Haikyuu Fanfiction - Blog Posts

YES PLEASE!!

"Is there someone special in your life?" The reporter asked chirpily, not really expecting an answer from the infamously emotionally detached Ushijima Wakatoshi sitting across from her. She was already scribbling an 'X' next to the question on her sheet, fitting in with the series of crosses and one-word answers she had accumulated throughout the entire interview.

But a look she couldn't describe crossed Ushijima's face as he considered the question.

"Yes there is." He replies simply.

The reporter stills, her pen stuck in her hand. It was still quiet in the room but Ushijima could suddenly feel more eyes staring at him than before. He shifted in his seat.

"Oh? What's her name?"

Ushijima looks directly at the camera facing him, imagining his special someone watching him back excitedly, and it almost makes him smile. He relaxes slightly in his chair.

"His name is Tendou Satori."

And all Hell breaks loose.

----

Or, the one in which Tendou tries to explain to Ushijima that a "special someone" means the person you're in a romantic relationship with. And not,,, you know,,, your best friend.

Ushijima does not understand.

Omg I just saw a tiktok and it was the cutest thing ever! Okay so this girl goes up to her fiancé after his game (the like meet n greet or whatever) and acts like his fangirl! Could I get something like that for Atsumu please? (You don’t have to but thank you if you do <33333)

well hello, pretty stranger.

after atsumu signed yet another one of his fan's merchandise of him, he took in a deep breath and tried to brace himself for another round of smiling nonstop and acting all charming, like how his fans think of him as. it does get suffocating after a while of this, all he can imagine of to keep himself sane and from teetering at his wits' end is by dreaming of coming home in a few hours, laying down on your lap, and being treated to a night long full of loving between you two.

as he's stuck day dreaming about you, the next person in line comes up; with her excusing herself to him to catch his attention as he sat there, in a bit of a daze, imaging how soft your lap would be and how much he just wants to get this over with already so he can smother you with his affection.

he soon snaps out of his gaze when she waves her hand in front of his face a little, catching his attention. he quite literally snaps out of it, his back jolting in surprise as he gains sobriety once more and realizes just where he is and what he was doing before dreaming of you and your embrace. he chuckles and rubs the back of his head, an embarrassed smile on his face as he apologizes for not noticing her earlier.

he doesn't look at her face yet, but he politely takes the jersey she handed to him to sign, but for some reason, the feel of the jersey was... familiar. the smile fades from his lips as he looks over the clothing she handed him, seeing the number on the jersey was the same as his, but on the back, the words, "mrs. miya" were printed on them. it was then that atsumu realized... you came to his signing, you came to his meet and greet today.

all his wishes came true much earlier than he thought, and when atsumu looked up, his suspicions were confirmed. "um... are you okay, mr. miya?" you ask him with a shy, yet awfully knowing, smile; making atsumu do a double take and pause for a minute to collect his thoughts. he nodded and gave you a beaming smile. "yep! ...never been better." he muttered as he signed your jersey, taking all his time to let this moment with the woman he'd spend the rest of his life with in a few months linger for just a split second longer.

when you thank him and take the jersey back from him, he sneakily wraps his calloused hands around your wrist, gently pulling you close to him as he whispers in your ear, "thanks for saving my ass and sanity, babe. i love ya." and when he relinquished his grip on your wrists, leaving you flustered and unable to return his 'i love you', he looked to you from the side as you were about to leave and wait for him somewhere in the building, sending you a genuine smile of gratitude, and a wink your way. he couldn't wait to officially make you his mrs. miya in the future... you gave him enough energy and excitement to last 50 more of these meet and greets for one whole sitting!

Hello! I was wondering if you could do Atsumu w/ a s/o who tells their friends they play volleyball and their friends just start laughing and making jokes like “Oh no no no, you’d be benched because you’re too short” 🥲

it’s alright if not, I think I’ve only sent you angstier requests (sorry 😔) so it’s fine if you don’t want to do this. Have a good day/night regardless <333

"hey, shrimpy... what's all that they're gigglin' an' laughin' 'bout, hmm?" atsumu asks you in a whisper as you hand him the rogue volleyball that flew all the way to the back of the court. you felt too embarrassed to explain to your boyfriend just why exactly your friends were laughing at you; or more like, you were terrified of what atsumu might do to them, regardless if they just meant what they said as jokes or banter that stung you somehow.

you shook your head silently, insisting you didn't know or that it was something unfunny, but before you could walk away, atsumu gripped your wrist and walked up to you. "baby... you don't have to lie. i think... something's up between you and 'em, hmm? am i right or right?" he asked you with a slight smirk curving up on his lips.

you hesitate to tell him for a moment, but you shake your head once more in response, prompting the blonde to quit smirking, and look at you with such a soft expression on his face. he had known that from the very beginning, a lot of people looked down on you for your stature. despite being as talented as any tall volleyball player out there, you were never given a proper chance to prove your worth because of how outlandish the idea of a short person like you being able to overcome the hurdles that stood behind that net.

his hand slid down to your fingers, then to your palm, and the back of your hand. he held your hand in his, intertwining his fingers with yours, and rubbing the back of your hand in a soothing manner with the pad of his thumb. "hey... don't listen to what they say." he blurted out of the blue, making you turn around to face him with glassy eyes that threatened to spill out tears any moment now. he smiled at you sweetly and wiped the tears from your eyes gently with his other hand after setting the ball down.

"you are so talented, and if they can't see your worth past for what you're lacking... then they're all full of bullshit." he chuckles out from under his breath, shaking his head lightly at how utterly wrong your friends are for laughing at you for your small size, and not supporting you for how great you are beyond how you may seem. "even if they're joking, they should support you a great deal... but if not them, i could always do it for you, my cutie; my amazing, strong and powerful cutie." he murmurs into your ear after leaning closer to you, kissing your ear and wrapping his muscular arms around you and holding you tightly.

"and besides... such a cute height like this really makes me feel so fond of you. look how comfy i am with resting my chin on your pretty little head, hmm?" he teases as you knit your brows together in embarrassment and frustration. looks like your cocky bastard of a boyfriend can say meaningful, worthwhile things sometimes... and make you feel good about yourself, feel supported, for who you are no matter what you were born with.

Morning Routine [nsfw]

(Wakatoshi Ushijima x F!Reader)

a/n this is something i wrote and edited today in a single run >.< I wanted to release a haikyuu fluff fic for my tumblr debut but i was just possessed by something this morning and rolled outta bed and just typed this up hehe.. reblogs and comments appreciated!! i have like 12 unfinished works rn and i am busting my ass off to get those finished and published! please be on the lookout for more from me!

summary:: wakatoshi has a bad habit-- his morning routine revolves around you. more specifically, cumming to the sounds of you. warnings:: wakatoshi is highkey a creep/stalker but this fic is fluffy i promise music rec!:: 2fast by superm <AKA the song i listened to when writing> word count:: 1.9k

6:33 AM, the blinking clock reads. 

He doesn’t even need an alarm now. 

Silently, Wakatoshi rolls over, reaches over to his nightstand and grasps the two items he needs most– lube and toilet paper. 

Sighing, he sits himself up, leaning against the headboard of the bed, and, as if awaiting instructions, goes very, very still. 

In a way, he is waiting for orders. You just aren’t aware that you’re the one giving them. 

6:34 AM. A mere minute before you’re up and he can get started with his day. It doesn’t feel right, yet he can’t stop. Shaking his head, Wakatoshi shifts his weight around, impatient. 

I should stop. 

There it is. That nagging voice of reason that scolds him every morning. But really, at this point, he can’t function normally without you. 

There’s a certain amount of stress that comes with carrying the title of ace. All the papers praising his skills, cheering fangirls, and words of encouragement from coach only added to the ever growing expectations that people had for him. 

Luckily, when he was a senior in high school, Wakatoshi had discovered what best alleviates this pressure– not meditation, not Tendo’s comics, but sexual relief. 

Every morning, a quick handjob does the job, gets him into prime condition. He even checked with his primary doctor to ensure it’s safe and healthy to release everyday– “you’ll be fine, Wakatoshi, as long as you don’t consume too much porn,” the old man had advised kindly. 

He took the doctor’s words to heart– since he had discovered this method of relief, Wakatoshi had never viewed porn. Some of his teammates laughed at him when they found out he almost religiously avoids it, but he doesn’t want to contaminate his brain with potentially intrusive or disturbing visions. His imagination has always been enough, after all. 

Until he met you.

In a way, you’re both a blessing and a curse– probably the latter, he admits to himself. Because since he’d met you months ago, the only thing that’s been able to get him up is you. 

He’s never slept so well, his skin has never looked so clear, and, most importantly, his condition on court has never been better. He’s considered the possibility of you being a goddess, or possibly his guardian angel and can only rule those out with the fact that you, like him, masturbate. 

More accurately, masturbate. Every. Single. Morning. 

Then he hears it. The first soft moan. Wakatoshi glances at the time– 6:37 AM. You’re getting a slightly late start today. 

No matter. He lifts his hips, gently rolls down his gray sweats to his lower thigh. He’s already hard. He doesn’t even have to touch himself now to get excited. Your quiet voice and the thoughts of you are enough.

Poor you. You’re unaware that despite residing in a luxurious, single-person room reserved for school athletes, the walls are criminally thin. 

Wakatoshi pops open the lid of the lube, squirting a glob into his warm hand. He throws aside the bottle, barely registering as it bounces off the bed, only intent on listening into the sounds of you and your body. 

When he first grasps his cock, he has to hold back a groan. Despite it being an everyday routine, he still feels the same surge of pleasure as when he first started this nasty habit months ago. 

You're breathing slightly more heavily now, and he hears the sounds of your fingers inserting and exiting your body at a familiar pace. He follows along, carefully stroking up and down. 

