Inoskuz

m.list

tags: @scoupsworld @mires765 @amaliaaliena @nanasrkives @bakugouswaif @frozen-waffle @filiac @palanggaaa @highqew @danmanz @fweakygyatt @applemango78 @weillennwa @titiyaki

Kenma didn't respond right away, he knew his answer, but he wasn't sure how to say it. And your reaction to his answer was unpredictable in his mind.

You two had met at the beginning of the fall semester, you were a transfer student and decided to join the gaming club. And little did you know that world-famous streamer Kenma 'Kozuken' Kozume was the president of that club. You told him how you wanted to get more into gaming and he said that he'd teach you.

And from then on you naturally gravitated towards him, and he found himself becoming closer to you as winter came. From hanging out on campus together to calling each other late at night whenever one of you couldn't sleep. You became friends sooner than you would've expected.

"I just.. I couldn't be alone right now.." he answered softly, not wanting the gravity of his words to shake the balance of the universe.

You hummed in response, knowing that he was omitting some truth from that answer. But you decided to let him have this one.

You two laid in silence, while it was comforting to you. It was eating Kenma alive. He had no idea what you were thinking right now, his heart pounding in his chest. Your gaze warmed his skin. His golden eyes were too scared to glance over to you, too scared to face his reality, his feelings.

The silence clawed at his skin, ripping his sanity to shreds. The silence yelled at him, demanding the truth before the universe swallowed him whole.

"I invited you over because.." he started, taking in a shaky, deep breath, "I had to get something off of my chest."

You looked directly at him, "look at me, Kenma."

Kenma's heart was racing now, he fiddled with his fingers, nervous out of his mind. But he wanted to keep you here, so he turned his head, staring you right in the eye.

"Tell me what's on your mind." You said, it was supposed to be a request but it resembled a demand.

Kenma's lip quivered, but he was hoping you wouldn't have noticed that. Kenma tried to predict your reaction from him lying or telling you his truth, but he had no good reason to lie to you. He could only lie to himself, but you deserved to know the truth, in his eyes at least.

"I like you," he spoke softly, his cat-like eyes threatening to turn away from you but Kenma decided to be brave and face you.

"I like you too," you smiled at him, your fingers reached out for his hand. You grabbed his hand as if it was the most fragile thing in the world, and held it near your face.

You pressed your lips to the back of his hand, and you giggled as you heard his breath hitch.

"Can I take you out tomorrow?" Kenma asked, still holding eye contact with you.

"And what would we do?" You wondered.

Kenma's fingers were now holding your hand, softly playing with it, "we could go ice skating, grab something to eat?" He suggested.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he answered.

Kenma's eyes widened as you straddled his lap, you leaned down, having your palms cup his light pink cheeks. You could feel his dick on your folds as you adjusted yourself on top of him.

"Can I kiss you?" You asked while softly caressing his face.

"Please.." Kenma whined out.

You were so close to him, you could feel the cool air coming from him every time he exhaled. You pressed your plush lips against his, and tilted your head at an angle so your noses wouldn't bump.

Kenma's lips brushed against yours as you moved your lips against his, feeling his shockingly soft lips collide with yours. You could feel a little bit of spit coming from his mouth, but that just turned you on.

"Oh fuck," he whispered out as you lifted your lips off of his, wanting to catch some air.

As you pressed your lips up against his once again, his body relaxed into yours. Kenma's long hands found your hips, and he started to rub his thumbs against them as he kissed you.

You giggled into the kiss, laughing at how passionate Kenma was about it. You felt him getting hard but you knew you weren't going to take it too far tonight.

"Mmh," Kenma whined as he grinded his hips against yours.

As both your lips parted, panting as you stared each other in the eyes. You saw how dilated Kenma's pupils were, you could barely see the gold in his eyes. Instead, you saw a pit of black with a golden circle on the outside of it.

"We should do this more often," he breathed out, a tired smile on his face.

