𝓢𓂅✦

Fuck this. 

If he’s moving on, you’re going to as well. 

You force your focus back to your date, who has been nothing but attentive, polite, and seems actually interested in you. So you eat your steak tartare and tell him stories too. You tell him about your job, your best friend, about Nori, that you like to paint whenever you can. But you don’t tell him about your fear of airplanes, that you’re allergic to bees and always get jittery when there’s one nearby.

You don’t tell him you love the summer but there’s something special about a rainy day when you have nothing to do. The way you fall asleep with the pellets as comforting sounds. 

He isn’t privy to those.

Out of the corner of your eyes you see Hajime’s date lean closer, taking a bite out of his entree with her own fork. You clench your jaw because eat your own fucking plate, he doesn’t like that. Hajime’s eyes meet yours immediately as she does, and he doesn’t seem surprised to see you looking. He looks down at his plate, then at you like “did you see that?” 

You saw. But you don’t find it as amusing as he did. So you huff slightly and look back to your own plate. That’s when you decide to continue with your plan. You take it a step further, leaning forward to thank Ren for the date by placing your hand on his forearm, which isn’t nearly as attractive as Hajime’s but that’s not why you’re doing it. You smile and wait a few seconds before checking if he saw.

He definitely did. 

He gives himself away by clicking his tongue, stabbing a piece of food and looking away. 

Serves him right. 

Your plan kind of backfires when Ren takes your move as freedom to do whatever he wants so he brings his hand up gently and takes a strand of your hair, playing with it. Which ew, who does that on the first date?

You smile through the cringe and when he drops it, excuse yourself to go to the bathroom because you could never control your facial expressions and you don’t think it would be polite to gag and make the staff think the food is bad.

“Shit.” 

You curse under your breath to yourself as you stand up because the bathroom is, of course, past the happy couple’s table. You can do it. You’re badass, you’re hot and fuck them. So you wipe imaginary dust off your skirt, square your shoulders back and begin to walk, letting your hips sway a little deliberately, but not too obvious.

It’s a feat that you don’t look at him, but when you walk by and you get a scent of his cologne, the one that hasn’t changed in three years, your eyes flutter for a moment. 

Fuck. 

Fucking fuck. 

Can he not be hot and smell so heavenly? 

You reach the bathroom out of utter willpower, bracing your hands on the marble faucet, trying to even your breathing. In and out. Deep breath in, deep breath out. You do that a couple times and get your phone out of your purse, thumbing quickly until you reach your best friend’s contact. You type quickly. 

you: guess who’s here

her: no.  her: please don’t say who I’m thinking of  her: oh no, you’re typing. 

you: hajime

her: fuuuuuckkkk  her: deadass?  her: gtg?  her: i can be there in five minutes if I break some laws  her: maybe your hot friend Daichi can cuff me MHMMMMM

you: down, girl you: im good, just you: he’s on a date 

her: well… so are you babe 

you: i know! 

You start your ranting paragraph as fast as you can so Ren doesn’t think you’d escaped through the window or something. Your breathing gets hard again as you’re halfway through the message.

Some part of you hears the door push open, but you’re too focused to look up and smile politely. There’s another three faucets, you can keep this one. 

“Bored already?” 

Your mouth parts, your fingers freeze, your breathing gets even worse. All because you recognize the voice. How could you not? It’s the same one that helped you through endless nights of English tutoring, that helped your little brother figure out how to pitch a ball correctly. The voice that told you years ago that he’s always loved you. 

But it’s also the one that decided that maybe your relationship wasn’t working out. 

You take a deep breath, look up and there he is. With a smirk on his face like he knew this would happen. 

“You’re in the wrong bathroom.” 

He shrugs, hands on his pockets which makes his biceps stand out. 

“Nah.” 

You snort. 

“No?” 

“No. So, you bored already?” 

“Why would I be bored?”

You turn to the mirror, fixing your lipstick when in reality you need a moment to recover. You see him take a step closer through the mirror. 

“Because instead of being out there on your date,” he says with a little tone, “you’re here, texting your best friend.” 

“So?” You bring the pad of your finger to your lip. “You’re here too and you’re on a date. Are you bored?” 

He pauses for a moment, huffing out a laugh before shaking his head. 

“You’re avoiding the question, sweetheart.” 

“And you’re being a bad date, Iwaizumi.” 

He takes another step forward and gently takes the same stand of hair Ren just had between his fingers. His touch feels entirely different though. 

“Who says I’m on a date? And don’t call me that.” 

You huff, pushing his hand out of your hair with your own and turning to face him. He drops his hand with a smirk. 

“Oh, I don’t know. The fact that you’re in a fancy restaurant with a woman who apparently steals food off your plate and laughs at everything you say?” 

He tilts his head. 

“You jealous?” 

“Fuck no.” 

“You are.” 

“No.”

He takes yet another step forward, the space between you shortening with every step he takes. 

“No? You’re so jealous you didn’t even notice who I came with.” 

“Why the fuck would I notice?” 

“Such a brat.” He laughs, shaking his head. 

He brings his hand up slowly, as if telegraphing and making you aware that he’s going to make contact with you. Always giving you a chance, an out, if you want it. 

But you stay rooted in place, eyes on him. His hand gets closer, his thumb reaching the corner of your mouth as if to fix your lipgloss. His touch is gentle, just like with the hair. 

“I’m going to go back out there-“

“Why—“

“Let me finish, sweetheart.” 

His tone is not harsh, not rude, but a little demanding and he knows for a fact you will listen. 

“I’m going to go back out there. On your way to your boring date, you will look down at my table and see who I’m eating with. Then you’re going to sit your pretty ass down and keep acting up. See what happens.” 

“Acting up?” 

He exhales, taking a step back. 

“If you’re truly into him, tell me and I’ll leave you alone. But if you’re not, you will continue your cute little act and see what I mean.” 

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. You want to argue, to refute, to tell him you’re actually into Ren and that you don’t know what he means by “little act” but he knows you too well. You close your mouth and he smirks, turning to walk out to his “not date”.

Before he leaves, he turns one last time and says-

“See you later.”

Fuck. 

You delete the message and ignore your best friend’s messages asking where you are, if you’re alive, if she needs to come kill Iwaizumi, and leave the bathroom. Your eyes dart to his table immediately and you notice what he meant, who he’s dining with.

It’s his cousin from the Philippines, Isa. You’ve never met, but you’ve said hi once or twice through their facetime calls. 

Well, shit. 

You walk quickly to your table, smiling at Ren, who smiles back politely. 

“I’m sorry, my friend called and needed someone to talk to.” 

“No worries, hope everything is alright.” 

“Yes, she’s fine, thank you.”

He takes a sip of wine, nodding. You do the same, not knowing what to say. 

“I don’t think you’re into me.”

You almost choke on your wine. 

“W-what?” You stammer out.

“That’s okay,” he laughs, “I just noticed you’ve been staring at the table behind me quite a lot. You know them?” 

You deflate a little, defeated and very embarrassed.

“Yeah… he’s my ex.” 

“Oof. Since when?” 

“Couple months.”

He nods in what seems to be understanding. 

“Bad break up?” 

“It was kind of mutual.” 

“Is he on a date?” 

“I thought so, but it turns out it was his cousin.” 

He sucks through his teeth. 

“I’m so sorry, Ren. I was actually having a good time until he arrived. It’s just my first date since the breakup and I was not expecting to see him. Like, at all.” 