He wonders where you’ve learned this from, because you always go at the perfect pace. Somedays, you go slower, teasing yourself, pausing just before you orgasm, but it’s always. 

It’s always exactly what he needs.

God. He knows this is wrong, even as he pumps faster with his left hand to keep up with your quick fingers. It feels so good. 

Next door, you’re beginning to let out soft cries.

He presses his thumb against the tip, holding back a moan of his own as he envisions you jerking him off. 

He’s seen your hand before– extra soft from being in gloves for multiple hours daily as a fencer. 

Thinking about your sport has him thinking about his, and now he’s back to thinking about how wrong this is. But he can’t help it, he’s already tried to give it up once– yielding horrible results. 

The day he held back and skipped a morning fap session with you was also the hardest day of his life. He had found himself unable to focus in lecture, especially grumpy towards Tendo’s typically bearable antics, and worst of all, all his hits were off. 

“Your schedule must be off,” his captain had said, casually tossing a ball high into the air.

“Bad sleep? Rough morning?” 

Wakatoshi had blinked at him wordlessly, wondering how the tall setter had guessed accurately. 

“It’s fine,” the third-year had reassured him, “just get back on track tomorrow.”

With that, Wakatoshi had found himself ‘back on track,’ masturbating with– no, to you– every morning. 

You’re moaning out loud now, almost whimpering. His cock pulses in his hands, veins bulging, growing hotter and heavy. Fuck, he just wants to see you right now. Your cute face, your sexy neck, gorgeous arms... 

He can almost see it now– your smooth thighs shaking and twisting as your small hands would grasp your pillow. He’d make you feel so good, he just knows it. He’d lean against you, kiss your neck and ear before whispering how good you are, how you’re making him cum, how much he loves you! 

You’d cum, and he wouldn’t stop. He’d want to see your eyes roll back over and over again, and he’d memorize every inch of your face.

Wakatoshi holds back another groan. His fisted hand feels so good against his cock, especially as it imagines it’s your tight pussy. 

Contrary to what Tendo believes (the only one to know about this bad habit) it wasn’t just your soft moans and quiet gasps that had him clenching his sheets as he lifted his hips.

He had long fallen for you, since you had first locked eyes with him in the long hallway. 

There was something about you. The way you always smile up at him gently– not in the way that other girls smile at him, as if they want something (usually his number)– but a genuine smile, eyes crinkling slightly.  

This unexpected attraction was only exacerbated when you sat next to him at the first-years’ dinner party. You smelled so fucking good and listened to his words with actual interest, asking him about his family and laughing at his lame jokes.

Unfortunately, he was also scared. 

He had heard about the countless rejections you’d dished out since the first day of university. 

Despite his perceived sexual ignorance, Wakatoshi knew everything there was to know– he was popular, too, in his own right. Tall and lean, there were girls throwing themselves on him left and right. 

But he only wanted you. 

Today, he must be extra stressed (especially with that upcoming psychology exam that he hasn’t studied for yet) because he’s so, so close, yet can’t seem to finish. 

Fine then. 

He leans over, grabs his cell phone. He only does this in emergency cases, which occurs about once or twice a month. 

Swiping up, he’s greeted by his photo gallery, opened the night prior for this cause. 

In his locked gallery awaits dozens of photos of you. 

Obviously none were taken by him! 

Wakatoshi’s a creep, but one with manners and boundaries. 

This gallery is cluttered with headshots of you from the school’s official website, silly photos of you that were sent into the college athlete’s group chat, and his favorite– photos of you from your close friend who sells them to him at fair prices, starting at $10 minimum. 

None are suggestive. But they still rile him up, maybe because the only connection he has with you is through your early morning activities. 

Wakatoshi desperately taps on the newest picture he bought for $40, quadruple the usual price– he can hear your breath hitching, and he knows you’re almost done. 

He wants to finish with you so bad. 

He was going to save this picture for next week, when he knows you’ll be gone for the fencing nationals and he’ll have to cum without you for an entire miserable, dreadful, god-forsaken week–

but he doesn’t care now. Nothing matters. 

It’s a glorious photo– when he heard your friend had it, he had grabbed her by the shoulders and demanded a price. 

You. On the beach. Under an umbrella. Lying on a purple towel.

He had paid an extra ten dollars for the motion picture– so he could watch you go from ass up onto your back, breasts jiggling and cheeky smirk in full action.

That’s enough. 

He holds his fist tight–one more pump and he’s finished, but he wants to make sure you’re cumming first– and he hears it– to his relief, you’re moaning and whispering– “‘m cumming!” 

Yeah, he’s cumming too. His hips lift again, and he drags his closed fist downwards against his wet cock. His vision blurs. 

“Fuck!” 

He can’t help it, today’s orgasm is especially strong, taking control of his full body. He’s shaking, mind barely in control as he continues to slowly pump to ride out the whole orgasm. After all, that’s what you’d do, right? You’d keep riding him, even as he finished and begged you to stop. 

Thank God we came together.

Sometimes, you bait him. More often than he likes, you switch it up, holding yourself back and not allowing yourself to cum before masturbating all over again for an even more powerful orgasm. Those days suck– when he’s already softening, cum all over his large hands, and you’re still going. 

He hears your bed squeak, and he sighs– as soon as it starts, it’s already over.

6:45 AM, his phone reads. Wakatoshi tosses it aside.

Thankfully, he had pulled his phone away in time, avoiding tainting the device with his release. A few times a month, he gets careless and cums onto an open picture of you, causing him to have to run through his shower extra fast so he can leave time to wipe down the device.

Rolling off the bed, he heads towards the shower leisurely. It’s also become a part of his routine to time his shower. It makes him feel even more intimately connected to you. 

Wakatoshi’s grateful you take long showers– you’ve never taken less than 24 minutes to shower, typically, they last about 34 minutes on average. That gives him the time to jump out first and wait to exit his room at the same time you depart from yours. 

Under the heat of warm water, he’s usually consumed with thoughts of you, impossible thoughts, like maybe you know. 

The wall between you and him is equally thin, and your hearing may be as equally good as his…

Maybe you know, and you like masturbating with him. 

And then, just as a precaution, he douses himself with cold water at the end of his shower, and those thoughts dissipate with the steam escaping towards the vent. 

Like everyday, Wakatoshi laces his shoes, sprays on his favorite cologne (that your friend claims you like) and inhales, bracing himself to see you. 

As he hears your feet shuffle, he pushes his door open first, stepping out into the warm hallway.

“Good morning, Wakatoshi!” You greet, eyes brightening. He nods, gulping. That’s an acceptable form of greeting, right?

As the two of you walk towards the elevator in silence, Wakatoshi can’t help but hope that this morning routine won’t be coming to a stop anytime soon. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n and that's a wrap :,) i really hope you liked and sorry the ending is highkey shit LOL as i kept editing i kept adding and removing more and more and honestly that's kind of my biggest weakness:: i'm never satisfied with my work and i'm scared ppl won't like it ... but i'm trying to overcome that!

somethin' new (miya twinsxF!reader) <NSFW>

a/n i'm working on like 3 other fics rn but i found this in my drafts and thought it was good enough to publish (with a LOT of polishing ofc). I'm new to smut writing so I'm very insecure abt this but i hope u enjoy

summary::: your older brother atsumu likes watching porn. and the twins like trying shit out on you. aka porn w plot osamu focus bc he's best boy word count::: 2.9k warnings/triggers!!!::: non-con, step-cest, stockholm syndrome-ish, the miya twins are really fucking mean and possessive, double penetration (my fave! <33)

People think the Miyas are scariest when they lose, when they're arguing with each other, or when they're distracted during a serve. 

But you know them better–actually, you know them best.

They're scariest when they're fucking you.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I was watchin' porn yesterday and I wanna try somethin' new," Atsumu announces as he walks through into the living room, tossing his volleyball bag onto the couch. 

Osamu rolls his eyes, continuing to flip through his textbook at the kitchen table. 

"Why the hell would you watch porn when you got ‘er right here?" Osamu snaps back, hardly glancing up. Atsumu’s eyes shift to you as you squirm on Osamu’s lap uncomfortably. 

Osamu continues casually stroking your pussy with one hand as the other holds you down. 

You’re shaking– he’s been at this for twenty minutes now, reading his lecture notes as he continuously edges you. You haven’t given in yet, though. 

You know he’s just waiting for you to beg him for it.  

It's still hard to believe that you’re dripping on his lap and he won’t stop memorizing vocabulary for his upcoming exam.

As a final year university student, Osamu’s been under a lot of pressure. What better way to alleviate it than to play with his favorite toy?

Atsumu takes in the scene in front of him, smirking when he makes eye contact with you. You quickly turn away.

Although the twins share you, it still feels wrong when one of them catches you in the act with the other.

“Ya sure you don’t even wanna hear? I know you’ll like it, ya freak,” Atsumu says, now glancing at his brother.

You shiver at Atsumu’s words and Osamu frowns as he moves his hand away from your lap.

"Fine. Out with it, asshole," he murmurs, finally distracted from his studies. He shoves his papers aside, full attention on you now. From the corner of your eye, you see Atsumu light up. 

It’s almost comical to see the twins this way.

Always fighting, always competing— but when it comes to you they're a single organism.

"I was watchin' my favorite porn star-- ah, don't be jealous, y/n! I only watch her for inspiration because she's freaky-- and I saw her take two in one hole." 

Your eyes widen.

You wouldn't be able to take it.

"No, please," you whisper, holding your breath. Osamu’s body flexes under you reflexively.

When have you become such a pussy?

You were always the outspoken, little step-sister who fought her brothers tooth and nail for the last slice of cake. 