"We should," you smiled, feeling his hands grip your thighs.

  his eyes widen at the question, heart nearly stopping. taking in a deep breath, he nods slowly. in truth, atsumu would never be reluctant with the two of you together. however, as osamu reminds him every summer, only one of them knows how to swim. no one’s ever quite caught on to why atsumu has ignored beach invitations or opted to stay on solid ground. and looking up at you now, body illuminated in the moon’s glow, he can feel his heart racing.

  “so that’s a yes?”

  “uh, have we thought about the possibility of someone visiting the lake?” atsumu sits up with you, free hand rubbing the back of his neck, sweat sticking to his skin.

  biting your lip, you give him the look that always seems to drive him crazy. the way your smile curves up as you look at him through half-lidded eyes. “that’s supposed to be the fun of it miya,” you let go of his hand, instead using it to play the hem of your shirt, “just say the word.”

  looking out at the lake and then back at you, he can feel his inner turmoil bubble to the surface. “fine… but we can’t go far, don’t want some creep stealing your clothes,” atsumu pulls off his shirt first, the sleeveless top resting against the sand.

  “always the protector,” you quickly pull you shirt off, followed by your pair of shorts, hands resting on your hips as atsumu stares up at you, breathless, “turn around mister.”

  turning his back to you, he can feel his cheeks warm up from the way you always seem to command the space around you. waiting patiently, he hears the water splash, your voice calling him in soon thereafter. as he turns around, he can spot you in the water, reflections of the moon spreading over the surface. 

  “your turn,” atsumu does a twirling motion with his finger until you turn around in the water, shoulder blades glistening.

  stripping himself, he steps one foot into the water. the frigid temperature sends goosebumps his legs. “it’s really cold in here,” he tries to give another excuse, taking in a deep breath. 

  “it’ll get warmer the longer you’re in, i promise,” you wait until you hear his other foot plunge into the lake, followed by small splashes as he takes a few more steps. turning your head, you see him half way under the water, his torso still sticking out the top. hair on his lower abdomen still peeking out of the water.

  “see, this isn’t so bad,” you fully turn around, deep enough that the water is still splashing up around your collarbones, “you know, you can come a little deeper, i don’t bite.”

  “i beg to differ,” atsumu raises his eyebrows, tongue running along his molars. taking a few more steps into the water, the mixture of temperature and fear sending his stomach to stiffen.

  reaching your hands out, he grabs a hold of them, bringing one up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to it. “see, this isn’t so bad, right?” the sand shifts under the two of you, slowly sinking you further into the water until he’s still standing on his toes. 

  “well, we should probably get a little closer to shore, ya know, in case someone comes?” he tries to seem relaxed as he pulls you with him a few feet towards the shore, your legs grappled around his. 

  “atsumu, hun, what is going on? you’re not usually this nervous about doing adventurous things,” you let go of one of his hands, bringing it up to his face. the cool water running down his cheek and dripping off his chin. “you can talk to me about anything.”

  taking in a deep breath, he looks away and then back at you. your lips are turned into a frown, eyes glossy from the full moon. his free hand latches onto your waist, massaging slightly as he finally grabs the courage to admit his lifelong fear. “y/n.. i can’t swim. i want to make you happy and this would probably be more fun if you had someone who.. could swim,” atsumu bites his lip, looking back up to the sky. 

  “that’s it? i thought you wanted to break up with me or something… atsumu, hey look at me,” you hand shifts from his cheek to his chin, lightly pulling his face until he’s looking back at you, “if something doesn’t make you thrilled, we don’t have to do it, you just say the word.”

  “i know, i know. it’s just my ‘samu made some joke again about there being only one miya who can swim and it-“

  “atsumu. there are many reasons why i am here with you and not him. and you not knowing how to swim is certainly not going to be the thing that changes that. you are undoubtedly one of the people i care for most in this world, and i wouldn’t want to skinny dip with anyone else for the first time,” you purse your lips, head tilting slightly as he stares back at you.