Ren nods.

“Don’t worry. I was actually thinking that you’re pretty hot but we might be better off as friends.” 

You laugh. 

“That's just a thing people say, no?” 

He laughs too. 

“Yes, but I truly mean it. Your personality reminds me a little of my sister so that’s a big no in dating for me.” 

It’s your turn to cringe. 

“Yeah… that’s not great.”

“Yep. So how about we finish our dinner as friends, without worrying about impressing each other and then you can go jump your ex’s bones.” 

“No!” You laugh. “I don’t want to do that.”

He stares blankly at you. “As your new friend, I can tell you that you’re full of shit.” 

You close your eyes. 

“Is it that noticeable?” 

“Uh, would you feel better if I said no?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then no. You’re good.” 

“Thanks, Ren. You’re a good new friend.” 

Now you’re actually enjoying dinner and your glasses of wine but you feel Iwaizumi’s gaze on you the entire time. You sneak a couple of glances too, and now that you know that the person across from him is actually Isa, you feel insanely better. 

You shouldn't.

Ren excuses himself to go to the bathroom and you take the chance to check your phone, texting your best friend everything is good and that you’ll call her later. Your heart skips a beat when a new notification pops down. 

Haji, it reads. You never changed the name or deleted his number. 

haji💛: he’s not your type 

You bite your lip

you: maybe my type has changed 

haji💛: you’re pushing it

you: i’m not doing anything. 

haji💛: you haven’t told me to leave you alone

you: no, i haven’t. 

haji💛: will you? 

You look up and he’s already looking at you. You shake your head. His eyes darken. He types something without even looking down at his phone, his eyes fixed on you.  

haji💛: knew it. 

you:  who’s the jealous one now? 

haji💛: never said i wasn’t

you: we’re broken up, remember? 

haji💛: trust me. i remember

Ren returns to the table with a smile, but it’s a little forced now. 

“Tall, dark and handsome is killing me with his mind.” 

“Ignore him.”

After a few minutes, you look down at the finished dessert. 

“That was so good. Thank you for bringing me here, I didn’t know this place.” 

“Oh, no problem. It's one of my favorites.”

“You mind if we ask for the check? I'm kind of worried for Nori.” 

“I took care of it.” 

You look up. 

“You what?” 

“I asked you out, so I took care of it.” 

“But we’re friends! you didn’t have to, Ren.” 

He waves you off. 

“We’ll split the next one.” 

You sigh but nod. 

“Alright. Actually, you have to meet my best friend. You two would get along.” 

“Sure. I’m in.” 

He stands up, taking the napkin from his lap and setting it neatly on his table. Then he stretches his hand out to you. 

“Let’s go, I’ll walk you to your car and you can get back to your newborn son.” 

You laugh, accept his hand, and get up easily. He drops your hand and pushes your chair in. You walk to the entrance beside him, but just before you step out, you look behind your shoulder to an already staring Iwaizumi. You mouth- 

“See you later.” 

Just like he did in the bathroom. 

You say goodnight to Ren as he walks you to your car, thanking him again and saying you’ll talk soon, actually looking forward to being his friend. 

You drive to your house, half-expecting a text from Iwaizumi, but there’s nothing, so you shrug it off and occupy your mind as soon as you get home.

You shower, do your night routine and cuddle next to Nori on the couch, putting on the tv show you’re halfway in. You text your best friend that you’ll call her tomorrow. She whines and argues, but gives up after you send her a selfie to assure her you’re fine. 

Twenty minutes later, a knock on your door snaps you out of the trance the tv show has put you in and you stand with a sleeping Nori in your arms. You open the door. 

Hajime is standing there with a frown on his face, it softens a little when he sees Nori, but then it snaps back into place. 

“Is he here?” 

“Who?” 

“The blond fucker. Is he here?” 

“No.” 

“Good.”

“Good? You come to my door in the middle of the night, ask me that and just reply ‘good’?” 

“Yes. What else do you want me to say?” 

“God, Hajime! Literally anything else.” 

Nori’s ears shift in his sleep, and you curse slightly, walking back to your couch and setting him there gently. You walk back to where Hajime still stands, hands in his pockets and a slight furrow between his brows. 

“What do you want me to say?” He says lowly, eyes hard as he looks at you. “That I wanted to walk up to your table and interrupt your date? That I hated every second of it? From the moment I first heard your laugh to the moment I saw you leave with him. I fucking hated it. And I have no right to, I know.” 

You’re speechless, but he’s not done. 

“I had to come. I had to know if he came over, if you’ve moved on. If you’re happy.” 

That triggers you. 

“You had to come?” 

He flinches at your tone, but doesn’t answer, letting you continue. 

“That’s the first date I’ve been on since we broke up! Of course I'm not happy! Are you?” 

“No.” 

“You were the one who suggested we break up!”

“You agreed!”

“Of course I agreed! Because you didn’t want to be with me! I wasn’t going to be in a relationship with someone who didn’t want me, Hajime!” 

You feel your eyes tear up, you fight them. He takes a step forward. 

“Of course I wanted you! I still do! But you deserved better than me. Better than late nights, my long hours of work, my travel schedule with the team, all of it.” 

“Did I ever tell you I wanted anything different?” 

“No. But-“

“Then what the fuck?” 

“I thought it was for the best!” 

“Did you ever stop and think what I thought? I loved you! All through the late nights, the long hours of doing what you love, the travel schedule and the fact that you came back to me and told me everything. Did I ever complain? I have loved you since high school, Hajime. Why would I ever stop?!”

Your chest heaves up and down as you finish your confession, your breathing is ragged, your eyes let escape the tear you’ve been trying so hard not to let go. But you can’t help it, any of it. Part of you is glad for this liberation. Hajime takes another step forward. 

“You love me?” 

“You’re such an idiot.”

He takes another step forward, stepping inside your home with a tentative step. 

“And you’re a brat.” 

He steps in fully, closing the door behind him with a soft thud. 

“Say it.”

“No.”

“Please. Say it again.” 

His eyes shut as he closes the space between you, setting his forehead against yours. You close your eyes, breathing in his cologne, taking in the familiarity of his touch, it’s comforting but at the same time it heats you up inside. 

“I love you, Hajime.”

He exhales shakily. 

“God. I love you. Always have, always will.”

He finishes his sentence and proves his point by taking your face between his hands and slamming his lips to yours. You bring your hands to his forearms immediately, kissing back with the same urgency but needing the touch to ground you. To assure you this is real and not a figment of your imagination.

He sighs into the touch, into the kiss the moment you return it. You squeeze his forearms, then move your hands to the back of his neck, he moves his to your waist. 

The kiss turns from urgent to borderline desperate. Hajime turns you around and makes your back hit the door, you arch to reach him, his hands slide down, cupping your ass.

You groan in unison, all because you missed all of this so much. The teasing, the tension, the touching and kissing, but still, it’s not enough for either of you. 

You tug the small hairs at his nape, knowing his weak spots more than you do yours. He groans and it’s heavenly, a sound you’ve missed too much. He uses his strength to bring your legs smoothly around his hips, like you weigh close to nothing. He uses the moment to catch his breath. 

“Fuck. Missed this. Missed you.” He breathes out, his voice is rough, low and aroused. 

“Fuck.” You echo, leaning down and kissing him again. He hums and walks, still carrying you, through the living room and into your bedroom. He knows the steps by heart.