Nobody could have excepted them to fuck the brat out of you within a month of moving in together.

Osamu surprisingly agrees with you.

"Nah. I'm not into rubbin' dicks with you," he says, both hands on your chest now. The thought of being that close to a naked Atsumu makes him grimace.

Atsumu rolls his eyes.

"I'm not into that shit either, but I wanna see her take it." You wince as Osamu pinches your nipples, hard. He's gone completely silent, which isn't a good sign. 

“It’ll be a little painful, but I know she’ll be able to pull through,” Atsumu continues, carefully watching Osamu’s expression.

The Miya fans would be shocked to discover that Osamu's a sadist, more so than Atsumu. 

While Atsumu wipes away your tears, Osamu enjoys watching them stream down your face.

When Osamu doesn't respond, Atsumu sighs and rubs his head, frustrated. He’d been looking forward to this since last evening, when he had to jerk off to the sounds of you and Osamu going at it.

"Fine then. I'll try it myself with a toy. I bought a new dildo for her, ya know. And it's bigger than you."

No further words are needed—Osamu pulls his hands out of your shirt, and you feel him physically fuming behind you.

He's possessive, stupidly so, and hates when Atsumu buys you disgusting silicon toys and shit. 

He really doesn't understand his twin sometimes. 

Why buy toys, why watch porn, when you, his adorable, precious little bitch, exists? 

Osamu would rather lose a game at nationals before you cum off a piece of vibrating plastic. 

And he won't admit it, but deep down he's scared. Scared that it'll satisfy you better than he can. 

The less competition, the better. He's already competing with Atsumu on a daily basis.

Atsumu, who can make you squirt faster than he can. Atsumu, who makes you laugh. Atsumu, who, Osamu knows, you favor.

Maybe it's because the little shit handles you just a little better in bed. 

Osamu picks you up from classes, purchases expensive jewelry and takes you out to get sweets every week, you still shy away from his touches.

So Osamu has given up-- if you're gonna hate him anyways, he'll do whatever he wants. 

And that’s why you’re always left a humiliatingly wet mess whenever he uses you. 

"Fine. Ya better take a shower first, you fuckin' freak," Osamu says, pushing you off his lap. 

Atsumu smirks, cracking his fingers and wrists.

"You be preppin' her, 'Samu."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It feels good, but you don't want to admit it.

You’re lying on your shared king-sized bed, trying to hold back tears and moans as Osamu eats you out, pumping three of his long fingers into you quickly. 

Between the two of them, Atsumu can get you to cum faster. But Osamu gets you to cum harder. His every move is calculated–from every lick to every moment of rest he gives you.

Osamu's on a mission to get you to beg.

"Samu, please," you breathe, gripping the bed sheets. You feel him smiling, and you grip at the bedsheets. All the teasing he’d been doing before Atsumu got home is quickly catching up to you. 

“What was that?” He asks, his dark eyes taking in the conflicting emotions washing over your face. When you don’t respond, he leans back and slaps your pussy, hard. Your eyes widen in pain, and you can’t help the squeak that you release, to his satisfaction.

You’re wet, and he knows it’s not a fluke. You want him. He hasn’t trained you over this past year for nothing.

“‘You aren’t bein’ too mean, are ya?” Atsumu asks, stepping out of the bathroom, rubbing his hair with a towel. He’s shamelessly naked, hard from hearing your cries from the shower. 

Atsumu surveys your body, admiring the marks his twin has placed on you. 

A small part of him is thankful his brother is willing to play the role of mean cop. Atsumu gets to reap the rewards of consoling you—although he too enjoys seeing you covered in bruises and left in tears.

He’d never hurt you himself though. He likes cuddling with you and loves the way you laugh at his lame jokes too much. 

Osamu snaps him back to reality, standing up as he wipes his shiny lips with the back of his hand.

“She’s ready.”

Atsumu grins. His brother is strangely meek today---probably from you refusing to go to his practice game the other day. You had enjoyed a nice picnic date with Atsumu instead (although that ended with you shaking and moaning in Samu’s arms that night).

“I guess I’m first?”

“Ladies first.”

“You’re a bitch, ya know that?” Atsumu spits, rubbing his dick with his left hand and soaking his right in your wetness. Osamu laughs, pulling off his shirt in a smooth motion.

You, on the other hand, can’t stop shaking. The thought of having two of them in a single hole is almost too much to wrap your head around. With Osamu’s length and Atsumu’s girth, you’re sure you won’t be able to take it. 

What if you tear? Surely they’d stop if you beg hard enough.

For now, you can’t do anything but accept this. 

From what you’ve observed, when the twins are playful in bed, you shouldn’t resist.

Lost in your thoughts, you gasp as Atsumu yanks you towards him—he’s sitting at the head of the bed, leaning against the wall. You gulp as you find yourself hovering above his dick, facing Osamu, who’s busy tossing Atsumu's towel onto the ground.

“Aw, baby. Calm down, won’t ya? You know it hurts more when you’re nervous.” 

Atsumu brings your face towards him, grip so tight you couldn’t turn away if you wanted to. 

His rough hands, thick from years of volleyball training, gently smoothes out your hair, and he begins to press kisses on your jawline. The motion is so welcoming that you momentarily forget he’s the one to propose this in the first place.

Osamu sighs, frustrated.  

“Get on with it, won’t ya?”

Atsumu frowns at him, pulling away from you. 

“And that, ‘Samu, is exactly why she likes me better than ya,” he says, slamming you onto him in a single motion.

It hurts!

You groan, fingers twitching. It hurts already, he’s especially hard today. What’re you going to do when it gets to the meaner twin?

Atsumu pets your clit, grinning as he feels you begin to melt into his chest. He knows exactly how you like it. That spongy spot, right… there. Your groan turns into a moan as he shifts his hips, aiming to reach deep inside of you. 

Osamu doesn’t break eye contact with you as he slowly gets onto the bed. He’s in no hurry, unfortunately. 

If he wasn't such an asshole, you'd find him hot.

You really do love his gorgeous eyes and gray hair. 

"Stop bein' a dick and get on with it," Atsumu says. He scowls at his brother, who continues to simply stare at you. 

Both of them know Osamu doesn't want to actually hurt you. He'd never break you.

You're too precious.

"W-what?" Your shaky voice intrudes into his thoughts. 

You've gone red and stopped clawing at Atsumu's unrelenting hand.

Did he say that out loud? He must have, because Atsumu is laughing now.

Fuck. 

This isn't the time to be embarrassed, though.

Osamu reaches forward, lining his dick next to his brother's. 

To be honest, he was never opposed to the idea.

Yeah, Atsumu's a disgusting pig, but he's his twin. 

There's an unbreakable bond between them and knowing they share so much DNA sometimes makes Osamu feel as though they're just one person in two bodies. He’s honestly willing to try anything that Atsumu proposes (except get him off, of course, he’ll leave that to you).

Taking a deep breath, he begins to push, using his precum as lube.

Fuckkkkkk.

Osamu's pretty sure everyone had the same thought at that exact moment.

It's so tight. It's so warm. It’s hurting you, for sure. But it feels too good to stop. 

For you, it’s suffocating, being stuck between two muscular twins. And, once again showcasing their unspoken connection, they begin to carefully move in and out of you at the same pace. 

It hurts now, and tears are burning behind your eyes, but there’s that little voice in your head telling you to just relax and enjoy it—it’ll feel good.

Why? Why does it have to feel so good when this is all wrong?

Fundamentally, twins shouldn't be sharing the same girl, at the same time.

That same girl should especially not be their little sister whom they've been older brothers to for a decade.

But what does it matter now?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Atsumu's in heaven. This is better than he imagined, actually. He’s decided that he’ll take the easy route, playing with your soft breasts and sucking hickies into your neck. His dick has gone still as he simply enjoys the fast pace Osamu fucks you at. 

While there’s a slight burn against his cock every time Osamu moves, the pain only intensifies the pleasure. 

Osamu’s eyebrows are furrowed as he focuses on watching his dick pump into you. He wants to curse out Atsumu for being so lazy, but at the same time— he’s always liked to be in charge. 

That voice was right, because it’s feeling good now. Your brain buzzes pleasantly and you’re losing control of your legs. 

Atsumu's moaning into your ear, Osamu's grunting with every push, and you feel hyper aware of every motion as you're slipping away. 

The dull lights of the room begin to blur.

You're crying now. Your toes are curling and drool slips out of the corner of your mouth. How stupid you must look right now.

How long has it been? 5 minutes? 5 hours?

It has to be at least that long or else the numbness that you’re beginning to experience down there doesn’t make any sense.

Atsumu has resumed his efforts in making you feel good, overstimulating every fiber of your being as he wipes away your tears and nuzzles your neck. It’d be an innocent gesture if he wasn’t rubbing circles onto your clit.

Osamu has been working like a well-oiled machine, admiring your broken face and how good his lower half feels, circulating adrenaline throughout his body. 

Just looking at you, choked up and crying, is enough. 

"I'm cumming..." he whispers. No, he’s not. He can’t. 

Not before his stupid twin does. And certainly not before you do. 

"Come on, baby, beg for it," Atsumu whispers into your ear, as if he can read his brother’s thoughts. 

Maybe they do have some sort of telepathy. Atsumu reaches forward and gently pushes down on your lower belly. You groan immediately. The slight pressure has your walls rubbing against their dicks even tighter now, and Osamu’s now grinding against that spot you love.

You’re gonna cum. Or pass out. Maybe both. 

"Please!" You shout. Fuck pride. "Please, please, please, ‘Samu, please cum."

Annnd he’s coming. Osamu reaches out, grasps your neck, and squeezes. 

Your cries are the only thing he can hear, loud enough to drown out Asumu’s words, and he’s losing sensation in his hips—

“Fuck, I love you, y/n…” Osamu says, admiring the way your eyes roll to the back of your skull. 