  “first time? but you seemed so confident just jumping in,” he raises an eyebrow, almost feeling lost as he stares into your eyes.

  “because i am with you, atsumu miya. do you want to try something?” you take in a deep breath through your nose, smiling softly. 

  smiling back at you, it slowly shifts into something more mischievous. “so you want to experiment? because it is very empty on this beach,” he shrugs his shoulders, one hand wrapping around your leg, inching towards your butt. 

  shaking your head, you roll your eyes at his assumption, unable to shake your giddy smile. “no, i mean let me help you feel comfortable in the water. it’s something i learned when i was younger and maybe it’ll help you,” you unhook your legs from his, standing on the sandy floor. 

  his excitement dies down as he pushes back his hair, his arms flexing slightly as he does so. “you’re not going to mama bird it and throw me out to sea, are you?” atsumu questions, hands resting on his hips, “because i am more than willing to pick you up and throw you in the water.”

  “you wouldn’t dare… plus that would ruin the extravagant plans that may occur later in the evening. no, no, just lay on your back and i’ll help support you.”

  sighing, he gives in to your request, laying on his back on the water. the waves rock him slowly as your hands rest under his back, your hands gently rubbing back and forth as his arms stretch out to his sides. occasionally his chest and midriff gently pop up to the surface, eyes peeking down as they do so. “i feel like i’m going to sink.”

  “just trust me, okay, i won’t let you sink,” you keep your hands under his back, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead, his body seeming to relax at your touch. 

  his breathing switches from rapid and worried to steady and gentle. his eyes stay closed, no longer clamped shut but instead relaxed. letting you keep him afloat, he stays there for a few minutes, only opening his eyes when he can feel your hand make its way to his neck, massaging the skin lightly. “thank you,” atsumu makes his way to his feet, instantly pulling you towards him for a kiss. 

  his lips vigorously hit yours, like you’ve done or said something that made you irresistible to him. his hands cusp your cheeks, only pulling you deeper against him. the two of you stay like this, intertwined, grasping onto each other as you slowly make your way into deeper water. you want to congratulate him on making it so far out but between his tongue roaming your mouth and his hand groping your ass, you’re not inclined to ruin the moment. 

“did you try to cook something, yn?” osamu asks, lowering himself down to the ground to take a seat next to you. “you burnt whatever it was,” he said with a teasing smile.

“‘samu! i didn’t even hear you come out. i’m so sorry about the mess” you muster, head still in your hands as you felt more embarassed. there’s absolutely no way you could salvage this now.

“hey, it’s completely fine, yn.” he tells you. “what’s the occasion though? you know you’re not the greatest at cooking…”

“i - how do i put it..” you sit up to face osamu, ignoring the heat of your face as he grabs your hand in a comforting manner.

“you can tell me, yn, i’m hear to listen.”

you take a deep breath in to calm your nerves. “i’m in love with you, osamu,” you start. “and i thought that these feelings wouldn’t resurface even though i was practically in love with you during high school too and -”

your confession was cut off as osamu’s lips suddenly clash with yours. while initially surprised at first, it didn’t take long for you to relax and return the kiss.

“i’m sorry i didn’t ask to kiss you first, yn” osamu says, after you finally pull away from one another. “and i’m sorry that you beat me to confessing first. i was waiting for the perfect time to tell you how i feel.”

“how you feel? what are you talking about, osamu?”

“i wanted to have a fancy night in and make us dinner and everything. i wanted to make all of your favorites,” he tells you while sheepishly rubbing his neck. “and i wanted to tell you how in love i am with you, yn. i can’t stand not calling you my own, and i wish i would’ve caught on the mutual feeling sooner. i love you truly, yn. i can’t imagine living a life without you.”

“oh ‘samu!” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck and squeezing tight. his warmth is practically radiating from him as his arms wrap around your waist. “i love you too… but this confession on the floor wasn’t what i was envisioning.” you pull back, gesturing to the mess around you. “i wanted to make us breakfast, ‘samu”.

