Kae

Ushijima Wakatoshi is the embodiment of confusion.

He's three, and you're three, too. At that age, he shouldn't confuse you, but he does. He should just be the boy next door with the ball that he keeps rolling around and picking up and setting down, but he's not. He frowns at it, like he's very upset — you don't know it yet, but you'll come to understand over the years that that's what he looks like when he's concentrating on something that matters to him — and when you try to join him, crawling through the hole in the fence to play with him, he frowns at you, too.

In twenty years, he'll confuse you just the same. Frown just the same, stare just the same.

But you don't know that, either. For now, he's just the little boy who always seems upset, and you're just the little girl who wonders if he's mad at you.

Confused.

—

"Y/n… that boy is staring again…"

You turn over your shoulder, following your friend's concerned gaze to the school gates. He's there, just like he always is, eyes trained on you.

He's ten, and you're ten, too.

"Ah," you say, adjusting your bag on your shoulders. "I should go."

Your pig-tailed friend tugs on your sleeve. "Aren't you weirded out by him?"

Yes.

"No," you sigh. "That's just how he is."

When you approach him at the gates, it's with raised eyebrows. "What is it, Toshi?"

He's stern as ever, brows furrowed. "School ended seven minutes ago."

You frown. "I was talking to my friends…" When he doesn't seem to understand, you look away. "You can leave on your own, y'know. You don't have to wait for me every day."

He shakes his head. "Mom says we're too young to be walking home alone. I'm supposed to stay with you."

You turn away so he doesn't see how you roll your eyes. "Okay, fine." You start to walk away, but he sticks his hand out in front of you.

"We're supposed to hold hands."

Your face burns, because there's a group of boys walking past laughing at you. Their teasing 'ooh's are impossible to miss, and one of them even says 'yeah, Y/n, hold Toshi's hand'. You grit your teeth, eyes flying up to Ushijima's.

"That was just something our moms said. We don't actually have to."

He shakes his head again. He loves doing that to you. "I have to keep you safe. You could get taken when I'm not looking." When you only glare at him, he tilts his head. "What's the problem? We did it yesterday."

"I thought that-"

"And the day before-"

"No, I know. I thought-"

"And the day before-"

"I know. I'm just sayi-"

"And the day before-"

"Stop!" You stomp your foot, snatching his hand out of mid-air and dragging him through the gates. "Let's just go!"

He doesn't say anything else, quiet as you lead him down the familiar neighborhood streets. At an intersection, you start to cross, still angry, and then you're yanked back to the sidewalk.

A car speeds past right at the moment that you would have been in the road.

"See?" Ushijima says. "This is why we hold hands, too. I have to keep you safe."

You throw his hand down roughly. "Stop mocking me! I was only about to cross because I was distracted by how angry I was-"

He just takes your hand again. "I know. More reason to hold hands."

You're silent, letting him lead the way as you try to process how someone can be so stubborn.

"You don't have to take everything so seriously," you finally say, quiet and contemplative. "The kids at school are teasing us because you're always so serious about me."

He turns his head slightly but doesn't fully look at you. "What's wrong with being serious about you?"

You try not to let your blush show. "Nothing. Nevermind."

The rest of the walk home is silent, your head rattled with thoughts of confusion and the inability to understand him.

When you get to your neighboring homes, he lets you go. But before you enter your gates, he clears his throat.

"Y/n."

You stop, turning back to him. Tired, because this feeling of frustration is common around him.

He's staring right at you. "I have practice tomorrow. Wait for me."

You scoff. "I'm not waiting two extra hours, Toshi. I'll just-"

"Wait for me. Please."

You frown, your mouth twisting up and your pout emerging. Because you know you will, no matter how much you gripe about it.

He takes your silence exactly as it is, nodding and starting to walk away.

"Wakatoshi."

It stresses you out when he stares at you like that. It always feels like he's mad at you, even if you know he's not.

You swallow. "Thank you. For earlier."

He just blinks. "I told you. I have to keep you safe."

"You don't, Toshi-"

"I do." He holds out. "I do."

You stare at each other. There's a feeling in your chest that you always get with him. A knot that you can't untie, no matter how hard you try.

You get the feeling that only he can.

—

High school isn't any better.

He becomes something of a legend in the world of high-school volleyball, and you become something of an Ushijima Whisperer to anyone who wishes to understand him. Despite how many times you say that he's a lost cause even to you.

Your time in middle school spent waiting around for his practices to be over carries on to high school, your disgruntled presence lingering on the sidelines until Washijo finally points a wrinkled finger in your face and declares you manager.

You tend to just fall into roles whenever it concerns Ushijima Wakatoshi. Tend to fall into place, wherever he makes room for you.

The dating rumors are both expected and baffling, because you can't possibly fathom how someone could see your dynamic with him and assume it's anything but hopeless.

He's already grown into a boy of few words, his teammates learning his limited communication like a mystical code. But with you, he's worse.

Where Semi will comfortably offer help setting up the nets, easy conversation flowing between you, Ushijima prefers taking the poles from you wordlessly, barely a glance spared in your direction while he talks to someone else. You always end up snatching them back, ignoring the single, dark brow he raises in response.

Where Goshiki will bow deep and thank you repeatedly for things that are objectively your job, Ushijima tends to take the towel and water bottle from your hand with only an examining stare, one that feels far too much like a glare. You're quick to glare back.

Where Satori is playful and teasing when he begs for help with his finger wraps, Ushijima only barks your name from across the room, the request unsaid. He only holds out his hand and the tape when you stomp up to him, and you feel when he just stares down at the top of your head while you wrap his fingers, grumbling the whole time. He always manages to find something to silently critique when it happens, his free hand tugging on strands of your hair and fixing them, as though there was anything wrong to begin with.

There is no world in which you can understand how people think you're dating him.

Except for the instances, more common than you're comfortable admitting, when he says or does something that leaves you confused without fail.

Where Semi can get a bit heated, kicking things over when he messes up and not realizing that it's you who has to pick it up, Ushijima is almost always the one to do it, his sharp eyes finding Semi's so fast that you barely have time to be upset about the mess before the boy is at your side with an apology.

Where Goshiki can be a bit zealous, overshooting his spikes and sending the ball spinning right at your head, Ushijima always appears at the very last moment, his hand or back in your face as he takes the full force of the hit with no more than a quiet grunt. It's always over before you even register that you should've been afraid, and he's always gone before you can think to thank him.

Where Satori can overstep your boundaries — a joke taken too far, a playful squeeze of your cheeks or ruffle of your hair on a day that you're really not in the mood — Ushijima is a towering shadow, an unseen glare sending Satori away whistling or a hand wrapped tight around the boy's wrist, dislodging it without a word. You're never able to figure out how Ushijima had noticed your mood before anyone else.

Unsurprisingly, he drops one last confusing moment in your hands the night that you graduate — the night before he leaves the country for college in America.

—

The walk home is silent, just like almost every walk home before it. You turn your diploma over and over in your hands, not really examining it at all. Just listening to the silence, his footsteps matching the rhythm of yours.

You feel strange. You've been feeling it for months, ever since he'd announced he'd be leaving. It's exactly the same now as it had been then. Satori had joked at the time that you must be excited to have your shadow gone, but that excitement had never come. You'd only felt the tug of that knot, the one that had sat in your chest from the moment you'd realized Ushijima Wakatoshi was permanent.

The knot hurts now. It hurts a lot, so much that you can't find your voice. Silenced, same as the part of your brain that wants to celebrate the freedom.

Your gate looms ahead, and you realize that this is it. He leaves at three in the morning, so this really is it. You're not sure where you'll be — who you'll be — when he comes home in four years. If he comes home.

You stop in front of your gate, staring down at the metal and feeling the creak of the neighboring gate as he pushes it open. Feel the creak in your throat, right under that knot.

But then it stops.

When you look up, he's looking back at you. Waiting. He doesn't ask what's wrong, but you hear the question deep in the pit of your stomach — in the way he blinks down at you, in the way his hand slides off of his own gate. In the way he says your name, only ever that. Nothing else.

"Y/n."

Your eyes burn. It's too late to be realizing that you might feel lost without him, after so long of wishing for exactly that.

"Wakatoshi."

He tilts his head. You only say his name like that —

"Cut it out, Toshi!"

"Jesus, you scared the fuck out of me, Toshi."

"I'm serious, Toshi, you're pissin' me off!"

"Thank you, Wakatoshi. For earlier."

— when something doesn't feel right. When you don't feel right.

"Will you come back?"

He doesn't know where the question comes from. You know that, because you're unsure, too.

"Yes," he says plainly. "I have to."

You lift your brows. "You have to? I'm sure any country would kill to have you-"

"But you won't be in 'any country'," he cuts you off. "You'll be here."

You have no idea what that means. "So?"

He doesn't answer you, asking his own question instead. "What will you do at Tokyo? Communications?"

You'd certainly considered it. "I think so. They have a strong department."

"What will you do with it?"

You warm, not wanting to answer. You'd had the feeling for a while, but you hadn't said it aloud.

As usual, he waits you out. Eventually, you sigh.

"I was thinking about PR."

The only signal he gives that he's surprised is the shift of his weight, the slight widening of his eyes before they fall flat again. "For volleyball."

It's not a question.

"For volleyball," you echo anyway. "But, you never answered-"

"I go where you go," he says. Like it's a fact. Not a possibility, a fact.

"What-" you laugh. "What're you saying? That you'll be back just to work with me?" When he only nods, you laugh again. "How are you going to make that happen, Toshi? You don't know what team I'll be working for. What if they're not the right fit-"

"I go where you go." He puts his hand back on the gate. This conversation is over. "Always."

You furrow your brow, frustration growing when you realize that this is really it. He pushes the gate open, and you stumble forward, suddenly upset beyond comprehension.

He's eighteen, and you're eighteen, too. You might never see him again.

"Wakatoshi."

He turns, surprise flying across his face and a grunt leaving him, because you're throwing your weight against his, arms tight around his neck.

There's something you want to say — but it's trapped under the knot. You can't get it out.

He's unmoving for a moment, and you think that's it, so you start to pull away.

His palms press against your back, pulling you back to him. They drop to your waist, his diploma clattering to the ground as he hoists you up and belts his arms tight around you. You wrap your legs around his waist, and he keeps you there. Keeps you safe.

The knot loosens slightly.

You suck in a breath, taking the chance.

"You don't have to come back. You shouldn't, if it's not what's right for you," you choke out. "But if you do, I'll be-"

The knot tightens.

-here.

-waiting.

You swallow around it, eyes pricking with tears.

Your shadow's hard to get rid of, it seems.

"Okay."

He lowers you to the ground gently, arms sliding away from you as he steps back. There's a look in his eye that you can't place, but that frown is familiar. You cling to it, remembering yourself.

"Okay," you whisper. "Be safe."

He watches you a moment and then nods, turning on his heel and disappearing into his house.

Something taps against your foot. His diploma. You pick it up, examining the tube that matches yours, his name etched along the side.

You carry it inside, laying it on your desk beside yours.

—

You don't speak to him for four years.

When your PR classes use examples of news coverage from volleyball, professors gravitate to Ushijima Wakatoshi. You keep tabs on him through a screen. Learn about him, through the eyes of someone who doesn't know him the way you know him.

The boy next door. Your shadow, up until the day he left.

You graduate, twenty-two now. His diploma still sits next to yours in a box, remembering when he was eighteen.

You interview for and are hired by the Schweiden Adlers as a general PR agent. You train with them for six months, awaiting the day that comes at the end of it when they assign you to a specific player as their personal representative.

—

"Are you excited?" Yachi asks, chewing on the end of a pocky stick. She'd been hired at the same time as you and had quickly become a close friend, but she'd been assigned to Kageyama Tobio the moment he'd been signed on, because he'd requested her. It apparently had been their plan, their friendship strong from high school and the trust between them quite high.

You nod, a warm grin flashing across your face as you take one of the snacks from the box on her desk. "I've been waiting for this day for forever. I'm nervous, though."

"Why?" she whines dramatically. "This is a momentous day!"

"I know," you whine back, her energy infectious as ever. "But what if I don't get along with him?"

"Of course you will!" she argues. "I have the best time ever!"

You roll your eyes. "That's because it's Kageyama. He's, like, your closest friend."

She leans forward, her eyes sparkling. "Exactly. It's Kageyama. I know you know what a pain in the ass he is with public matters." She's not wrong, you think. "If I can do it, then you can, too."

Your computer lets out a soft ding, your email refreshing and reloading with a new message. You both lean forward, seeing the words 'player assignment' and 'conference room' in the preview.

Yachi smacks your arm. "It's go time!"

You stand, straightening your pencil skirt and blouse wih a nervous sigh. "Wish me luck," you say, squeezing her arm as you pass.

"You got this!" she calls. "You can do anything!"

"You can do anything, you can do anything, you can do anything," you mumble, repeating it the entire walk to the conference room.

When you push the door open, you plaster a PR-approved smile on your face.

It falls.

He's twenty-two now, too. It's the first thing you notice.

Bigger, taller, broader. Older.

His frown is the same, though.

"Y/n!" your manager says, standing from the table, where he'd been sitting beside Ushijima. The man beams down at you, grabbing you by the shoulders and leading you to where Wakatoshi's sitting. "Say hello to our newest recruit, the one and only Ushijima Wakatoshi! Isn't this amazing?"

Ushijima's got his eyes trained on the spot where your manager grabs you. You know he'll figure out soon that the man is too touchy, too close to the female PR agents all the time. But he doesn't need to know it now, especially because you can see his jaw shifting.

He's annoyed.

You can still read him.

"H-Hi."

His eyes fly up to yours, his expression relaxing. He stands from his seat, and you feel your head tip back as he towers over you. It's been so long that you'd forgotten.

He's twenty-two now, too.

"Y/n."

Your name, nothing else.

Your eyes water. His smile is almost unnoticeable, in his eyes more than anything else.

"Hi," you whisper back, just as dumb as before.

Your manager glances between you. "Oh, you know each other!" The man examines you closer, in a way he never has before. "I didn't realize that." He examines Ushijima now. "I see why you requested her."

You don't say what he's actually thinking.

I see why you chose us, even though you had six other teams fighting for you.

"Well," your manager says, clapping his hands together. "Shall we get to the details of the assignment?"