Even as your eyesight flickers, you make out this confession, lips automatically parting to moan. 

You tighten as Osamu releases in you, Atsumu following suit shortly after (something he’ll bully Osamu about later, no doubt).

There’s a certain stillness in the room as Osamu immediately slips out of you and turns away. Post-nut clarity’s setting in, and he realizes he’s not as fond of dick rubbing with Atsumu as he was a few minutes ago. 

Atsumu’s still panting in your ear, and, after a few moments of rest, gently eases himself out of you. Unlike his usual self (who insists on cuddling with you after the deed, no matter how much bodily fluid you’re covered in) he allows you to roll away from him, still recoiling from the strong orgasm.

Surprisingly, the lazy asshole leaps off the bed first today. 

“I’ll be taking a shower first. Alone.”

You muster enough energy to glance at him, then at Osamu. It’s so awkward you’d run out of the apartment if you could. 

Osamu knows his brother is being especially kind today, letting him speak to you in private.

As Atsumu strides towards the bathroom, he catches Osamu’s eye and winks, smirking at Osamu’s middle finger.

Osamu can basically hear his twin’s inner voice— this is just payment for the fuck.

You shut your eyes, registering the closing bathroom door. Now that the pleasure has subsided, you realize that you’re just in pain. Your chest and hips, especially, from Atsumu’s relentless teasing and Osamu’s rough handling. 

Damn it. You’re meeting with your friends tomorrow, how’re you going to hide these marks on your neck from them? 

From the way Osamu had choked you, you’re almost certain there’s going to be a bruise. You do have that leftover, crusty concealer that Atsumu got you a few months back—

“y/n, do you hate me?”

Osamu’s deep voice interrupts your thoughts. 

Your mouth instinctively opens, but you hesitate.

No. 

“No.”

Because you really don’t. Despite everything they put you through, you can’t bring yourself to hate them. 

Osamu lets out a silent sigh of relief, turning back to look at you. 

“Do you love me?”

You can’t answer him as quickly this time. 

Osamu and Atsumu were your brothers. They had been by your side for all of your childhood.

 They were the first ones to teach you how to ride a bike, how to multiply and divide, how to cook rice. 

They had been your first love. And even now… you’re relieved they’re with you, not in the bedrooms of other girls.

“I… do,” you admit. Fuck. You’re crazy. You know that. But you do. 

Even though you don’t want to admit it, you’re just as twisted as your brothers. You bury your head under the covers as the heat rushes to your face. 

“I wanna marry you.” Osamu suddenly announces, ripping back the blanket you’re holding to your face. He examines your blushing cheeks, and reaches down to grab your hand. 

Yeah, it’d look much fucking better with a shiny ring. He should look into a jewelry maker first thing tomorrow morning.

“Nope. I already called dibs, ‘Samu,” the blonde haired setter interjects, throwing open the door as if awaiting his cue. 

“Like months ago. Actually, years ago.”

Osamu frowns, prepared to retort back that actually, remember that you didn’t even like her when we first met her? You told dad you didn’t want him to marry mom because you didn’t want a sister, you little–

“We’re all Miyas here,” you say, predicting another fight. Despite your tiredness, you can't help but smile. 

Yeah, you do love them.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n fun fact: i wrote this while meeting with my business class project group two semesters ago >.< depraved shit FR.. also no final read-through as usual bc i'm literally cringed out by my own writing LOL

This Little Thing Of Ours

Warnings/Tags:

• Omegaverse, A/B/O • College AU • Aged-Up Characters • Explicit Sexual Content • Alpha!Oikawa • Omega!Hinata • A lot of scenting and sex • Smut with plot • Multiple Chapters • More tags to be added as I update

Pairing: Oikawa x Hinata (Oihina)

Hinata’s voice is small. “…I don’t know what to do.”  It’s the defeat in his tone, that acknowledgment that he can’t win and can’t hide this on his own— It causes Oikawa’s chest to pang with sympathy.  “…” Oikawa swallows thickly, glancing at the bracelet Hinata always wears—and only now realizing those are the scent blockers that he should’ve noticed, because betas don’t need scent blockers in the first place because of how subtle their scents are—and he exhales slowly when his eyes meet Hinata’s again. “Do you trust me?” 

Or: An omegaverse, college Oihina AU where Oikawa learns that Hinata lied about being a 'beta', and what comes after can only be described as...messy. But also a lot of sex. And some feelings somewhere down the line.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

The chapters are listed down below ▼

❀ Chapter 1

❀ Chapter 2

❀ Chapter 3

❀ Chapter 4

❀ Chapter 5

❀ Chapter 6

❀ Chapter 7

❀ Chapter 8

❀ Chapter 9

❀ Chapter 10

❀ Chapter 11

❀ Chapter 12

whiskers — kuroo tetsurou (au).

it’s been a while and i managed to push through with posting a short scenario for this blog. i know i haven’t been active in this blog at all and it will stay that way if there are no requests flying here. i am currently accepting requests for haikyuu and attack on titan (bc i indulged in it for quite a while now). with that aside, happy reading !!

summary : kuroo finds himself in a strange predicament and inevitably bumps into his crush. inspired by ‘a whisker away’.

Kuroo Tetsurou had enough of his life.

Everything was just in shambles the moment his mother screamed at his father, demanding a divorce. And with divorce comes the argument of which parent will take the responsibility of caring for the child. In the end, Kuroo's mother won, making him pack his bags and leave his father behind to live in his mother's house in Tokyo, along with the man that his mother chose to remarry. Living under his mother's care was perfectly fine; she wasn't in the house often because of her work and his mother's new husband tends to be fussing over him any chance he gets, but Kuroo chose to brush all of them with a practiced smile.

In the summer of Kuroo's second year in high school, the dark-haired boy received a message from his father. He was lounging in his makeshift study area in the bottom part of his bunk bed, reading a book that Kenma really enjoyed (it was filled with games though, probably the reason why the first-year liked it so much), when his phone vibrated on top of the coffee table he pushed at the front of his study area. Not having any enthusiasm at the prospect of talking to people, Kuroo sluggishly sat up and opened his phone, displaying his lock screen of the sky and the message from his father. With bored eyes from behind his long fringe, Kuroo tried reading the message without any attachment since it was only once upon a time that he was close with his father.

Father:

Hey, Tetsurou, I'm here right now in Tokyo. The summer festival is still ongoing so why don't we attend the highlights, I have something to talk to you about.

Narrowing his eyes at the glare of his gadget, Kuroo stared pensively at the screen of his phone. Festivals meant reliving those joyous moments he had with his father when he was young; catching goldfishes, buying masks and scaring his mother with the designs of their face accessories, and watching the highlights of the festival, which is the fireworks display. It also meant reliving that time when his father left him intentionally during a crowded summer festival. That event in his life spurred the divorce because as his mother told him, his father is one deadbeat and selfish kind of man. But his father wasn't like that. Kuroo remembered pleading to his mother to forgive the older man but it was all in vain. She still screamed in their dining room to nullify their marriage.

Tetsurou:

OK.

That was it. No residue of the playful nature he always had with his father, as it should be all those years.

Having a few minutes of silence and staring at the bottom of his bunk bed, Kuroo took a deep breath as he ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up even more. Slowly sitting up, the dark-haired boy crawled out of his cozy hideout and stretched his limbs, because lying down and rolling on the carpeted floor definitely made him stiff. Walking towards his closet while taking off his shirt, Kuroo reached out for the red sleeveless hoodie hanging from behind his volleyball club tracksuit, quickly fitting it on him and choosing to leave his basketball shorts on. With his phone and wallet in hand, the tall lad walked down the stairs and opened the door to the living room and dining area.

Peeking his head inside a small crack of the door, Kuroo lazily scanned the area. "Ah, Hikaru-san," he called out, catching the attention of a tall man with soft brown hair and glasses from behind the counter of their kitchen. He was apparently preparing for dinner, which looked like fried chicken. "I'm going out for a bit. Tell Mom that I could be going home late tonight."

The man named Hikaru gently smiled at Kuroo as he washed his hands. "I heard tonight's the summer festival's highlights," he noted, wiping his hand on one of the clean towels by the refrigerator. "Are you going with your friend, Kenma, is it? Or your classmates, Yaku and Kai."

Kuroo shook his head. "Dad invited me."

He swore he could hear a pin drop from the awkward silence ensuing inside the room. This silence is one that he greatly distastes, and this is coming from a child who succumbed to a bout of silence once he moved to Tokyo. There was no question of how Hikaru wanted to be acknowledged as Kuroo's new father and the competition on who deserves to be a better father to Kuroo is brewing between the two males that became a part of his mother's life. Kuroo could see that Hikaru was doing his best but the messy-haired boy never really viewed him as a family even after years of being married to his mom, his dismissive behavior when it comes to Hikaru is masked with cheery remarks and loud rounds of laughter. And that's what he chose to do right now.

The tall lad laughed once again, trying to ease any tension in the air. "I'm thinking of bringing home a box of takoyaki. Do you want anything, Hikaru-san?"

Hikaru composed himself and sheepishly looked down to continue with his current task. "You don't have to buy me anything, Tetsurou." The brown-haired man glanced at Kuroo with a fatherly air. "Are you joining us for dinner later?"

Kuroo paused for a few moments, pretending to think upon the offer before shaking his head an easygoing smile. "Nope," he lightheartedly answered Hikaru. "I'll be off now!"

When Kuroo's footsteps echoed through the empty household, followed by the sound of the front door closing, Hikaru deeply sighed as he planted both hands on the counter. His dejected frame was noticed by his pet cat, Hanako, who mewled in concern as she approached her owner. Realizing his eyes pooling with unshed tears, Hikaru quickly took his glasses from the bridge of his nose and wiped his eyes with his wrist, his forced laughter coming out huskily.