“well good thing i can cook for the both of us.” he assures, beaming at you as he lifts himself off the floor. “you just have to sit back and look pretty.”

his smile falters as he takes one glance over to the rice cooker, raising an eyebrow as he asks, “were you trying to make rice porridge in the rice cooker, sweetheart?”

“osamu nooooo,” you whine, covering your head in your hands once more.

i hope u enjoyed this. i have so many ideas for works like this n im very excited. PLEASE overlook my grammatical errors in my past works. reposts helps others see my work! mahal ko kayo ;P

he was supposed to be resting. his knees, currently elevated on a mountain of throw pillows that he had aggressively pillaged from the armchair, were wrapped in ice packs. a heavy, fleece blanket draped over his long torso, and his messy, chocolate-brown hair was sticking up in every imaginable direction—a direct consequence of him running his fingers through it every time a volleyball statistic popped into his head. he looked soft, radiating the kind of post-practice warmth that usually acted as a natural space heater, but he was also entirely oblivious to the fact that the television volume was currently somewhere around a level that could wake the dead.

“tōru,” you groaned, the sound muffled by the sofa cushion you had pulled over your face in a desperate bid for sensory deprivation. “please. the volume. it’s like he’s chopping vegetables inside my ears.”

no response. he was staring at his phone, his thumb flying across the screen as he furiously analyzed game footage from a rival team in the argentine league. his eyebrows were knitted together, his lower lip slightly bitten—the exact expression he wore right before he delivered a devastating jump serve that made opposing liberos reconsider their life choices.

“tōru,” you tried again, reaching out a blind hand to swat at his thigh. “turn it down. my head is about to physically detach from my spine and roll away.”

that got him. the mention of your discomfort was like a cheat code that bypassed his hyper-fixation entirely. his head snapped toward you so fast you heard his neck pop. the phone was tossed onto the coffee table without a single shred of respect for its glass screen, landing with a loud clatter that made you wince.

“oh, angel,” he said, his voice dropping an octave into that smooth, caramel register he only used when he was thoroughly concerned or plotting something entirely self-indulgent. “is it too loud? why didn’t you say anything sooner? you’re suffering in silence while i’m sitting right here like a fool.”

“i literally just said it twice,” you mumbled into the cushion.

instead of grabbing the remote and clicking the volume down button a few notches, oikawa snatched the plastic device and smashed the power button with an intensity that suggested the television had personally insulted his lineage. the screen went black. the sudden silence that filled the room was so thick you could almost taste it. the loud vegetable man was gone and so are the three insane girls doing the six seven emote, replaced by the gentle hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen and the distant sound of evening traffic outside the apartment.

you sighed in profound relief, letting your muscles untangle. “thank you. my hero.”

“of course i am,” he murmured.

the couch shifted. at home, oikawa possessed the spatial awareness of a newborn giraffe. the ice packs were kicked to the floor with a wet thud, the fleece blanket was cast aside like old news, and suddenly, there was a very large, very warm, very determined setter crawling across the cushions toward you.

he’s officially migrated over to you. he slithered over the expanse of the sofa until he was hovering directly over you, his long limbs framing your body, trapping you in a cocoon of expensive cologne and laundry detergent.

you peeked out from under the edge of the cushion, blinking up at him.

oikawa was smiling. it wasn’t the polite, plastic smile he gave to the sports reporters or the blinding, theatrical grin he used for the cameras. this was his dangerously pretty, entirely unhinged smile—the one where his eyes crinkled at the corners, full of an affection so heavy it borderline felt like a threat. his gaze was locked onto your face, consuming every detail as if he hadn’t spent the last four hours staring at you anyway.

“you hate it when it’s noisy, huh?” he whispered, leaning down until the tip of his nose brushed against yours. his breath was warm against your skin, sending a ridiculous, electric shiver straight down your arms.

