you play with the strap of your baby doll lingerie. It’s lacy red, hugging your tits and all the curves you gained after having his daughter three years ago. You bite your lip shyly, squeezing your legs together as you lick your lips.

“Welcome home.”

It’s amazing how easily you make him riled up, even after all this time. He’s on you in a minute, pushing you down to the bed and swallowing your squeal with a bruising kiss. It takes a bit of fumbling, but soon your hair is splayed out over the pillows and your fingers hurry to undo his dress shirt as he kisses and licks all around your neck.

“Where’s Mayu?”

“I dropped her off at Kana-san’s house,” you gasp when he bites down, nearly ripping his shirt open so you can push up his undershirt and feel his skin against you. You moan when he grinds his half-hard cock into your thigh, spreading your legs for him even more. “I wanted to—hng, to surprise you.”

“Fuck, you’re a needy slut,” he laughs, deep and hoarse into your shoulder.

You whimper at the name, wrapping your legs around his waist so you can rut your hips against his cock. “Wanted you so bad.”

“Yeah? You want me to fuck you until you can’t walk?” His fingers slip down your lingerie, playing with the high-cut edge near your thighs before slipping it aside. Washio runs his fingers up and down your folds, groaning when he realizes how wet you already are. “So fucking ready for me and we just started.”

“Tatsuki,” you whine, threading your fingers in his hair and tugging when he sucks on a sensitive part of your chest. “Fuck me, please.”

Washio can’t blame you for being desperate. It’s been so long since it’s been just the two of you. Nights have been filled with baby laughs and tears, exhausted naps, quickies in the bathroom and the kitchen as Mayu slept. But they’ve also been filled with smiles and squeals, stolen kisses, warm welcomes when he comes back to the house and falls into your arms, tired from the day’s work. He’s so wound up that he thinks he might burst in his pants, so he quickly undoes his slacks, jerking them and his underwear down so his cock can spring free.

“Fuck, you look so fucking pretty in this. Would be a shame to take it off.” He tugs the fabric even further to the side so he can run his cock up and down your folds, grinding against you as he smirks. “Wouldn’t it? You wanna be fucked in your lingerie like a needy little whore, don’t you?”

“Yes, yes,” you beg, fingers tugging off his shirt and undershirt, pulling him flush against you so you can kiss him. Your neediness shows in the sloppiness of your tongue and the way you hump his cock with a whine. Your tongue swirls around his, sucking when his cock bumps your clit, legs tightening around his sides. “Tatsuki, condom, now.”

Washio hesitates for a second, eyes sliding over to the nightstand where you keep the condoms. He could grab one, roll it on like normal, then fuck you seven ways til Sunday. But—

“Tatsuki?” You ask when he sits back on his haunches, fingers finding your clit and circling, making you whimper.

“I think I want another.”

Another little brat to dominate this place like it’s her little kingdom, the Washio family scowl on her face as she squeals, “Daddy, that’s my candy!” Another little girl to give uneven pigtails before daycare, holding her hand the entire way there. Another kid to watch play on the playground in between visits to businessmen who can’t keep their shit straight. Washio never thought he’d be saying that in his life, but here he is, two fingers slipping into your needy cunt, cock throbbing and begging to be inside and make it happen.

“How ‘bout it? Want me to make you a mommy again, huh? Stuff you full of my cum until you’re swollen with a second?”

“Yes,” you sigh, and there are happy tears lining your eyes when you spread your legs as far apart as you can, fingers holding open your lingerie so he gets a clear view of your needy and wet cunt. When you shift, the ring on your ring finger catches the light and makes him smile.

“Come here and give it to me.”

There’s no way he’s saying no to that.

❪ ♡ ❫ ─── ⠀ ⠀⠀ happy together ⠀ 〳 ⠀ u.wakatoshi ‵

❪ ♡ ❫ ─── ( synopsis ) if i should call you up, invest a dime. and you say you belong to me and ease my mind. imagine how the world could be, so very fine. so happy together or in which the heir to the biggest mafia/yakuza in japan is in an arranged marriage with a foreigner & it turns into a wicked jealous filled obsession. inspo from happy together by the turtles

♡ ˙ ˖ ✧ — fem reader, her/she pronouns, female pet names, the reader is black coded (mentions of skin complexion but isn't centered around the plot), yandere themes, yandere!ushijima, mentions of violence, mentions of blood, mentions of murder, mentions of gore, yakuza/mafia au, choking kink, character death, possessive!ushijima, ooc!ushijima (only said ooc cause he does not act like the way he acts in hq), toxic relationship, ushijima father slaps him in one part, arranged marriage au, apart of @thicksimpx 'omertá 1k collab event', minors dni !!

❪ ♡ ❫ ─── reblogs & comments are highly appreciated

HOW COULD SOMEONE’S HANDS FEEL SO COLD? That thought lingered in the back of your mind when you felt Ushijima Wakatoshi’s hand placed on the lower part of your back as you waltz around the venue. You remembered how his touch felt so cold that it sent a shiver down your spine even though minutes ago you complained about hot you were in the vintage well-tailored white dress. You never actually expected your life to take a sudden change due to your father. It was a bit comical considering that he got you into this marriage and didn’t even bother to show up to walk you down the aisle.  You felt like a sheep among some vicious hungry wolves. You had no friends in Japan. You had no family in Japan. Just Ushijima and his circle. You couldn’t even contact your family unless they contacted you first. You would think that you were the president’s daughter, but you were only one of the richest men in the world's daughter. That came with consequences. Your life was always under a microscope. Eat this. Dress this way. Don’t date this person. Attend this university. You didn’t actually think you’ll be scribbling ‘have an assassination threat on your head’ off your Bingo card.

So here you were, bound with Ushijima Wakatoshi for your safety and the future of your family. You should have known that an arranged marriage was going to be put on the table. Someone one would question why a foreigner has been hanging around the notorious family that controls more than eight districts in Japan. You planned to lay low, enjoy your time in Japan, maybe go back to school, and then when your father contacted Ushijima’s father, go back home. But the thing is, you knew that it wasn’t any going back home. For all you know, your father could have been dead. The thing is you knew this marriage wasn’t going to be rainbows and sunshine, Ushijima didn’t even smile as you waltz down the aisle in a room of strangers. You remembered the deadpan look he gave you, but that last dance is what caused your stomach to form the most horrendous knots as he brought your closer. You could feel his breath trickle at your earlobe before he’s whispering, “The only one for me is you, and you for me. We both have a lot on the line when it comes to this fuckin’ marriage. We’re stuck with each other, so let’s make sure this work.” 

Even though he uttered those words in your ear over two months ago, you and Ushijima just couldn’t work. It wasn’t like you weren’t putting in the effort, you did. You even learned how to cook some of his favorite dishes and even then, you still were met with a harsh cold steel door. You remembered vividly when it seemed like a switch was turned on in his head. You sat in the living room like the pretty wife you were. The diamond ring on your wedding finger glistened under the family mansion light, you hated to admit that Ushijima picked out a beautiful ring when it wasn’t much meaning behind it. You were confused about why you and Ushijima were summoned here in the first place. It wasn’t like you two were doing anything romantic anyway, just you watching the maids cater to him due to him partying the previous night. When you heard the harsh footsteps and your eyes watched as men bowed as the Takashi Utsui entered the room. By the looks of his face, he looked pissed and your mind instantly panicked. You toyed with the ends of your dress as you watch Ushijima stand up with urgency to greet his father. 

Your eyes bulged outward when you heard and witnessed the harsh slap Takashi placed against Ushijima’s cheek. The room was so silent and you observed everyone in the room. No one bulged at the action as if it happened before. You watched as one of Takashi’s men would rush to his side handing him a folder. He opened it with urgency revealing the photo of Ushijima in a club the previous night. A woman was on his lap kissing his neck. Your eyes instantly lowered in embarrassment. Even though this marriage had no love, you still felt a form of humiliation. 

“What did I tell you before you said I do to that woman right there?” Takashi’s finger points at you. 

Ushijima's jaw clenched tightly as if he was holding back an explosive bomb. 

“Huh? I can’t seem to hear you.” Takashi stepped forward toward his son. His head tilted to the side as he was trying to hear Ushijima’s words.

“That if I embarrass her, I’m dishonoring my family,” Ushijima said.

“And?” Takashi asked.

“And she’s a part of the family now,” Ushijima said. 

Your heart was beating so hard at the word. You watched as Takashi's fingers combed through his hair. He let out a sigh to calm himself down before he’s walking over to you extending his hand for you to take. You hesitantly took it as he helped you up, walking by his angry son to walk into the family garden in the backyard. Your hand grasped at his arm as you walked by his side. The sweet scent of the Cherry Blossom tree that was in their backyard. You remembered Ushijima mentioning that his father got the tree grown in the backyard because his mother adored the scent of when the petals free-fell to the ground. However, even though his parents divorced his father still made sure the tree was taken care of.

“I want you to go out,” His father commented as he was walking around the garden. He could feel your grasp upon his arm tighter, “You’ve been trapped up in the house while my reckless son goes out and embarrasses our family,” He commented. 

“I don’t know anyone to go out with sir,” You commented. “I would rather be home, especially considering that it would only be a burden. Do I need to remind you, that I have a hit out on me?” You pointed out.

You watched as his lips formed a straight line, “Of course. I won’t let you go out alone, you’ll be with my assistant and her friends. Plus, I’m sure I’ll have some men in there if you need them,” he reminded. 