"I'm trying my best, Hanako, but why isn't it enough?"

                                                             *

Summer festivals in Tokyo always bring forth a chorus of laughter and the comfortable mellow lantern lights. There was a subtle beat of the taiko drums in the background, drowned out by the endless chatters of the people choosing to roam around during the highlights of the festivals. The streets of the enormous plaza in their area were arranged to have a line of stalls awaiting for customers, and one of them held a special place in Kuroo's childlike heart ー goldfish scooping. Here he was, crouched down in front of the small tub designated for the goldfishes, his hand poised right above him while his eyes never strayed from that fish who appeared to be brighter than anyone else in the shallow water. Right when he was about to catch the fish, his little net tilted and doubled over the water, scaring away the fishes from any human contact.

"Better luck next time, boy," the stall owner told him reassuringly but the messy-haired boy wasn't reassured at all.

Kuroo stood up brashly from his seated position, surprising the people around the little stall, and walked away with his hands inside the pockets of his sleeveless jacket. There was a hasty apology coming from behind him, along with hurried footsteps of the very person he doesn't want to interact with at the moment. Kuroo continued walking, mumbling apologies to the people he bumped on the way, until a firm grip wrapped around his arm, making him roll his eyes in annoyance.

"What?" he asked the person desperately trying to catch his attention, the expression on the younger boy was hiding the fact that he was hurting because of this meeting.

"Tetsurou," Kuroo Tatsunari, his father stood in front of him, face so distraught that he nearly broke his practiced façade. "You can live with me instead of your mother, that way everyone will be happy. Please, Tetsurou, I already asked my landlord to have my apartment renovated to have your room."

Kuroo was baffled for a moment and he couldn't help but scoff in disbelief at what his father said. After shaking his head, his golden eyes trailed from the face he was starting to see in the mirror (except for the unruly hair he seemed to claim since he was young) to the hand still gripping tightly on his arm, as if asking for him to never leave the owner's side. He had enough of all of this and all he wanted was to cry his heart out and scream all his hidden thoughts to a barren meadow, but all he could do was place his hand on his father's, gently taking away the grip that kept him rooted on the ground for so many years.

With unrelenting eyes, he muttered darkly, "Have you ever wondered what would make me happy?" before turning away and running to who knows where this late at night.

"Tetsurou!"

He did what he always did best ー running away from his problems.

The young boy did this when he was in the middle of his parents' fights when he was just a little boy and he brought it with him until he was in primary school, where his mother took him under her wing all the way to Tokyo. He nearly ran away when Kenma came into his life, the prospect of having friends and interacting with other children his age so dreadful to the boy that he didn't speak until Kenma asked him what games to play, thus, spurring the two to start volleyball. He nearly ran away when middle school and high school came, the latter made his anxiety rise much higher than the previous point in his life. But this was all erased when many of his high school classmates approached him out of nowhere, clinging onto him and confessing left and right, something that he was not proud of.

The messy-haired boy slowed down his pace to a walk, tears bleeding through his vision and blending in with the drops of rain pattering down on him. "I hate this," he muttered, making measured footsteps on the cobblestones, not noticing that his surroundings seem to transition into a shrine. "I hate the world. I hate myself. I wish I would just end this miserable life right away." Just then, a strong odor of tobacco wafted through his senses, making him perk up in wariness.

In front of him was a huge man dressed in an elaborate yukata, casually smoking on a fancy pipe that Kuroo thought was a relic based on its golden sheen that illuminated under the shrine's overhead lanterns. Feeling skeptical at his current situation, Kuroo slightly took a step back with his eyes still set on the man sitting with a mask stall beside him. His heartbeat picked up its pace because of the nerves starting to churn in his stomach but the dark-haired boy still glanced at the number of masks plastered on the stall and oddly enough, all he could see were cats instead of the variety of animals that were displayed in some of the festival stalls down the hill.

"Welcome," the unnamed man said in a raspy and deep voice, his big, slitted yellow eyes glancing over at Kuroo. "Do you want to try one on? It is said to erase all your worries the moment your face touches the mask."

Erase all your worries?

Kuroo gulped before opening his mouth to speak, "How much is one?"

That offer tempted him and based on the man's appearance, he wasn't a scammer that would run away with his money. There was something from the man's voice that compelled him to try just one mask to see if what he said is true because he definitely needed an escape from reality right about now.

The man chuckled ominously. "No need to pay, young man."

The messy-haired boy furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "Is this because your offer is a hoax?"

At this, the unnamed man's chuckles became a full-on laugh. Laughter of scrutiny thrown at him, making Kuroo squirm in his perch. "There wasn't anything about a hoax in what I said, kid. Here," the man reached out from behind him and picked out a black cat mask, throwing it at Kuroo, who leaned forward to catch the object, "try it on."

Kuroo flipped the mask. The front was so detailed that it almost looked real, the paint on the mask's nose seemed to glint with the wetness of a real cat's and even the whiskers protruded on either side of it. The ears also captured his attention ー there were fur inside each one and it even depicted the real colors on what you can see on a cat. The back wasn't much with its embellished white appearance but when Kuroo slowly lifted the mask to try it on, it snuggly fit the shape of his face, sending chills down his spine. It was like the mask was made for him. But his admiring came to a halt when an invisible wall slammed on him, making him lose his balance.

The next moment was so bizarre to Kuroo. At first, everything was normal to him and the next, all objects loomed over his figure like skyscrapers. But when he blinked at the green color invading his optics, his vision seems to sharpen, even more, zeroing on where the man was previously seated and only finding no sign of the unnamed person. His chest tightened with anxiety, jumping at the slightest of sound picked up by his hearing. With shaky legs, Kuroo walked on the pathway with the sole purpose of going home and just wrapping himself in his duvet, praying that the next day will be much kinder to him. Upon passing by a vending machine right at the base of the shrine, his golden eyes widened when his reflection showed a black cat instead of his tall physique.

What is happening?

"What in the world?" Kuroo voiced out but instead of his usual timber, a series of meows ricocheted through the empty shrine. He jumped two feet in the air in surprise, spooked that even the black cat in the vending machine's reflection showed rod-like fur. After a few moments, he slowly walked towards the reflection, both curious and unnerved at what he just witnessed. "How?"

Placing a paw on the glassy surface, Kuroo roamed his eyes over his new body. He wasn't even surprised that the cat he donned has black fur and a small tuff of hair covering a portion of his right eye. Gradually, the boy's parted lips turned into a large smile as he whooped in the air while jumping around. It was cute in a human's perspective ー a little black cat hopping from cobblestone to cobblestone, his little meows twinkling in the night breeze. In all honesty, Kuroo felt so alive to leave his human life behind and the only thought lingering in his head is how much he wanted to be a cat his whole life ー lazing around and looking for different homes all day, no room for homework and the constant argument of familial connections. For an entire hour, Kuroo marveled at the world from a different perspective as he never stopped swaying happily down the path.

Until a familiar scent hit him ー watermelon.

And true enough, there on one of the benches was [Last Name][Name], who was looking blankly at the park in front of her with a half-finished bottle of banana milk loosely held in her hands. It looked like she came from one of her college prep classes based on what she was wearing — a beige turtleneck sweater and a tawny pencil skirt covered by a trench coat. Her hair was the same hairstyle Kuroo always liked on her, a loose braid running down on one of her shoulders, with her fringe carefully framing her ethereal face. It was no surprise to everyone how much he likes the girl and it shows how he gawked at her with round, golden eyes.

She looked at the side and when her gaze found him, Kuroo visibly jumped in shock again. The girl rose her eyebrows in surprise at the sight of the adorable black cat pausing a few feet from her. Kuroo watched [Name] open her backpack and mumbling things under her breath as she searched for something in her bag. Brightening when she finally found what she was looking for, the black cat curiously watched as [Name] waved a pack of biscuits in the air and beckoned him towards her.

"I have some snacks, kitty," she told him, which strangely compelled him to come closer. Who doesn't? The girl he absolutely adores called him 'kitty' with that beautiful smile, of course, he would follow her. When he stopped by her shoes, she then lowered her voice, "Is it alright if I pick you up?"

Kuroo meowed in approval, which [Name] happily took as a good response since she carefully picked him up and placed him on her lap. She then softly ran her fingers on his head, making him purr in contentment. Before nibbling on a biscuit, Kuroo enjoyed the warmth [Name] emitted, looking up at her with his pupils blown wide, which is a sign of his fascination with the girl.

"The night is beautiful ー it's like everything disappeared," she pensively voiced out, her eyes softly staring at the black cat on her lap. "I need more moments like these. People want me to do things that they want, not knowing how much I wanted to be free when I step out in the real world. I mean, I'm going to be eighteen soon and it's a sign that my dad should stop placing shackles that makes me want to cry. I don't even want to be a doctor." She pursed her lips as she paused for a bit as she muttered, "It's so suffocating." The girl then felt paws on her shoulder, making her look up at the adorable black cat, which was a few inches from her face. Then, she felt the tiniest kiss on her cheek, something that elicited a giggle from her. "That tickles."

Raising her hand from her lap, [Name] wrapped them around the cat's body, lifting him a little higher and placing him on her shoulder.

"You smell like lavender," she whispered. "I love it."

Through the night, the boy trapped inside the black cat's body heard his heart pound in his chest, his adoration for the girl blossoming like the fireworks lighting the park.

MASTERLIST

i am absolutely free if you guys are planning on requesting some scenarios and headcannons — just leave an ask and i'll get right into it and hopefully finish it [fingers crossed].

i write for any character that i feel like writing in a certain period of the day so for now, i really feel like writing abt kenma so keep watch on the kenma content that i'll be posting.