“i hate it when a man screams about blenders at eleven p.m., yes,” you managed to say, though your voice lacked any real bite because his thumb was currently tracing the line of your jaw with agonizing gentleness.

“well,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the corner of your mouth as he spoke, his voice a low, vibrating rumble that resonated right in your chest. “i can think of much better things to fill the quiet with. i’d much rather listen to you.”

your heart performed a dramatic, olympic-level backflip.

he was so bad for your health. it was a well-documented fact that oikawa had the ability to reduce your brain to absolute mush with a single syllable, and he knew it. he used it to his advantage like the tactical genius he was.

before you could formulate a coherent response—because your vocabulary had suddenly shrunk to a handful of vowels—he collapsed his weight onto you. not entirely, of course; he was well aware of his own size and muscle mass, so he braced himself on his forearms, but he buried his face directly into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply as if you were the only source of oxygen left on the planet.

“tōru,” you wheezed, a small laugh bubbling up despite your headache. “you’re heavy. you’re like a giant, needy weighted blanket.”

“i’m your husband,” he corrected into your skin, his lips moving against your collarbone, sending another wave of heat through your veins. “and i’ve been deprived of your attention for a cumulative total of three hours today because of film study. do you know what that does to a man? i‘m wasting away. look at me. i’m practically skin and bone.”

“you’re entirely made of muscle and milk bread,” you chuckled, your fingers automatically finding their way into the soft curls at the nape of his neck. you began to gently massage his scalp, knowing exactly how much he loved it.

oikawa let out a sound that could only be described as a cross between a sigh and a purr, his entire body going completely slack against yours. he was a menace to society on the volleyball court, a cold-blooded competitor who terrified his opponents, but in this living room, under your hands, he was a puddle of absolute mush. he was so deeply, entirely whipped that it’s embarrassing. if his teammates could see him right now, whimpering because his wife was scratching his head, his athletic reputation would be permanently ruined.

“more,” he mumbled, nudging his face further into your neck, his nose cold against your skin. “right there. you have the best hands in the world. better than mine. and my hands are worth millions of pesos.”

“don’t let your manager hear you say that.”

“i don’t care about him,” oikawa sniffled dramatically, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist, pulling you so close there wasn’t even room for air between you. “i only care about you. your head still hurts? let me fix it. i can kiss it better. i’ll kiss every single part of your face until the pain goes away. it’s a scientifically proven medical treatment.”

“i don’t think that’s how neurology works, tōru.”

“it works because i said so.”

he shifted upwards, his dark eyes sparkling with an intensity that made you want to hide under the couch cushions again. he began to fulfill his promise with terrifying enthusiasm. he kissed your forehead, right between your eyebrows where the tension usually gathered. he kissed the bridge of your nose. he kissed your left cheek, then your right, his lips soft and lingering, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

you couldn’t help the giggles that escaped you, the sound echoing softly in the quiet room. every time you tried to turn your head, he would follow, relentless and entirely devoted to his self-appointed task.

“tōru, stop, it tickles,” you gasped, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders to try and hold him still.

he paused, his face mere inches from yours, his chest rising and falling against yours. the look in his eyes changed from playful to something so profoundly tender it made your throat feel tight. he looked at you as if you had personally hung the moon and stars in the sky just for him to look at. it was a level of adoration that was almost overwhelming, a complete and utter surrender to you.

“you’re so beautiful,” he breathed, his voice dropping all of its usual theatrical bravado. it was genuine. the kind of honesty that always caught you off guard, no matter how many years you spent by his side. “i look at you and i feel like my chest is going to explode. is that normal? can a person actually die from liking someone too much? i think i fell in love with you again.”

“i think it’s clinically impossible, but you’re welcome to try,” you whispered, a soft smile spreading across your lips.

“i’m serious,” he pouted, though his thumb came up to gently stroke your bottom lip. “i think about you when i’m practicing. i think about you when i’m on the plane. i see a nice rock on the side of the road and i think, ‘oh, she would probably like that rock, let me carry it five miles home for her.’ i’m entirely at your mercy.”