You would look at him before simply nodding, not bothering to argue with him once again. “Okay.” was the only thing you said before he let go of your hand. 

“Please enjoy your time out. I would hate to have to tell your father you hate it here.” He responded. “You deserve to be happy and I’ll be sure to ensure that.” 

You forced a smile on your face which seems like you were doing that a lot. The sweet scent of the cherry blossoms lingered up your nostrils before you were speaking once again, “Okay, thank you.” You gave his arm a squeeze and a kind smile before departing to go back into the luxury home. 

You were expecting to be met by Ushijima, but he was nowhere to be found. It didn’t particularly shock you, he got embarrassed in front of everyone. You were expecting to be met with your usual driver who hardly spoke to you unless you spoke to him first but instead was met with Tendou and Kai. Your eyebrows raised as you stared at him, “Let me guess, you’re taking me home.” You sighed and you didn’t get an answer, but you did follow them outside the huge mansion. 

When you got in the SUV, you would sit in the back instantly indulging in the things on your phone before you heard Kai’s voice. “He actually does care about you, you know?” 

You would shake your head, “Has a funny way of showing it.” You answered.

“But, please do not do something tonight that will upset him,” Tendo warned as his fingertips tapped at the steering wheel.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “He gets to go out and act a damn fool, but wants to lose his mind if I do the same,” You kissed your teeth. “I’m going to go out and have so much fun like his father said to do.” 

The remaining amount of time in the car was quiet before you were dropped off at the luxury mansion that you resided in. Despite you decorating the huge mansion to your liking, it still didn’t feel like home. You were greeted by one of the maids, and you would only tell her that she could take the day off, especially considering that you believed today was one of her children's birthdays.

“But Mr.—“ The maid's words were cut off by you.

“I will handle him. You guys can have the rest of the day off. Go enjoy your child’s birthday,” You explained as you watched her face light up before she walked away to grab her things. 

FOR ONCE YOU WERE ENJOYING YOURSELF. As you were at the bar attempting to flag down one of the bartenders, you could feel a male figure squeeze himself next to you and the countless others at the bar. His tall stature towered over you as you attempted once again to get the bartender’s attention. However, the man interjected whistling and getting the bartender’s attention. 

“That’s the trick, to get their attention,” He commented as he gave you a smile that you returned. It was like a bird calling as the bartender flocked to him effortlessly. “This beautiful young woman has been trying to get your attention. I’ve told you guys about not being aware of the customers in front of you.” He warned.

“Sorry sir, it’s a bit hectic back here.” The bartender apologized as his eyes traveled to you. But when he noticed who you were, he looked away with quickness. “What can I get you?” 

You would ignore his sudden break of eye contact and begin to list the drinks your section wanted. “Could you get them served to that section also?” You pointed to the section on the left of the club. “Add an extra bottle and just charge it to Ushijima Wakatoshi’s card.” 

The gentlemen next to you eyebrows raised as he was trying to mentally put a face to the name that fell off your tongue. You leaned against the bar patiently before speaking, “Thanks for helping me. I appreciate it.” You gave him a kind smile as you watched one of the bottle girls load up the drinks on a tray to deliver to the section you were at. 

“It’s no problem. We wouldn’t want to disappoint the wife of Ushijima Wakatoshi.” He responded. 

You rolled your eyes hearing that statement, which the man caught instantly. “Is there a problem? Are you—”

Your words cut him off with a quickness. “It’s not a problem. I am his wife after all, but I just hate that here that’s all I’m known for.” You said to the gentlemen. 

You understood that it was for the best for a lot of people to know who you were, but being known as the wife of a man who didn’t even take the marriage seriously himself felt even worst. You had so much more power than people expected, but here you were in an unknown world not being able to use that power. 

You thanked the stranger once again before attempting to go back to the section, but you felt him tug you back towards him. He lets out a firm sigh before extending his hand toward you. “Let’s start over, I’m Lev Haiba. I own this club.” His hand motioned around the crowds of people in the nightclub. 

You couldn’t help but snicker as you shook his head. “Y/N, heir to the biggest oil company in the world.” You answered. “But that has to stay between us.” You gave Lev a playful smirk and he only held his hand up in a defensive mode.

“Your secret is safe with me. I hope Japan is treating you well considering the uh—circumstances.” Lev says. 

You could hear the pity in his voice. “I’m assuming you’ve heard the news of my loving husband?” You asked as the two of you were walking towards the section you were in. 

“Everyone did. It was this club he was spotted doing said activities. However, it’s Ushijima Wakatoshi, no one is going to ruin his mood.” Lev admitted as he rubbed at the back of his neck nervously. “But I have said too much, I should get back to my job. It was a pleasure meeting you.”

You watched as he disappeared into the crowd, once again feeling like the sheep in a field filled with wolves as you sat down in one of the chairs. You instantly picked up the drink wanting to drink the night away. 

WHEN YOU RETURNED HOME, you dropped your YSL heels on the floor as you stumbled into the house. You glanced at your phone and saw that it was four in the morning. You couldn’t believe that you stayed out so late. You definitely were going to have to rain check with the afternoon tea session with Ushijima’s mother. You attempted to tiptoe your way further inside the house not wanting to wake Ushijima (if he was home). You were aware that on some occasions Ushijima men would be at your house. It didn’t shock you that they were here in your living room doing gods know what. However, the weird feeling under the bottom of your feet caused you to instantly sober up. It felt wet, slightly slippery. You glanced down and your eyes grew big at the sight you were seeing. You had stepped in a small splatter of blood that decorated the thin plastic layer that was on the floor. Your heart rate increased instantly as you stumbled back in a horrified panic to be met with Ushijima catching you from falling. 

“I—“ Your words were stuck in your throat. Your hands were shaking harshly and your heart felt like it was trying to claw out your chest. Your eyes stared at your husband as the crimson-colored liquid stained the white Versace button-down shirt. 

“It’s good to know you’ve made it home safely. Now let’s go get cleaned up. We’re both in need of a shower anyway.” He firmly said. 

You felt Ushijima grab hold of your forearm. His blood-covered fingertips stained your brown skin. “But we have guests.” You stuttered out.

“That’s fine, they will be busy cleaning up the mess that you made,” Ushijima confirmed.

Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion as you were being tugged into the shared bedroom. With urgency, Ushijima closed the door behind him. “Strip.” was the only thing he said as his hands went up to unbutton the buttons on his shirt.

You did what you were told, letting the dress you wore fall to the ground. You crossed your arms over your chest preventing Ushijima from seeing you like this. You didn’t even notice that he had already stripped out of his expensive clothing. You could sense him towering over you before you finally croaked out some words, “You said my mess? I haven’t done anything wrong.” 

Goosebumps decorated your skin when you felt Ushijima’s fingertips tracing alongside your side. His fingertips engraved you with the possible sin he just committed before you arrived home. He stopped right at the soft fabric of the thong you wore, letting out a low hum before pushing them down. You didn’t argue against his action. You weren’t sure if you were too afraid to or if you just wanted to see where this would go. You stepped out of your underwear before watching Ushijima disappear into the bathroom. The sound of the shower could be heard before his voice broke you out of your broken thoughts. Like an obedient dog, you walked into the bathroom with your hands still attempting to cover your bare body. Ushijima was already in the hot steaming shower washing over the blood that was on him. “I’ve already seen you vulnerable before, remember our wedding night?” He asked. “There’s no need to hide your body away from me.” He answered.

“You never responded to what I said. What mess have I created? You’re the one that’s going out every night and acting a fool,” You reminded him.

Ushijima let out a sigh, “Just get in the fuckin’ shower and we can talk.” He says, “Please.” 

Hearing him say please was a shock to you, you took a couple of steps forward opening the door of the walk-in shower to join him. In a different world, such an intimate moment would have your stomach flowing with butterflies. But right now, your stomach could only twist in dangerous knots while you let the steaming hot water heat your body. “Did you have fun last night?” Ushijima asked.

Your eyes met with his as you felt the warm cloth filled with soap brush against your body. He was kind enough to clean you himself. Similar to a doll maker creating a doll, you felt that’s what Ushijima was doing. You were his doll as soon as you walked down the aisle clutching onto his father’s arm. “I did. It was nice to not be bottled up in his house. It can get lonely sometimes,” You answered. 

“You have the maids, it can’t be that lonely,” He responded.

That was true. During your time living here, you managed to get to know each of the eight maids and two groundskeepers that worked to make sure Ushijima’s home looked nice. But it still felt lonely, cold. It didn’t feel like a home. 

“Although, I appreciate their help around the place. It’s not the same.” You answered as your finger went up to motion for the young man to turn so you could wash his back. “You know this. I’m not asking for much, but can we at least pretend we’re enjoying this marriage.” 

“I’m actually enjoying this marriage,” Ushijima responded with a chuckle.

“You have such a weird way to show it. Going out every night, being seen with other women—“ You stopped abruptly to let out a weary sigh. Not sure if the sudden feeling of being lightheaded came from the hotness of the shower or the fact that you’re finally voicing your opinions to Ushijima. “It’s humiliating.” 

Ushijima didn’t say much about your words. The two of you continued to shower in silence before eventually getting out of it. At this point, you had sobered as you toyed with the ends of the soft white rob Ushijima put you in. You watched as Ushijima waltzed back into the bedroom, “Well, let me show that I will change.” 

Your body leaned against the doorframe of the master bedroom bathroom, “Sex really can’t show me anything. Changed behavior though,” You said rolling your eyes at him. 