— headcanons

— scenarios

you're it for me ; kozume kenma

your own rules and story ; kozume kenma

— aus/ long-ass fics

so close to reaching that happy end ; kuroo tetsurou (heartless au)

— series

red velvet songs turned into imagines

with you ; yachi hitoka.

ART MASTERLIST

you are in the red summer ; kenma college au

kenma as howl au

female kageyama, queen of the court

YOUR OWN RULES AND STORY — KOZUME KENMA.

with the continuous grapple of people's mindsets and the ongoing battle of blaming the victims and not the harassers, i incorporated it through the words of this scenario because as what i have read in the trending hashtags of my country, this toxicity needs to stop.

i have experienced similar things like the one i wrote for this scenario but it involved my school uniform, a crowded bus, and sometimes just walking down the street. please, take time in being brave because what we wear doesn't define us and it isn't in the slightest, an invitation for people to become disgusting pigs.

Having Kozume Kenma as your boyfriend had its perks and downsides.

The downsides definitely pertain to his occasional tendency of becoming aloof, which you had no trouble with handling, seeing as you both started dating when you were in high-school. From the first time you met him, his own choice of being distant towards others intrigued you, one reason for your interest being his captain of the volleyball club. For such a social role in a club, the members chose him to be their ringleader (a thing that he has no say on because his best friend and the previous captain insisted to the coaches to have his ‘promotion’).

You both met when the previous manager of the volleyball club decided to search for someone who would take over her position once she graduates, introducing you to the volleyball club right after knowing you. It was a normal lunch period and you were inside your classroom when one of your classmates asked if you had any participated clubs. Being a carefree student, you still didn’t apply to any clubs and mainly because you were only a first-year. And the next thing you knew, you were whisked away by a pretty upperclassman, who introduced herself as the manager of the volleyball club.

You had no idea what conundrum you just entered.

At first, you carefully asked for the permission of the pretty upperclassman that you wanted to start once your second-year rolls in. You didn’t expect her to nod fervently with a huge and beautiful smile on her face, which made you feel small for some reason.

That afternoon, you also met Kenma, noticing how he wanted to melt into the background, making sure to never meet your eyes.

And when the third-years graduated and bid their goodbyes, Kenma was chosen to be the club’s captain, a notion that he so blatantly rejected yet accepted (albeit reluctantly) and you were now the club’s official new manager. For the first few months, you managed to make him utter more words than he had ever said to another member. You both enjoyed each other’s company and taking the time to actually get to know him; learning about his favorites and deeply understanding him as a person. Kenma also followed Kuroo’s advice on lessening the coldness he carefully wrapped around his heart and by doing so, he started liking you more than he intended to.

Now, both of you are in a relationship that lasted for three years, and the perks in dating him just keep piling up, overpowering the downsides. For instance, Kenma would always take the time in making sure you were truly taken care of; whether it be picking you up from your last class, cooking for you every other day, or having you on his lap while he plays some games with his friends (a feat that he disdainfully expressed, thinking that he wouldn’t see the members of the volleyball club anymore). He would also go out of his way to help you study for some of your subjects or even leave an unexpected kiss on your forehead, cheeks, or neck.

The naked truth, he is an amazing boyfriend.

It was a fair afternoon and Kenma was waiting on one of the benches of the Medical Sciences building, his phone opened to some random game that he downloaded to pass some time.

“Kenma!”

The two-toned boy looked up from his phone and regarded you with a fond look, his eyes softening and lips stretching in a minuscule smile at the sight of you. Three years and here he is, still having butterflies at the reality of you dating him.

“Hey, how’s class?” he asked you, staring down at you while taking your heavy backpack from you and replacing it with his own. This habit initiated when he started walking you home during high school — you exchanging bags since he only carried little things in his backpack, making it weigh like it was nothing. Once you have his backpack on, he noticed the bright stare you gave him, earning a low chuckle from him. Taking your hand tenderly and intertwining them, Kenma started walking. “Excited for our Korean barbeque night?”

You smiled widely at him. “We had another quiz earlier and we have to pass our labs tomorrow so I guess this will be one of those caffeinated nights,” you cheekily replied at him. “But I know that our Korean barbeque night will make up for it.”

Kenma flashed a serene smile. “Want me to help you? I think it’s going to be my free night tonight.”

You looked at him disbelievingly, raising one eyebrow. “You’re not streaming tonight?”

He shrugged, looking down at you with a small half-smile. “Figured that you need some company while you finish your lab.”

The two of you then waked out of campus and into the busy streets of Tokyo, your conversation never ending until the both of you stopped in front of an intersection. Waiting for the signal to cross the street, Kenma took this as a time to play with your hand.

“Hey, Kenma,” you called out, feeling his phone vibrate from your back. “Someone’s calling you.”

Kenma looked at you, released your hand from his hold, and opened the front compartment of his backpack. He softly smiled as you started bouncing subtly as if you were listening to an imaginary beat but his smile quickly vanished when he saw a man inconspicuously standing too close at you, his phone right below your skirt. The golden-eyed boy narrowed his eyes at the suspicious activity but he felt anger boiling when he noticed that the man’s phone screen depicted a front camera, your short cycling shorts in view. Without any rational thought, Kenma slapped the man’s arm, making the older guy’s phone fly from his hand, shocking the people surrounding you.

“Hey!” the man shouted, his eyes blazing as he faced Kenma, who was looking at him with a dangerously blank expression. “What’s your problem, man?!”

The two-toned boy rose an eyebrow. “My problem is that you were taking inappropriate pictures of my girlfriend,” he menacingly stated, nearing the man with pounding footsteps. Now directly in front of the man and even though he was centimeters shorter, Kenma clutched the collar of the man’s shirt in a vice grip. He glared at the man and lowered his voice in a deadly warning, “Delete it.”

You couldn’t pull Kenma out of the way when the man pulled back his arm and punched Kenma hard on the side of his face, knocking him to the ground. “Your girlfriend asked for it! Dressing like a slut in public places—”

Though slightly hazy from the punch, Kenma did something that he probably would never dare if he was younger, thinking it was too much work and would probably give him a bruised knuckle. He mustered all of his force and punched back the man, earning him the sight of a nosebleed. For such an unfit person, Kenma managed to make the man tumble to the sidewalk.

This brewed an unwanted fight on the sidewalks of Tokyo.

Now here you are, waiting for your boyfriend in one of the lobby chairs of the police station. You chewed on your lip as you run your fingers on top of your bag, which was given to you while a police officer ushered Kenma inside to be interrogated. Your mind was muddled with conflicting thoughts, starting with that perverted man who managed to take a photo of your short-covered thighs. Heck, you were wearing one of Kenma’s sweaters tucked in one of your favorite skirts. It was a normal day for you to dress up and now this happened. Your lips curled in disgust at the audacity of the unnamed man to take a picture of you, your gut boiling in anger.

For what felt like hours, the door to your left opened and Kenma strode towards you with a busted lip and bruised cheek, a female police officer following close behind. You stood up and placed your hand gently on Kenma’s face.

“Let’s get you fixed up at home, okay?” you whispered to him, your eyes probably teary at the sight of your boyfriend grimacing.

Kenma covered your left hand with his right one and regarded you with tender eyes dripping of concern. “What about our barbeque night?” He then groaned, closing his eyes briefly. “I’m sorry for ruining the night you’ve been looking forward to all week. I promise I’d make it up to you.”

“No, it’s not your fault, Kenma,” you retaliated, your eyebrows slightly furrowed. “Come on, I’m going to bake an apple pie once we get home.”

But before you could pull Kenma toward the exit of the police station, the female police pfficer stopped you. “Young lady,” she started, her expression quite troubled yet she painted a faux smile on her lips. “I think you should stop wearing revealing clothes and you should be more careful next time. Don’t wear this kind of provocative skirt when in crowded places—“

“Are your brain cells on the brink of extinction?” Kenma asked in his leveled voice, his eyes cast directly at the police officer.

“Pardon—?”

“This kind of mindset is one the reasons why our world never flourishes,” he sarcastically stated, never leaving your side while shooting his jabs at the police officer. “There will be no harassments if there are no harassers in the first place. So you’re basically implying that people get raped and sexually-harassed because of the way they dress? This is a new year and there are still people who think like that? Stop blaming the victim, then, and do your job right. You just let that perverted man go without a second thought.

“And one more thing,” he breathed, his grip on your hand tightening, “my girlfriend can wear whatever she wants.”

After that, every time you would go to class or just buy something from the mall, you would take time in making sure you never wear shorts or skirts again. Your mind was anticipating all kinds of scenarios just like the one you experienced so you only don jeans and long-sleeved shirts these days and with Kenma’s observing eyes, this didn’t go unnoticed.

One day, already dressed and preparing your breakfast, Kenma sluggishly walked out of your shared room, making a beeline towards you. He wrapped his arms around you and snuggled against your neck, his hair tickling your face, making you giggle at the adorable antics of your boyfriend. Never lifting up his head from you, Kenma only hummed against your neck while placing small kisses here and there every other minute.

“You’re wearing jeans again?” he asked on your neck, his breath making you shiver pleasantly. Bothered by it, Kenma lifted his head from your shoulder and replaced it with his hands, turning you around into facing him, your whines of burning the bacon following afterward. “Hey,” he gently called out to you in his soft-spoken voice, his hands planted on your cheek, “don’t let what that good-for-nothing policewoman and perverted bastard did get to you. I’m not saying that you don’t look good in jeans, I’m only reminding you to wear what you feel like wearing. It’s not your fault, okay?”