He sets you down gently on your feet, close to the bed, and takes a slight step back, just enough that the kiss is interrupted but you’re still close. You can’t help but whine. You’re desperate. It’s been way too long and now that you've had a taste again, you can’t help but want more. 

You crane your neck and take a step forward, eager to resume, but Hajime grabs both your cheeks with one hand gently. 

“You think you deserve it?” 

You open your eyes to find him looking down at you with a smirk. You nod. He mocks it, nodding too, but with a fake pout. 

“Aww, you think so? Tell me, sweetheart. Tell me why you think you deserve it.”

Another desperate whine escapes you, you pout and it’s exaggerated by Hajime’s hand still squeezing your cheeks together. He huffs a laugh and releases you. 

“Stop teasing, Hajime.” 

He tilts his head. 

“Teasing? I’m just asking a question. Teasing is what you did back at the restaurant, didn’t you? You wanted to make me jealous, right?” 

You shake your head, but your uneven breathing and flushing neck betray you as he takes a step forward, taking his hand and placing it on your jaw, angling your face higher and bringing it closer to his. 

“You’re a brat.” 

Your eyes flutter shut and you feel your brain turning into mush from the closeness, the teasing, the dominance and how his perfume is making you dizzy with need. 

“‘M not, Haji,” 

“Aww baby, back to Haji is it?” 

He leans back in and teases you by brushing his lips against yours making you burn all over. He lets go of you and takes a step back. Your eyes widen. 

“You want a kiss, baby?” 

You nod. 

“Admit it, then. Admit that the moment you saw me you were more focused on getting my attention than you were on your date.”

You nod because of course you were. 

“Use your words.” 

“Fuck you. Yes. I admit it.”

He smiles fakely sweet and it’s almost predatory. His eyes turn hard, his steps towards you are tentative, like you’re the prey he’s been stalking all night to catch. 

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” 

“Hajim—”

He cuts you off by smashing his lips into yours, right hand landing gently on your throat while the other grabbing your ass so hard you moan, your back arching into him. It’s heaven, hell and everything in between.

You’ve missed this so much you’ve been wet since that moment back at the restaurant bathroom. 

He takes advantage of your moan and slips his tongue easily into you, groaning as you let him in so easily, like you’ve always done. Then he surprises you by pushing you to the bed, not aggressively because he would never be, not unless you ask him. 

You sit back on your elbows quickly, not wanting to get your eyes off him ever again. He smirks as he looks down to you.

You check him out, biting your lip at the unmissable bulge straining his black pants. You look back to him and his pupils are blown wide, more proof of his arousal. 

“Come on, sweetheart. Take me out.” 

You nod eagerly, pushing yourself to sit on your knees at the edge of the bed where you’re now face to face with his button and zipper. Your hands come up to them, eager to see, to taste, to have him close. You look up at him through your eyelashes and notice his breathing has turned harder. Good. 

His hand comes up to your face slowly, reaching your cheek with his thumb darting out to trace your bottom lip gently. His touch and the way he’s looking at you, they’re almost reverent. You blush at the attention. 

You continue with your task, fingers working quickly with the button and the zipper, tugging down the pants to reveal a pair of tight black briefs that always made your mouth water. The way they sculpt his strong tan legs and his perfectly round ass. 

Your hands go to the waistband, but you don’t pull them down yet, instead leaning forward and pressing your lips to the hard dick print. His hand caresses your hair, pushing it back slowly. Your pecks turn to lingering kisses all over. His breath catches and his touches become a little more pressing on your head. 

“So good.” He breathes out. 

That sets you off and you push his briefs down. His cock is as big and beautiful as always, standing proudly. You sit taller on your knees, hands shifting eagerly to get his shirt off. He gets the message and helps you.

Your nails rake softly through the rigid plane of his abdomen. 

“Off, sweetheart. Let me see you.” 

You nod, sitting back and taking off your skirt slowly, his eyes follow every movement, not wanting to miss a thing. Your blouse is next, you throw it to the side without a second thought. 

“Help me?” You pout slightly. 

He huffs, but leans down, reaching back to the clasp of your bra, his olive eyes moving quickly from your eyes to your lips, and down to your breasts as the bra falls off. 

Both of you move naturally, your thoughts and bodies attuned to one another. He brings both legs up beside you hovering on top of you as you slide further up the bed so you’re both comfortable. His hands trace your breasts slightly, making you shiver as they continue their path down. 

He leans down and finds your right breast, giving it a soft kiss before latching onto it completely. Your back arches and he takes advantage of it and removes your panties in the same movement.

His hand finds you immediately, he separates from your breast with a pop and groans. 

“You’re soaked.” 

You nod. “Mhm. Have been since I saw you.”

His fingers are torture as they slow down, but it feels good anyway because they’re his hands. He teases your clit, circling once. 

“Oh yeah? You sat there with your pretty outfit on your date all while you were this wet for me?” 

You nod, swallowing back a moan as he circles once more. 

“Poor guy never stood a chance, huh.” 

“No, no.” You shake your head quickly. “Please, Haji.” 

“Please what, baby?” 

You writhe, hips moving as you search for his touch, but he keeps pulling his hand back as you get closer. 

“Say it and I’ll give you what you want.” 

“Touch me, please.” 

“So polite. Good girl.” 

His thumb is mercy as he resumes touching you, he knows you too well- the pace you like, the spots that make you moan, the ones that make you whine- he remembers.

He teases your entrance with one finger as the other one stays on your clit. He does this for a few seconds until he slips it in slowly. 

You moan, Hajime groans as he slowly pumps his finger in and out of you. 

“Fuck, Haji.” 

He leans down and sucks your left breast, tongue darting out to your nipple. The dual stimulation feels too good, your brain turns to mush as your moans turn louder, higher. 

“That feel good, baby?” 

You nod, eyes closing. 

“Eyes on me.”

The demanding tone always does it for you, so you obey, eyes opening to find him looking down at you. 

“Beautiful.” 

He slips in another finger quickly and it feels even better than one. You feel the first orgasm of the night creeping in and it makes your whining turn desperate, which Hajime of course, notices. He kisses a trail up your neck to find your earlobe, so warm as he says—

“You close? Let go, baby. I got you” 

That does it. You close your eyes as the pleasure erupts. You feel it from the top of your head to the tip of your toes, the shaking that makes you feel so good. Hajime groans as he feels you arch your back, his fingers never stopping but slowing down, helping you ride it out. 

You open your eyes as you feel Hajime’s fingers leave you, ready to whine at the feeling of being empty. But all that flies out the window when you see him bring his fingers to his mouth, sucking you off of himself. 

He moans slightly, smiling as he brings his fingers out. 

“So good. Wanna taste?” 

He doesn’t wait for an answer, he leans down and kisses you roughly, tongues dancing with each other as he makes you taste yourself in his mouth. You moan in sync. Your hands begin to wander all over his body. They go from the back of his neck to his broad shoulders, down his back and over his abs, reaching down to his happy trail and finally until you find he’s still hard. 

He groans as your fingers close around him. Your thumb circles over the tip slowly, teasing, he has to break the kiss to take a deep breath, which comes out uneven and shaky as you repeat the motion.

“Let me suck you, Haji.” You say, to which he looks into your eyes and nods. 

You give him a soft kiss and bring your hands up to his chest to switch positions. He follows the movement and lays down, not breaking the kiss. 