“Come on, when was the last time we actually had sex.” 

“You’re deflecting from the original conversation Ushi,” You sighed as you walked towards the dresser to find something to wear.

As you were searching for something to sleep in, you could feel Ushijima’s strong arms wrap around your waist. He tugged you closer to his body and you felt the growing boner poking at the fatness of your butt. “You haven’t called me Ushi since our wedding night.” He commented.

“You’re so annoying.” You sighed, but you didn’t bulge out his touch. “We both were drunk as ever that night. I can’t believe you still remember that.” 

“Of course, I remembered it. You moaned it so beautifully while your head was buried into a pillow,” Ushijima reminded you as you felt his lips press against the exposed skin on your neck. 

You felt your skin grow hotter with each harsh nibble, lick, and bite on your neck. One of Ushijima’s hands disappeared inside your robe and straight in between your thighs. His index and middle finger swiped at your wet folder and indulged how wet you were while you seemed to melt into his touch. “You don’t remember, hmm? How your thighs couldn’t stop shaking once we were done?” He asked as his fingertips that were covered in your wetness would rub at your clit. “How you wet up the sheets so badly?” 

You made direct eye contact with Ushijima in the mirror that was connected to the dresser. The once softness that was in his eyes for a split second was gone. You weren’t particularly super religious, but you were sure you were looking into the eyes of the devil. He undid your rob and tugged it off your bare body causing you to gasp suddenly. Your thighs quivered for more as you felt your own wetness stain the inside of your thighs. Ushijima stopped the subtle circular motion on your clit before he’s talking once again. “Tell me you remember that and I’ll help you cum,” His words tickled your earlobe and you nodded instantly.

“I remember. Ushi—“ You desperately coughed up those words. “I remember.” 

“Good,” Ushijima said while the grip around your waist grew tighter. “Now be a good wife and go to the bed and get on all fours, darling.” 

You did what you were told, being sure to grab a pillow to make yourself feel more comfortable. The anticipation bubbling into your stomach as you could sense Ushijima behind you. When you felt him tug you closer to the bed, you swallowed the large lump forming in your throat. Your cunt so eager to swallow his cock bit by bit even though you were sure he wasn’t going to be so gentle. When you felt the tip of Ushijima’s cock enter you, you chewed at your lower lip getting ready for him to instantly bottom down inside you. The faint memory of your wedding night when he specifically praised you on how well you took his dick swirled around your head. 

This time he took his time. Pushing his cock inside you slowly, teasingly, until you were gasping for him to put it all the way in. His large hands grasped at your waist before his hips begin to drive forward to be met with the soft flesh of your butt. Your head buried into the pillow caging in your moans before Ushijima grabbed the pillow and tossed it. “I need my men to hear you while they’re cleaning up your mess.” He said firmly. 

His fingers buried into the flesh of your skin while the sound of skin slapping against each other could be heard. Ushijima was in a complete trace as he watched his cock disappear into your addicting cunt. “Go ahead, moan out how good Ushi is making you feel while they clean up your mess.” He said through gritted teeth. 

“What mess?” You hiccuped out through moans. Your eyesight grew blurry due to the tears that accumulated through Ushijima’s thrusts. 

You let out a yelp when Ushijima grabbed a hold of your head tugging you upward. His chest pressed against your sweat-coated back before he let go of your hand to use that hand to snake around to your neck. “Don’t act foolish Y/N.” He answered.

You could feel Ushijima’s cock twitch inside you as he stopped his thrusts abruptly. His hand wrapped around your neck and you could feel him give it a slight squeeze before his thrusting continued. “You know my doll. When you press your thumb in someone’s windpipe, index finger to their carotid artery, and your middle finger applies pressure to their jugular vein…they’ll lose consciousness.” Ushijima said.

The heat of the moment of your breath grasping away for a couple of seconds due to Ushijima mimicking the same thing he just told her, he let go of you and shoved your face further into the fluffiness of the mattress. “Even when I nearly took your breath away, you only clutched around my cock even tighter.” He said darkly. 

His words sent a bone chilling shiver down your spine as you moaned out helplessly. “Ushi!” You moaned out.

His thrusting only continued, ignoring your little whimpers before he leaned over placing wet kisses on the middle of your spine. “You know that only makes a person lose consciousness, but if you continue you can damage the cortex of your brain which leads to your death.” He uttered as he was thrusting.

His chest heaved upwards as he traced his name upon your skin. “It took less than 6 minutes for your little friend Lev to finally fuckin’ die when I wrapped my hands around his throat.” He said through groans. You could feel his thrusting grow sloppy, he was about to cum.

“I had to clean up your mess Y/N,” he said. 

You felt yourself orgasm immediately. The dangerous shiver that went though your body made your body go into complete shock. Your gasping out for Ushijima. The thought of him killing a man that talked to you pushed you to the edge. Perhaps you did flutter around his cock even more at the sound of those words coming out his mouth. Ushijima still fucked you through the explosive orgasm until he too was cumming mess, not bothering to pull out either. Filling you up to the brim with his cum just to trap you as his. 

He let your body collapse on the bed like a rag doll. You were completely out of breath with his cum leaking out of you and when you met his eyes, they were soft once again. 

“We’re starting a clean slate starting now. No more outside interferences when it comes to our marriage. We’re going to be happy together if we like it or not.” He said as he leaned down to place a kiss upon your temple. 

“Now get some rest, my doll, we have tea with my mother in about eight hours.” 

You really were still a sheep upon the family of wolves. 

TAGS — @gabzlovesu @rinhoes @indiecursor @imperatorkhaleesi @maydayaisha @shamelesshoefairy @thefairywalker @drugzforyou @kuroosnumber1fan @todorokiskitten @sftbunnyy @haitanifxn @ffushiquro @tamak00 @princesstiti14 @@caribbeanwifey19

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hate sex with suna rintarou — mdni

summary: suna made your life a living hell the moment you joined the EJP coaching team, and he loved every second of it. after months of dealing with his torment, you finally call him in your office to end the feud once and for all.

cw: smut, unprotected sex, hate sex lol [2.4k] barely edited

HQ MASTERLIST — OSAMU || ATSUMU

“a word in my office, please?”

suna rintarou looked over his shoulder towards his teammates preparing to leave, a smirk plastered on his face, “am i allowed to say no?”

with a soft close of your eyes, you shook your head at the man before turning your heel, heading towards the only place you found safe from his torment, while ruining it in the process as you invited him in.

suna loved to torture you. you didn’t know why, and to be fair, he wasn’t exactly sure either. he took pride in being able to get under your skin so easily, yet you always covered it up without a second thought, and it pissed him off. you’d always offer a simple smile to remain professional despite his insulting words and he couldn’t figure out why.

curiosity filled him more on where exactly you drew boundaries, and as much as he loved to ruin the gym floor you recently cleaned with his muddy shoes, you never seemed to speak up. constantly letting him walk over you as if you were a doormat grew amusing to him, and he swore that he’d continue until he no longer could.

even provoking you during practice became a habit of his. whether it was refusing your advice or stretching on his own accord, nothing ever pushed you far enough to give him that reaction he so desperately wanted from you. for his ‘sweet little coach’, yn, to snap.

and perhaps you would have snapped earlier if you hadn’t noticed his late stays in the gym alone, where he specifically stayed out of eye to practice the advice you had given him earlier. or maybe how he’d immediately switch up when you came into view, his façade returning along with insulting words.

not only was suna rintarou a rude man, he was complicated as well. his mixed signals did nothing but confused you, and in the process he confused himself as well. you realized that only weeks after meeting him, and he had came to the same conclusion about you.

because as you pondered on sunas real goal while watching him practice alone, he wondered why you didn’t use your authority against him.

being a coach, you could easily bench suna; suspend suna. you could do anything to ruin his career, yet you don’t. always improving his game and including him in each of the sets. his attitude was endless, yet you didn’t budge.

not one bit.

although he complained about following, he still found his legs following yours, eyes trailing down your back and to your hips as he’s done countless times. the bounce in your walk becoming way too familiar as he watched you closely, shamelessly to any open eyes but your own.

closing the door behind him, you approached the front of your desk, leaning against it with crossed arms. the disappointing look you displayed was something he had grown accustomed to, something he learned to love throughout the many months of knowing you.

his body stood far, but it still seemed to tower over you. anyone in this situation may have responded differently as he radiated self-proclaimed authority over you, yet you didn’t seem to care. his ego meant nothing to you.

the smirk on his face irked you enough though, as he dug his way into your nerves without saying a single word. the hold from rolling your eyes being a burden, one he always seemed to force you to carry while in his presence, and he knew that.

“to what do i owe the pleasure?” his voice snaked it’s way into your ears, sarcasm rolling naturally off his tongue as it normally did.

“is there something i did?” you asked, finally sparing the man a glance, one he didn’t know his body was begging for silently until received, “anything to earn this disrespect from you?”

the snap within you he yearned for seemed to approach, the malicious look he presented becoming even more as you continued to press on.

“i try very hard to be reasonable, to be a good coach, yet,” your words trailed off as you shook your head, refusing to blame yourself for a grown mans actions, “you don’t seem to care.”

“i do care.”

“do you?”

his feet slightly danced beneath him as he observed the surroundings of your office. the small accent pillows decorating the seats, or the small polaroids of your outside life stuck on the wall. he took it in as he wondered how to approach your confrontation, taking his sweet time so that your remaining patience ran thinner.