You sit beside Ushijima, flustered by every movement he makes. Flustered by the way he sips his water, listening plainly while your manager explains your role in his career. Flustered by the way his body heat radiates off of him and washes over you. Flustered by the way he shifts in his seat every so often, his knee bumping against yours.

"Y/n, you are expected to remain available for Ushijima 24/7. This means leaving your phone on at all times and answering calls and texts in a timely manner." The list of responsibilities is being read to you off a script, but you know exactly what this assignment entails.

Be with Ushijima at all times, except when he's at practice.

Answer all of Ushijima's calls, even in the middle of the night.

Making Ushijima look as good as possible, tracking fan opinions online and negotiating with news outlets on his behalf.

Maintain a professional relationship with Ushijima, at all costs.

For some reason, that last part doesn't feel possible.

"Any questions?"

You blink, meeting your manager's eyes and then Ushijima's. He's shaking his head, and you know that's all you'll get from him.

"No," you say quietly. "I understand."

"Okay, then," your manager says, standing and shaking Ushijima's hand. You stay seated, staring at the table like an idiot. "Welcome to the team. I'll leave you two to get acquainte-er… re-acquainted."

The moment he's gone, you're being yanked out of your seat by a hand wrapped around your bicep.

He feels the same, arms belting around your waist and hoisting you up.

You don't wrap your legs around his waist this time, but you refuse to admit it's only because your pencil skirt won't let you.

You bury your face against his throat, breathing him in.

He feels the same.

"Hi," he says, his voice bass-y and echoing through your bones.

The knot hasn't felt this tight since that night.

"Put me down," you croak. "This is unprofessional."

"I don't care." He talks a little differently now.

You don't. "I do. Put me down."

He sets you on your feet gently, hands on your waist gentler.

"I wasn't expecting you," you admit. "I thought you'd choose a different team."

He tilts his head. You miss reading him like this.

"I thought I was clear that night."

He was. You just hadn't let yourself hold onto it.

"Was this the right fit for you?"

His eyes flick between yours. "Yes." He nods. "Yes."

You don't know if you believe him, but you don't ask again.

"When did you get back?"

"Two days ago."

You laugh and shake your head. Of course he did. "Where are you living?" When he tells you the address, you stare up into his face, deadpan. "Are you stalking me?" He blinks, confused. You sigh. "That's next door to me."

He stares. And then he laughs, a scoff pressed against his fist as he turns away.

You've never heard him laugh before.

"That was an accident. I promise."

You just sigh, trying not to laugh yourself. "Are you all moved in? Do you need anything?"

"… Lunch?"

"We can't," you say, pursing your lips. "We can't be seen together like that. It's too casual."

He frowns. "Kageyama and his PR agent get lunch together all the time."

You don't know how to tell him it's different. This is different. "I dunno, Toshi…"

"You have to accommodate all of my requests, right?"

The roll of your eyes makes him smile, almost unnoticeable again. "Whatever," you grumble. "Let's just go."

—

It's easy to fall back into line with him, wherever he makes room for you.

You help him finish moving into his place, providing paparrazzi with the professional answers you'd concocted so that you're allowed to be this close to him. This close to him, even though players and their agents typically aren't.

"Ushijima has just returned to Japan from the United States. He is adjusting to home life, and as his agent, I am assisting in that process."

"No, we did not plan to live next door to one another. Yes, it is indeed a happy coincidence — I believe this will allow me to perform efficiently in this role, as I will be able to better assist him in his transition to the Adlers."

"Yes, we have known each other since childhood. No, it did not in any way impact his decision to join us, nor did it influence my employment with the Schweiden Adlers. Life is funny like that, wouldn't you agree?"

Ushijima always watches, eyes trained on the side of your face while you talk to the press that lingers outside his house.

His apartment is a carbon copy of yours, and you find yourself accidentally arranging furniture and decorations the same way. He simply lets you, adding his own touches in the spaces you leave — where you make room for him.

He trains incessantly, just as he had in high school, so you find yourself at the office a lot, your phone propped up so you can see the moment he texts or calls.

[1:07 PM]

Toshi: PT at 2

You: okay. need me?

Toshi: no.

[10:27 AM]

Toshi: scrimmage at 4

You: where?

Toshi: [location attached]

You: okay. need me?

Toshi: no.

[4:49 PM]

Toshi: paparazzi wont let me get to my car

You: omw

Toshi: no.

You: ????

Toshi: handled it. just lyk.

You: why am i getting back to back calls from different magazines, wakatoshi.

Toshi: handled it.

You: you broke a camera???

Toshi: yes.

You: dont do it again.

Toshi: okay.

[5:19 AM]

Toshi: why didn't you pick up my call.

You: IM SLEEPING YOU FREAK.

You: WHAT DO YOU WANT.

Toshi: going to the corner store. out of protein powder.

You: OKAY. DO YOU NEED ME.

Toshi: no.

You: im gonna kill u.

There's a large part of you that wants to hate it. Hate him. Because your days consist of this, of the constant messaging and the constant calling and the constant contact, despite never needing anything from you. But there's another part of you — three, and then ten, and then eighteen — that knows this back and forth very well. Missed it, even. And it grows as the weeks go on, the chaos evening out and your days melting into something akin to normal.

And then he ruins it, about six weeks into this new routine.

—

You groan, rolling over in your bed and reaching for the bedside table. Your phone is ringing — not just vibrating, because you have to keep your phone on at all times — and you know exactly who it is.

"What?" you grumble, eyes still closed.

"Were you sleeping?"

You pull your phone from your ear, checking the time. "It's three in the morning, Toshi." When he doesn't respond, you bite out an answer to his question. "Yes. I was sleeping."

"Oh. Okay. Goodnight."

"Wh-"

He hangs up.

You stare at the ceiling, wondering if the world would know it was you if he happens to be dead in the morning.

You call him back. He picks up after two rings.

"Hello?"

"What do you want?"

"Oh. Nothing."

You take a deep breath. "Then why did you call me?"

"You called me."

You could kill him. They wouldn't know. You'd find a way. "Wakatoshi."

It's silent on the other end for a moment. "I can't sleep."

He doesn't say anything else. You know what he's asking, but it feels strange, because he's never asked this particular question before.

You don't know what to do about the nervous flip of your stomach, the shiver that flies down your spine.

You swallow around the knot. "If I get caught coming over there, there's going to be a scandal."

"… Okay. That's okay." He hangs up.

That should be it. That should be the end of it.

So then why are you already out of bed and shoving on a pair of slippers? Why are you wrapping a robe around yourself and grabbing your keys?

It's easy to avoid the streetlights, easy to snake around the side and approach the back door instead of the front. Too easy, in fact. Easy to do, easy to repeat.

He's already at the door when you arrive, almost like he'd known you would come anyway, despite the risk.

You want to hate him. You used to.

For now, you just push past him and pad silently to his bedroom, your shoes and robe left at the door. You sit at the edge of his bed, bouncing your knee anxiously, and look around, making sure the curtains are closed and there's no way to see into the room. Ushijima presses the door closed quietly with his back, leaning against it and peering down at you.

You should ask why he's requesting this of you. You've never been this way — never done this kind of thing together. You wonder if anyone else could have read what he needed, the way that you did. If anyone else could be in this situation, locked in a lifelong game of confusion and understanding, silent all the way to the end.

You're not sure anyone else could do the things you're willing to do for Ushijima Wakatoshi.

He watches you carefully, eyes tracing your face and examining your expression. You stare back, knee bouncing and ears ringing and nerves flipping over and over in the pit of your stomach, because you know you should ask but you don't want to. You know you should question this, question him about why he thinks he's allowed to ask this of you.

You know you should hate him. You used to.

But you don't question it. And he doesn't explain.

He just crosses the room in two steps and then pulls you to your feet. Hoists you up. Belts his arms around your waist. Says nothing of the fact that you're trembling in his arms, that your legs are trembling when they wrap around him.

He lowers you to the mattress carefully, laying you down and laying himself over you. Adjusting so he doesn't crush you, but laying himself over you nonetheless.

The sigh he lets out when he finds a spot that works for him is audible, but only because of the spot he'd chosen — body half-covering yours, one hand gripping your waist, the other sliding up your spine and palm pressing between your shoulder blades. Face buried in your neck, breath grazing the shell of your ear, hair fanning out over your cheek and lips. Heart racing, felt through his chest and against yours.

He doesn't ask if this is okay, but the twitch of his fingers on your body tells you he's nervous.

You hate being able to read him this well. Part of you wishes you could go back to not understanding. To confusion.

But you do. You do understand him. And maybe that's because you've spent so long around him. Or maybe it's because you feel the same way.

Maybe that's why you finally wrap your arms around him, too. One hand pressed between his shoulder blades, admitting silently that it's okay to hold each other like this. The other curled into the hair at the base of his neck, nails scratching lightly against his scalp. Admitting that it's okay for him to shiver and sigh against your throat, because you say nothing when he does exactly that.

He falls asleep within minutes. Part of you wonders if he ever had any sleeping issues at all, but the rest of you knows that he wouldn't lie, not to you. That there's something happening here that he can't name and that you choose not to.

His alarm goes off at 5am.

You groan quietly but let your hands fall away from him, because you know it's time for him to go on his morning run. When he rolls over to turn the alarm off, you start to rise, disheveled and exhausted but ready to go back to your apartment.

You're not ready for the hand, large and sleep-warm, to flatten against your chest and press you back into the mattress gently. You blink once, twice, and then turn to look at him. He's already wrapping himself around you again, the rest of him just as sleep-warm.

"Toshi?" you mumble, confused but your arms circling him again, anyway.

He just grunts, pulling you close. Your nerves jump, because his lips are skimming your throat when he whispers "comfortable" in response.

"Don't you have to go?" When he shakes his head, you swallow. "Why?"

"You won't be here when I get back."

You wonder if he can feel the way your heart races.

He nudges his nose against your pulse point.

He can definitely feel it.

You turn your head away, trying to put some distance between you, but he just slides his palm against your jaw and brings you back to him.

You feel like you're suffocating. The knot is too tight again.

"Just one more hour," he mumbles. "Just one."

You blink rapidly up at the ceiling, streaks of sunlight bleeding across your vision. You don't understand. You never understand. And yet, you're still here.

It hurts to realize that life with Ushijima will continue to be this. Confusion and understanding, an endless cycle.

It hurts to realize that you want it this badly.

—

"I don't know," you groan, walking beside Yachi at a snail's pace. She grabs you by the arm, dragging you along the hall of the Adlers' gym. You're on your way to a press meeting, where you and the other agents will stand along the side of the room and step in if necessary.

"I know you don't know," she giggles, lowering her voice and making sure none of your co-workers can hear. "But he asked you to sleep in his bed and then broke his own discipline to stay in bed." She grips you tighter. "And you let him." When your face warms, she beams at you. "He likes you. And you're not innocent, either."

"I thoroughly reject that idea," you argue. "I can't afford to have that thought floating around in my head. That's the fastest way to get fired. I need my job-"

"Oh, fuck the job," she whispers fervently. "You can figure out how to sneak around." When you glare at her, she grows more excited. "You've been friends for twenty years. Your relationship comes first."

You don't answer her, just letting yourself be dragged into the press room and against the wall.

When the Adlers enter the room, their coach leading, your eyes scan for him. He's next to Kageyama, who's equally stoic and disinterested as they take their seats. The younger man glances at the line of agents, and you watch him find Yachi. She drags her thumb across her throat in an obvious threat, and he has to cover his mouth with a hand to hide his grin. When you give her a wild look, she shrugs.

"He's been running into trouble with etiquette and tact recently. I told him to be nice today or he'd catch a knife when he's not looking."

You huff out a laugh, turning back to the players.

Ushijima's eyes are already on you.

The memory of his body heat isn't even a week old.

You don't have time to wonder if you have feelings for him. You don't have time to think about this at all. So you turn away, keeping your attention on the introduction that the coach is making.

The press conference lasts an hour, the team's overall strategy discussed and then different players asked about their private marketing and sponsorship responsibilities.

A reporter from a small paper stands when he's called on. "For Ushijima Wakatoshi, please." You straighten, your PR mode locked onto the interaction. Ushijima's eyes flick to you and then back, and he nods once. "We hear that you've been selected for the next cover of Japan's Hottest."

You're both familiar with it. His photoshoot for next month's issue is in two hours. Ushijima leans into the mic.

"That's correct." He glances at you, so you gesture that he should say more. "It's an honor."

You bite back a laugh. You highly doubt he cares about any of it.

The reporter nods. "Are you excited about what doors it could open for you?"

Doors? It's a thirst trap magazine to showcase Japan's sexiest athletes, and no one's exactly surprised that Ushijima's next on the list, especially given his recent return.

You meet his eyes again. It's clear he's thinking the same thing. Still, you nod encouragingly, and he echoes the nod in the reporter's direction.

"Yes."

You sigh and write 'work on media presence' on your ipad, in the margin next to his schedule for the day.

The reporter glances back at you, as do several others, because he hasn't been subtle in any way about needing your help.

"Er, one last question," the reporter says. Ushijima just nods. "How has adjusting to life with the Adlers been? Are you and your PR agent getting on alright?"

Your eyes widen, and you're suddenly panicking about what he could possibly say.

He leans into the mic, blinking emptily. "Y/n is my best friend. Always has been. Life with the Adlers is good."

You stare at him, frozen in place and only able to recover before the cameras start flashing because Yachi's elbowing you hard.

The reporters all try to ask follow-up questions, but you're shaking your head aggressively at Ushijima, so he just leans back in his seat and looks to his coach. The older man manages to corral them after a few moments, and the conference continues without incident.

Only when you get in the back of a car with Ushijima does he finally speak to you.

"Did I say something wrong?"

You just stare straight ahead, your own reflection clear in the divider between the driver and yourselves. "No, Toshi. That was fine."

"The reporters reacted strongly."

"The rumors will start," you say, sighing. "That's all."

"What rumors?"

When you turn to him, you find that he's actually confused, looking to you for answers because he's never been good at this. At people.

"The dating rumors, Toshi."

You watch in real time as he understands, dissociates, and then flushes — his face starts to burn, heat flooding his cheeks and ears, and all he does is stare right through you.

"Oh," he finally says, turning away.

The drive to his photoshoot is completely silent.

—

The stylists at Japan's Hottest have gotten wind of how things went at the press conference. You'd known it would get out quickly, but you're unprepared for the playful side glances from the hair stylist and the meaningful lift of the makeup artist's eyebrows.