You’re now straddling him, kissing down the length of his neck, which he even cranes back to give you more access. You continue the path down his chest, his abs, the happy trail you’ve always loved and when you finally reach his cock, it twitches at attention. 

You smile, looking up at him. His eyes are closed shut, directed at the ceiling. You give his tip a peck before saying—

“Eyes on me, Hajime.”

He obeys, eyes opening, wide pupils looking down at you, you give him a kiss as thanks before you take him in properly, deeply, rolling your tongue around the tip and further down as you do.

The whines he lets out are music to your ears and you feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with each one. 

Your eyes flutter as you take him in deeper. It’s been a while and Hajime is so big that it feels like you need to get used to it again. 

When you’re ready, you bob your head up and down, using your tongue to give him the dual stimulation you know he loves. His right hand comes up to your hair, picking it up into a makeshift ponytail as he holds you, not forcing you. You lean back, mouth popping as you break contact for a moment. 

“Fuck my throat.” 

He looks down at you, panting. 

“You sure? It’s been a while.” 

You roll your eyes.

“I don’t care.”

“Brat.” 

He pushes your head down in a swift movement and you choke for a moment as you feel him at the back of your throat. You love it. He pauses, letting you get used to it.

You tap his thigh to signal you’re okay and he starts slow, thrusting his hips, his cock up and down. The sound is filthy–wet sounds echoing in your room. 

“Oh fuck. So good, sweetheart. Missed fucking your mouth.”

You moan and roll your eyes at both the dirty words and the speeding up. You let him use you. You like it, being out of your own head and letting the only thoughts in your head be Hajime, Hajime, Hajime. You love placing your trust into the man you love because you know he would never hurt you. 

“I’m so close. Just a little more” He groans out before his thrusts become a little more uncontrolled, his moans a little more like whines as he gets close. You feel his thighs tense under your hands and you know he’s about to come. 

“Fuck!” 

His movement stops, hips up and his hand keeps you there as he comes, so much it fills your mouth. You swallow and he lets go, slowly taking his cock out as you close your eyes and take a gasping breath. You steady your breathing, squeezing his thighs until you open your eyes, looking up at him, smiling softly. 

“Thank you, baby.” 

He says, taking your hand from his thigh and tugging you softly to him. You let him help you up as you follow. When you reach him, he kisses you softly, smiling into it as you kiss back. 

The kiss is sweet, hands gently caressing each other as you both come down from the high. You sigh into it, feeling his strong hands feel you up. It’s a minute before you both reach back for air.

“Give me five minutes and I’m ready to go again.”

You laugh, setting your forehead on his chest. 

“We’ve got time, Haji.”

because unlike makki, iwaizumi doesn’t immediately start laughing.

there’s just... a pause.

then hajime’s voice, low and normal and totally unaware of the crime scene he has stepped into. “you busy?”

issei looks directly at you.

you shake your head at him in horror and delight.

he licks his lips.

“little bit.”

“then why’d you answer?”

“’cause you called. i’m polite, iwa.”

“you sound weird.”

issei hums, and his thumb slides back over you, slow enough to make your legs tense.

you bite down on your knuckle.

“do i?”

another pause.

oh, hajime knows now.

you can hear the exact second he knows. the silence changes shape. gets heavier. more aware.

“... matsukawa.”

“yeah?”

“are you fucking around right now?”

issei’s smile is lazy and lethal.

“technically, my mouth’s occupied.”

you make the worst sound into your hand.

hajime goes dead silent.

not scandalised loud like oikawa. not delighted loud like makki.

silent.

issei’s brows lift like he’s fascinated.

then, with the calm of a man setting down a drink, he taps speaker and lays the phone flat on your stomach.

the cool edge of it makes you twitch.

you choke on a laugh, which turns into a gasp when he slides two fingers back into you, slow and deliberate.

“oh my god,” you breathe.

the phone is right there. resting on your stomach, speaker up, close enough that every little broken sound you make has nowhere to hide.

issei looks too pleased with himself.

“iwa,” he says casually, as if he is not knuckle-deep and watching your hips start to lift. “you still there?”

no answer.

issei’s fingers curl.

your back arches.

“hajime,” issei sings, awful and soft. “don’t be rude.”

“i’m here,” iwaizumi says, voice tight.

there it is.

not hanging up. not telling him to stop. not even pretending hard enough to hate this.

issei’s grin goes slow.

“yeah?” he murmurs. “you wanna be?”

the silence after that is fucking insane.

you stare at issei, wide-eyed, breath catching in little pieces as he keeps touching you. he’s not even going down on you anymore. he’s just watching. sitting between your legs with his cheek against your thigh, fingers moving steadily, gaze flicking between your face and the phone on your stomach like this is some kind of casual group activity.

“i asked you something,” issei says.

hajime exhales through his nose.

“... if she’s okay with it.”

your whole body tenses.

issei’s fingers pause.

not stop, exactly. just slow.

his eyes come to yours, humour gone thin for half a second. the real question underneath it.

you nod.

he waits.

“yeah,” you whisper. “i’m okay with it.”

issei’s smile comes back, softer first.

then worse.

“you hear that?”

“i heard,” hajime says.

his voice sounds different now. lower. rougher around the edges.

god help you.

issei kisses the inside of your knee. “good. then stay quiet if you’re gonna be shy about it.”

“fuck off,” hajime says, but it has no bite.

“mm. that isn’t very nice, hajime.”

you laugh, breathless, and issei rewards it by dragging his fingers just right.

your laugh snaps into a moan.

hajime makes a sound.

tiny. barely there.

but it is a sound.

issei hears it.

of course he does.

“oh?” he says.

“don’t.”

“didn’t say anything.”

“you were about to.”

“i was just thinking.”

“do that privately.”

issei’s fingers slow, and you whine before you can stop yourself.

he looks down at you with mock pity.

“see what you did? distracted me.”

“issei,” you complain.

“yeah, baby?”

he says it so casually. so warm. like he isn’t turning you into a trembling mess with his best friend listening.

“don’t stop.”

iwaizumi’s breath catches audibly.

issei’s eyes darken.

“bossy.”

“you’re being annoying.”

“i’m being generous.” his gaze flicks to the phone. “aren’t i, iwa?”

hajime says nothing.

issei laughs quietly.

“still there?”

“yeah.”

“quiet.”

“yeah.”

“you jerking off, boy scout?”

the silence is immediate and catastrophic.

your eyes go huge.

“issei.”

“what?” he asks, innocent as a knife. “it’s a question.”

hajime’s voice comes back strangled. “you’re a fucking asshole.”

“that wasn’t a no.”

“jesus christ.”

“that wasn’t either.”

you are going to die.

you are actually going to die in this bed because matsukawa issei cannot behave for five consecutive minutes and iwaizumi hajime apparently has a closet pervert streak big enough to qualify as a second apartment.

issei leans down and kisses you, right above where his fingers are still moving.

soft. terrible.

then he speaks, not to you this time.

“she’s so wet,” he says, conversationally. “you should feel this.”

your face burns so hot you think you might pass out.

hajime swears under his breath.

issei watches your reaction like he loves it.

“she likes when i talk about her,” he continues, still lazy, still cruelly calm. “acts embarrassed, but she gets tighter every time.”

you shake your head.

his fingers curl again.

your hips jerk.

“liar,” he murmurs to you.

“i hate you.”

“no, you don’t.”

“i might.”

“you’d miss me.”

“i’d miss your dick.”