“you annoy me,” he admitted, taking a few feet closer while still avoiding your gaze, “so much.”

“i’ve done nothing but do my job.”

“and you’re annoying.”

standing up from the desk, you felt the heat rise to your cheeks in anger. his body came closer once you stood, his hands resting in his pockets as he stared smugly down at you.

“you have no right,” pressing a finger to his chest, his smile grew even bigger, “absolutely no right to treat me the way you do.”

suna knew how he felt about you. his actions towards you made no sense in his mind, but he knew what he longed for. those puffy cheeks you gave him were enough for him to recognize the rare beating in his chest, and maybe the tightness of his pants. how your screams at the team were nothing more than fuel to his imagination of you in his bed, muffling around his cock.

your finger continued to dig deep before his hand grabbed it, the tingling sensation in his body growing as his perverted thoughts grew once more at the feeling of your soft skin, “i have every fucking right to feel the way i do.“

his feet moved forward, forcing yours back. the angered look now turning into hesitation as your backside hit the edge of your desk, legs voluntarily spreading so he could stand between them.

“i hate the way you hug komori after each practice,” running his hand up your side and to your face, he gripped your jaw tightly toward his, “and i hate the way you let tatsuki drive you home some nights.”

“and that’s my fault?” your words were hot against his lips as he held you close by the waist, eyes staring into yours, tension thick against your skin as his nose brushed against your own.

“it’s all your fault.”

breaking the gap, his mouth crashed onto yours viciously, hands gripped your waist as he wasted no time to grind against your core. your arms wrapped around his neck as he growled in the kiss, fingers carding through his hair with a harsh tug.

suna knew this would happen eventually. he refused to not have his way, no matter how long it took. maybe you knew it was going to happen too when he secretly locked the door as he closed it, but it didn’t matter now as his tongue invaded your mouth greedily, saliva combining as your head fell back with his force.

“touch me after practice,” he grumbled against your skin as he made his way down your neck, relishing at the moans you let out as he marked his territory, “let me drive you home.”

he played with the buttons of your shirt before tearing it off, attacking your breast with his mouth as his fingertips dug in the arch of your back, “tell me i’m better than them.”

“you want me to lie to you?”

the clasp against your back was let go easily as he began to remove your pants, neglecting his own clothes as you whined, pushing your hands away from the hems of his shirt.

“let me take care of you,” his words were muffled against your stomach, pushing your back onto your desk and pulling the rest of your clothes as you kicked your shoes off, “i can take care of you better than they can.”

“i doubt it.”

playing with your now exposed folds, the needy spread of your legs formed a tent in his pants as he salivated at the thought of finally being able to taste you, “you won’t be saying that soon, pretty girl.”

he groaned as his face met your cunt, the wetness he’d already cause between your legs enough for him to cum on the spot. you tensed against him as he searched for the perfect spot, his long digits finding home within you to add to the pleasure.

“say my name,” he hummed against your clit, the vibrations tickling you in the perfect way, “scream my name.”

“f…fuck.” your body curved against the desk as his fingers curled against your sweet spot, sucking on the spot near your nub that had your clenching the most.

“what’s my name?”

“su…suna, ‘m gonna, fuck,” your angelic cries had his free hand leave your hip to palm himself through his pants, precum already leaking through, “suna please.”

“that’s not my name, baby.” his words were condescending as you lifted your head to pull him closer to your clit, his eyes staring back up filled with a troublesome glint of lust.

“rintarou, please, please,” your words were broken between each pant as your climax was near. his smile was felt against your slick as he increased his pace to fulfill your pleads, “feels s’good.”

“there you go, baby.”

your walls clenched against his fingers as his tongue slid down to collect your new liquids, his hair messy as it left your hands. your head fell back as your body relaxed, your heaving chest blocking the view for only moments before he stood over you.

completely clothed, his smug look never faded as he observed your naked body shake below him from just a single orgasm, “damn, when’s the last time someone fucked you?”

“what the fuck does that mean?” you propped your body up with irritation, his patronizing words once against digging deep under your skin.

he laughed in response as he tore his shirt off, your eyes widening at the way his muscles flexed against his other movements. removing the rest of his clothing swiftly, he made his way towards you with his cock in hand.

you were shocked, to say the least. he was large, bigger than anyone you’ve had before, veins thick against his girth as he pumped himself a few times, precum smeared against his tip from his arousal.

“you gonna answer my question, pretty girl?”

his hands found the small of your back once again as he laid you down gently, his sudden change in demeanor giving you whiplash as he watched you from above. rubbing his tip against your swollen clit, he threw his head back at the pleasure, grinding himself against your wetness before swearing to corrupt you completely.

“it’s been a while,” you admitted as he continued to press against your sensitive spots, his length finally finding your core, but not pushing through, “fuck, it’s been a while.”

“how long?” his eyes focused on your reaction as his tip slowly slid in, the slow and small thrusts entering you forcing your eyes to roll back from the stretch.

“months,” you breathed out, embarrassment filling your cheeks, “almost a year.”

he laughed once more, except this time it was different; as if he was baffled. his thrusts became harder, watching as you continued to swallow him whole inch by inch, the wet noises already filled the room as his balls slapped your skin when he fully entered, eyes clenching tight at the sensation.

“untouched for a year?” he mumbled to the ceiling, his hands gripping harshly against your plump thighs as the desk began to shake against his intensity, “i’ll make sure that never happens again.”

his pace was hungry as sweat filled the strands of his hair, eyes focused on how your tits bounced, or how your hands were pulling his shoulders closer to you. your nails successfully found his back as his chest flushed against your intimate skin, the feeling of his cock twitching inside of you felt rewarding as your cries grew louder.

he sucked in a sharp breath as you pulled your legs up for a better angle, biting his lower lip to muffle any noise leaving his lips.

“what’s my name?”

“r…rintarou,” you whined as he pulled out fully, slamming back into your hips continuously to see the broken look of your features.

“louder.”

“rintarou!”

his muscles tensed at your touch, your walls tightening close around him, pushing you both into that peak you were seeking.

“almost there, pretty?” his hands rubbed your tender thighs, the gratification at the weak shake of your head sending him over, “good.”

his movements became harsher, yet sloppy. the end neared as you finally contracted against him, your orgasm pushing him into submission as he folded forward even more. clenching against him, milking every drop of his seed into you with the friction of each thrust. the spasm had him push one last fuck into you, stars filling his vision as you looked towards him lovingly.

a look that disregarded any ill words exchanged from the last few months, a look that spoke of a growing love.

his lips attacked yours once more as he still sat inside you, a combination of both of your arousal dripping onto the desk from your shaking thighs.

“suna rintarou,” you spoke softly against his plump lips, his green eyes watching yours with care as his hold against your waist kept you close.

“say the words, baby,” he whispered, every ounce of negativity that once filled his body now nonexistent as he finally obtained what he longed for, “say the words and i’m yours.”

“suna rintarou,” you repeated, stroking your hand against his jaw, “i’ve been wanting to do this since the day i met you.”

“oh yeah?”

“yeah,” giggling at his sudden change in energy, you dealt the final blow, “starting today and ending three weeks from now, you are suspended from any official games that EJP plays in.”

“what-“

“if your behavioral issues continue, you’ll be arranged a meeting with the rest of the supervisory team and your position may be re-evaluated.”

pushing him off your body to grab your clothes that littered the floor, you peaked over you shoulder with the same look he gave his friends minutes prior, “that is all, suna. you may leave now.”

taglist; @nanamoonie @soranihimawari @ohtokki @hai1q @crescentkaze @hvneyluvr @noayuusukki @peacefulbluebutterfly @blkladyelle @bimbokutos @phokimmy @butterscotch-ripple-icecream @hoperenae @rinphoria @wisteriarya @sunasbtch @kodzukenskitten @ponyoponyo1 @ilysmbeyourselfqueen @thefairywalker @jaehyunspet @skomiomi @joonishantics @onigirichiya @briz3ida @g4bb1 @niikiiqq @annianniyaa @akaashiwife @anti-social12 @jmpskr @dilucsbby @akirawhore @ajwamiju @tenaciousgothstudentauthor @froggie-jenny @hxltic @kyou-kaaa @girlincrimson @hoedorokishoto @khinux @pink-lemonade-bubbles @iwaizumiee @sebariaman @mfreedomstuff @mumscig @lucidityandluxury @ti-mame @im-always-in-need-of-a-nap @erintaro @lovelalalanga @peachyyrings @noisystudentwombatspy @tojitsukaisen @pikane @hyeque @diluvey @winxcunt @izu-fi (striked could not be tagged)

I've been a fan of Haikyuu for like 4-5 years now and I wanna know if Kenna's gamer name is kozuken or kodzuken ?? I always assumed it was the first one because it's for his name kozume kenma and from this manga piece

but like everywhere else like his fandom profile and fanfics and stuff all spell it with a 'd' but why did y'all start putting it like that ?? i don't understand where it came from and it bothers me 😭😭

someonehelpplz :(

Ｋｉｓｓ Ｍｅ Ｔｉｌｌ Ｙｏｕ＇ｒｅ Ｄｒｕｎｋ

⇝ 𝘒𝘦𝘯𝘮𝘢 𝘹 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

You were smiling at him. He was over at your house, and after a few snacks, you had taken him to your bedroom to play some games.

"We won!" you exclaim as you tackle him in a hug. Kenma hums in reply.