You sit in the corner while Ushijima is dragged through the ringer — outfit changes, photoshoot, hair and makeup changes, photoshoot, more outfit changes, more photoshoot.

You're in the corner for three hours, working silently on your laptop and watching him get pulled this way and that.

Until, in what can only be an intentional maneuver, the shoot director enters the makeup room and claps his hands a few times.

"Okay, everyone," he says. "Great work so far — only one more concept!"

You frown at your ipad. There's still time left for one concept shoot, but you only have four shoots on the schedule, not five.

He doesn't look at you, but you feel that this is targeted. "Ushijima, let's get you in something a little more revealing. I'd like to do a lipstick montage."

You stare at the director, putting his words together slowly. A what?

Ushijima just looks at you, almost like he's checking if this is right. You clear your throat, standing and smoothing out your slacks while you approach. "Excuse me. How revealing are we talking here? I'm not sure Ushijima would be comfortable with anything below the belt."

The director looks you over, a smile spreading across your face. "Did Ushijima tell you that?"

You don't know how to tell him that speaking isn't necessary between the two of you. "I know my player well."

If Ushijima didn't want you to see how he shifts in his seat when you say 'my player', he fails.

The director only beams down at you. "Okay, then. Nothing below the belt. But since you know him so well…"

Uh, oh.

"Why don't you do the lipstick stains for him?"

"What?" you say right away, blinking and looking around. "Why me? Can't the makeup artis-"

That woman is conveniently needed in another room at precisely this moment, just smiling at you in a way that is way too guilty.

In fact, everyone is conveniently needed elsewhere, the room emptying suspiciously fast.

The director's the last one left. He smiles down at you, far too pleased for your liking. "That's that, then! Choose a nice, deep red, okay?" He starts to leave, turning on his heel at the door. "Don't forget the lips!"

The slam of the door echoes off the walls.

You stare at it, barely noticing when Ushijima gets up and crosses the room.

"I think these are the clothes."

You turn, ears ringing and face burning. He's holding a white button-down and a pair of jeans.

"Okay," you say hollowly. "Get changed, I guess."

You try not to focus on the sound of him stripping behind the privacy screen, staring down at the many tubes of lipstick on the vanity. You stare so long that you don't even notice when he finishes, only rebooting your brain when his arm reaches past you.

"I like this one," he says quietly, the bass of his voice shaking your nerves. He plucks a dark red lipstick from the set, placing it gently in your palm.

You take a shaky breath. "Okay." Then you turn.

He's too close.

You jump, bumping against the vanity in your unconscious scramble to put space between you. He takes a step back, examining you.

His shirt is buttoned to the top and his jeans are high on his hips. You lament the fact that you're going to have to fix this.

"You have to leave it open," you say, gesturing for him to unbutton his shirt while you turn to the mirror and start to smooth the red tint over your lips. You watch him undo it, forcing your eyes not to linger on the broad expanse of his chest and the lines of his abdomen, the ones that speak of discipline and a very serious excercise regimen.

You try especially hard not to stare at the two lines that converge under the band of his jeans — the lines that are shaped like a V and accented by the strip of dark hair that runs between them.

You press your lips together to spread the lipstick around, refusing to admit that your mouth is watering.

When you straighten, breathing shakily, he's already watching you in the mirror. You turn, trying to look as aloof as possible when you examine him.

Unfortunately, you know what the director wants. What people will want to see when next month's cover drops.

You sigh, stepping toward him. "These need to be lower," you mumble, hooking your fingers through his belt loops and ignoring when the muscles of his abdomen jump in surprise. You tug on his jeans, tug until the band of his underwear sits just under his hip bones and the jeans sit even lower.

When you glance at his face, there's a light blush sitting comfortably there.

"Now what?" he asks, his voice huskier than before.

You try your damn hardest to seem completely normal when you say—

"Now I kiss you."

Ushijima says nothing, just swallowing hard and looking away, his nod almost shy.

"Uhm," you start, looking around. "Okay. Sit here." You guide him to the vanity, forcing him to lean down onto it. "You're too tall."

He's still tall when he sits like this, and his legs are spread wide enough for you to step between them in a way that makes you feel funny.

"Okay," you breathe, more to yourself than to him. "Ready?"

He just nods again.

You place your hands on his chest and lean in, pressing your lips to his cheek.

He inhales hard, body shifting.

The next goes to his nose, and the next to his jaw.

When you press your lips to his throat, right over his pulse, he huffs out weakly. You feel a tug, realizing with a racing heart that he's hooked his fingers into the loops of your slacks, anchoring himself to you.

You keep going, mouth on each of his collarbones, over his heart, and down the planes of his chest. He's starting to breathe hard, his muscles twitching sporadically and his fingers holding tight to you.

When you drop to your knees to be able to get to his torso, his body jerks suddenly, and a sound falls past his lips.

Your brain goes blank, because Ushijima Wakatoshi's just moaned under his breath at the sight of you on your knees.

You stare at his stomach for a moment, watching it rise and fall sharply, and then your eyes flick up.

His face is burning red, and his eyes are glazed over, and he's looking down his nose at you like he's never looked at you before.

"Toshi?" you whisper. He curls his hands into tight fists, nails scratching on his jeans, and shuts his eyes.

"'m okay."

You can't catch your breath. "I don't think you are-"

"Keep going," he bites out, voice tense and strained. "Please."

Your hands find his thighs and you're sitting high on your knees before you even realize it's happening.

When your lips touch his abs, his fingers find your head, curling into your hair tight. Your heart pounds in your chest, your ears, your throat — everywhere.

The knot urges you to keep going. Tugs you down, down, down.

Your fingers curl into the band of his underwear, pulling it just low enough that a lipstick mark would peek out, right about—

You press your lips under his navel, just next to that patch of dark hair that's been on your mind this whole time.

"Ah, fuck-" He grips your hair tighter and keeps your mouth against his skin.

A shock of electricity washes over the crown of your head, turning your brain to static before flying down your spine. He's never sworn like that before. He's never sworn at all, actually.

When you pull away — when he lets you pull away — your face is burning and your ears are ringing and you can't feel your feet or your hands. And he looks exactly the same.

His chest heaves while he catches his breath, and he can only look down at you for a few seconds before his eyes are closing again and his head is leaning back against the mirror.

You stand, limbs numb and skin tingling.

"I-I have to-" You can't get it out. You can't say it.

He cracks his eyes open, gazing at you with a glazed-over expression, cheeks burning the most beautiful shade of pink.

He drops his eyes to your lips. "Okay."

The sound of his voice makes you shiver.

You step a little closer, tugging him by the open flaps of his shirt until he sits up, face right in front of yours.

"Stay still," you whisper. He just nods, eyelashes fluttering.

You cup his cheeks and lean in.

His lips are softer than you'd expected.

He listens to direction, staying perfectly still while you press the lipstick to his mouth. But he's breathing hard and his nails are scratching on his jeans again, and you're becoming lightheaded by the realization that this is happening.

This is happening.

You pull back, refusing to meet his eyes and just staring down at his mouth. A perfect imprint of your lips is plastered there, right on his.

It affects you more than you thought it would.

You take a single step back, panting. "Okay. I think you're-"

He wraps a hand around your wrist, yanking you back in.

The knot loosens.

Falls.

You melt into him, letting him do as he pleases. He tangles his fingers in your hair, holding you steady and pressing his lips hard against yours. His other hand finds your waist, dragging you close until you're draped over him.

You cling uselessly to him, tilting your head however he wants and pressing your body to his like he wants and opening your mouth when his tongue swipes along your lips, just like he wants. When his tongue slides across yours, you whimper his name and dig your nails into his thighs, overcome with desire.

With the need for more of him, because nothing has ever been enough for you. Not once in twenty years.

He grunts when your nails hurt, and suddenly you're being lifted and turned, your butt dropped on the vanity and your legs pried open by his. He towers over you, hands on the table on either side of you, and you can do nothing but wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer.

He grabs your thighs, his hands big and warm and strong, and pulls them around his waist, stepping right up to you and lining his hips up flush with yours.

He's hard. You moan into his mouth, and he knows why.

The roll of his hips into yours makes you tremble, your breath choked out into his mouth when you whimper his name.

"Toshi," you try, nerves flipping over and over in your stomach. "We have to stop-" He jerks his hips forward, and you're embarrassed at the moan that falls out. "Please, Toshi. We can't do this here-"

"Need you," he breathes, and you're reminded of all the times, over all these weeks, that you've asked if he needed you and he's said no. He's said no, even though you know sometimes he really could have used your help.

He says it now. It scares you, because he must really mean it this time.

"Not-nngh-" He's pulling you closer, the bulge of jeans hitting that special spot you've been trying to avoid. "Not here, Toshi. Please."

There's a knock at the door.

Your blood freezes in your body.

You shove him back, watching as he barely moves, just staring down at you with heated eyes.

"Everything okay in there?" the director calls, and you can hear the smug edge in his voice.

Ushijima Wakatoshi has lipstick smeared all over his mouth.

You scramble off the vanity, searching for the tube of lipstick. "Y-Yes! He's almost done!" You snatch it off of the ground and turn to him, scrubbing your thumb across his mouth until the smudges are gone. And then you rush to put more lipstick on, your fingers trembling.

He stares down at you the entire time, eyes trained on your lips.

You pinch his arm, whispering "get it together" when he just lifts his brows, still distracted. And then you rise onto your tiptoes, pressing your lips hard against his.

It's still just as hard to pull away, even with someone waiting outside.

"Go," you urge, untangling yourself from the tight grip he has on you. "Go, Wakatoshi."

He listens this time, if only because you'd used his full name, and turns to leave.

You slump into the nearest chair once he's gone, staring down at nothing.

—

You avoid him.

You're not ashamed to admit that.

You avoid him, even though he calls and texts and knocks on your door at two in the morning. When the paparazzi ask if you've fought, he says no and that you're just not feeling well and he's worried. You feel relief, because he understands. Despite how confusing he is, he understands that this is important.

That this is between you and him and no one else.

Still, you avoid him.

For a week, you avoid him.

And then the Adlers win a game, and the coach calls for celebration and invites everyone to a new club that's just opened in town.

You have to go. It's your job.

—

"You can't stick by me the whole time!" Yachi yells in your ear.

"Yes, I can!" you yell back.

"I agree with Yachi!"

You turn, glaring up at Kageyama. He sips on his fruity cocktail, pleased with himself.

"Go away!"

"No!"

You bare your teeth at him, growling like a trapped animal. He just laughs in your face.

Yachi groans, tugging you close. "You have to talk to him! You guys humped in a dressing room like teenagers with ten years of pent up sexual energy. You can't avoid him!"

Your face burns, and you glance up at Kageyama. He looks just as embarrassed as you.

"Shut up, Kageyama."

His eyes are wide, offended. "I didn't even say anything!"

Yachi pushes his arm. "Go away, it's girl time!"

He narrows a glare at her, leaning down to match her height. "Fine," he says, his tone evil. "But I'm going to stand with Ushijima."

He's gone before you can pounce on him in a rage.

"Oh, my god," you whine, face buried in your hands. "I'm so done for. The world is gonna find out, and I'm gonna lose my job, and all his fans are going to send me death threats and egg my car-"

"Stop," Yachi says, shaking you. "You need to stop worrying about what the world has to say. None of them matter."

"I need a job! I need a career, and no one is going to hire me when they find out what I've done!"

"What have you done, Y/n?" she argues, lifting a single brow. "Fallen in love with the boy next door? Who just happens to be a celebrity athlete?"

You stare. "I'm not in love."

"Yes, you are."

You know you are. You know.

"Y/n, listen to me," she starts, grabbing you by the arms and holding you steady. "You can worry about the press and the fans and your job. But you're going to lose him." She turns you in the direction Kageyama's just gone.

He's standing with Ushijima, their heads bent together as they talk. Ushijima is saying something with a stoic face, but you can tell. You can see it in ways that no one else in this room can. You can tell by how fast his mouth is moving and how he's shifting his weight and how he keeps crossing and uncrossing his arms.

He's stressed. He's stressed and worried and anxious and everything you are, too.

"You're going to lose that boy next door," Yachi says in your ear. "And I don't care how much you complain about him. I know you won't be able to survive that."

Kageyama says something back.

Ushijima's face floods with heat, visible to you even from here. And then his eyes flick across the room, right to yours.

Only you can see how much he doesn't want to lose you, too.

Fuck.

"Okay," you mumble. "Okay."

She squeezes you. "Go get him." And then she giggles. "And try not to get caught."

You get the feeling she's not talking about holding hands.

Things haven't been that simple since you were ten.

Your feet carry you across the room, but you don't move toward him. You drift off to the side, toward a long hallway that can only lead somewhere more private than this crowded club.

When you meet his eyes, halfway there, you can see he understands. Nothing about his face changes, but you just know.

You should have figured this out years ago.

You shut yourself inside a single-user bathroom, pacing the small room and shaking your hands out. The club music pounds all around you, and you can barely hear yourself think.

He doesn't knock. He just pushes the door open with his shoulder and shoves it closed, leaning back against it and staring down at you, like that night in his bedroom.

The space between you is completely silent. Just muted club music and your breathing, harsh and sharp.

You cross the room in two steps, like he had that night. Push up onto your toes and wrap your hands around his neck, yank him close. Just like he'd done to you less than a week ago.

He tastes like Kageyama's fruity cocktail.

Your back hits the opposite wall, and you're lifted right off your feet, Ushijima's hips pinning you in place.

"I'm sorry," you pant. He just shakes his head. "I shouldn't have avoided you." His hands are everywhere, on your waist and your thighs and the skirt of your dress, shoving it up and out of his way. "Toshi, please-"

"I know," he bites, strained and hoarse. "I know. Just-" He groans when you arch your chest into him and spread your legs wider so he can fit better. "Please."

You shiver, nodding. "Okay," you breathe. "Okay."

When he slips his hand between your legs and tugs your panties to the side, your heart slams against your chest and throat.

Your throat, which hasn't felt the knot tighten in a week.

The press of his tip past your entrance empties you of everything but him and makes you realize you might never feel the knot again.

He'd untied it.