“same thing.”

hajime makes another sound then, partly a laugh, half a curse. like he can’t believe he is hearing this. like he cannot believe he is not hanging up.

issei’s smile sharpens.

“there you go,” he says. “knew you were alive.”

“shut up.”

“nah. iwa, she’s trying so hard not to make noise.”

“don’t drag me into it.”

“you’re on speaker on her stomach. you dragged yourself in.”

“that was you.”

“you could hang up.”

nothing.

issei hums.

“thought so.”

then he lowers his mouth back to you.

and if the fingering was bad, this is worse.

because now he is showing off.

not in a clumsy way. not obvious and exaggerated. issei is too smooth for that, too confident in the exact way that makes him irritating. he just settles back between your thighs and eats you out like he knows hajime is listening to every wet sound, every shaky breath, every broken little syllable of his name you fail to swallow.

your hand flies into his hair.

the phone shifts on your stomach as you arch.

“careful,” issei murmurs against you, and the vibration makes your legs tremble. “don’t drop him.”

“i’m going to kill you,” you gasp.

“after?”

“maybe.”

he laughs into you.

hajime says nothing.

but he is breathing.

that’s the thing that gets you. the quiet on the other end isn’t empty anymore. it’s full of him. tense and controlled and too present. you can imagine him sitting somewhere with his jaw clenched, phone in one hand, the other maybe—

you whimper.

issei’s eyes flick up.

“oh, what was that?”

“shut up.”

“you thinking about him?”

you try to close your thighs, which is a mistake because his shoulders are there and he just spreads you open again.

“don’t hide now.”

“issei.”

“answer.”

your pulse is in your throat. “maybe.”

hajime curses.

issei grins against you.

“cute.”

then he stops talking and gets serious.

which is how you know you’re fucked.

he knows exactly how to pull you apart when he wants to. knows when to tease and when to shut up, when to give you pressure, when to back off just enough that your body chases him. his hands lock around your thighs, his mouth gets precise, and everything narrows down to heat and breath and the weight of the phone rising and falling with your stomach.

you come with hajime listening.

it’s not graceful.

it never is with issei when he’s showing off.

your back arches, one hand in his hair, the other clutching at the sheets, and the sound that leaves you is loud enough that you hear hajime inhale sharply through the speaker. issei doesn’t let up until you’re squirming, thighs trembling against his cheeks, voice breaking around a too-much little sob.

then he lifts his head.

slowly.

mouth wet.

eyes dark.

“good?” he asks.

you nod weakly.

“words.”

“i’m good.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

he pats your thigh once.

“great.”

then he grabs your hips and yanks you down the bed.

you squeal.

actually squeal.

because you’re overstimulated and boneless and he moves you like you weigh nothing, dragging you to the edge so suddenly that the phone nearly slides off your stomach. you catch it with one clumsy hand, laughing breathlessly even while your whole body is still shaking.

on speaker, hajime makes the craziest fucking sound.

not a full moan.

not a word.

just this punched-out, involuntary thing that tells on him so badly the room goes still for half a second.

issei freezes.

then looks at the phone.

then at you.

his smile becomes a war crime.

“iwa.”

“don’t.”

“that was cute.”

“don’t.”

“you liked that?”

“fuck you.”

“i’ll pencil you in.”

you laugh again, helpless, and hajime sounds like he might be suffering psychic damage.

issei stands at the end of the bed.

and yeah.

yeah, you forget how to speak for a second.

because he is tall. tall in that loose, lanky way that hides the sheer size of him until he is standing over you with your hips in his hands and his hair falling into his eyes. he drags you to the very edge, lifts your ass like it’s nothing, adjusts you until your legs are hooked just right.

the angle alone makes your stomach flip.

then he lays his cock over your lower stomach.

just rests there.

heavy and hard and obscene against your skin.

you stare down.

he does too.

“issei,” you breathe.

“i know.”

he loves this.

loves seeing it. loves the visual of how deep he’ll reach, how far up your body he can mark the promise of it before he even gets inside. it makes him smug in the worst way, quiet and satisfied and absolutely aware of what it does to you.

his thumb strokes your hip.

“look at that,” he murmurs.

hajime is dead silent.

issei tilts his head toward the phone.

“wish you were looking, iwa?”

“don’t be mean,” you manage.

“shame. i’m so good at it.”

hajime’s voice is rough when he says, “you’re evil.”

“little bit.”

“more than a little.”

“you’re still here.”

another pause.

then hajime says, very low, “yeah.”

oh.

oh, that gets everyone.

even issei’s expression flickers for a second, amusement giving way to something hotter. he looks down at you, brows raised like, you hearing this?

you nod, dazed.

“yeah,” issei says softly. “he is.”

then he slides into you.

you lose your breath.

fully.

it’s so deep at that angle that your hands fly to his wrists, nails digging in as he holds you up to meet him. your mouth opens, but nothing comes out at first. just a stunned little gasp that cracks at the edges when he bottoms out.

issei’s jaw tightens.

“fuck.”

hajime mutters something under his breath that you don’t catch.

issei catches it.

“what was that?”

“nothing.”

“liar.”

“keep going.”

the words are clipped. controlled. almost angry.

they make you clench so hard issei groans.

“oh, she liked that.”

“stop narrating everything,” hajime says.

“no.”

then he starts moving.

slow at first, because the angle is insane and because you are still sensitive from his mouth. deep, measured thrusts that push the air out of you every time, his hands firm under your ass, lifting you to meet him like he’s using your body exactly how he wants and making sure it ruins you properly.

the phone is still on you, slid down now to stick to the sweaty skin just below your tits.

you can feel the vibration of hajime’s breathing through the case.

it is obscene.

it is ridiculous.

it is so hot you almost can’t stand it.

issei talks through everything.

of course he does.

he tells you how good you feel, how tight, how pretty you look trying to take him like this. tells hajime how your face changes when he gets deep enough. how your thighs shake. how you get louder when you forget to be embarrassed.

and hajime just listens.

quiet.

too quiet.

until issei pushes.

“say something, iwa.”

“no.”

“why not?”

“because you’re already insufferable.”

“she wants to hear you.”

your eyes fly to his.

issei grins.

“you do.”

“i—”

he thrusts deep, and your words scatter.

“see?”

hajime’s voice is rough. “she okay?”

the question punches right through all the heat.

because it’s hajime, of course it is. repressed pervert or not, he still sounds like himself. grounded. careful. checking, even with his voice strained.

you swallow, breathless.

“yeah. i’m okay.”

“you sure?”

“yeah.”

issei’s expression softens for the smallest second.

then he ruins it by saying, “hear that? she’s okay. you can keep jerking off now, boy scout.”

“mattsun,” hajime snaps.

you make a sound that is half laugh, half moan.

issei’s grin comes back full force.

“there we go.”

“you’re going to hell.”

“probably. wanna come with?”

“not answering that.”

you are absolutely dissolving.

every thrust punches up into that deep, impossible place that makes your legs go useless. issei’s hands hold you steady, thumbs digging into the soft of your hips. your head tips back against the mattress, one hand fisted in the sheet, the other pressed weakly over the phone like you can somehow hide the sounds and keep hajime close at the same time.

issei notices.

“don’t cover him.”

“i’m not.”

“you are.”

“you’re annoying.”

“you love it.”

“you’re too deep.”

his hips slow immediately.

“too deep bad?”

you shake your head fast.

“no. good. just— fuck!”

“more words.”

“good,” you gasp. “it’s good.”