A smile slowly replaced the pout on your lips. Standing on your tip-toes to have your face level with Kenma’s, you placed your lips on his in a heartfelt kiss. Kenma didn’t waste a second in closing his eyes and deepening the kiss, your lips in a slow waltz with each other’s. Nipping your lip before pulling away, Kenma never increased your distance with each other as he placed his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as if relishing this intimate moment with you.

Kenma called your name softly. “It’s your body so make your own rules and go spend hours in choosing what to wear. I’m only asking you to stay strong and face them without fear. No matter what you wear, know that you’re doing it because of you and never because of them.” He paused to kiss you on the forehead. “I love you and I’m so proud of you.

“So don’t let them define who you are because the [Name] I know is her own story.”

I love this so much <33

SUPER LIKED;

pairing: kageyama tobio x f!reader

genre: college!au, enemies to lovers!au, social media!au, series

warnings: swearing, suggestive language, possible alcohol use in the future

current status: on-going!

synopsis: l/n y/n has been lucky with two things; good grades, and good friends. she also has been unlucky with two things; keeping plants alive, and dating apps. after many and many failed attempts at getting a decent date from tinder, her friends took her phone and deleted the app. perhaps it was time for some self-discovery, that lasted for two weeks. the unthinkable happens when she accidently super likes the person who hated her the most in high school, kageyama tobio. maybe she should’ve listened to her friends and kept the app deleted…

meet the squads:

y/n’s fanboys 

kageyama’s simps

chapters:

1). rip to y/n

2). care to make a bet?

3). old war time lovers

4). she used my government name

5). be our manager?

taglist: [CLOSED]

Capa para a fanfic “Campos de Algodão” escrito por Starlitsky para a seção de Haikyuu, fanfic com foco no ship Daisuga, mas que traz muito mais uma visão do Sugawara, por isso ele está sozinho na capa hehe ~

Se inspire! Não copie! PNG por @hallyumi e artes oficiais do anime Haikyuu!!, créditos também a todos os donos dos recursos utilizados como os backgrounds e PSD’s.

Edição feita sendo gravada, ou seja, outro watch me edit yay ~

Capa para a fanfic “Coletânia de poemas do poeta Dinossauro” escrito por Seikyoun para a seção de Haikyuu!! fanfic com foco no personagem Tsukishima Kei!

Capa criada com inspiração nas capas de @hobbiix​ que são super lindas inclusive, sigam ele! `w´

Se inspire! Não copie! Créditos aos artistas ~

Capas e banner feitos nesse ciclo em nome do projeto astrogallery, um projeto com foco em disponibilizar para usuários edições e betagens de fanfics para a seção de animação.

Se inspire! Não copie! Créditos aos artistas nas respectivas imagens ~

Link das fanfics: “Me dê um beijinho na testa como bom dia.” “Delírios da madrugada” e "Você pode correr, mas não se esconder.”

Capa para a fanfic “Não se importava mais.” escrito por meu amorzinho Abbacchio (a fic dele tava sem capa, fui lá não resisti e fiz a capa pra ela <3) 

Se inspire! Não copie! Créditos ao artista @VGMT_Sue que fez essa fanart linda do Kenma e que combinou tanto com a fanfic! 

Capa para a fanfic “A pele que habito não suporta a minha existência.” escrito por Kawrasuno e postado em nome do astrogallery, um projeto voltado para auxiliar ficwriters e usuários do spirit através da disponibilidade de betagem e designers (Design Simples, Assinatura, Icons e Banners)

Se inspire! Não copie! Créditos a artista da imagem, Nemasu.

atsumu’s not going to college.

it’s not what he wants, and it’s not a requirement for his plans for the future. he has a one track road set for going pro in the volleyball industry, and he has no plans for detours slowing him down.

that was always “the plan”, and you were not part of it — you were always going to college, and you were going to spend the full time there making sure your future’s on the right track.

that’s why he broke up with you.

the two years he spent with you throughout high school gone down the drain the second he decided this would be better for him — and he feels like he’s wrong, because he still checks on you when you’re not looking — but atsumu’s dead set on the fact that he’ll only slow you down if he kept you with him.

or so, until now.

“atsumu, it’s two in the morning.” you tell him, your yawns coming in a drip drop motion as you try to understand what he’s doing in front of you right now.

it’s been two weeks since you last saw him — two weeks since the breakup — two weeks of no calls, texts or even acknowledgements from in between classes or study halls.

but now he’s here, standing on your doorstep, and you’re not really sure if you want him to be.

atsumu tells you, “i have a solution.”

“it’s two in the morning.” you remind him again.

and he only repeats, “i have a solution.”

your eyebrows furrow, “do you want to come inside?”

“no,” he shakes his head, his nose red from the cold, and he tells you, “you have to listen to me.”

you bring your arms up to your chest, not feeling so warm yourself, and you hate that he chose to do on the coldest night of the month.

you tell him, “i can listen to you inside.”

and he only replies, “i have a solution.

and you frown, “so we’re not going inside.”

you have no idea what he’s talking about, all you know is that you’re still upset with him for ghosting you right after breaking up with you, and you’re not sure if you’re ready to forgive him for that yet.

you sigh, “why are you here?”

and he nods, “because i can get a job — i’ll work on the volleyball thing most hours of the day — but whenever i’m free, i can take shifts in the local café near your campus.”

you cut him off, “wait — my campus?”

“yeah,” atsumu nods, “i checked, and they have an opening and i can totally get a job there.”

atsumu? with a job? at a cafe? you can’t even put it to words, but you’re unsure when he visited your campus, unsure why he’s even doing all this in the first place.

“a job?” you raise a brow, “why do you need a job?”

atsumu ignores your question, shivering as the cold hits him, his breath turning white as it leaves his mouth, and he continues, in a frantic fit, “i have a car, it’s for my 20th birthday but my dad agreed he can give it to me early — and i have a lot saved up so there’s that for an apartment too.”

you’ve never seen atsumu be so nervous, you’ve seen him before his games and after his losses, but he’s never looked like this — never looked so worried.

“slow down.” you break through his endless string of sentences, your eyebrows furrowing as you’re still so confused and lost of what’s going on, and you say, “it’s two am.”

atsumu doesn’t respond.

you touch his arm, “have you slept?”

he feels silly — this is the first time you’ve seen him in two weeks and he must look insane to you already. he doesn’t care, he’s tired, he misses you, he’s been missing you for two weeks, and he hasn’t stopped.

atsumu looks at you, “i don’t want to break up with you.”

you stare back at him, blinking profusely as if trying to make of the situation, and your heart softens as easily as it leaps — because you didn’t want to break up with him either.

he still looks frantic, like he’s a second away to pull his hair out, and you’d offer to let him inside the house one more time, but you’ve got a strong feeling that he’d just say no again.

“i have the place, the car, the job — you have college and i’ll have my volleyball — and i know this isn’t what we planned, but i have the solution and i really think we can make this work.” atsumu tells you all of this, a straight (frantic) tone coming through his words, he catches his breath, and he’s ready to talk to you again.

but your eyes are gentle, “what are you talking about?”

he looks at you, like he’s nervous to be looking at you, a huge lump in his throat the he needs to be swallowing down soon since he’s gone too long without speaking — and he’s nervous, because this situation earns him every right to be nervous.

he’s only 20, unsure of every decision he’s making towards his future, but he’s just spent the last two weeks without you, and the first real thing he’s realized is that there’d be nothing worse than that.

the night is cold.

atsumu stares, “will you marry me?”

— lap dances

various x fem!reader

synopsis ; you’re gonna run your poor boyfriend dry with the way you move your hips

includes : oikawa t., iwaizumi h., kuroo t., akaashi k., bokuto k., tendou s., kenma k., suga k., suna r., sakusa k., matsukawa i., nishinoya y., ushijima w., atsumu m., osamu m.

nsfw; 18+, aged up, lap dances, dry humping, mentions of choking, intoxication, some slight degrad, praise, slight voyeurism

I didn’t proofread I’ll do it in the morning

oikawa : promiscuous by nelly furtado

Oikawa clapped as you spin dramatically, whipping your hair every which way and mouthing the words to your song as if your life depended on it. Everything started innocent at first, but innocent isn’t a good look on Tooru. You jumped as he gripped your chin, making you look up at him as he sang some of the words back to you. Your hips began to sway as you pressed your body against his. “I want you on my team...” you whispered, letting yourself get lost in his chocolate irises, looking for any emotion you could get your hands on.

Neediness? Maybe he was desperate? What was it? Something clouded his vision and you soon realized it was lust. Your pussy throbbed in your shorts, hand trailing down his torso to grip his cock over his sweats. Your breathing became heavy as he pressed his forehead against yours. “So does everybody else.”

iwaizumi : desire by meg myers (the hucci remix is 10x better js)

Now that you think about it, maybe you like the attention. You like the feeling of Iwaizumi’s iPhone camera framed right on your dancing form, maybe the flash gives you an exhilarating boost of confidence. Whatever it is, it makes you stalk over to him like a slut, and he shudders as you run your hands up his abs underneath his shirt.

“Getting carried away there, precious girl,” he teased, admiring the view of your ass bouncing in the air as you felt up his muscles. He pats his lap gently, signalling that your throne was awaiting you, and you happily obliged. You caught Hajime off guard as you smoothed your cunt over his bulge, made him shake so hard that he almost dropped the camera recording your entire little game.

kuroo : shake ya ass by blackbear

The lights were bright in the club, enough fast turns and shakes could make anyone dizzy if they had the right amount of alcohol coursing through their system. That’s why Kuroo’s hands were rested securely on your waist, one sliding up and cupping your breast as the other wrapped around your inner thigh. You danced on him in a smiley haze, biting your lip as you felt him harden under you.