The stretch of your walls around him makes him moan, low and deep into your mouth, and you can only pant out ragged breaths. Your eyes roll back in your head, and your brain fills with static, and the sound of your name falling past his lips yanks you close to the edge, all too fast. When he throbs inside of you, you realize he's right there with you.

All too fast, because this moment is twenty years in the making.

"I'm sorry," he grunts. "I'm close, I'm sorry."

"Me, too," you pant. "Please, Toshi."

He seems embarrassed, because it hasn't even been a minute. It hasn't even been a minute.

He drives his hips up against yours, frantically trying to hold you closer and last longer and show you that this means something to him. But you can't lie, the fact that he's like this is only yanking you closer to the edge, because it means he's desperate, and you've never seen Ushijima Wakatoshi feel desperate about a single thing in his life.

The pieces fall into place.

"What's wrong with being serious about you?"

"I go where you go."

"I thought I was clear that night."

"I can't sleep."

"You won't be here when I get back."

"Y/n is my best friend. Always has been."

"Keep going. Please."

Oh.

Oh.

"I love you, Toshi," you whimper, burying your face in his neck. A sob falls out, and you cling tighter. "I love you."

He shudders, gripping you tighter. "What?"

"I love you," you cry, lifting up to grab him by the face and press your mouth to his. "Wakatoshi."

He gasps, and his hips still, and you feel warm.

Warm around him, warm with him.

The edge feels warm when you fall.

"Y/n."

Your name, nothing more.

however, you aren't expecting the way he reacted weeks after dealing with your teasing and questioning, fueling the thoughts swirling inside his head.

"toshi, if you ever cum inside me, you should set it as your phone background! actually, wait, no, because what if your teammates see it..."

"..."

"mm, maybe a video instead? ooh, yeah, i want a video of you cumming in me then pullin' out so i can see it spill out, toshtosh, would you do that f' me?"

he doesn't reply and doesn't give you a chance to comment again. the visual you painted in his mind just too much for him.

next thing you know, ushi's got you folded in half on the bed, making sure you feel every drag of his stupidly fat cock against your hot gummy walls. he's pulling out to just the tip before slamming back inside you, groaning each time you let out a whimper of his name or squeeze down on him.

"toshi, t-toshi! h-hoohmygod, please, baby, c-calm down, 'm sorry f' teasin', oh my goddd...!"

you're so fucking wet and noisy, he wants to make you be quiet because he feels like your going to make him cum too fast but he'd never ever do it as the thought of not being able to hear you is painful.

he's lost track of time, your cunt making him brainless as he pumps his cock in and out of you as he groans your name, one of his hands pinning your arms to your back while the other presses your head into the pillows.

"s-shhh, honey, let...let me make you feel good, y're so loud..."

it's so fucking messy and sloppy, his cum is dripping out of your tight pussy from how many times he’s emptied his load into you, but he still isn’t stopping, no, he can't. it’s leaking from between your thighs, leaving a milky white sheen on his dick, dripping down onto the bedsheets.

"m-mmh, nooo, toshi, don' wanna be quiet, i-i wan' you to hear how good you make me feel, baby," you purr between moans, knowing that your voice was enough to get him off. the throb of his dick inside of you told you that you were right.

“i...i thought 'bout fucking you like this all day, during practice…that i’d fuck you full of my cum, get it so deep inside you," he mutters with a grunt, moving his hands off you so he could drape himself over your back.

"f-fuck, everyone knew something was off, kageyama kept asking me if-if was okay, how 'm i 'posed to tell him my pretty little honey is waiting at home for me to fill them with my cum?”

with an affirming coo, you manage to tilt your head to the side to look over your shoulder, wanting to see how ushijima is holding up and god, the sight is so sinful.

ushijima's dripping in sweat, his bottom lip swollen and puffy from his teeth digging into it. his fluffy hair is messy and sticking to his damp forehead, and his eyes are shut, squeezing in pleasure when the head of his cock brushed against that sweet spot just right, making your cunt spasm around him.

but his eyes keep opening to see the mess between the both of you. each thrust causes his cum to spill out around him, loud, wet squelches filling the bedroom. and it's only fueling his need to fill you up again, and again, and again, until he can’t anymore.

ushijima can’t stop himself, flipping you over onto your back and folding you into a mating press and, god, he's so fucking happy he did. the way you sob his name, your nails clawing at his back as you cry in pleasure about how much deeper he is now driving him insane.

“t-toshi, cum in me, please, wanna make you a daddy, please.”

“I know, baby, I’ll give you all of it, fuck you full of cum until you can’t take anymore.”

fuck, he’s so loud, he sounds so good. ushi's deep, drawn out groans and pants of your name making you go dizzy, his big hands squeezing your waist tightly each time your hands tug at his hair.

“mm, fuck, that’s right, take all my cum, look at you, so good, can you take more? let...let me cum in you again, baby, you promised you’d make me a daddy, right? i-i need to make sure it sticks.”

You’ve seen it yourself—the anxious buzz that surrounds campus whenever entrance exam season rolls around, the way the local hotels get all that more busy every January. The truth of the matter is that students from all over Miyagi flock to Shiratorizawa just for the chance to attend. 

Shiratorizawa is a prestigious school. It only takes the best of the best. 

All that to say, with the high school being so picky about who gets to wear its colors, you’d like to argue that everyone could be considered a bit of a local celebrity in their own right. After all, you’re always brushing shoulders with rich kids and geniuses and athletes who’ll probably go pro. Even the most boring kid at Shiratorizawa is excellent in some way. 

So, you think, seething silently, it would be really awesome if people could switch it up and stop confessing to the same guy!

“You’re killing your mochi,” Tendou observes, peering over your shoulder.

You blink and look down at your hand where you’ve crushed the snack—sticky, sweet red bean paste stuck between your fingers. “It was always like that.” 

Tendou just digs around in his bag and hands you a wet wipe. “Like the milk bread from last week? Or the onigiri from the week before?”

You shove the remains of the rice cake in your mouth and viciously scrub your hands clean, eyes flicking back up to glare at the two students standing at the other end of the hall. “The cafeteria had it on discount.” 

Tendou follows your gaze to where the last member of your little trio stands, patiently waiting for a blushing girl to hand over the chocolates she’s got behind her back and say her piece. You know her; she’s that cute soccer captain from Class 3-B. You’ve seen her around at tournaments, cheering loudly whenever Ushijima scores, and you rip the wet wipe apart in your hands because you also know exactly what she’s about to say. 

“I like you, Waka-kun! Please go out with me!”

Tendou exaggerates a wince at that and sneaks a glance back at you. Your eye twitches slightly at the nickname but you stay your hand. Your mochi will be the only casualty this afternoon. 

(A pity. He’d been hoping for something more drastic. He’s still got that bet going with Semi and Tendou’s been looking forward to cashing in that win for weeks now.) 

It’s a bit difficult to hear exactly what Ushijima says—between the three of you, he’s always been the quiet one—but that doesn’t stop you from craning your head to listen anyway. If you concentrate, you can just make out that familiar rumble of his voice as he bows his head politely to the poor girl. 

“I am sorry, but I cannot reciprocate your feelings.” 

It’s not like his response is anything new—it’s all part of the same script that he follows each time another confession comes up (“I appreciate your efforts… thank you for your support…” and so on and so forth), but that doesn’t stop the small sigh of relief that escapes you anyway. 

At least the worst part of this whole song and dance is over. All that’s left is for him to excuse himself from the heartbroken captain and make his way back to where the two of you are waiting. Then the three of you will walk back to your dorms together and yeah, it’ll be awkward for a second but Tendou will go and say something stupid and it’ll be shocking enough to distract you from the lingering jealousy that curls in your chest. 

What’s important is that the moment will pass and you’ll be able to put this all behind you. That’s how it’s always been, and so long as Ushijima keeps turning down confessions, how it will always be. In fact, you’re already turning back to Tendou, ready to change the subject in anticipation when he shakes his head and jabs his finger back where Ushijima is still standing at the end of the hall. 

“He’s still talking.”

You whirl around and watch in horror as for the first time ever, Ushijima deviates from that perfectly practiced script and says something new. 

“I cannot reciprocate your feelings because I have someone in mind already.”

For all intents and purposes, Ushijima might as well have just set off a bomb. Faintly, a part of you registers that he and the soccer captain are still talking, but they might as well be speaking a different language for all you care. You’re not listening anymore. All you can hear is the ringing in your ears as you turn those three words over and over again in your head.

‘Someone in mind.’ 

Ushijima has feelings for someone. He’s been turning down confessions, not just because he doesn’t reciprocate, but because his heart’s already taken. By someone else. Someone who isn’t you. 

You’re going to be sick. You might actually throw up. 

“Tendou,” you say slowly. “Does Ushijima have a girlfriend?”

Tendou stares at you for a long time, his sharp sweeping gaze studying you with such focus, you can’t help but suddenly remember that he’s known for his otherworldly intuition, the one that lets him predict a move before you make it. The one that makes him such a monstrous opponent on the court. 

It’s unnerving, seeing it turned on you all of a sudden. You’ve got half the mind to backtrack when he blinks and something clicks, some kind of understanding that dawns on him and leaves a strange sort of giddiness in his eyes when he realizes you’re serious. “Hmm. Dunnoooo. It would explain a lot, though, wouldn’t it? Some kinda secret girlfriend.”

“...I see.”

“...You’re making a really scary face right now,” Tendou says, poking at your side. “See, this is why Semi assigned us jail bail days.”

You shoot him a look, wriggling away from his relentless attack. “What? What the hell does that even mean?”

“Goshiki thinks you’re going to go to jail. He wouldn’t stop crying till Semi set up a schedule to make sure someone’s always gonna bail you out.” Tendou pauses and squints at you. “You weren’t supposed to know that part. Don’t tell him I said that.” 

You wrinkle your nose, briefly distracted by the admittedly hilarious vision of Goshiki wailing at poor Semi during practice, before you shake it off. “I’m not going to jail!”

“Never hurts to be prepared,” he chirps. 

You don’t bother dignifying that with a response, simply huffing when he laughs at you. Whatever. Your efforts are best spent elsewhere anyway, like in turning your attention down the hall to dig for whatever scraps of information you can get. 

You see, the thing that always shocks people the most about your unorthodox friendship is when you tell them that, between the two of you, Ushijima has always been the one to wear his heart on his sleeve. 

Of course, no one ever believes you. They’ll pause and their eyes will flick between the two of you standing side by side—the loud, eccentric manager and the taciturn statue beside her. But it makes perfect sense to you. Ushijima is blunt and never minces his words—it’s why you’ve had to come to his defense more than once on the playground back in primary school. Ushijima believes in saying what you mean and doing what you say. He sees no reason to pretend otherwise. Is it really that unbelievable that he would be this honest about his feelings too? 

Perhaps your insight is because of your proximity to him: having grown up side by side, you know him in the same way you know that the sun will rise and set, and that hayashi rice is delicious. You can see it even now, that imperceptible shift as the tension leaves him, the way his shoulders relax and drop ever so slightly when he looks up and sees that you’re still waiting. 

You’ve known Ushijima Wakatoshi since childhood. You can read him better than anyone else. This very skill that you take such pride in is how you know that, despite your wishful thinking, Ushijima has never suddenly fallen head over heels in love with you the way you have with him. You would’ve noticed the change otherwise. 

So how could you have missed this? This apparent secret girlfriend of his, these feelings that he’s kept to himself all this time. He’s always with you or Tendou—so when did he find the time to fall in love without you? 

Perhaps you just don’t know him as well as you thought. 

Tendou blows a raspberry at the sight of your sulking. “Eh? What’s wrong with you? Not like you to give up so easily.” He pokes at your side again, exaggerating a sigh. “I thought you liked to win?” 

You tense at that. While you might not have known Tendou since childhood like you have with Ushijima, the two of you have been friends long enough for you to realize when he’s up to something. It doesn’t take a genius to see through him, especially when he’s sporting that cheshire grin of his. 

He’s teasing you. Goading you. 

The worst part is that it’s working. Tendou’s right—you know it, and he knows you know it. You do like to win. It’s what makes you such a good manager, and it’s why Coach Washijo keeps you on the team even when your competitive nature has been a subject of debate between the two of you. 

(“When I said look for weaknesses in our opponents, I meant physical ones—volleyball related ones—not that their libero was bullied in middle school!”)

Hah…fine. You can admit that Tendou has a point, even if he’s making it up for his own hidden agenda. You can’t give up this easily, not when you have something worth fighting for, right? So maybe Ushijima has feelings for someone, some kind of secret girlfriend—that’s fine! Everything’s fine! You’ve got a plan.

Clearly, there’s only one reasonable thing left to do. You can’t spend the rest of your life burying your infatuation, hoping you won’t accidentally let it slip out some day. You need to be brave and rip off the bandaid, find out the truth so you can move on. You need to confront your feelings. You’ll do it— you’ll really make a move this time.

As it turns out, it’s much easier to break into Ushijima’s room than it is to confess that you’ve been in love with him for the past year. 

The door unlocks easily with a satisfying click! and you dart in, slamming the door behind you. The hallway was clear the last time you checked, but you don’t want to push your luck. For some reason, you have a feeling that the disciplinary committee won’t take “it’s not breaking-and-entering if I had a key” as a valid defense. 

You slip the spare key back in your blazer, tucking it safely in your pocket as you wander around, peering curiously at every nook and cranny.  

Ushijima’s room is just as neat as you remember it: textbooks organized alphabetically on his bookshelf, a few pictures on his desk, his volleyball tucked in the corner of his bed where it meets the wall. If you’re being honest, it’s always been a little too empty for your tastes: a little too minimalist, a little too boring. Though you suppose that this technically could be considered an improvement from when you were both children. At least there are pictures now. 

You still remember visiting his home for the first time, wide-eyed and eager to finally see what the inside of such a grand estate would look like: something like over a dozen places to hide in hide-and-seek, a bedroom the size of your living room back home, even a swimming pool. With how large the place was, surely there must’ve been a room dedicated to volleyball—no, an entire court in there somewhere!

You also remember being disappointed when you walked in and there was decidedly no secret indoor volleyball court that he’d been hiding. You’d been right about the size of his bedroom, but it just reminded you of one of those sample rooms in those fancy magazines your mom read from time to time. A little too pretty. A little too lonely. 