There was a literal fire burning in your eyes as you queued up another game, "Let's play another one,"

After many games though, he felt himself getting a bit frustrated. You weren't giving him much attention. He smirks as he leans back and vows to win this round. Hours had passed by, and the house was asleep, you guys being the exception.

He was getting a little bored.

The end card shows up once more, and you whirl to face him, raising your hand up for a high five. He looks at your hand, then at your face. He raises his hand just a little bit.

"Kenma..." you whine, but as he thought, you shuffle forward to reach his hand.

"Sorry, I'm feeling a bit lazy," he replies.

As you reach his hand, he grabs it and yanks. You let out a startled gasp and fall onto his chest. He presses a few buttons on his controller before the game shuts off.

The both of you shift until you're sitting between his knees, facing him, pouting. Absentmindedly, his hands go to your hips, slipping under your sleeping shirt to trace small circles on your skin.

"We had a streak! What's wrong Ken-" You stop mid-sentence as he leans forward, placing his forehead on yours. Moonlight streams through your window, and you look up at him. He thinks you look very pretty. Kenma says as much, nuzzling his nose against your cheek.

He feels you huff in annoyance, but you don’t push him away. He pulls you closer, kissing your cheeks before backing up just enough to kiss the tip of your nose.

He smiles as your pout melts away.

But he notices the way your eyes flicker down to his lips.

“You want something?” He knows he’s being a little mean, but he justifies it with the goosebumps that rise under his finger tips.

Kenma chuckles before grabbing and kissing you. Your hands fly to his shirt, and he looks at you through hooded eyes. You kiss him back, and he can’t help to smirk at how flustered you get.

Breaking the kiss, you turn away and lay down on the bed. He can’t help but think you look a little drunk. Coming up behind you, he balances himself on his hands as he kisses your neck.

“G-go to sleep, Kenma” You say as you turn to push him down.

He pouts in return, but you’re already pulling the covers up and snuggling into him. Kenma kisses you again before finally grabbing you and closing his eyes.

The last thing he sees is you smiling at him.

⇝ 𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴, 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥! 𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘶𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯

𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦

𝘚𝘩𝘰𝘺𝘰 𝘏𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘢 𝘹 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Authors note: it's October. Don't read this if you're a minor.

Shoyo has always had this habit. He'll keep going after something until he gets it. One more game. One more round. One more date.

One more time.

It drives you insane, in the best way possible. During his time away, it was always 'One more call.' or 'One more hour.' He was insatiable. Always being the supportive partner, you'd give in, but not too much. Never too much. Of course, that didn't last when he came back.

Before Shoyo left, he was timid. Not in the sense that he was shy with you, but more in the sense he didn't know what the fuck he was doing. His words. Although, that does not apply to him anymore, in any way, shape, or form. He'd grown into his body, and grown into more as a whole and it stole your breath at the airport.

Literally.

One moment he was at the end of the terminal and next thing you know, his lips were on you and his hands were gripping your waist. Shoyo's presence took your breath away. As the greetings came and went that day, you didn't leave his side. He wouldn't let you.

A hand on your lower back, or holding yours. But he'd become possessive in touch, ever so slightly. You couldn't help but think he was behaving like he hadn't played a game in a long time. He'd finally found a ball, an arena. His hand brushed your nape and fiddled with your hair. He stole kisses every chance he could.

One more time.

What you hadn't expected was what would happen the minute you locked your door that night. When you turned your unsuspecting back to poor Shoyo, the man just couldn't help himself.

Look at you. Finer, prettier, and his. Just as the tell-tale sound of the deadbolt sliding into place sounded, your hair was over your shoulder and his mouth was on your neck. His name came out as a strangled gasp, and you couldn't believe it. This cannot be the Shoyo who gave you timid kisses on your cheek and had shy, albeit clumsy sex with you.

There was something about him, something had changed, because you were already hyperaware of him after such a long time, and this was just, insane. Rapidly losing any semblance of higher-functioning thinking, you whip around in your man's arms. You just had to see him, had to confirm that this was your Shoyo and not some, some imposter!

And the look in his eyes could only be described as hungry love. it was the look he got on the court when he was in his flow.

"Sh-shoyo?"

Your back was up against the wall, his hands resting on your hips. His eyes looked into yours, then fell to your lips. Maybe it was a little mean of you, but you can't help but bite your lips, looking up at him. He gives a little smirk before he kisses you again, but it's heated this time, with an edge that wasn't there before.

Soon, you're on your bed as he all but throws on you it, lifting his arms up and shedding his shirt somewhere on your floor. Not that you cared in particular where it landed, because the scene in front of you was much more interesting. Shoyo was more muscle now, and you'd felt it but seeing it was different. You automatically shuffle a bit, and he tracks the movement before his mouth is leaving open-mouthed kisses on your neck and his hands are moving on your chest.

"Shoyo-!"

His face is still buried in the crook of your neck when he speaks, his voice vibrating through you.

"Just, missed ya' so bad, pretty."

And who can argue with that logic?

Not you, if the state of you was any indication. He’d done something, and next thing you know your legs are now on his shoulders, which are so much more wider, and his head in between them, and sweet heavens, this man was gonna ruin you.

Your hands were in his hair or gripping the sheets, and you’re pretty sure that you are being the opposite of shy at this moment, with the sounds Shoyo’s tongue keeps pulling out. You’re so close to your high, and his hands are curved around your legs holding you in place. You feel as if you are going to shatter.

“Come on,” his voice reverberates through you, and you glance down at him. His eyes are already on your face though, and you don’t break eye contact until his does this long swipe with his tongue and you are done for. Snapping your eyes shut you cry his name as he works you through your orgasm.

You know you’re panting hard, but his fingers are fiddling with you now and you know you won’t walk tomorrow when he smirks up at you and says,

“One more time.”

And you can’t say no. You never have. Who says you’ll say it now?

⇝ 𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴, 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥! 𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘶𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯

PATIENCE [A. MIYA]

pairings. sub!atsumu miya x fem!reader

filed under. masturbation, sadism, degradation, pillow humping, use of toys, orgasm delay/denial, sensory deprivation, oral (m. receiving), handjob, cock slapping, pegging, spitting, implied dumbification, use of restraints, aftercare

an. repost from my ao3 account <3

"[Y/NNN]!" Atsumu's whiny voice dragged every single syllable of your name, nuzzling his nose on the nape of your neck as he hugged you from behind. "[Y/N]... can we fuck?"

  "What the hell, 'Tsumu?" You grumbled, looking to the side to meet his puppy dog eyes. "I'm busy. I have a paper due in two hours." You sighed, pushing his face away from your shoulder and turning your attention to your laptop. It was the last assignment of the year and after you've done submitting this, you're free from the chains of university until January. Your boyfriend was as needy as ever. It's always that time of the year when he'd randomly walk up to you, smug and all, and ask for a good fuck...

  ...scratch that, this was almost a daily thing and you were beginning to grow concerned for Atsumu's sex drive. 

  It was a given fact that he had a stamina that encompasses one of an athlete's. He's a volleyball player after all. Atsumu was successfully scouted by the Division 1 Volleyball League as soon as he graduated high school. After playing a few games and such, he was then put in the MSBY Black Jackals and earned the spot as their starting setter. He lived quite the life, didn't he? He also managed to meet you, a coffee-addicted, narcissistic college student who just wanted to get through life. You had earned a scholarship in this college for the track team and in turn, you also had to study Sports Medicine. Both you and Atsumu crossed paths on an odd Sunday afternoon when you so happened to be fighting a dog. 

  It was an odd way to meet your significant other, really, but you insisted that the reason behind your intentions were merely due to the fact that you wanted to assert dominance. You took this dominatrix role to heart because as you and Atsumu got closer it had come to circumstances where you wouldn't hesitate to fight a child, a baby, and worst-case-scenario: a bear. So, when it came to sex, you didn't just let Atsumu degrade you unless you had something to say. 

  No, no, no, you weren't a submissive woman for no man. In this relationship, you were in charge. No matter where you stood, top or bottom, side to side— when you say something, like the good boy Atsumu was, he will always have to listen. Of course, that is with his consent of course. But tonight, as the clock ticked to 10 in agonizingly slow pace, Atsumu couldn't help but be a little too needy. 

  It was an obvious fact in your relationship; Atsumu was very horny. No matter the time or place, he's always trying to find a reason to stuff his cock into your little pussy. How do you think he won No Nut November? That's right, he didn't. Two hours in and he was whining about wanting to fuck your tits. What now? As you typed this unnecessarily long essay for your class, Atsumu sat impatiently on the bed, watching you with fox-like eyes. He could feel his own growing bulge in his pants when he watched your focused expression in front of the laptop; his chocolate orbs travelling down to your exposed thighs and the small curb of your stomach when you sat. 

  He just loved everything about you. 

  "Stop oglin' me, 'Tsumu," you spoke sternly, keeping your attention on the laptop. "Calm your breathing, you can last an hour without being fucked by me." 

  "But [Y/NNN]," he whined. You could tell he had tilted his head upward slightly and that there was a pout present on his face. "Please, please, pleaaasseeee." He begged, but with every plea you only responded with a shake of your head and a hum of disapproval. 

  "Be patient and I'll think about it, baby." 

  You were so close to completing this paper, couldn't he wait a little bit? But knowing your 'Tsumu, impatience ran through his veins and Atsumu always figured out a way to get what he wants. The typing on your keyboard as well as the ticking of time created an irk mark on the side of his head and Atsumu was beginning to grow hot because of the growing bulge in his volleyball shorts. He sat properly on the edge, his hands on his sides as he watched with a slightly aroused expression the way his dick twitched from inside of his garments. If you looked at him right now, you would have been able to see the outline of his dick sitting painfully on the meat of his muscled thighs. 