“a rock, tōru? really?”

“a very nice, shiny rock,” he insisted, his eyes widening with sincerity. “only the best for you.”

you laughed, the sound rich and full, and the last remnants of your headache seemed to dissolve into the air. you reached up, cupping his face in both of your hands, squishing his cheeks together until his lips puckered out like a fish. he didn’t mind at all; he just stared down at you with sweet compliance, entirely content to be handled however you saw fit.

“you’re incredibly ridiculous,” you told him, your heart swelling to a size that felt entirely unsafe. “but i suppose i’ll keep you around.”

“you have to,” he mumbled through his squished cheeks, his hands sliding down to securely grip your hips. “we signed papers. it’s legally binding. you’re stuck with me forever.”

he leaned down and pressed a proper kiss to your lips then. not the frantic, desperate kisses from earlier, but something slow, deep, and thoroughly intoxicating. he tasted faint like the green tea he’d drank earlier, and the way his mouth moved against yours was so full of a reverence that it made your toes curl inside your socks. his fingers dug slightly into your hips, anchoring you to him, ensuring that you couldn’t move an inch away even if you wanted to.

when he finally pulled back, just far enough to breathe, his eyes were slightly heavy, a soft flush creeping up his neck.

“more?” he whispered, his voice entirely devoid of its usual teasing edge, replaced by a soft, genuine plea.

you slid your arms back around his neck, pulling him down toward you once more, completely helpless against the weight of his devotion.

“you can always have more,” you murmured against his lips.

n: haha six seven :3 @kissjoao

© showhay — don’t copy, repost, or translate without my permission. do not use/feed my works to AI.

“the hotel lobby has too many chandeliers,” his voice vibrated against your ear, a low, rumbling frequency that could probably ground an entire fleet of airplanes. “and there are forty-two people in the immediate vicinity of the elevator. i counted. it’s loud. the air smells like synthetic lavender and despair.”

you choked on your iced coffee, leaning back against the pile of laundry you were supposed to be folding but had completely abandoned the moment his specific ringtone blared. “forty-two? that’s a very specific crowd to be glaring at, toshi. did you use your scary captain eyes on them?”

“i did not glare,” he muttered, though the rustle of a hotel bedsheet told you he had finally escaped the dreaded lavender-scented civilian sector and successfully barricaded himself inside his room. “i simply looked in their general direction until they vacated the perimeter. but the volume was unacceptable. i’m currently buried under three separate duvets because the air conditioning has a high-pitched whine that displeases me.”

“oh, the horror,” you cooed, your chest expanding with that familiar, ridiculous warmth that usually accompanied his long-distance check-ins. it was downright criminal how a man whose thighs could literally crush a watermelon looked for praise like a golden retriever waiting by the front door. “my poor, brave athlete. surviving the absolute wilderness of a four-star accommodation in osaka. how ever will you cope?”

a heavy, rumbling sigh echoed over the line. it was a sound that usually made opposing teams shake in their kneepads, but right now, it just sounded incredibly needy. “you’re making fun of me.”

“i’m absolutely making fun of you,” you agreed cheerfully, tracing a pattern on your sweatpants. “but i also miss you. does that balance it out?”

“no,” ushijima said instantly, his tone shifting into something so heavy and dense with devotion it practically had its own gravitational pull. “because if you missed me at the same magnitude that i miss you, the structural foundation of our apartment building would have collapsed by now. i’m currently experiencing a severe deficit of your presence. it’s actively hindering my ability to rest.”

you bit your lip to keep from squealing out loud, your toes curling against the carpet. to prove your point to yourself, you pulled the phone away for a fraction of a second to check the time, your lock screen lighting up to reveal his massive, stoic face staring right back at you. it was a not-so candid photo you’d taken while he was intensely concentrating on translating a recipe for strawberry shortcake. you had set it as your wallpaper specifically so you couldn’t miss him too much even if you tried, considering his severe, handsome features took up every single pixel of your digital existence.