You’d never said anything about it, chalking the whole thing up as one of his quirks, something from his more traditional upbringing, but you did start bringing stuff over from your room to leave at his. Nothing huge—just some plushies you’d won in crane games, a few toys from gachapons, a couple drawings you’d doodled in class—but you’d sneak them in in a bulging bag and scatter them around his room when he wasn’t looking.

In hindsight, you probably weren’t very inconspicuous, being clumsy and loud and eight, but if Ushijima ever had a problem with you decorating his room, he never said anything. Every time you came back, all your baubles were still there, exactly where you left them. 

Some of them are here in his door room now. Your heart does a funny flip at the sight of those cheap gachapon figures sitting on his bookshelf. It’s been years since you first bought them, and yet none of them show any signs of standard wear and tear. It’s like they’ve been handled gently all their lives.   

You jump as your phone chimes loudly with your reminder that training’s about to start. 

Right. No more reminiscing. You need to focus on what you’re here for: the secret girlfriend. 

Realistically, you’ve only got an hour before someone’s bound to walk in. You’ve timed it perfectly—you know Ushijima’s just finished class and he’s got training next. As the manager, you don’t technically need to be there for that, so your absence shouldn’t be that suspicious. And since Tendou needs to be at training too, there’s no chance you’ll be interrupted by him either. It’s the perfect plan.  

You waste no time digging through the bookshelf, rifling through textbook after textbook, drawer after drawer. Embarrassingly enough, you’re a little uncertain what to look for since you’ve never really had any admirers yourself. For whatever reason, no one’s ever really confessed to you. 

It used to sting when you were younger but you’ve since learned to shrug it off. It’s not like you were an outcast during things like Valentine’s Day. Thoughtful as he is, Ushijima always bought you something. Plus, you’ve read plenty of shoujo manga before. Surely that’s pretty much the same thing.  

To no one's surprise, Ushijima isn’t hiding any love letters in his math textbook. You kick at the ground when your search through his drawers comes up empty too. There’s not that many places left to look. Even though Ushijima lucked out this year and got his own private room, the dorm rooms still aren’t anything luxurious. There’s really only the closet left (which ended up just being a collection of his uniforms—boring) and whatever he keeps in the storage units. 

You eye the tiny space under his desk and sigh. Well, you’re already here. No sense in doing half the job.

You shrug off your white blazer, tossing it onto the growing pile of clothes on Ushijima’s bed, and wriggle into that cramped spot underneath the desk. It’s tight and distinctly uncomfortable—you swear you can feel something digging into your shoulder and your leg—and you’re briefly granted a moment of clarity as you contemplate if any part of this, this whole adventure, is genuinely insane. 

You’re this close to giving up, to swallowing your pride and pretending like you didn’t just spend half an hour searching for something that apparently—doesn’t exist—until you catch sight of something in your periphery. 

There! Right there, under his desk, there’s an old box neatly tucked away in one of the dorm shelving units. At first glance, it doesn’t look like anything special, just one of those cheap plastic containers from Daiso. You and Tendou have one too—you know Tendou’s using his to keep all his Jump magazines in one place, while yours is home to a collection of your favorite guilty pleasure: romantasy manga. So unfortunately, it’s not the groundbreaking find you were looking for. You’re ready to move on, already squirming to move out of the uncomfortable position you’ve squashed yourself in except—

Except that worthless plastic container—it has Ushijima’s name on it. He’s written it down himself. You’d recognize that handwriting anywhere—you’ve seen it before, scattered around his home. His old volleyball. His first sketchbook. His father’s novels. You know better than anyone that he only does that with the things he treasures most. And if that's the case… what could possibly be in the box? 

It has to be the evidence you were looking for. Something incriminating, like trinkets that belong to his secret girlfriend. There can be no other explanation for why he would need an entire container to store something so special to him. 

You did it. You found what you were looking for. 

So why aren’t you satisfied? 

You heave a great sigh and reluctantly pull your gaze away from the familiar scrawl of Ushijima’s handwriting, crawling back out from under the desk. Should you really even be doing this? Using the spare key that Ushijima trusted you with to rummage through his stuff—is this really the right way to go about things? What would Tendou say?

He’d say to listen for anyone outside the door before you open the box, your brain supplies helpfully. 

You shake your head, absentmindedly swatting at the air as if batting the temptation away. If Tendou of all people would be encouraging you, that should be all the reason you need not to do it then. 

Besides, you know it's not right. You know it’s none of your business who Ushijima dates or who he has feelings for. You’re just his childhood best friend— no more, no less. In fact, what you should really do is just clean up the mess you’ve made before someone notices and pretend like you never even saw the box. 

You swallow and move to stand, to gather the papers you’d scattered all over his table in your frenzy, when your eyes catch the framed photo sitting by his lamp. It’s an old photo; one your mother snapped back from a time when the two of you were still the same height. 

You’d been coming home from your first summer festival together, dressed in your matching yukatas. The two of you had spent the night hand in hand as you eagerly dragged him from stall to stall, chattering away. By the time the festival came to a close, you were dead on your feet, sluggishly letting Ushijima guide you back home. 

You’d felt bad about it at the time, the kind of worry that comes with thinking you’re being a nuisance, the kind of nonsensical, childish guilt that you’d failed him as his (self-proclaimed) senior. You’d wanted to impress him, to show him something as cool as volleyball, but here you were hours later, so tired that you could barely muster another word, let alone figure out how to get home. 

Kids that age are fickle. You know without a doubt that he must’ve been exhausted too, running after you all night. It would’ve been all too easy for him to excuse himself and go home early. You would’ve understood if he did. There was certainly no expectation for him to walk you all the way back home, especially since his house was much closer to the festival than yours. 

But because he’s Ushijima—kind, gentle, dependable Ushijima—the thought of leaving you behind had never even crossed his mind. He’d just taken your hand and matched your snail’s pace, slowly maneuvering you through those crowded, winding streets. And then when you’d nearly tripped over your own two feet, he’d simply stopped and offered you his back. Your mother had opened the door to find him standing there with you wrapped around him, dozing off with your face tucked in the crook of his neck, and snapped the photo without hesitation. 

You pick up the picture and softly trace the borders of the frame. It’s an old photo and yet—it’s in perfect condition. There’s not even a smudge on the glass.

You don’t want to lose him.

The thought comes to you unbidden, that ache in your chest growing heavier as you gingerly set the picture back down where it used to be. That’s the crux of the matter, isn’t it? You’re just his childhood friend—no more, no less, but god—you don't want to be. 

You don’t want to lose him, not to someone else— never to someone else—but the truth is half the jealousy you feel every week is just envy. Envy, because even though you might seethe quietly at the audacity some of these admirers have, using affectionate nicknames and professing their love when they don’t even know him, at least they can confess. Unlike you, they’ve got nothing to lose. Unlike you, they’re not bound by this invisible boundary that they can’t cross. 

The truth is you wouldn’t be able to bear it, even though you knew it was only a matter of time before your luck ran out. The only thing worse than someone else having his heart would be you taking the gamble and losing it all. 

You glance back at the photo, at the way Ushijima held you so easily even then, as if it was second nature to have you by his side. He wasn’t looking at the camera either, you realize. He was always looking at you. 

Your fingers twitch at your sides and then you’re looking back only once to check the door before you throw yourself back under the table, reaching in, twisting your arm in an awkward angle to snatch up the box and drag it back out to the center of the room. 

The white plastic stares at you accusingly as you trail your hand across the lid and huff out a laugh. There’s not even a layer of dust. Typical. You really shouldn’t be surprised—Ushijima has always been diligent about taking care of the things he loves. 

The things he loves. You curl your fingers around the corner, digging them into the space where the lid meets the container. It’s a bad idea. All of this. Even if you were successful in your impromptu investigation, what would be the point? It’s not like you could confront him about it—you can’t without explaining how you found out to begin with.

You should put it away. Once you open it, there really will be no more going back. 

But you would finally know the truth.

Your eyes flick back to that picture of the two of you and you pause only a moment before you give in and finally rip that damn lid off.

…

Oh. 

It’s you. 

It’s all you. 

You’d been bracing yourself for the worst—love letters, pictures, gifts too precious to keep out on display—but all that’s staring back at you in that stupid, worthless plastic tub is a lifetime of memories you’d almost forgotten about. 

There are the notes that you used to pass to him during lectures, back when the two of you were still lucky enough to be in the same class, safely tucked away in a plastic sheet and organized by year. Your little doodles are still there, ink smudged slightly on the paper but in otherwise pristine condition. Behind them are the messy, half finished polaroids you snapped of the two of you, with handwritten dates for each one. Bottles, wrappers from the late night konbini runs. 

And there, in the center of it all, is the flower you gave him at recess, the Japanese camellia you shoved into his hands when you made him promise to play with you forever. 

He kept it. He kept all of it, this collection of trinkets, and pieced it together into this haphazard mosaic of the story most precious to him: the story of the two of you. 

You carefully reach in and cup the camellia in your hand, tenderly running your thumb over the dried petals. It’s smaller than you remember. When you first snatched it from your neighbor’s garden, clambering over that fence while she hollered at you, you’d been giddy with your stolen prize. You didn’t have the words for it back then, didn’t understand the dizzying, overwhelming affection you felt for your best friend. But instinctively, some part of you recognized that with those pretty, pink petals that seemed to spill past your fingertips, your gift could do all the talking for you. 

You know better now. Perhaps even back then, that too, was love. 

You smile wistfully. You needed two hands to hold it back then. Where did the time go?

“Nice flower. What’re you doing in Wakatoshi’s room?” Tendou chirps as he leans over you. 

You yelp and shove the flower back in the box, slamming the lid back on top. “Tendou! God— nothing! I’m just waiting for him to be done with class!” 

Tendou squints his eyes, staring at you and the plastic box that you’re currently trying to discreetly kick back under Ushijima’s desk. 

“Eh? It’s already 5. Class was over an hour ago. You missed practice—you never miss practice. Washijo thought something happened to you. Goshiki wanted to search the nearest holding cell.”

The box makes an unhappy thud when you shove it again and it ends up wedged between the desk and the shelf. There’s a brief lull in conversation when you and Tendou pause to stare. You cough loudly and stand up, dusting yourself off. “You know how it is. I just lost track of time.”

“...This is about today’s confession, isn’t it,” he says slowly, inching closer. 

“No!” you blurt, throwing your hands in his face. “I mean— why would it be? Hah! Wakatoshi gets confessions all the time! It’s no big deal—” 

Tendou easily dodges your attempt to blind him and just gives you a satisfied, impish grin. “So you’re not trashing his room to find his secret girlfriend’s stuff?”

“I don’t have to answer that,” you sniff. Tendou just waggles his eyebrows and you narrow your eyes, annoyed. “Hang on. Don’t change the subject. What are you doing here? Don’t you guys still have training?”

Tendou yawns and throws his hands behind his head. “I left early cause I had a feeling you were gonna do something stupid.”

“And you wanted to help me?”

“And I wanted to be there to see it,” Tendou corrects.

You take a deep breath and bravely resist the urge to just grab him and stretch him like taffy. “Thanks.”

“Ehhh, don’t look so mad! You should be glad I’m here~”

“And why’s that?” You force out. 

Tendou gleefully waves his phone in front of your face. “How else would you know that Ushijima just sent me a text. He says he’s coming over to find us.”

Your head shoots up so fast you nearly smack Tendou in the face. “How much time do I have?”

Tendou checks his empty wrist. “Probably like ten minutes.”

You let out a particularly creative string of curses as you frantically sort through the mess, shoving books back on shelves and papers back in drawers. 

(Tendou plops himself down, gangly limbs draped over Ushijima’s chair, and rests his head in his hand as he watches you fuss over the pile of clothing you’d made when you tore through Ushijima’s wardrobe. 

He wonders if you can see it—you, in a room that only you have the spare key to; a room with the trinkets that you bought for Ushijima as a child; a room he decorated with your favorite colors. If you’ve noticed the way that Ushijima always brings his jacket to the gym, even when he’s going to be playing, because you get cold easily. If you’ve ever caught how, instinctively, whenever someone confesses to him, the first place he always looks is toward you. 

Though, given that you’re here in his room frantically trying to cover up the minor crime you’ve just committed, probably not. 

Ah well, he thinks, idly scrolling through all the other messages Ushijima’s sent about you. She’ll figure it out eventually. It’s only a matter of time.)

author's notes: so. this was in fact supposed to be a short 2k piece that would give me a break from working on Without Apology. as you can see it did not end up being 2k. anyways. I had a lot of fun working on this piece and even though it was supposed to be mostly comedy, I think I slipped and accidentally wrote something really earnest. I’m sure you will make fun of me for this later Liya.

I think ushijima really shines in these “dense x guy who’s been in love since he was six” tropes because he’s very much an “acts of service” kinda guy. In that sense, reader’s right—if he was in love, it would be really obvious because there would be special treatment. She just doesn’t realize she’s getting special treatment because it’s just how Ushijima has been for as long as she can remember.

I also think it’s really funny that this is supposed to be an ushijima fic and then I basically only had him appear in the beginning and say like 10 words. And then none of those words were directed at reader lol. It’s just like real Haikyuu.

Anyways. My beautiful wonderful beta readers. Thank you to @sun-snatcher for reading like 5k words about a guy you don’t even know and hyping me up anyway. And of course, a big thank you @yuechihua for being so thorough with your edits.I know you absolutely despise ushijima so it means a lot that you would sit down and read 4.9k words of fic dedicated to my beast. I love you hehe!

As always, if you enjoyed, let me know :3c

Tag list: @syynon, @takeyourhands

the atmosphere was silent as the rest of his team looked at him in shock and mostly worry.

ushijima noticed and looked around the room to see the camera staff and team looking at him. 

"what?" 

"you just said..." kageyama trailed off, hesitant to continue. 

"you broke it off with (y/n)?!" kourai interrupted. 

ushijima frowned, as if that was the most absurd thing he heard.

"(y/n) and i are happily engaged. she is my fiancé." ushijima said plainly, as if he didn't just cause the live chat box to spam with shocked and congratulatory messages.

"and you didn't tell us?!" if anyone was the most offended, it would be kourai.

"i thought the ring was obvious. kageyama has told me it looked nice." the team's heads whipped to kageyama who spluttered on how he didn't know it was an engagement ring. 

ushijima hummed. "it seems like i have not announced this." 

"you think?" he hears kourai's retort but pretended not to.