  You cleared your throat to yourself, mumbling a few words as you typed up your essay. It didn't help that Atsumu was agitated by any move you made. Your bare legs unconsciously moved against each other whenever it got too cold or the way the top you wore rose up slightly so that he could see some of the sweat that glistened onto your unsullied skin. He just wanted to paint your body with his cum and at this point, he would do anything to see you in a position under him... 

  ...or on top of him. 

  Now that he's thought of it, never once has he ever had you on top of him during sex. You've always been so dominantly powerful even while you were bottoming out; but the image of you being on top? That not only riled him up even more at the moment, but he also felt the hard throb of his dick beneath his attire. 

  Shit, Atsumu internally cursed. Want 'er to fuck me so bad... 

  "You're quiet," you pointed out, still unaware of his dishevelled state. "Too quiet. What's wrong, 'Tsums?" You furrowed your brows. This paper was taking longer than you anticipated and it was beginning to tire you out having to think so much all while mentally worrying for your blond boyfriend. Though, you'd never admit that out loud.

  He whined, beginning to squirm on the bed. A pillow situated between his thighs as he pouted in your direction. You couldn't see him, but the commotion he made behind you only caused you to perk your ears. You weren't about to let him distract you from your work— because that's exactly what he wanted. You weren't about to allow him to get what he wanted, were you? 

  "[Y/N]," he was vocal as he moaned. His shorts found a place on the floor as he ground his hard cock against the soft pillow. You froze on your spot, pinching yourself as a reminder you had a paper due in less than two hours. You could hear the soft rocks of the bed as Atsumu pleasured himself. You tried to keep still so that you didn't look back, because you knew that if you looked back on him right now he would have won and you most likely would have pounced him. "[Y/N]— hahh..." You could hear the neediness in his voice, the way it rose up and cracked in the slightest. You knew how high his stamina was and you were painfully aware how long it took for the male to come undone just by touching himself alone. 

  Humping on your pillows and jerking himself wouldn't satisfy him as much as having your cunt buried deep into his dick.

  The way his cock was in between the folded pillows, feeling the soft sheet of your silk covers hugging his walls. He had to hold the two ends still, hissing at the feeling and knowing it was nothing in comparison to the gummy walls of your [light/dark] pussy. If he folds the pillow tighter around his cock, he can imagine the view of your body in front of him, mewling as he thrust into the pillow with a strangled moan. He was rutting hard into the cotton, groaning quietly as his imagination took him places, the thought of you and you alone was enough to get him off. And he was desperate, absolutely desperate for you to milk his fat balls dry. 

  He wanted to feel your legs wrap around his hips, his image of your naked body, if you looked back now, the sight of his bulging muscles as he drives his hips into the pillow would be so divine. The way his thighs begin to sweat as he humps your pillow, looking so tiny between the trunk of his thick thighs, bed dipping down around his weight. 

  Soft, gentle humps weren't cutting anymore for Atsumu. He had taken the pillow away, stripping the last of his clothing allowing his cock to spring up and hit his stomach. His red and angry tip was leaking with precum, moving down his twitching shaft slowly. As soon as his large hands found home around his girth, he hissed a moan, making you flinch. You could tell by the heat he radiated, that he was so needy right now. But you couldn't let him distract you, you had a priority right now and that was not Atsumu. 

  That was your fourteen-page essay. 

   "Atsumu," your voice rang in his ears, almost a little too sharply earned a startled whimper from his end. Your typing halted and he gulped when you turned to face the blond male. His legs spread as his large hands moved up and down, slowly around his cock. He was shamelessly exposed to your piercing [E/C] orbs and it had come to the point that you would've thought this situation would be embarrassing in the eyes of someone who wasn't you. The older Miya had no shame at this point of the relationship; him being so sprawled out and horny in front of your eyes. "Stop touching yourself." You pursed your lips together. 

  You'd be lying if that sight didn't turn you on. You could already feel your pussy flutter and pool in your underwear at the thought of Atsumu jerking off with your name escaping his lips. You felt so powerful at this point, you felt like you bore fruit an ability that every god could gracefully walk by; the thought of Atsumu being fucked out by yours truly was riveting in a way that caused you to subconsciously rub your sex with your thighs only. Your breath was hot as you opened your mouth in the shape of an 'o,' Atsumu's brass-like orbs sparked at the sight of that, and he smirked much to your demise. 

  "Or what, [Y/N]-chan?" He teased with perilous intent. "Ya said yer busy with the paper, what's stoppin' me now?" His cocky grin boiled your blood and you exhaled a sigh of disciplinary resolve. 

  You had something that Atsumu did not: patience. 

  "If you don't stop touching yourself I'll make sure to ruin every single orgasm for this week and the following week after." 

  Atsumu froze, his hand hovering over the shaft of his dick. An incoherent noise escaped his lips as you smirked to yourself, he knew damn well that was a promise and not just a simple threat to keep him at bay. He knew how patient you could be without his dick; you were just amazing that way. The thought of not being able to release was a nightmare for Atsumu. He couldn't do that. He was like a rabbit in heat whenever he was active in sex— he couldn't stop until he's cum once, twice, three times, or more. 

  When you saw this, you hummed in satisfaction as you turned back to keep doing your schoolwork. "Good boy." You murmured more to yourself rather than to Atsumu. But in a matter of a few ticking minutes, feeling like hours to the blind male, he began to whine and grumble under his breath. He was hidden under the blanket, all bundled up like a caterpillar and quietly he was stroking himself. 

  This didn't go unnoticed by you. 

  "Hnngh..." He panted quietly. Your chair shifted and he froze.

  You continued to type your essays, pretending to be unaware of his sinful ministrations. Your breathing was still and controlled; in contrast to Atsumu's quiet and hitched own. The way he slowly stroked his cock in attempt to please himself didn't make up as much as when he was more exposed and open with the air. He just wanted to be touched by you. He wanted your hands all over his toned body, he wanted you to ruin him; though he would never admit that out loud because of his own pride and ego in its standing. 

  "Atsumu," your voice rung in his ears once again. Startled, he yelped when he saw you sitting by the edge of the bed with your arms crossed. The laptop still open to your unfinished document and his half-naked body exposed as you pulled the blanket off of him. "What were you doing?" You rose your brows, leaning forward sinisterly. 

  "Nothing," he spoke quickly, looking anywhere but at you. 

  "Then why is your hand on your cock?" You didn't hesitate with your bluntness, watching his flushed expression as he sat up and faced you. "What happened to 'no touching,' huh? Are you really that needy for my cunt that you'd go as far as not listen to me? You're just a needy little slut, aren't you, baby?" 

  "I-I couldn't—"

  "Shut up," you interrupted coldly. "Lie down and put your hands above your head, babe." You straddled the naked male, towering over him like a tiger looking down on its prey— you pinned his hands above his head, pressing your lips against his own and letting him melt against your touch. He was needy. Very needy, because when you pulled your lips away he was leaning forward for more and what stopped him were the restraints that you had put him in while he was distracted. You leaned over to reach under the bed, grabbing the blue cock ring and putting it on his swelling length. "Remember our safe word, baby?"

  'Tuna,' he thought. 

  "Yes ack—  shiittt, shit, shit!" He threw his head backwards, his hips arching forward as you switched on the vibrator on its lowest setting, giving him the buzzing sensation that was enough to shoot electricity around his body, but not enough to make him cum. Humming a small tune to yourself, you made him face you. He watched as you carefully lifted yourself from straddling the male, ridding yourself of your indigo underwear and waving it in front of his face. 

  "You better not spit this out," you murmured, cupping his cheeks with one hand so that his mouth opened with an 'o.' "You're gonna shut up and keep still, understand? If I hear so much as a whimper, I'm going to ruin you, Miya Atsumu." 

  Your eyes sparked darkly as you stuffed his mouth with your lace undie, smiling mischievously when he complied. You also grabbed a silk blindfold from inside the bedside table, gently wrapping it around his vision before teasingly pressing a kiss on where his eyes would be. His mouth quivered, threatened to release a whimper, but alas, he wouldn't want his orgasms ruined by you every time. He wanted release and he couldn't do that if he was disobedient.

  Standing up, you grabbed the blanket and returned to your spot at your desk. Atsumu's heavy breathing was slowly growing into a hindrance of quiet wails and unstable pants with every passing minute as you proceeded to work on your essay. You could hear some commotion from his gentle kicking and moving around, he was just too sensitive anyway. You bet that he was so close to releasing a loud, and strangled moan. One that he took pride in making whenever he overstimmed himself when thrusting into you. But right now, he was stuck in restraints with nothing but a ring around his dick to stimulate him.

  You liked it when he was so submissive. 

  You loved the way he'd whimper softly because he craved for your touch and your skin against his skin. Brushing against each other like two stars colliding and sparking up in lust-filled enticement. He was just too desperate at the moment that he was willing to do anything for you to ride him at that moment. Just the thought of your wet, sloppy walls clamping down on his pretty dick was enough to make him clench his eyes shut and circle his hips against nothing. The ring that hugged the base of his cock was vibrating in the lowest setting and his eyes were covered with the countenance of a desperate façade. His jaw closed tight around your indigo underwear and when he pictured your pretty cunt that sat upon your desk chair, he could feel himself trash on the bed; hips thrusting upwards as he tried to pleasure himself despite the tight restraints.