“yeah?” his voice goes warm and filthy. “you want more?”

you nod.

“say it.”

“more.”

hajime exhales sharply.

issei’s eyes glitter.

“oh, he liked that one.”

“i hate both of you,” you breathe.

“liar.”

then he gives you more.

not faster. deeper. meaner in that careful way that has your body going loose and desperate beneath him. the whole bed shifts with it, rhythm steady, your ass lifted in his hands, his cock hitting so deep that your vision goes blurry.

and then he says it.because he knows exactly when to.

“wanna come for iwa?”

you whine.

“yeah?” he asks, voice low. “wanna come while he jerks off to the sound of you getting fucked like this?”

hajime makes a strangled noise.

“issei.”

“what?”

“you’re— fuck.”

issei laughs, breathless and dark. you nod before you can think better of it.

issei’s gaze snaps back to you.

“please,” you whisper.

his hands tighten.

“please what?”

“make me come.”

“who for?”

you are gone. truly gone. no dignity. no shame. just heat and pressure and hajime’s breathing through the speaker.

“for haji.”

the silence after that is violent.

then hajime groans. low. wrecked. utterly ruined.

issei’s composure almost cracks.

almost.

“fuck,” he mutters. “good girl.”

he shifts one hand, keeping you lifted with the other, and gets his thumb on your clit.

that’s it. that’s the end of you.

the angle, the pressure, the phone, hajime’s barely contained sounds, issei’s voice talking you through it like he has all the time in the world. it all collapses at once.

you come hard enough that your voice breaks. hard enough that your whole body shakes in his hands, hips jerking uselessly as he keeps you exactly where he wants you. issei talks you through the entire thing, filthy and soft, telling you there you go, that’s it, let him hear you, while hajime swears on the other end like he’s trying not to fall apart too loudly.

issei follows not long after.

he holds you tight, thrusts going uneven, head tipping back with a groan that would be embarrassing if he were capable of shame. he comes deep, still standing at the edge of the bed, hands locked around you like he’s anchoring himself through it.

for a few seconds, no one says anything.

you are wrecked.

hajime is silent.

issei is breathing hard, staring down at where he’s still inside you with a lazy, satisfied look that makes you want to kick him if your legs worked.

then hajime says, flat and disbelieving, “are you fucking serious?”

issei doesn’t miss a beat. “nah. her name isn’t serious.”

hajime hangs up. immediately. the room goes dead quiet.

then you burst into exhausted laughter.

issei looks down at the phone, then at you, completely calm.

“rude.”

“you are the worst person alive.”

“he asked.”

“you are insane.”

“yeah.” he finally eases you back onto the bed with surprising gentleness, one hand sliding under your thigh so you don’t jolt too hard. “you good?”

you blink up at him, sweaty and ruined and still trying to recover from the fact that iwaizumi hajime just got dragged into this ecosystem and absolutely did not leave.

“yeah,” you mumble. “i’m good.”

“yeah?”

“mhm.”

“nice.”

he pulls out carefully, and you make a tiny miserable sound because everything is too much now. he kisses your knee like he’s apologising, which is offensive because he is not sorry.

then he grabs his phone.

you squint at him. “what are you doing?”

“checking if he blocked me.”

“did he?”

a pause. “no.”

“coward.”

“right?”

the phone buzzes once in his hand.

issei reads it and smiles.

“what?”

“iwa says he hates me.”

“you deserve it.”

“he also says to never call him again.”

“you answered his call.”

“i’ll remind him later.”

“don’t.”

“i won’t.”

“you absolutely will.”

“probably.”

you groan and cover your face.

issei tosses the phone aside and pats your thigh.

“okay. shower.”

“don’t boss me around after ruining my life.”

“you’re gross.”

your eyes snap open. “it’s your fault.”

“yeah.” he shrugs, shameless. “still gross.”

“i hate you.”

“no, you don’t.”

“i hate your friends.”

“no, you don’t.”

you stare at him and he grins.

“especially not haji.”

you grab a pillow and throw it at him. he catches it against his chest, laughing, then leans down to kiss your forehead like he has any right to be sweet after all of that.

“come on,” he says. “shower before makki finds out and the group chat becomes unlivable ’cause we left him out.”

Your face grew warm at the words — at this stranger whose face you knew but otherwise couldn't recognize. You knew Osamu had a twin, had filed it away with all the other arbitrary facts you'd collected about him. You just never considered the fact that you might actually meet the guy, what with his tapered joggers and MSBY t-shirt and brand-deal athletic shoes.

Amused by the fact that you were very evidently weirded out, Atsumu asked, "This yer first time meetin' twins, or what?”

Frowning, you said, "Feels like I'm staring at an optical illusion."

His laugh was louder than Osamu's. More garish.

"That's a new one," he told you, shucking his empty cup into the nearest trash can before extending his hand out. "The name's Atsumu."

"Y/N. My daughter is in Kina's class," you supplied, taking his hand and shaking it firmly. "Osamu's told me a lot about you."

"Yeah?" The corner of his lips tilted into an easy smile you'd only ever seen on Disney princes. "Hopefully all good things?"

"Eh." You shrugged. "He may have mentioned wanting to eat you in the womb once or twice."

"Ha!" Atsumu's brown eyes glinted as he laughed. "Ya know, when Osamu told me he'd made a new friend at Kina's school, yer not exactly what I had in mind."

"Oh, yeah?" you asked, folding your arms across your chest. "And what did you have in mind?"

"I dunno. Someone borin'. Pushin' fifty."

"Well." You gestured down to your business casual, the glossy work heels that hurt like hell to walk in. "Sorry to disappoint."

The sound of antsy parents and their electric cars filled the silence between you.

"So how does all this work?" Atsumu asked, gesturing toward the school gates like they might fly open at any second. "Do I need to sign her out or somethin'?"

"Osamu should have put you on Kina's pickup form. Though I'm sure your face is confirmation enough," you joked. "Their teacher will bring them out here once the bell rings. You can check in with her then."

"Got it."

You studied his expression — the slight concentration there.

"Trust me, you've done way more complicated things as a D1 athlete. I'm sure you'll be just fine."

"Oh?" He looked pleased. "Ya know who I am, then?"

You hummed. "I work with Kuroo Tetsurō at the JVA. So I've watched a couple of your games."

"Well, would ya look at that." Atsumu folded his hands behind his neck and smirked. "Always a pleasure, meetin' a fan."

You shrugged. "I root for the Adlers, personally."

Before Atsumu could open his mouth to retort, the bell rang.

"UNCLE TSUM TSUM!" Kina bellowed, having escaped the single-file line now teetering from Miss Yuki's classroom. She ran up to the gate and pushed her face through the bars. "Ya remembered to pick me up!”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling as another parent shot Atsumu a disapproving glare.

“I — of course I did, ya spawn!” He palmed her face back through the gate so that she wouldn't get stuck. “And what is that on yer shirt — is that blood?”

“It’s ketchup."

“Of course it is,” Atsumu breathed. You reached into your work bag, retrieved a packet of baby wipes, and held it out to him.

"Ya know," he began, fishing out a handful with his fingers. "If you've got any free time tonight, ya should stop by this charity thing we're hostin' at the stadium."

You shucked the packet of baby wipes back into your purse and watched it disappear into the abyss of receipts, hair ties, and Chipotle napkins.

"I would! But then I wouldn't have anyone to watch my daughter."