"me and (y/n) are engaged, therefore, she is now my fiance and not my girlfriend." ushijima said to the camera. "i hope this clarifies my answer." a few more questions were answered, mostly questions in regards to you and ushijima’s engagement before the staff announced that the livestream was over.

“that was a terrible way of announcing that you are engaged.” he hears his captain mutter. ushijima nodded in acknowledgement before heading home to you who was waiting to scold him after watching the livestream. 

iwaizumi: 

the trainer didn’t know how he was roped into answering WIRED questions when he wasn’t the one in court. he was already halfway when the staff gave him a new board but he was shocked to see that it was filled with questions not about him, but about you.

“your fans wanted to know about your relationship with (y/n).” hoots from outside the camera’s view were heard, iwaizumi internally sighed, knowing that this would be fuel for the team to tease their trainer.

“let’s get this over with.” the trainer says before ripping the first tape from the board. “is iwaizumi’s girlfriend… staged?” he gave a deadpan expression to the camera. 

“(y/n) has been with me since we were third years, waited for me to return to japan after leaving for california and is currently living with me in our apartment. yes, our relationship is staged.” iwaizumi said sarcastically as he held the second tape by his fingertips. 

“is iwaizumi’s girlfriend… oikawa’s ex. what?” he didn’t know whether the staff is being serious as he gave another unimpressed look.

“no, i’m her first boyfriend and the last.” he smirked at his promise, the staff already knew that that alone will become a trending snippet. 

he answered a few more questions in haste, don’t get him wrong. he loves you but he would rather keep details about your relationship private. 

“aight, last one.” iwaizumi ripped the last piece of tape off the board. 

“is iwaizumi’s girlfriend… single?” he raised a brow at that question. 

“where the hell are you getting these questions?” iwaizumi asked rhetorically. “these are the most searched questions about your girlfriend.” one of the staff answered him. 

iwaizumi shook his head in disbelief. “wow… you’d think people actually unironically search for this.” he cleared his throat before looking straight at the camera. 

“i’m going to say this for the last time. my girlfriend isn’t single and won’t be for the longest time before i make her my wife.” iwaizumi stated, voice clear as if he was determined. 

the staff were clearly having a field day, knowing how much this episode will trend because of how whipped and dedicated the sought out trainer was for you. 

the interview ended shortly.  iwaizumi thanked the staff for having him only to be bombarded with a lot of comments filled with adoration towards your relationship. the trainer smiled before finishing up and heading home. 

“you look happy.” you greet him by the door, iwaizumi scoffed playfully before pulling you by your waist and placing a soft kiss on your lips. 

“of course i am, i come home to you.” iwaizumi thought of the comments from the staff, ‘marry her.’ was the comment that stuck to his mind. 

he already had the ring in the bottom drawer, tucked away by his socks. 

sakusa:

sakusa supposes that being an athlete involved having to deal with interviews. well, interviews that came with the sport, not whatever their team was currently doing. 

sakusa, atsumu, hinata, and bokuto were sat down on chairs, a small metal bucket in the middle of them filled with numerous pieces of papers, printed tweets, to be exact. 

“ooh, this is a good one! were bokuto and hinata close before msby?” bokuto read aloud before beaming at the camera and recollecting the memories from when they were in highschool. 

“fun fact! we all knew each other in some way, waaaay back in high school.” bokuto said before atsumu and sakusa nodded in confirmation. 

sakusa looked at the bucket as his teammates plucked random pieces of papers and answering them with ease. “why are sakusa’s wrists so flexible? please he could like… slap me and i would feel it twice in one motion. great, now all i’m thinking about it sakusa slapping me.” atsumu read aloud, voice turning a mocking pitch at the last sentence. 

“it’s called hypermobility-”  he paused as he saw bokuto and hinata look at him curiously. “otherwise known as being double-jointed. and no, i will not slap you. next tweet, please.”

“how boring, omi.” atsumu teased, sakusa rolled his eyes at the setter. “next. tweet.” 

“okay, okay. calm down.” atsumu surrendered, bokuto plucked another piece of paper before reading it out loud. 

“is sakusa’s girlfriend single? because i saw her in msby’s game against raijins and damn. if sakusa doesn’t wife her up immediately then i would gladly do the honors.” the whole room went silent after bokuto read the paper. the spiker’s eyes widened as he looked towards sakusa. 

“i was only reading the tweet!” 

“no. she isn’t, next question.” was only sakusa’s answer. his voice left no room for argument as atsumu hastily grabbed another piece of paper, moving on from the previous tweet. 

the team believed that due to sakusa’s reaction, that segment would be removed. but to the surprise of everyone, it was part of the final cut and managed to blow up. the fans swooned on how territorial sakusa had been and there were a few feedbacks that sakusa’s eyes softened at the mention of your name in the video. 

sakusa knew that, but he would never admit to it. 

“so.” you start as you lie down next to your boyfriend as the both of you watch the interview. “territorial, huh.” 

“you’re mine and you know it.” sakusa grumbled as he cuddled closer to your chest, watching the remaining few minutes. 

“of course i am, ‘yoomi.” you reply, kissing the crown of his head and watching the interview once more.

you try to keep your expression neutral. "he's just.. looking, guys. he's a very observant player. focus, come on – we're down by five points and the set is almost over."

tsukishima, however, is even more observant than usual today – and trust me, that's saying something. he leans back against the bench, intelligent eyes darting between you and the giant across the court.

he'd noticed the way your hand trembled slightly when ushijima had stepped up to serve, and he'd definitely noticed the nearly identical sports watches on both your wrists – a brand that was notoriously hard to get in this prefecture.

he hasn't said anything yet, but the smirk playing on his lips suggests he's putting the pieces of a very scandalous puzzle together.

and that's not a good sign.

the whistle blows for a timeout, and the gym goes quiet. as you step forward to hand daichi a water bottle, a large, looming shadow falls over you.

everyone – karasuno and shiratorizawa included – freezes in place. a hush has fallen across the gym.

ushijima wakatoshi had walked across the court, which certainly wasn't allowed. he was so tall that you have to peer up just to see his face, which remained as expressionless as a stone wall.

"y/n," he says. his voice is deep, carrying across the entire gym like he's announcing a royal decree.

"ushijima-san," you reply, your voice cracking slightly as you try to maintain a professional, 'manager to opponent' distance. you widen your eyes suggestively at him, 'ushijima-wakatoshi-you-better-shut-the-fuck-up-right-now'-i-swear-to–

you and your boyfriend had been doing a pretty good job at keeping things on the down low. so why was he acting like this now? "you're, erm, on the wrong side of the net. your coach is staring daggers at you."

but he doesn't move. he doesn't even acknowledge the rest of your team, who are currently staring with a mix of fear and confusion, which isn't exactly surprising since ushijima wakatoshi just walked across the court like it's nothing.

including tanaka and nishinoya. especially tanaka and nishinoya.

instead, ushijima reaches out, and for a terrifying second, tanaka and nishinoya look ready to launch a physical assault to save you – but ushijima merely reaches out and tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear ever so gently.

"you forgot your lunch on my kitchen counter this morning," he rumbles matter of factly. not a question. "i brought it. it's currently in my gym bag. you should eat it. nutrition is vital for a manager's best performance, and you mentioned you felt off yesterday."

now, we all hear about silence being described in stories all the time, but they can't compare to the one that follows this. you can hear the distant sound of a bird chirping outside because no one in the gym is even breathing.

"kitchen.. counter?" hinata squeaks, tilting his head in confusion. "this.. morning? like.. the morning that happened today?"

tsukishima tuts, rolling his eyes. "no. last year's."

kageyama frowns. "that lunch must be very mouldy then, if it was from last year. l/n-san shouldn't eat it."

"idiot, i was being sarcasti-"

"wait," sugawara says, his eyes intrigued as he looks between your beet red face and ushijima's non expressive one. "you two.. live together? is that what 'kitchen counter' implies? ohoh-"

"our families are neighbors!" you blurt out, trying to save whatever scrap is left. "we've known each other since we were kids!"

ushijima frowns slightly, looking at you with a hint of disapproval. "that is an incomplete and flawed explanation, y/n. we've been in a relationship for fourteen months now. why are you omitting the truth?"

why are you telling the truth? you think sourly, but you're not too mad. in fact..

"it is inefficient to lie when the evidence of our cohabitation – even if only for breakfast somedays – is so apparent." ushijima finishes.

yeah.

"FOURTEEN MONTHS?!" the karasuno bench explodes in a flurry of pure shock.

on the other side of the net, tendou is doubled over laughing, slapping his knee as if saying, 'oh, what a kneeslapper!' "oh, wakatoshi-kun! you're so blunt! look at them, they look like they've seen a ghost! you really know how to kill the vibe, you ju-"

"ushijima-san," daichi says, stepping forward with his left eye twitching uncontrollably. "you can't just.. cross the court and claim our manager during a match."

ushijima turns his gaze to daichi, looking at him with the same interest he might show a mere weed. "i'm not claiming her. she's a person with her own thoughts and has chosen to remain at an underperforming school despite my advice. she should have come to shiratorizawa – the volleyball program here is superior, and the commute would be shorter for us both. it'd allow for twenty more minutes of sleep per day."

he then looked back at you, ignoring the collective gasp (mainly from tanaka and nishinoya) from the karasuno team at the underperforming comment.

"i'll wait by the bus after the match. i have the salmon onigiri your mother made for me to give to you. i also have the sweater you left in my car."

"wakatoshi, go back to your team!" you hiss, pushing at his solid chest with your face red. no use, though. it's like trying to move a brick wall.

"very well," he says, nodding respectfully to kiyoko, who watches with an amused smile.

as he walks back to his side, tendou drapes an arm over his shoulders, whispering something about romantic dominance, while ushijima just looks confused.

the match resumed, but karasuno was a wreck. every time ushijima spiked the ball, tanaka would scream, "GET YOUR HANDS OFF OUR MANAGER, YOU MOUNTAIN!" which only resulted in ushijima looking bewildered because, technically, he wasn't touching you at the moment.

even hinata was distracted, whispering, "ushijima? boyfriend?" every time he rotated to the front.

when the game ends, with shiratorizawa unsurprisingly taking the win, the teams begin to pack up. you're just trying to avoid the interrogation glares from your teammates.

"so," tsukishima drawls, walking past you. "he.. is your boyfriend? i have to say, your taste is… interesting."

"he's very sweet once you get to know him!" you defend, narrowing your eyes at the blond.

just then, the gym doors open. ushijima's standing there, already changed out of his jersey. he's holding a small, insulated lunch bag with a little cat pattern on it – your lunch bag.

"y/n. the rice will get cold," he calls out across the gym.

you sigh, waving a hand to your 'are you guys seeing what i'm seeing' eyed team. "i'll see you guys on monday. don't.. don't make this a thing in the group chat, okay? please."

"it's already a thing!" nishinoya wails as you walk away. hinata nods in agreement. "he stole our manager! how are we supposed to win against a guy who gives our manager salmon onigiri?!"

as you reached ushijima, he takes your bag from you without a word, swinging it over his shoulder alongside his own.

"did you find the match satisfactory?" he asks, looking at you as you walk toward the gates. "your team has improved, though their defensive positioning is still quite erratic."

"it was fine, toshi. a bit dramatic, though, thanks to you."

"i don't understand," he says, looking perplexed as he blinks at you.

"yeah.. don't worry about it."

sooo hope that satisfied you and i'm so sorry you had to wait two whole months 😭🙏🙏 i didn't know what to do for the title so erm

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From the very first time Ushijima Wakatoshi saw you in high school, he was completely consumed by an overwhelming desire. You had a body built for sin - every lush curve and tantalizing swell crafted to turn men into drooling, subservient wrecks. Ushijima had never felt such an intense, primal craving to possess someone so thoroughly before.

He didn't bother trying to pursue you through conventional dating or courtship. The second he got you alone after volleyball practice, Ushijima wasted no time in pinning your smaller frame against the locker room wall and ravaging your mouth with hungry kisses. You melted instantly into his powerful embrace, whimpering as his calloused hands eagerly mapped every inch of your softness.

From that moment on, Ushijima was utterly addicted to having you. An insatiable hunger possessed him to constantly bend you over, hike up your skirt, and take you from behind in every public nook and cranny he could find on campus. His friends lost count of how many times they caught him rutting into you like a wild animal, his powerful hips jackhammering mercilessly as your cries of ecstasy echoed through the hallways.

"Damn 'Toshi, you're really putting that body to work!" They would joke breathlessly. "Just wait until after you put a ring on it - you'll never want to leave that!"

Ushijima merely grunted at their defeated prophecies, thoroughly convinced his sheer force of will would allow him to control his ravenous cravings once you were officially his bride. How laughably wrong he was...

Your wedding night in Bali lasted all of five seconds before Ushijima had you naked and screaming, impaled on his thick length as he took you like a lust-starved animal against the resort balcony doors. The entire honeymoon suite still reeks of your mingled scents and the obscene squelches of his cock ruining your soaked pussy for all other men. By the time you checked out a week later, the staff had to completely strip and discard the stained bedsheets you'd been ruthlessly bred upon day and night.

Two years later, and Ushijima's hunger to dominate and claim his wife's body has only grown more rapacious. He delights in keeping you perpetually stuffed full of his potent seed - bending you over at any opportunity to slake his thirst inside your abused holes. You've long since given up any notion of dignity or shame, instead reveling in your role as his cock-warmer cumdump, spread open and overflowing with his virile leavings every hour of the day.

Ushijima adored having you as his devoted, stay-at-home wife to ravage at his whim. From the moment he returned from practice or a game, you were expected to be awaiting him fully nude and presented, ready to be claimed like the obedient little bride you were. He loved seeing you in that submissive display - limbs splayed wantonly, glistening folds already dewy with arousal just from the thought of taking his thick cock again.

There was no need for clothes or modesty when Ushijima was home. Your flawless form was meant to be admired, worshipped, and thoroughly decorated with his possessive marks. He took immense satisfaction in ensuring your silky walls were never empty, always stuffed to overflowing with his potent seed. Ushijima would thoroughly breed you in every room of the house, delighting in your whimpers and tremors as he hilted himself balls-deep and flooded your quivering womb.

Despite his rough, animalistic claiming of your body, there was no denying the depth of Ushijima's love and adoration for you. In those moments after reaching his climax, he would gently gather you against his chest, raining tender kisses over your disheveled hair and face as he stroked your curves adoringly. You were his precious, beautiful wife - the only person who could inspire such paradoxical tenderness and ferocious passion within him.