“is that so?” you teased, bringing the phone back to your ear and keeping your voice soft, dropping it into that specific, soothing register that you knew made him instantly compliant. “what exactly does this deficit feel like, wakatoshi?”

“it feels like i’m an uncalibrated machine,” he grumbled, the sound deep and gravelly, right up against the microphone. you could picture him perfectly—lying flat on his back, a massive arm thrown over his eyes, looking utterly defeated by the simple concept of being fifty miles away from you. “my shoulder is tight. the pillows here are too soft; they lack the proper density to support my neck. moreover, you’re not here to put your hands on my face. i require the pressure of your palms to regulate my nervous system.”

“you sound like a giant, grumpy textbook,” you giggled, shifting on the floor. “but go on. tell me what else you need. i’m listening.”

“i need you to tell me that you did not forget my face,” he murmured. it was a ridiculous request. he was on three different billboards in downtown tokyo. but the vulnerable, desperate streak in his voice was so real it made your throat ache.

“i haven’t forgotten your face, you big baby,” you said, your heart doing gymnastics inside your ribs. “how could i? you’re literally my wallpaper, toshi. i see your forehead every time someone sends me a text.”

“that’s an acceptable temporary measure, but insufficient for long-term separation,” he countered seriously.

right on cue, a loud buzz echoed from the front door intercom, followed by the distinct chime of a delivery notification on your phone. you blinked, confused. “wait, did you order something?”

“yes,” ushijima stated, his voice completely devoid of hesitation. “i concluded that you were likely neglecting your nutritional requirements in my absence. i used the door dash application to send you a full meal and a beverage from that café you favor.”

“oh, toshi, that’s so sweet—”

“moreover,” he interrupted, his tone turning incredibly firm, almost bureaucratic in its intensity, “i utilized the special instructions feature. i contacted the delivery courier directly and transferred an additional monetary gratuity to his personal account. i instructed him to find a convenience store, print a high-resolution photograph of my face, and attach it securely to the exterior of the delivery packaging.”

you froze, your jaw dropping. “you... what?”

“i required physical confirmation that you would look at me before you consumed your sustenance,” he explained, entirely deadpan, as if this were a standard tactical play from a coaching manual. “i also explicitly texted the courier and commanded him to leave the items on the welcome mat and vacate the premises immediately without ringing the bell a second time or waiting for you to answer.”

you pressed a hand over your mouth, a hysterical laugh bubbling up in your chest. “wakatoshi, why did you tell the poor guy to just leave it and run away?”

the line went dead silent for a beat before his voice dropped into a possessive tone that made your chest tighten with heat. “because i don’t want anyone else seeing you right now. even a delivery courier. your eyes belong exclusively to my image until i’m capable of standing in front of you myself.”

your entire face heated up, a dizzying wave of thrill hitting you so hard your knees felt weak. you scrambled to the front door, unlocking it and swinging it open. sure enough, the hallway was completely empty, almost empty since there’s two insane people called soup and nique doing the six seven emote and running around like headless chickens, but sitting neatly on your welcome mat was a brown paper bag. taped squarely over the staple line was a hastily printed, slightly pixelated a4 sheet of paper featuring ushijima’s official v-league headshot, staring up at you with maximum intensity.

“you.. are unbelievable,” you breathlessly whispered into the receiver, picking up the food and shutting the door with your foot. “the courier probably thinks you’re a mob boss.”

“i’m merely protecting the love of my life,” he murmured, and you could hear him shifting again, likely burying his face deeper into the hotel pillow, completely intoxicated by the domestic control he was exerting from three prefectures away. “the analogy is sound. we are both single-minded in our purpose. mine is to ensure your absolute happiness and to remain within your immediate vicinity for the remainder of my natural life. when i return, i want you to sit on my lap while i read the sports journals. i don’t want to move for seven hours.”