"Right. Right," Atsumu chuckled, shaking his head. "Kinda a full-time job, huh?"

You smiled at him politely. "Afraid so.”

"Well." Atsumu lifted the wipes in thanks and glanced at the teacher now beckoning Kina to get back in line, please. "Suppose I'll have to convince ya to root for MSBY some other time, then.”

Between the bars, Kina shot her uncle a suspicious frown as you chuckled.

"I'll see you around, Atsumu."

"Oh, I'm countin' on it."

You watched Atsumu jog toward the entrance to the gate, surname and jersey number flexing across his back like a badge of honor. Meanwhile, you made a mental note to text Osamu good luck on the catering gig. You hoped he wasn't too stressed about it.

"Mommy, who was that?" Misa asked, brow scrunched in confusion as you crossed the parking lot hand-in-hand.

You fished for your car keys in your bag but were only met with another handful of Chipotle napkins. "That was Osamu-san's twin brother."

"Twin brother?"

You nodded. "Their mommy gave birth to them at the same time. Can you believe that?"

Misa's face twisted in thought as you unlocked the car, flung her backpack into the trunk, and hoisted her into her carseat.

"Is that why they're the same?"

You carefully considered your daughter's question as you buckled her in, the clicks and zips of her carseat filling the otherwise quiet vehicle.

"That's why they look the same, yes," you told her, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear. "But as for their personalities, they couldn't be more different."

Misa's expression bloomed with fascination as you kissed her forehead, closed her car door, and climbed into the driver's seat.

"Ya didn't tell me she was hot!"

Osamu rolled his eyes from the industrial-sized refrigerator he'd been organizing for the past hour. "Could ya not resort to callin' women hot? Pick another adjective."

"Fine. Beautiful, gorgeous. Distractingly pretty — "

"Who are ya even talkin' about?"

"Yer friend, dumbass." The stadium’s kitchen door swung closed as Atsumu stormed inside, leaned against the stainless steel worktable, and grinned. "The one from Kina's school? I tried invitin' her here tonight, but she looked at me like I was stupid."

"Yeah, probably because she has a child."

"You have a child!”

"Yeah, and I've got dumbasses like you who can pick her up when I get busy!” Osamu snapped. "Not everyone gets that privilege."

He shut the refrigerator door and began flipping through his inventory lists for that evening's event, agitation etched into every crease on his face. Atsumu merely frowned at him from across the kitchen, fingers working at the bow tie his publicist had forced him to wear.

"Someone's prickly today."

Osamu dragged a hand down his face. "Yeah, well, I didn't get much sleep last night, I've got staff comin' in thirty, and I’m pretty sure I’m down five pounds of onions. So sorry if I’m not in a more chipper mood.”

"Ya know what ya need?"

"Five pounds of onions?”

"Someone to calm ya the fuck down," Atsumu answered. He adjusted the knot of his bow tie and huffed. "When's the last time you've been on a date?"

“I dunno,” Osamu grumbled, the question alone making his ears turn red. “Since before Kina was born, maybe?”

“Seriously?” Atsumu’s eyes bulged out of his head. “Ya mean to tell me the last time ya got laid, it resulted in Satan’s spawn?”

“Would ya quit referrin’ to my daughter as Satan’s spawn?”

“No wonder yer so wound up!” Atsumu cackled. He rounded the worktable and clapped his hands on his brother’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, Samu. After tonight, I won’t spring any more last-minute gigs on ya.”

“Is that so?” Osamu winced as his brother shook him back and forth like a vending machine.

“I’ll even set ya up with one of my friends.” Atsumu waggled his eyebrows. “Or better yet, ya can ask out yer pretty friend over at Kina’s school!”

“Okay,” Osamu drawled, writhing out of his brother’s grip. “Relax. She’s just a friend.”

“I dunno. She seemed pretty disappointed when I showed up today.”

Osamu shot his brother a flat stare. “I think that’s just yer effect on people.”

Atsumu’s face split into a cheeky grin — the same, scheming kind he wore when they were kids.

“Lemme call Kita and tell him about the missin’ produce. In the meantime…just think about it, okay?” Atsumu poked his twin brother in the ribs. “Ya deserve to be happy, too.”

Osamu could write a laundry list of reasons as to why he couldn't do that. His five-year-old daughter. This catering gig from hell. The way his skin crawled whenever he thought about meeting someone new.

Hi, I'm Osamu. Business school dropout. Twin brother to Miya Atsumu. Oh, and did I mention I have a kid?

He loved being Kina's dad. Loved learning her humor, what fruits she liked and didn't like. He loved showing her things she'd never seen before and watching her grow into herself, little-by-little.

But he also didn't expect anyone else to understand that — much less sign up for an entire lifetime of it. Why choose him when there was an easier, blonder, childless version of himself walking around?

Ya deserve to be happy, Atsumu had said.

But as Osamu watched him pace outside the door to the kitchen — phone pressed to his ear, tux glinting beneath the stadium lights — he figured this could be his version of happy. Seeing his daughter grow up, his brother succeed. It was enough. It had to be.

His phone pinged in his pocket before he could think about it too deeply.

Good luck on the catering gig today! you'd texted. Manifesting for you the biggest donations and the best sleep of your life. Lmk if you need anything.

Osamu blinked back at the messages. The series of motivational gifs you'd sent along with them. Some of them were so absurd, he found himself laughing at his phone like an idiot.

"Yer in a better mood," Atsumu drawled when he returned from the hallway.

"Am I?" Osamu hummed, pocketing his cell phone. A hint of a smile grazed his lips. "Just saw somethin' funny, is all."

The first of his catering staff walked into the kitchen before Atsumu could question him further.

"You're back." You smiled at Osamu as you approached the school gate the following day.

"Yes, ma'am," Osamu drawled, holding out a plastic bag of leftovers he'd prepared for you the previous night. "Who else did ya expect?"

"Honestly, I was half-expecting a secret third triplet to appear," you joked, taking the bag into your hands without objection. "How was the event last night? Did you raise a trillion yen?"

"Maybe not a trillion, but enough to make the lack of sleep worth it," he chuckled. "I, uh...I packed some extra short rib as a thank ya for wishin’ me well last night. Really boosted my morale."

"Well, I know how much you wanted to do right by Atsumu.” You hugged the bag close to your chest, the scent of caramelized vegetables and freshly made rice filling your nose. "It was the least I could do."

You tilted your neck toward the sky as a gentle breeze swept across the parking lot, the afternoon sun on your skin only amplifying the warmth in your chest.

"...he didn't bother ya too much yesterday, did he?"

You paused at Osamu's expression. The slight unease there.

"Who? Atsumu?"

"Yeah." Osamu shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. "I know he can be kinda a flirt. Unless yer into that, I mean — "

You laughed as a blush rose into Osamu's cheeks.

"Don't worry. I've met athletes like him before, so they don't faze me." You nudged him in the side with your elbow. "Besides, I'm glad to have you back."

He raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Yeah?"

"Of course! I can't gossip about the kinder group chat with your doppelgänger. It's not the same."

Osamu's shoulders shook with laughter. "I guess not."

The sound of the bell cleaved your conversation in half as students flooded into the courtyard.

"Oh! I almost forgot," you blurted, reaching into your work bag. "I meant to give this to you yesterday."

You shoved a manila folder into his hands and hoped to God it wasn't too wrinkled.

"Misa has an eye doctor's appointment at four, so I gotta run to beat traffic. But take a look and let me know what you think!"