However, something shifted after one particularly enthusiastic lovemaking session left you unable to walk for nearly a full day. Ushijima had carried your trembling, spent form to the bedroom and spent hours meticulously bathing you, replacing the sheets, and ensuring you were settled comfortably. Yet the sight of your listless, overstimulated state shook him deeply.

His teammates and even parents had begun remarking with more frequency about the dark circles under your eyes and how utterly depleted you seemed. "Give the poor woman a break, son," his father had chuckled, though there was a glint of concern. "Before you run her into the ground completely."

Ushijima knew they were right. As much as he treasured being able to take his wife whenever and however his formidable lust demanded, he was perhaps taking that privilege too far. You deserved to be cherished and rested, not treated as a glorified fleshlight to be used until you were an unresponsive, overstuffed mess.

So for the first time since your honeymoon, Ushijima made the difficult decision to give you a temporary reprieve from his implacable carnal urges.

At first, he'd felt confident he could control himself. How hard could it be to keep his hands off of you for a little while and allow you to recover? Ushijima was a man renowned for his incredible physical stamina and willpower on the volleyball court. Surely denying himself the intoxicating softness of your body would be simple in comparison.

He was dead wrong.

The first morning after instituting the hands-off policy, Ushijima awoke with you blissfully draped across his powerful frame in the usual naked tangle of limbs. Your bare breasts were pillowed enticingly against his chest, making his morning wood twitch traitorously against the scorching heat of your thighs.

Ushijima had to grit his teeth and squeeze his eyes shut, fighting back the overpowering instinct to roll you onto your back and spear that soaked entrance smothering his arousal. He'd been waking up to this exact same scenario for two years, instantly burying himself to the hilt and reveling in your broken gasps as he staked his claim yet again. Just because you weren't feeling well didn't give him license to deny himself his usual indulgence of your body's splendors.

It took nearly an hour of careful, measured breathing for Ushijima's lust to finally subside enough that he could safely extract himself and leave for practice. The entire grueling commute, he could think of nothing but the way your legs had been obscenely parted, glistening arousal coating your pretty lips in anticipation of him taking what was his. He'd nearly swerved into oncoming traffic at the thought of you lying there waiting for him, to be stuffed and bred and marked with his possession yet again.

But Ushijima held firm in his conviction, somehow making it to the gym in relative control of his faculties. That iron restraint lasted all of five seconds once practice began and his blood started pumping hot and hard once more.

Teammate after teammate kept offering innocuous comments that felt like a savage gut-punch: "You look extra intense today, 'Toshi. Everything okay at home?"

His eye twitched at the innocent jest, visions of your sumptuous naked frame instinctively bent in offering filling his mind. Ushijima could practically smell the addictive, slightly musky aroma of your arousal clinging to the sheets he'd been forced to abandon. He grunted in response and merely intensified the ferocity of his drills.

If only his so-called friends knew the truth of what defined Ushijima's entire home existence — namely, burying his face and cock between your heavenly thighs at every opportunity. Using your pliant form as an infinite wellspring to quench his thirst and stake his claim over and over until you were nothing but a boneless, sobbing mess glazed inside and out with his seed.

The thought alone almost made Ushijima's knees buckle right there on the court. He was sweating, shaking, utterly consumed with the need to rush home and alleviate this rapidly building feverish pressure in his loins. You'd looked so perfect laying there that morning, every lush curve and glistening crevice begging for his reverence and possession.

But he'd robbed himself of that masculine privilege, however temporarily. Now Ushijima could only grit his teeth and endure the agonizing emptiness of being denied his sweet, slick accommodations as your husband. Of not being able to simply take you and use your body to slake his basest urgings whenever the need inevitably struck.

Even after the torturous morning waking up beside your nude form, Ushijima's day was far from over in terms of temptation and denial.

Upon returning home from practice, he was immediately assaulted by the soft sounds and enticing smells of you puttering around the kitchen preparing an early dinner. Ushijima felt his arousal spike anew, mouth watering not for the food but for the memories.

There was the island counter where he'd bent you over just last week, holes already soaked in anticipation as he mounted you from behind. He could vividly picture the way your fingernails had scrabbled for purchase, mewling pleas to "give it to me" falling on deaf ears as Ushijima simply took what he wanted with rough, claiming strokes.

You didn't even have to ask anymore - he would simply spread those luscious thighs and sheathe himself home whenever the whim struck. Your role as his doting wife was to remain constantly bred and aching around the thick bulge of his cock, no matter where or when he desired to rut.

Steam billowed from the oven as you inevitably bent over, back arched and ass presented in that same wanton offering Ushijima was intimately familiar with. Just a few days ago he'd had you bent at that same angle, slamming into your ripening pussy with abandon as his heavy balls smacked that perfect jiggling rump raw.

He could practically hear the vulgar squelch of his cock excavating your insides with each punishing stroke while you squealed and begged for "more, more!" That greedy, slurping cunt audibly protested each time he hilted himself fully, never satisfied until you were swollen and seeping his thick seed in obscene rivulets.

Ushijima's jaw clenched hard enough for his temples to throb sickeningly. You didn't even seem to register his presence, too focused on preparing a meal that would ultimately end up splattered across the messy kitchen once he reasserted his marital rights. He'd made it a personal mission to christen every possible surface of their home with your mingled fluids over the years.

That table you were idly wiping down? He could clearly make out the faint indentations your nails had worn into the lacquered wood from relentlessly clawing into it while he was rutting atop you hundreds of times before. Just picturing the way your head would loll back, mouth parted in fucked-out bliss as he pounded into your welcoming depths was enough to make his cock twitch needily.

The kitchen was far from the only location drenched in such lascivious memories, either. Ushijima's hungry gaze trailed over to the plush living room sofa where he'd taken to alternating between facefucking your spit-soaked throat and slapping his heavy sack against that pretty cunt until you were a delirious, choking mess. More times than he could count, you'd ended up splayed in a helpless tangle of limbs, wheezing as he pumped load after thick load directly into your convulsing womb.

That tightness would then be stuffed into whatever spare orifice remained - be it your gasping mouth or even your perfect, puckered little asshole begging to be reamed and seeded next. You were Ushijima's personal cumdump, built to be adorned with his creamy leavings inside and out until you were rendered a gooey, thoroughly ruined wreck of fucked satisfaction.

As the days crawled by in achingly slow torment, Ushijima could feel his grasp on sanity slipping through his fingers like grains of sand. The persistent ache in his groin had bloomed into an all-consuming inferno, singeing away every ounce of his once-vaunted restraint.

He tried valiantly to cling to rational thoughts - reminders that you were the love of his life, his precious wife who deserved to be cherished and appreciated rather than rutted into oblivion at his basest whims. Ushijima wasn't some feral beast incapable of controlling his formidable lust, no matter how heavenly your body's siren call might be.

But such lofty ideals were rapidly crumbling against the onslaught of vivid memories and temptation at every turn. Simply watching you go about the most mundane household tasks was enough to reduce Ushijima to a vibrating mass of desperation, obsessively recalling every decadent way he'd claimed you in that same setting before.

The living room where you idly straightened decorative cushions immediately morphed into a garishly pornographic tableau in his mind's eye. He could clearly envision the way you'd been splayed across that very couch, legs hoisted over his straining shoulders as he pumped into you with harsh, jolting strokes. The debauched rhythmic sounds of skin smacking wetly against skin, punctuated by your broken gasps and whimpers for more, more, harder, deeper...

Ushijima's hands curled into white-knuckled fists as he willed the sordid visions away, jaw clenched so tightly he could hear his bones creaking in protest. Get a grip, he chastised himself harshly. She's not some depraved cocksleeve put on this earth solely for your pleasure. He adored and cherished you deeply - had sworn binding vows before the heavens to love, honor, and respect your sanctity just as fiercely as you committed your heart and body to him.

Yet those noble convictions crumbled like a flimsy sandcastle under the raging tide of his basest impulses whenever you wandered within arm's reach. Ushijima could practically feel the scorching phantom grip of your silken walls clinging to his aching length as you bent at the waist to gather laundry or retrieve items from lower cabinets. The sight of your lush backside wiggling hypnotically immediately triggered his body's muscle memory - of mounting you from behind, hips already pistoning greedily as he stuffed himself balls-deep into that creamy paradise with a guttural groan.

You didn't even seem to register his heated stare, focused as you were on domestic chores. But in Ushijima's mind's eye, you were already whimpering and keening, insides convulsing with each rapturous thrust as he took his well-earned marital rights over and over without reprieve. He could practically smell the musky aroma of your compounded arousal permeating the air, begging him to shed the last threads of his tattered control.

The longer he was forced to endure this agonizing denial of relieving himself inside your body's heavenly accommodations, the more Ushijima's composure began to unravel. His hands felt perpetually clammy with suppressed longing, hard cock straining needfully with every subtle wiggle or bend of your lush feminine frame as you remained blissfully unaware of the tempest brewing within him.

It was only a matter of time, Ushijima knew, before this torturous drought finally reached its breaking point and he reasserted himself as your virile, dominant caretaker. As your husband, staking his primal claim to breed you full over and over until you had no choice but to lie disheveled and sloppy with the sloshing overflow of his heady cum.

In a way, perhaps Ushijima mused feverishly, robbing you temporarily of his godly seed was an act of mercy. Because once the floodgates were finally breached, there would be no tempering the ravenous onslaught with which he intended to ravage and stake his ownership yet again. At last he understood the dire warnings his own friends and family had issued about not being able to control himself around his little wife.

So for your sake as much as his own, Ushijima continued his white-knuckled struggle to maintain the shrinking barriers of propriety and restraint, however momentary the reprieve. But with each passing moment in your smoldering presence, he felt those final fortifications crumbling at an exponential rate.

The couch cushions seemed to envelop Ushijima as he sank back, trying in vain to relax his tense muscles. His eyes were inexorably drawn to you, perched so tantalizingly on his lap as you happily snacked on treats from the pantry. Even this simple act of indulging in sweets somehow made his heart swell with tenderness.

You were a vision of cozy domesticity in that moment - casually dressed, hair slightly tousled, entirely at ease within the sanctuary of your shared home. Yet Ushijima couldn't help drinking in the sensual details of your form pressed against him. The gentle swell of your curves molding to his powerful thighs, the subtle floral scent of your perfumed skin surrounding him. Just being this close after days of forced distance made his insides churn with longing.

As if sensing his scrutiny, you glanced up with a warm smile. Ushijima's breath hitched at the unguarded adoration shining in your eyes. You were so beautiful, so precious to him. Without really thinking it through, he found himself leaning in, powerless to resist tasting those inviting lips.

The whisper-soft caress of your mouths meeting ignited an instantaneous firestorm within Ushijima's veins. He sucked in a harsh breath through his nose, hands tightening reflexively on your waist as the kiss deepened with heady fervor. Every fibre of his being thrummed with awakened desperation after being starved of your affections.

When you finally parted, you let out a breathless giggle. "Well someone clearly needed that," you teased gently, eyes sparkling with mirth and fondness. "The great Ushijima Wakatoshi getting so worked up over a little kiss..."

The warm ribbing sliced straight through Ushijima's haze of rekindled ardor, allowing clarity and a flicker of sheepish chagrin to return. Of course you'd find his churning restraint silly and overblown. To you, the past few days of self-imposed celibacy amounted to little more than a temporary, unnecessary hurdle of his own making.

"You’re making fun of me for holding back?" he couldn't resist rumbling in response, quirking one eyebrow challengingly. "Even when it’s taking everything in me not to ruin you right here, my wife?"

Rather than looking properly chastised, your eyes fairly danced with that same teasing gleam. "A struggle you seem to be failing at spectacularly, my love. This whole 'abstinence' idea was sweet but utterly pointless."

Ushijima drew in a sharp breath as your hand boldly traced the hard planes of his abdomen through his thin shirt. The simple caress felt like a lick of flame setting his insides ablaze with rekindled hunger. "You underestimate the importance of proper restraint and respect, my dearest. A man shouldn't mindlessly take and rut like some sort of—"

"Beast?" you cheerfully cut him off, emboldened fingers now trailing higher to fan against the sculpted ridges of his chest. "Is that what you were going to say? That you're some kind of ravenous animal who can't control their own lust around me?"

Despite your playful tone, your words sliced straight through Ushijima's tenuously reformed restraint. Because in his most unguarded of moments, that's precisely how he saw himself - a primal, shuddering mess reduced to bestial desperation by your very presence.

Chest heaving, he captured your meandering hand and quickly pinned it against the couch cushions in a vice-like grip. Your teasing grin faltered as you suddenly found yourself caged beneath his powerful frame, entire body radiating a scorching intensity.

"You mock what you don't understand," Ushijima growled in a low, gravelly timbre that made you shiver. “Every second near you is pure torture. Just one touch, and I lose all control…”

To punctuate his point, he rolled his hips firmly against yours, allowing you to feel the undeniable ridge of his cock straining needfully against the thin barriers between you. Your pupils flared, a tiny whimper escaping your lips in reflexive response as liquid heat flooded your features.

Ushijima continued in that same low, intense purr that seemed to reverberate straight to your core. “So you were right—I couldn’t fight it. Trying to deny how badly I want you is useless. Because in the end, I’m just a man who falls apart at the thought of being inside his wife again…”

After that heated moment of intensity, Ushijima took a deep, steadying breath and gently extricated himself from your provocative position. As much as every fiber of his being screamed to surrender fully to his primal urges, he couldn't bring himself to completely obliterate the last vestiges of his self-restraint.

Not yet, at least.

You let out a small huff of disappointment as he shifted away, leaving you flushed and aching on the couch. Ushijima's dark eyes drank in the petulant pout on your kiss-swollen lips and had to summon every ounce of willpower to avoid lunging right back in.

"Patience, my love," he rumbled, more to himself than to you. "We've waited this long..."

You shot him a look of pure skepticism. "Waited? For what, exactly? For you to completely lose your mind over some made-up idea that I need to be protected from your absolutely vanilla desires?"

Ushijima felt his brow furrow at your blunt phrasing. He opened his mouth to protest, but you barreled onward before he could get a word in.