“only seven?” you teased, setting the bag—and his paper face—onto the kitchen counter. “who are you and what have you done with my needy boyfriend?”

“ten,” he corrected immediately, his tone sharp with sudden, desperate urgency. “twelve. however long it takes for my skin to stop feeling cold. i will allow you to choose the duration. i’m entirely at your disposal. if you tell me to sit, i will sit. if you tell me to stay in the apartment forever, i will inform the association that i’m retiring due to an incurable condition.”

“and what condition is that, mr. ace?”

“an inability to exist without my central anchor,” he said, his voice dropping into a register so soft it was almost a whisper, yet it carried the entire weight of his universe. “you have ruined me for any other environment. the court is merely a place where i expend energy until i’m permitted to return to your side. you’re my home, reader. everything else is just noise.”

your throat tightened, a wave of intense, toe-curling affection washing over you so strongly it made your eyes sting. he was just so completely, utterly yours. there was no pride, no ego, no athletic arrogance—just a giant, heavy-hearted man who had handed you his entire existence on a silver platter and asked for nothing but a quiet room and your hands in his hair.

“i’ll be waiting right by the door on sunday,” you promised, your voice thick with emotion. “i’ll make that stew you like. and we won’t open the blinds for the entire weekend. just you and me.”

“and the hoodie?” he asked, sounding like a hopeful child.

“and the hoodie,” you confirmed. “though you’ll probably rip it off me the second you walk through the door anyway.”

“i will be careful,” he murmured, his breathing finally slowing down into a steady, rhythmic pattern that signaled he was finally drifting off to sleep. “but i’ll be thorough. i love you. more than the next match. more than the crowd.”

“i love you too, toshi. go to sleep.”

“mm. counting the hours,” he mumbled, his voice fading into a low, contented hum before the line finally went quiet, leaving you sitting on the floor, staring at your phone with a ridiculous, breathless grin plastered across your face, your heart completely compromised by a six-foot-three human boulder who was entirely at your disposal.

n: @forgottensniper thank u, twin for giving me the ideas :3 main idea was from @potapotapotatopotato

© showhay — don’t copy, repost, or translate without my permission. do not use/feed my works to AI.

"i'm thinking about all the rules we're breaking right now" you tell him, while trying to wiggle out of his grasp. "let me go now, rin."

"oh stop that," he purrs against your head. "i know it's your day off." you could only let out a sigh at this point, while suna begins rubbing his face against you contently.

"i - wait a minute, how did you know that?" you ask, turning to look back at him. your breath catches in your throat as a pair of brown eyes stare back at you, having not anticipated this sudden closeness.

"what don't i know about you, pretty?" suna teases with a small smile you fight the urge to kiss. "you like your coffee with 2 sugars and tons of creamer. you also love banana flavored drinks. and you wish you could do the splits. anddd you are obsessed with those littlest pet shop animal things." he tells you, "i can go on and on if you'd like."

you can only look back at him in shock, when it suddenly clicks in your head. "rintaro, this was never casual for you, was it?"

"never. and i knew from the beginning that you felt the same about me."

"says who?" you ask, biting back a smile as suna lets out a little laugh.

"says me, pretty." he tells you, before slowly leaning in to kiss you gently. you can feel his smile against your lips as you kiss him back. "i couldn't help but notice the way you looked at me when you thought i wouldn't notice, or how easily you blush when i 'accidentally' brush against you," suna says afterwards.

you let suna spoon you as you turn to get comfortable in his arms (and hide your blush). "and that third rule was complete bullshit, by the way." he says in your ear. "i stayed behind that night to clean up 'cos i had a crush on you then."

"well what about now?"

"if it wasn't obvious earlier, i still do. so will you let me take you out for brunch later?"

i think im on a roll! and yes i WAS projecting myself when suna said "what don't i know about you". reblogs let others see my work! mahal ko kayo!!!! masterlist here!