Before Osamu could open his mouth to respond, you were already jogging toward the school gate in your high heels. How you managed to do that, he had no idea.

"We'll catch up more tomorrow!” you promised him, waving the plastic bag. “And thank you for the food!"

Blinking back in confusion, Osamu peeled back the flap to the envelope and slid out the papers you'd tucked safely inside. His jaw slackened once he realized what they were.

Several mockups you'd designed of a new sign for Onigiri Miya — plus contact information for a signage company you worked with at the JVA.

He thought you were kidding when you'd offered to make one several weeks back.

A small gift for all the hard work you've put in, you'd written into the margins with a felt-tip pen. And a thank you for feeding me and Misa.

Osamu had long since accepted his version of happy. Had drawn a neat circle around all he permitted himself to feel, to want.

But as he stood there in the courtyard of Kina’s school — holding this kind, thoughtful gift you'd spent hours working on — he felt that circle widen, if only for a moment.

The feeling was enough to make his head spin as he tucked the envelope beneath his arm and went looking for his daughter.

With a whoosh, the air from your lungs emptied, an arm of steel wound around your middle and the next second you were staring at the sky. Daichi hoisted you up with only one arm, spinning you around until you had recovered enough breath to laugh. Your feet kicked, your arms flailed, but his hold never wavered. Not until he wanted to throw you over his shoulder.

Upside down and still breathless from a mixture of the exertion and uncontrollable laughter, all you could do was reach out for any part of him. You fisted his shirt, and in a moment of madness, reached out to smack his ass.

Daichi paused in his walk back to the house, snaking a hand to your thigh to give a firm squeeze. “Did you just assault a police officer? That’s a pretty hefty crime, miss.”

Before you could retort, your devilish husband landed smack after smack on your backside. His strikes alternated between sides but they came one after another in quick succession, the sound of his palm hitting your rump cracking through the air.

Your yelps and moans were only muffled by the fist you shoved into your mouth, praying your neighbours weren’t looking out their windows to see your flushed face and how Daichi groped at your ass.

Only once you were inside did he let you down.

Daichi clicked his tongue against his teeth, using one hand to whirl you round to face the wall. A boot kicked your feet apart, widening your stance and forcing you to brace your palms on the wall to stop yourself from sliding to the floor.

“Colour?” he murmured softly, his larger body framing yours but not touching, just waiting.

“Green.”

His answering hum sent shivers down your spine, followed by the trail of his hands. Daichi frisked you in a way you hoped he’d never frisk anyone else; he fondled yours breasts, skimmed your curves up and down before reaching around to cup your pussy possessively.

“Officer Sawamura!” The name came out breathless and playful, your heart hammering but no longer from the run, it was all for what might happen next. “This isn’t very professional.”

He spun you around, steadying your shoulders so you didn’t stagger sideways and tilted your chin up with a sharp jerk of his thumb. The black of his pupils had bled outward to make his eyes even more dark. The sharp focus as he dragged his gaze down the length of you was enough to have you squirming on the spot.

“No backchat, I’m not done searching you.”

Your eyes narrowed, a bit of bravado returning. “For what?”

“Stolen goods,” he answered without missing a beat.

What the heck was he talking about?

Daichi let his hand rest around the column of your throat, slowly he moved it down past your sternum and abdomen until his fingers slid past the stretchy waist of your leggings. He reached the edge of your panties and pushed beneath them until he was again cupping your pussy, but this time, naked.

“This… this is mine.”

A thick finger pressed deeper between your warm folds, stroking from clit to entrance to perineum and back again. The whole time he watched your face, he took in your expressions as they shifted from confusion to realisation to toe curling excitement.

You were almost on your tiptoes, clutching at your husband’s broad shoulders for the much needed stability to remain on your feet, and each drag of that one finger made your knees knock dangerously. The digit circled your clit with deliberate, slow precision, a rakish grin spreading on his face when you exhaled a shaky whine.

“I don’t hear you denying it,” Daichi said, voice lower now, more husky. You could feel the warm tickle of his breath on your face, sharing the same air whilst he toyed with you.

Another finger slid deeper, and you rolled higher onto your toes. He fingered your entrance and held your gaze, his free hand carefully tilting your head up when it started to droop, your eyes fluttering in your need of more.

“Tell me it’s mine and I’ll be lenient on you. First offence and all… actually, second.”

You licked your parched lips and rocked your hips subtly. “It’s yours, Daichi, always has been… but what was my first offence?”

The question hung in the air as he leant down to capture your lips in a fierce, loving kiss. He was firm but careful, nipping at your lips until you granted him access for his tongue to entwine with yours.

At the same time, he pushed two fingers into you and massaged the slick gummy walls of your cunt. He urged you to grind against his hand, stimulating you until you were shaking all over. Only then did he answer.

“You stole my heart.”

and kageyama knows. he knows in the way he's firm with his touches, lips planting sloppy kisses on your neck and ear while iwaizumi hooks your legs on his shoulders and rutting into you, almost as if he's telepathically telling you that i'm here and i'm yours.

"hajime," you whine when he bottoms out, a small, rather reassuring smirk plastered on his face, in awe of your reactions as he fucks into you.

"yeah," iwaizumi cups your face and rubs his thumb on your cheek. "you can take it, you can take us and you know it, right, pretty?"

you nod and kageyama rubs soothing circles on your hips everytime you wince or moan a little bit louder when iwaizumi thrusts deeper into your pussy, and when you look away to your side, kageyama quickly, gently, holds your chin between his fingers and guides your lips to his, swallowing your moans as you come around iwaizumi's cock pressing onto your sweet spot, spurting thick ropes of cum inside you.

"you okay?" kageyama asks as both strong bodies carry you on to the next position, iwa's seed still deep inside you, and he grabs your hips to position your back against him.

"yeah," you whisper it's almost a sigh, remnants of your high still coursing through your veins. you look back at kageyama, giving him a reassuring smile that you can still handle it. until that smile turns into a look of pleasure as his length drags into your gummy walls, trapping iwa's cum inside, and they both watch as you come undone the second time around.

"tobio!" he thrusts his hips up, moaning your name as he feels how your sex is incredibly warmer and tighter now. you face in front, and you come in direct eye contact with iwaizumi who's running his hands along your chest and waist.

"look at that, she's taking you so well, shit," iwaizumi hisses.

your hips wriggle at the praise, bouncing on kageyama's cock languidly as all four hands do the job for you. tears start to pool in the corner of your eyes as you feel so fucking good trapped between the two of them. it's quite overwhelming as kageyama bites the skin on your shoulders while iwaizumi sucks on your nipple, one hand playing with the other, all while kageyama's length is hitting all the right spots inside you. and what iwaizumi says next doesn't help you come to your senses,

"so beautiful. you look so pretty just like this, between us."

fuck.

"i'm gonna cum!" your voice is hoarse, legs shaking as kageyama fucks up faster, hands pinning your ass down as his cock kisses your cervix, spurting white cum inside you. he groans as he cums and you go limp, back laying down on kageyama's chest as you catch your breath.

"i'm here," kageyama breathes, wiping the sweat and tears on your face before planting a kiss on your forehead. you smile weakly, whispering his name once more, and you feel a digit run through your folds while his throbbing cock is still balls deep inside you,

"so good for us," iwaizumi caresses your plump, cum-soaked pussy. "think you can handle more, babygirl?"