“Take me home?” You whimpered out as he stroked your pussy with a finger, shaky hand trailing down his neck, pulling him forward slightly by the collar to plant kisses along his cheek. He had never been so turned on in his life but fuck, you were pushing it. “Please Tetsu, I’m so horny, please take me home.” Within an instant, he had an Uber waiting for the two of you outside the exit doors.

akaashi : DHL by frank ocean

Akaashi’s gaze watched as your black, thin thigh highs rolled far down your thighs with every movement of your ass, his hand going to reach out just to slap the fabric against the skin. Yet, when you smacked his hand away gently, he felt his pants get tighter.

“Can’t touch, huh?” He breathed out, lips only a mere inch away from your plump glossed ones. Your breath mixed, one leg snaking around and sitting yourself promptly on his lap. You swallowed down a hiss as your lips connected, grinding down against his cock through his dress pants. You were bittersweet and he didn’t know how to deal with you sometimes but he didn’t mind surprises.

bokuto : bus it by blackbear

“You’re so good at that,” he couldn’t help but marvel at the way you moved your hips, his hands so big that they covered your ass cheeks entirely as he massaged the skin. You were a drug to him, only feeding into his addictive personality and getting him high while he watched you, center stage and spotlight on you.

The backseat of his car wasn’t the ideal place for a lap dance, it was so crammed but it only made the intimacy of your dance heavier. Your hands roamed through your hair and you swear, you could see the hearts forming in his eyes. Ko’s eyes rolled back as you swiped your clothes pussy over his cock repeatedly, the friction making him bite on his knuckle. God, he wanted to fuck you so bad.

tendou : muse by OCAD (yes I used this song in another post stfu)

You whimpered as Tendou yanked the leash connected to your collar forward, dragging your knees against the carpet as his eyes trained on your ass. You nuzzled his thigh, sticking your tongue out to lap at his cock over his boxers. “Dance for me, doll.”

It’s better to listen to his requests rather than disobey, so like a good little puppy, you rolled your body and ran your hands across your skin, smiling everytime he raked his red eyes up and down your form. ‘Satori’ flashed in red letters, studded right on top of the leather wrapped along your throat, and you felt your thighs squeeze when he licked his top row of teeth. There is nothing he loves more than watching his girl perform for him.

kenma : freak by lana del rey

Up and down. Up and down. Side to side, usually he’s quick with following movements like this, he’s a gamer after all. But fuck, when it’s your pretty ass in a dress way too short for you, his mind goes blank. Kenma’s stray locks of hair fall in front of his face, refusing to take his eyes off of your twerking figure.

But when you begin grinding on top of him, rubbing your pussy against his cock like it’s fun to you? So hard, it’s so hard to keep back the moans, the whimpers, all of the embarassing noises that he wants to avoid making. “S-slow down,” he murmurs, kissing your hand as you bring it up to stroke his cheek.

suga : trust by brent faiyaz

Your hips swayed side to side, and goddamn, he had to loosen his collar a bit at the sight of you moving with the rhythm. The other fellow third years sat in their respectful sides of what was supposed to be a sleepover and embarassment showed through your burning cheeks. A dare is a dare, right?

“Fuck,” you could just barely catch Suga’s comment, eyes straying slowly to the side from your seat on Daichi’s lap. His eyes were dark, focused on your ass as you rocked against his best friend’s hard-on. That coy smile will kill him, surely, and he gulped the hardest he ever has as you strut towards him.

suna : uber by arizona zervas

You thought you were slick when you dropped to your knees in front of Suna, in front of his spot on the bed of your hotel room. You thought you were sneakily sexy as your ass swayed with every crawl closer and closer to him, the bell on your neck ringing softly and skirt hiking up with your skirt. You thought you were clever, so fucking clever, snaking a hand up his thigh and palming his cock, eyes pretty and pleading as they met his slanted ones.

But no. Rintarou was always a step ahead of you, that’s why he wasted no time pinning you to the mattress, face down and ass up. You really thought he would sit through a lap dance, baby? Not when you’re so wet that your slick is dripping down your thigh, no, he’s gotta take care of you in his own harsh way.

sakusa : I like being by sybyr

You had expected Kiyoomi to stray away from your idea of a good time, but he was always good at putting up with your bullshit. Your ass pressed up against his groin and he warned you, he fucking warned you, that you’d get in trouble if you kept moving so carelessly. Of course, the threat only made you back your ass up on him more and he yanked you by the waist so that you were sitting nice and pretty on his lap.

“You think this is fucking funny?” He questioned, shoving a hand down your panties and not hesitating to rub your clit so fast that it almost felt like a personal attack. You shaked in his tight hold, although you figured he’d put you in your place for acting up. “Gonna be the death of me, filthy whore.”

matsukawa : jealou$y by the neighbourhood

“Shh,” the tip of your finger fell against his lips, his words suddenly only a forgotten memory as he watched your hands roam across your body, past your hardened nipples, down the chains connecting your bra to your panties. “Enjoy the show, yeah?”

A smirk graced his face, eyes hooded per usual, cheek resting in his palm while he watched his personal exotic dancer do her thing. He wouldn’t tell you, but he could tell you were begging to be touched as you shook your ass in his face, so he only gave you what you wanted.

nishinoya : wrong by MAX (ty kai my fav noya whore)

Getting drunk with Nishinoya was always a tossup between getting your shit rocked by the end of the night or simply just passing out with bottles in your hand. This night? This night, your playlist was booming through your shared apartment, this night you were shaking your ass and showing moves for your lovely boyfriend.

Anyone watching could see the sexual tension, could feel it even as you threw your ass back in front of him, bending over and moaning so slightly when he’d push your ass against him to feel his hard cock. Once you rose back up, he grabbed you by the throat, bringing you oh so close just to tell you how sexy you are. How he’s gonna fuck you so hard your pussy will be ruined, “wanna watch you shake that ass while you ride my cock.”

ushijima : buttons by the pussycat dolls

The last time Ushijima Wakatoshi felt this infatuated was when he met you for the first time, often comparable with his very first volleyball match. He can admit to himself that he doesn’t appreciate your body enough, and he can only clench his jaw as you strut to him with that pretty lingerie he bough you clad to your body. His eyes widened up just a little as he watched you drop to the floor, stopping just enough to strain the back of your legs and he resists the urge to bite his lip as you spread them wide open.

“You wanna touch me, don’t you Toshi?” You mumbled, eyes locking onto his, hand ghosting over your pussy. He nodded subconsciously, shifting ever so slightly in his seat, thinking of all of the ways he could get you to say his name. You giggled as he pulled you into his lap, jumping on the light slap he left on your thigh before letting him roll you onto your back.

atsumu : maria I’m drunk by travis scott

As much as you wanted control of the situation, Atsumu never failed to make you melt under his touch. Thick fingers gripped your hips, thumb stroking the sensitive skin as you backed your ass up against his hard dick. Kisses ran up and down your neck, slow and steady, unlike the fast pace of your grinding.

“Prettiest fuckin’ girl,” he bit your earlobe, chuckling as you arched your back against him. His t-shirt draped and pooled onto your thighs, proudly wearing the number 13. A hand running through your scalp caught your attention, eyes fluttering as he held your head in place so he could watch you drink the spit he dropped onto your tongue. “Sexy lil thing.”

osamu : re-up by anders

Heat rose to your face as you felt Osamu’s hands brush up past your breasts, soon finding purchase in their hold on your throat. Nothing could stop the feverish grind of your hips, you were desperate to be so close to him. If he were honest, he doesn’t think he’s seen anything hotter than his pretty baby dancing for him, all for him.

“You’re all mine, right?” He loosened his grip on your neck only by a little, his eyes rolling slightly back at your breathy ‘yes.’ He began moving against you, applying more pressure to his thrusts in hope of making you cum from dry humping alone. You started this game but after being Atsumu’s twin all his life, he couldn’t resist a challenge.

this broke my heart 😭 can i please be added to the taglist? ty!! 💗

Chapter 3

sypnosis: you and your boyfriend, Bokuto had a fight the day before the training camp in Tokyo and it was all because of a girl carrying rumors that left the both of you in bad terms. Will the ace and the manager immediately resolve this issue, or will they keep it that way until for who knows when?

✦ genre: angst, fluff

✦ word count: 3.7k

✦ warnings: reader’s heartbreak

»»— masterlist | previous (ch.2) | next (ch. 3.5)

chapter 2…

Bokuto released a deep sigh, blaming himself for every stupid thing he’s done to you. “I fucking hate myself.” He holds his hips as he scrunched his eyebrows in distress. You would always laugh at his craziness and he’d even do it deliberately if it makes you happy. Out of each of them, this could be the stupidest and the saddest one yet.

“You reap what you sow.” Aiko stated and grabs her phone to check the time. “And you better get ready for tomorrow.”

That’s enough scolding for someone who already admits their fault.

He pouts, his eyes full of hope. “Is y/n-chan going to be there?”

“She’s not coming.”

DAY ONE: Training Camp

The night breaks into dawn. It was serene and the weather was perfect for the start of the training camp. People are snuggled into bed, still in slumber, and yet the volleyball clubs from different schools are already on their way to spend the week fortifying themselves.

Coach Yamiji speaks entirely of pure motivation to keep Fukurodani at their greatest forms. He had always encouraged them right before they showcase their willpower on the court.

However, the coach’s word doesn’t seem to be effective on the ace. All of them are steeled except for him. Bokuto stands beside his teammates, in a deep trance. He was unusually quiet for some reason, and it concerned the whole volleyball club.

Also, it was too early for him to be in his emo mode. Unless something or someone had provoked him to be that way.

But this wasn’t his typical emo mode either.

Keep reading

i dont have a plot yet but…. pilot kenma, copilot bokuto, flight attendants akaashi, kuroo, and tsukishima fic…..