  This earned a glance from your venereal [E/C] eyes, snorting internally to yourself at his desperate attempt to get himself off. "No touching, 'Tsumatsu," you spoke up, pretending to be unaware of his actions. You were close to finish your paper and the thought of Atsumu's naked body being exposed, weak, and vulnerable within your carnal gaze made you halt for a moment to look at your struggling boyfriend. When your typing halted, Atsumu was aware that you were looking at him at that moment— his lips brazenly clenching around the fabric of your panty as his cock twitched here and there with the low setting of the vibration running through his girth. He wanted to whine, cry, wail, scream at you for torturing him like that. But you took pleasure in seeing him suffer that way, a sight that beheld schadenfreude indeed. 

  Glancing back at your paper, you proceeded to complete the last few sentences of your final essay, taking in his quiet whimpers as his toes curled against the sheets and the low setting of the cock ring buzzed against his throbbing cock. The restraints around his wrists rattled against the headboard and in attempt to distract you (though completely failing completely), Atsumu struggled and tried to move around. With his breathing becoming heavy, he looked to what seemed to be your direction, dark brows furrowed in a plea. And after finally submitting the last of your work, you shut your laptop, turning the chair to face Atsumu's sensitive self. His abs clenched in attempt to release and his legs shaking. 

"You've been awful quiet there, huh?" You mocked. He whined, louder this time against the gag of your underwear in between his lips. You approached the male, crawling over his body like a predator among prey as you then ripped off the blindfold from his face, taking your sopping wet underwear from his mouth as well. Covered in the remains of his drool and a trail between the fabric and his lips thinned as you threw the panty in the neglected corner of the room. "Did I allow you to speak?" You hissed, holding on to the base of his cock tightly which struck a bolt in his core as strings of white shot up towards his clenched stomach. A loud, shameless groan escaped his lips when he arched his back, moving hips to your hands to ride himself out, but alas you released your grip, scoffing softly. "You really couldn't wait, you slut?" 

  "Please, please, please fuck me," he pleads, trashing around in an attempt to get out of the restraints. But him being too weak after his high, barely budged as you clicked your tongue. "Want your pussy 'round me, baby. Please ride me... use me, [Y/N], please— just make me cum!" He rambled, shutting his eyes tightly in embarrassment. The thought of his teammates finding out how submissive he was, especially with you, was riveting and he wouldn't ever hear the end of their shameless banter if they were to ever know of his dirty little secrets.

  "Aww, 'Tsumu, wants to cum?" You cooed, taking your hands around his dick and getting rid of the vibrating cock ring. You could feel how big the girth of his cock around your hands throb when you gently stroked him, blowing onto his tip as he struggled to keep his head up to look at you take his dick into your mouth. He so wanted to see how your cheeks hollowed when you brought yourself down onto his cock, licking and kissing every vein and skin of his cock. He wanted to be able to watch your eyes water as you deepthroated him. But today... you decide to make it different. Because as you dragged your mouth in and out of his swelling cock, you dragged your teeth as well. Gently but firmly moving along his sensitive skin which earned a cry of slight pain from the bicoloured-haired male.

  "[Y-Y/N]! Shit!" A loud groan escaped his lips as he clenched the headboard above him, wanting so badly to grab a patch of hair from your head to support you with your movements. The giggle that escaped your lips brought all sorts of vibrations across his length and he visibly shivered when you licked over his swelling tip, stopping momentarily when he twitched as a sign of release. He was so close. So, so, close. Why didn't you let him go? Why did you stop? Why—

  "You asked for me, didn't ya?" You spoke darkly, fondling with his sensitive balls in a manner that made him nothing more than a toy to you. 

  "Please, [Y/N], please, please, please," he kept himself from sobbing, crying, but that sadistic smile on your face only haunted him as your feathered hands brushed over the head of his cock. The stimulation itself allowing a stream of precum to fall down his dick. "Please let me cum, I just need to cum, [Y/N]— ah!" He cried when took the vibrating cock ring to press around him. "Yes, yes, yes, yes!" 

  His chants filled your ears as you continued to run a hand through his dick. Gently stroking him while you slowly put the toy in its highest setting. He began to roll his hips in a desperate plea of release, you let him do that as you initiated once again with your tongue playing with the slit of his cock, licking around his precum and helping him chase his release. His breathing was heavy and his toes curled with all the pleasure that you gave him. 

  You were spoiling him. Spoiling him too much. He was supposed to be suspicious of it, but how can he when all that clouded his mind was the delicate touch of your fingers stroking his cock and the oscillating toy that was up in its highest setting. It was too good to be true— you were too good to be true. You yourself were beginning to wet the sheets under you with your leaking essence when his whines came up in your ears. So, so good... his eyes saw stars when his meaty thighs began to shake—

  "Cumming! I-I'm cumming! Don't s-stop—"

  But you did.

  You grinned widely when he cried, sobbing, when you stopped the toy from moving and your hand halting around his dick. His tip was pooling with thick, white cum and his eyes were beginning to glisten as he tried to move his hips up to meet your hands. You immediately stepped away from his cock, removing the toy and tossing it to the side as he squirmed and whined under your cat-like gaze. 

  "You asked for this, baby," you spoke lowly, crawling on top of his chest and teasing your cunt on top of his hard dick. The head touching your hold twitched every now and then as you wiggled your hips. Atsumu whined, looking away from you as he shut his eyes, tears streaming down his dishevelled cheeks, too embarrassed and ashamed about his constant need to release. "Didn't you want to be fucked by me, 'Tsumu? I thought you wanted me to touch you?" You cooed, stroking his cheeks gently so his teary eyes met your carnal own.

  "Wunna c-cum, baby, please, I wunna—" he choked on his own spit, sobs escaping his lips when you lifted yourself from him. "Please, I need yer cunt, [Y/N]..." A strangled moan escaped his mouth when you aligned his cock into your hole, groaning with your lips shut as you held on to his chest to ensure you don't shake. "Let me get outta these restraints, baby, I want hold ya, please, [Y/N]." He pleaded, watching you roll your hips on top of him. 

  He was still so sensitive, even though he never got to cum, but with the way you tightly clenched around him he couldn't help but throw his head back, hitting the headboard when you began to bounce. At a slow rhythm at first, all while stripping your top off of your body. Atsumu's breath hitched, moving his hips in sync with yours. Skin slapping against skin slowly as he gave in to your touch. 

  "Take it like a good boy, babe," you mumbled, leaning forward to capture his lips. The coil that built up in his stomach was about to snap when you firmly began to bounce your body on top of him. Skin slapping resounded in the apartment walls as Atsumu's wanton moans filled your ears, feeding you into an ecstatic state of bliss. "You're gunna cum aren't ya? Like a cunt-slut, eh? You're my little cunt-slut, aren't ya, baby?" You crooned, feeling yourself move close to your orgasm. 

  "Cumming, cumming—!" He wailed. You laughed sadistically, pulling your hips off as you used your fingers to chase your high. Finally, Atsumu broke out a sob as he twitched into nothing, leaking with thick white precum as you came with your fingers only. "I was— I-I was so fuckin' close!" He growled, frustrated, attempting to pull himself out of his restraints. 

  "Watch your language, you brat," you spoke darkly, "this is what you get for being so impatient. Y'know what impatient bitches get? Nothing."

  "I just w-wunna cum, [Y/N]... p-please!" He cried, rolling his hips around nothing, you slapped his cock to keep him still, frowning when he didn't shut up. "Just fuckin' let me fill you up, b-babe, it hurts!" He groaned. 

  You grabbed a hold of his cheeks so his lips formed an 'o,' his honeyed hues looked up at you in desperate plea, slightly startled when you took a pool of spit from inside your mouth and brought it down into his own. He let out gargled whines when you pat his cheek, pinching his sensitive nipples.

  "You better not swallow that, Atsumu," you said, "otherwise, I'll leave you like this for the rest of the night." You meant that. You will leave him if he so much as slips up and spills your spit from his mouth. With a meek nod, you wiped his tear-stained face with your hand as you hummed in approval. You peppered his neck in gentle kisses, marking his skin in various shades of purple and blue while listening to the earful whimpers that escaped his lips when he tried to moan. 

  "Hngghh..." He strangled out, digging crescents into his palm as your hand found their way wrapping around his pulsing dick. "Ah..."  Some drool fall down his mouth, leaking onto his chin and moving down his neck and shoulders. 

  You paused, looking up to meet his eyes viciously. 

  "I told you to keep it in your mouth, didn't I?" You frowned, watching him gulp with an exhausted expression on his face, soft, blubbering whimpers escaping his lips as you sighed at his pathetic state. "Fine. Baby, d'ya wanna cum?" You gently stroked his cock. "Want my mouth to help you out?" You cooed, watching him buck in desperation, nodding as you stammered quiet apologies.  

  You went down on his chest, scattering his body with gentle kisses before you slowly took his weeping dick into your mouth. His moans accompanied by whines once again filled your ears as he struggled to look down on you, wanting so badly to grab your head to thrust himself at a pace that would completely wreck him. But he was afraid that if he did something as little as buck his hips into your mouth or move his shaking thighs in the slightest. You had fondled with his balls to help him chase his high, feeling generous tonight as you played with the slit of his dick with your tongue and dragging your wet muscle to the side of his cock; taking in every pulsing vein and leaving no flesh untouched by your mouth. 

  "Cu..." he paused as he moaned out loudly, afraid, once again, that you would ruin this orgasm. But to his surprise, you continued to pleasure the male, clutching tightly to his muscled thighs as his throat choked out a cry of elation when he had bucked his hips up, you hummed in approval, swirling your tongue around the folds of his tip, sinful sounds resounding from your dirty ministrations as you swallowed as much to his pleasure. A breathy rasp escaped his lips and he was convinced that he would lose his voice by the end of this night. 

  You pause to stare at his drooling cock but then latch your lips onto the head with your own once again, chasing the droplets of the white goo-like substance. You wanted to milk him dry and you could tell that that Atsumu was growing weak with your touch alone as you hollowed your cheeks as tight as you can to milk his balls dry. Because this is what he wanted, didn't he? He asked to be fucked and you're giving him exactly what he wanted. 

  There's no point in complaining now that you were compliant. 

  "'M sensitive— sensitive, ahh, [Y/N]!" He let out a string of moans, going up pitches when he languidly arched his hips until your nose met his pubic bone, he was attempting to follow the pace of your movements as you sought out another orgasm from the faux-blond. He panted, thighs shaking around by your head when he had cum again, this time you couldn't take the burn of the thunderous spurts of white that ran down your throat, allowing him to coat your face with his semen. 

  "Look how much you came," you crooned, rubbing the angry-red tip of his cock and smearing his thick essence over the softening girth. "You know we're not done, baby?" 

  "W-What?" Atsumu whimpered when you began stroking him into hardness again, you grabbed the cock ring that was neglected for the while he was being pleasured, putting it up in the highest setting which made him throw his head back as he cried out in anamnesis of both pain and pleasure. You stood up on your knees, watching his back create a perfect arch as he whined, shaking his head. "Too much, 'm gunna c-cum 'gain.." He groaned.

  "Then cum," you stood up on your feet, moving to head out toward the kitchen. "I'll be back." You smile innocently.  

  "W-Where are ya goin'? [Y/N]— don't.." he ached all over, feeling spurts of cum go up to his stomach and drool down his cock, moving inwards on his thighs and onto the sheets.

  "Water break," you hum innocently. 

  "W-Wait—"

  Atsumu's quiet whines echoed around the room, accompanied by the buzz of the cock ring. He was squirming, still too delicate from his previously precarious highs. The sound of your humming voice echoed in his ears like a siren's distinct song and his quiet cries, umbrageous tears fell down his cheeks. He was too weak, he felt his head fall into a state of cloudiness when he heard the door open, unaware of your current get-go. 

  "Aw, he's cryin'," uttering in a soft, almost mocking, expression when you set down the empty glass of water next to the bed. "Look how adorable you look, 'Tsumu, I could just take pictures if I had my phone." His eyes shot open when he met your felicitous eyes, a playful grin growing on your face as you fixed the strap-on around your hips. He remained fixated on the girth of the dildo, whimpering when your gloved hands played with the skin of his ass. 

  "[Y/N], wait..." he groaned when your lubed fingers feathered over his hole, your head tilted in absolute interest, feeling a power surge through your mind at his submissive state. This was your first time ever doing such a thing with him, you've brought up the topic to. him a few times and he had always spoke about it with an open mind. "Feels weird..." His mouth gaped when you slowly inserted your finger, gasping quietly when you experimented with a curl of your slender fingers. 

  "Remember the safe word?" You asked gently, stroking the skin of his abdomen gently. 

  "'S tuna," he visibly clenched tightly when another finger slipped into him, his cock jumping up when your hands resorted to short and dragging thrusts. "it hurts, ah... m' wrists.." You removed your hand, pursing your lips as you crawled on top of him, releasing the restraints around his sore wrists and littering tiny kisses on top of them. 

  "Better?" You asked. He nodded, following your actions as you watched him go on all fours. "You do't have to that, 'Tsumu, you can let me do all the work." You gently combed through his hair with your other hand, listening to his stammering whimpers as he panted, wiggling his hips up in your direction as an invitation to ruin him.

  "Jus' fuck me, [Y/N],' he said subtly in a low tone, resting his cheek on the pillow below him. The tip of his cock slightly dragged along the silk sheets, giving him a sense of friction and allowing his whole body to jolt when you continued to prep his untouched hole.

  "So demanding, babe," you clicked your tongue, massaging around his hole before forcing two fingers inside. "Y'know, it's going to hurt, right?" 

  "I know, just fuck me, I don't care!" He whined. 

  His eyes were squeezed tightly shut and you almost wanted to chuckle at the look of raw pleasure on his face. He shivered when you pulled your fingers away and applied more lube, the pleasant tingle in his heat making his cock twitch against his stomach. He breathed shakily through his nose, whining almost, as he opened his eyes to take a peek at what you were doing, almost choking as you saw you stroking the dildo to apply the lube. His wrist was weak, shaking as he moved his body to rest on his elbows to rest his forehead on the sheets, fingers prematurely taking hold of the bedsheets. 

  "Tsk, don't be a brat," you whispered more to yourself as he let out a cry of mixed pain and pleasure when you first slid into him, his face contorting into bliss when your pelvis meets his ass. 

  It started off with slow, subtle thrusts into his ass. Your hand palmed his hips as he grunted with the feeling of his face rocking against the mattress. You dragged your cock out, before fully plunging back in which earned a groan from him as you continued with your brutally rhythmic pace. 

  "Fhuuu— fuccckkkk!" He groaned, feeling the tip of your dildo hit his prostate repeatedly, the permanent curve moving into his ass and producing a chorus of dirty noises. His pants were loud and his tongue killed out when he moved his right hand to grab his cock, fully pleasuring himself with the feeling of your thrusts and his hand stroking his cock. 

  You pinched his arm, halting your movements for a second before glaring at him from behind. "Only I can pleasure you, baby," you grabbed his hand, moving it so that it was behind him as you continued to thrust brutally into him. "You're gonna be a good boy and take what you have, understand?" You grumbled when he whined loudly, feeling himself twitch uncontrollably when your thrusts quickened in its pace. 

  "So good— it feels so good, ahh!" He wailed, flushed cheeks squishing the mattress as he stained the sheets with his tears. 

  "Only I can make you feel this way, understand?" You leaned over to whisper in his ear, never halting in your thrusts as you listened to his pretty little moans. 

  "Yes, yes, yes, yes!" His moan came out in a strangled moan. "Only you, yes, only you..." he begin to babble as the coil developing in his stomach jolted through his body into a snap, an electric-like surge running through his lower parts as ropes of white, creamy cum stained his abdomen and silky sheets beneath him. 

  You panted quietly into his ear as well, slowly dragging your cock out before discarding the toy to the side to attend to your boyfriend's incoherent needs. You moved his hair away from his face, his ass still facing up in the air as his eyes rolled back in an expression of ecstasy. His body moved with every shaky breath he took ass clenching around nothing when he fell back on the bed with nothing but a weak grunt. 

  "Mm, I'll run a bath for you, baby," you murmured, discarding the latex gloves you wore before rubbing his bum gently and standing up to clean up. 

  "No, no," he reached out for you, pulling your body close to his as he nuzzled his face into the crook of his neck. The feeling of his slick against your arm left you unbothered as he tangled his legs around your body. "Wunna hold you." He pouted. 

  "Shouldn't I be the one who should be doing that?" You joked quietly, stroking his cheek. "Was I too rough?" You asked.

  "No," he murmured, "just right... I loved it..." he hummed. 

  "Good," you yawned. "Do you want to stay like this, 'Tsums?" You asked. 

  "Mmhm," he nodded, "love you..." 

  "Yeah," you hugged his neck, letting him rest his head in between the valley of your breasts. "I love you too..." 

  [ EXTENDED ENDING ] 

  "He won't be coming to practice today," you spoke through the phone, the sun rising up as you watched your boyfriend sleep soundly on your bed. "He wouldn't be feeling too well if he did. Besides, he stayed up again." You pretended to sigh, but Kiyoomi caught on to your schemes a little too quickly. 

  "He shouldn't be in practice anyway," the curly-haired male replied. "It wouldn't be good for him or the team. Just make sure he's back in shape by tomorrow." 

  You chuckled. "No promises," you responded in a sarcastic manner. "Knowing my 'Tsumu, there isn't any stopping him until he gets what he wants..." 

  "I didn't need to know that," there was a hint of disgust in his voice. But knowing your friend he wasn't too bothered because he'd grown used to all his teammate's shenanigans. "I'll be going now, [L/N]."

  "Yeah, yeah," you spoke, "I'll let you know if Atsumu wants to drop by later." When you hung up the phone, Atsumu awoke with a few slurs escaping his lips accompanied by a throbbing pain between his legs. "Rise and shine, baby." You grinned, setting down the phone after hanging up. 

  "Mm, [Y/N]," he moaned quietly, "still felt good... maybe I should bother you while you're doing your homework more often..." he hugged the pillow when he looked at you. 

  "Shit, speaking of homework," you move toward your laptop, opening it to look at your assignment. All in red, it was marked with a 'late submission' sign. "It was two minutes late." You frown, staring at Atsumu. 

  "'S not my fault," he grinned cockily, "you were just as horny as I was, weren't ya?" He teased. 

  "You have no place to talk, Atsumu," you grumble, "besides, I'll make sure you won't be able to walk tomorrow, if I do feel like peggin' you again." 

  "Try me," he smirked. 

  After the night before? He knew exactly what to look forward to with you and your new strap-on. And he wasn't ashamed to say that he liked it very much.

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