"This whole self-imposed celibacy thing has been utterly ridiculous from the start. When are you going to get it through that thick skull of yours?" You rose up on your knees to bracket his thighs, leaving you eye-level and effectively trapping him against your soft warmth. "I'm your wife, Wakatoshi. Your partner in every sense of the word. I don't need sheltering or restraint - I need you. All of you, utterly unrestrained."

Your hands cradled his face with unexpected tenderness even as your eyes burned with determination. "So stop holding back and treating me like something fragile that needs protection. I can handle everything you have to give and more."

The challenging spark in your gaze was like a physical caress against Ushijima's resolve. He could feel it shuddering under the weight of your conviction, cracking nearly beyond repair. You always had possessed an uncanny ability to strip away his loftiest barriers with just a few choice words and that utterly arresting stare.

"You know I only ever want to cherish and respect you," he managed in a hoarse murmur. "To keep you safe and honor the sanctity of our—"

Your lips sealed over his in a searing kiss that obliterated whatever noble justification still clung to the tip of his tongue. A harsh rumble reverberated up from Ushijima's chest as his arms instinctively wound around your body, returning the embrace with rising fervor. He could already feel his restraints unraveling, fragile hold over his brazen desires slipping with each ravenous clash of your mouths.

When you finally broke away, you were both panting harshly. Foreheads pressed together, you stared up at Ushijima from under your lashes in a way that made his blood pound.

"Keep your sanctity," you breathed in a tone of husky challenge. "I'll take the unchained desire of a man utterly obsessed with making me his..."

Ushijima's chest seized with a shuddering inhalation at the blatant gauntlet you'd thrown down. He could feel the quivering threads of his propriety and misguided chivalry rapidly fraying against your onslaught of temptation. You always did know just which buttons to push to bring him inexorably to the edge.

This time, he sensed you wouldn't be satisfied until he well and truly plunged over the precipice into the yawning chasm of his most selfish, rapacious hunger. And you knew perfectly well he lacked the fortitude to deny your deliciously provocative demand, even if he wanted to.

"Minx..." Ushijima growled, the endearment dripping with a low rumble of burgeoning capitulation. "You'll very much regret poking this beast until it—"

Whatever vaguely ominous warning he'd been about to issue evaporated the second your lips crashed against his once more. Ushijima instantly melted into the searing kiss, thick arms winding around your body as you pressed flush against his powerful frame.

For several heated moments you simply lost yourselves in the messy, urgent melding of your mouths. Tongues tangled and hands roamed with escalating fervor as you both surrendered to the smoldering need that had been cruelly denied for too long.

When you finally parted for air, Ushijima's eyes were dark twin pools of want, boring straight into your soul. His chest heaved with each ragged inhale, drawing your entranced gaze to the taut ridges of defined muscle and the V-lines which pointed lower still...

A soft whine nearly escaped your lips at that tempting visual. God, you wanted - no, needed - to feel all of him against you again with no barriers. The hot brand of his weight pinning you to the sheets, thick cock sheathing itself to the hilt in your aching, neglected depths—

Ushijima seemed to read the feverish need blazing across your features. His jaw clenched almost painfully and you saw the tendons in his neck strain as he visibly fought to maintain the last threads of restraint already disintegrating between you.

"Easy, sweetheart..." he managed in a low, guttural rumble that did absolutely nothing to soothe the burning riot of arousal dancing under your skin. If anything the pet name tumbling so naturally from his lips in that gravelly tone just stoked the flames higher.

You squirmed impatiently against him, purposefully pressing your softness against his hardening length in a silent, wanton entreaty. "Don't 'easy' me, Toshi," you huffed without an ounce of real rebuke, gaze locking blatantly on his kiss-swollen mouth. "I want you so damn bad right now, it's driving me crazy."

A rumbling groan vibrated from the depths of his chest at your blunt admission. You could see his composure rapidly unraveling at the prospect of your mutual desperation - the scorching temptation to shatter that fragile control and ravage one another without further restraint.

"You have no idea the willpower this is taking..." Ushijima ground out, calloused hands flexing against the swell of your hips almost involuntarily. "To deny myself the sweetness of being buried deep inside you again after being starved of it for so long..."

You felt your core clench at the hot promise laced into his strained words. Without consciously deciding, you hooked one leg around his thighs to pull his hips flush against your own. The thick ridge of his arousal ground deliciously against your clothed heat and you sucked in a sharp breath at the exquisite friction.

"Then stop denying us," you whispered throatily into the charged air between your lips, even as Ushijima stared down at you with a look of rapt, blazing torment. "Stop being so careful and just take what you-what we- need already, dammit..."

For one tantalizing heartbeat, you saw the naked desperation and hunger flare across his strong features. You held your breath, dizzy with hope and anticipation that he would finally let his deeply leashed passions loose upon you.

But then, almost as quickly, a muscle ticked in that sharp jawline and Ushijima's expression settled once more into a mask of strained resolve. He pulled back from the tempting cradle of your heat and thighs with a shuddering exhalation. "No...not like this," he rasped out, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself than you as he averted his burning gaze briefly. "You don't know what you're asking for, my love..."

A sliver of real frustration lanced through your lust-fogged thoughts at his continued refusal to let himself surrender fully. "The hell I don't!" you snapped. "I'm asking for my husband to give me what I want, no holding back!"

Ushijima stared at you, chest heaving with the force of his inner restraint as you glared back defiantly. The simmering tension could have been cut with a knife. For a long moment, neither of you moved or spoke - you issuing an unspoken challenge, him fighting viciously against his instincts.

Then a sly look stole across your features. "You know what?" you said in a tone of feigned nonchalance. "Clearly I'm not going to get what I want from you tonight..."

You slid off the couch in one smooth motion, back pointedly turned to Ushijima as you sashayed towards the stairs with deliberate sway in your hips. "So I'll just take care of my needs myself, since you're too busy wrestling with your precious control."

The implication in your words was as blatant as it was effective. You heard Ushijima's sharp intake of breath behind you and couldn't resist glancing back over your shoulder. His entire body had gone rigid, fingers digging into the couch cushions as his eyes bored into you with an intensity that made your core clench.

Holding his burning stare, you very slowly dragged your hands up your body until they cupped your breasts through your thin shirt. You gave them a gentle squeeze, lips parting on a soft sigh of pleasure meant just for his viewing torment.

That seemed to be the final straw shattering Ushijima's tenuous grasp on restraint. With a guttural growl that sent lightning zinging down your spine, he surged off the couch in a blind rush towards you.

A bright peal of laughter burst from your lips as you whirled and bolted up the stairs, the thunder of his footsteps rapidly closing in behind. You could practically feel the scorching heat of his presence at your back as you raced down the hallway towards your bedroom sanctuary.

Just as you reached the open door, Ushijima's powerful arm whipped around your middle and wrenched you back against his heaving chest. You let out a breathless squeal of surprise and delight, struggling half-heartedly against his restraining hold.

"Let me go!" you gasped out between giddy giggles, even as your hips instinctively pressed back against the undeniable ridge of his arousal. "I told you I'd just take care of myself since you won't—"

The rest of your words were abruptly smothered as Ushijima spun you around and sealed his mouth over yours in a searing, desperate kiss. You melted against him with a muffled moan, dimly registering the way he easily scooped you up with one arm banded around your waist. Then you were moving, stumbling the few steps to fall in a tangle of limbs across the rumpled bedsheets.

When you finally surfaced for air, Ushijima was looming over you - body taut with barely restrained intensity, chest heaving, eyes dark molten pools of banked hunger. His fingers thread almost roughly through your hair, tilting your head back as he held your heated stare.

"You'll be the death of me, woman," he growled in that low rasp that never failed to make you shiver. "Pushing me to the very edge of control like some insatiable vixen..."

You shamelessly pressed your thighs together, feeling a fresh gush of arousal at his words and commanding presence towering over you. "Maybe I wouldn't have to push so hard if you'd just give us both what we desperately want already..."

The blatant challenge hung heavy in the charged air between you. Ushijima's jaw clenched almost painfully as his willpower seemingly waged one final war against his blazing desires. You could have sworn you saw a vein throb in his neck as he struggled to maintain his fracturing grasp on restraint.

Then, as if a switch had been thrown, the last of that iron control appeared to snap. Ushijima's features contorted into a look of dark rapture as he ducked down to rasp directly against your parted lips.

You could feel the scorching heat of his quick breaths fanning across your mouth as he held your unwavering stare. Ushijima's eyes had gone hooded, pupils blown wide with undisguised yearning in a way you'd never quite witnessed before. There was no pretense, no filtering or constraint remaining - just molten, primal need gazing back at you.

"Fuck..." The guttural profanity rumbled out before he could stop it, lending a gravelly edge to the deep timbre of his voice that made your insides turn to liquid fire. "You really weren't playing around, were you? Practically begging me to lose it and take what I want..."

His powerful body was pulled taut as a bowstring where it hovered over yours, every ridged muscle and tendon standing out in harsh relief. You could see the white-knuckled strain in his hands where they fisted the rumpled sheets on either side of your head. Ushijima appeared to be vibrating with the monumental effort of maintaining what little restraint still remained.

Shamelessly, you arched your back slightly to increase the tantalizing friction where your bodies weren't quite touching. You heard the sharp sound of Ushijima's indrawn breath and couldn't resist dragging your hooded gaze down his frame to the prominent ridge tenting against his pants mere inches away.

"Don't act so surprised," you murmured, proud of how your tone remained measured despite the escalating tension coiling low in your belly. "We both know how long you've been dying to wreck me like you haven't been able to all week..."

Ushijima visibly shuddered at your candid vulgarity, but didn't rebuke you. If anything, his eyes seemed to darken further into bottomless pools of banked fire. "Say it again," he demanded in a low rasp that bordered on guttural. "Tell me exactly what I've been too weak to take..."

You felt a burst of fresh arousal flood your veins at his blatant request, at the undisguised savagery flickering behind his intense stare. Ushijima wasn't playing coy or dancing around the issue with courtly pretenses any longer. He was stripping away every last veneer of propriety to reveal the rapacious, unrestrained beast you'd been trying to rouse all along.

Holding his heated regard, you deliberately shifted your hips in a slow, circular grind against the tantalizing bulge of his cock. A punched-out groan reverberated from Ushijima's parted lips at the blatant provocation.

"I want you..." you breathed out, voice already gone husky with burgeoning desire, "...to use this needy pussy however you need to, whenever you want. No more being a good little housewife, waiting for you to tie yourself into knots over being 'gentle'..."

Ushijima sucked in a sharp breath through his bared teeth, hips twitching minutely in an aborted grind against you. His mouth seemed to work wordlessly for a moment, transfixed by the searing promises tumbling so shamelessly from your lips.

"Keep going..." he all but growled when he finally regained his words. "Don't stop now, my love...not when I'm this fucking close to snapping completely and taking you up on that offer..."

You felt another frisson of heady arousal tingle through your veins at Ushijima's rasped demand, at the way his desire-darkened eyes bored into you with a blazing intensity.

Squirming against the mattress, you hooked one leg deliberately around his tensed thighs, savoring the low groan that punched out of his chest as you effectively trapped his rigid length against your scalding heat through the thin barrier of clothes.

"I want you to stop holding back..." you husked, lips brushing tantalizingly against the sharp line of his jaw as you rolled your hips in a slow, filthy grind. "No more being so careful, like I'm some fragile thing that needs protecting..."

Ushijima's thick forearms flexed against the sheets, muscles straining with the herculean effort to keep from pinning you fully beneath his massive frame and slaking his feral need. You could practically see the last fragile threads of his vaunted restraint disintegrating before your very eyes.

"I can take whatever you want to give, Toshi," you continued in a breathy murmur against the thundering pulse at his throat. "I'm your wife, made to take that big fucking cock however you crave it...to be stuffed so full over and over until I'm nothing but a shaking, sloppy mess drowning in your cum..."

A harsh, strangled sound rumbled out of Ushijima at your filthy words, hips jerking helplessly to grind his steel-hard length against your molten center with bruising force. His eyes slammed shut, sharp features contorted into an expression of rapturous abandon as he finally surrendered what little control still remained.

In one explosive motion, Ushijima crashed his mouth against yours in a messy, claiming kiss that left you both gasping and devouring each other with unbridled desperation. His thick arms wrapped around you like bands of steel, crushing your pliant curves against his unyielding hardness as the kiss rapidly descended into frenzied need.

"Fuck yes..." he growled out harshly between messy clashes of tongue and teeth, divesting you both of clothing in a frantic blur. "That's it, darling...beg for it like the filthy little cumslut you are..."

The vulgar profanity tumbled so naturally off his tongue in a way you'd never experienced before, stoking the bonfire in your core to incandescent levels. You could only whine in answer, nails dragging stinging welts down his sculpted back as Ushijima at last sealed your naked bodies together with low, rapturous groan of pure masculine satisfaction.

He was already rock-hard and throbbing where he lay flush against your thigh, the scorching heat radiating off his thick arousal making your mouth water. Without conscious thought, you found yourself grinding up against his length, coating it in a sticky sheen of your dripping arousal.

Ushijima groaned at the delicious, filthy friction, large hand gripping the swell of your ass in a viselike hold. "So wet already," he rasped out, dark eyes drinking in the sight of your bodies grinding shamelessly against one another. "My dirty wife is practically creaming herself just from the promise of getting her needy little cunt wrecked..."

You felt a shuddering moan bubble up from the depths of your chest at his crude assessment, at the unrepentant savagery gleaming in those molten eyes. Ushijima's gaze locked on your face, his free hand dragging through the slick pooling at the apex of your thighs before he raised it to your lips.

"Open," he rasped out in a voice gone hoarse with lust. You eagerly obeyed, parting your swollen lips just enough to lap up the taste of your own arousal coating his fingers. A shudder wracked through Ushijima's powerful frame as he watched your sinful ministrations, hips twitching involuntarily in search of friction.

"Good girl..." The endearment dripped like honey from his mouth, a stark contrast to the savage gleam of his eyes and the thick cock straining insistently against your hip. "So sweet for me, always eager to please and be used, aren't you?"

His words sent a hot shiver down your spine and made you clench with need. With a low, throaty whimper, you pulled away from his fingers and gazed up at Ushijima with a look of burning supplication. "Please, Toshi...I-I need—"

A soft, startled cry escaped you as his fist closed around the front of your top and ripped it open in a single rough motion. You watched, spellbound, as he did the same to the rest of your garments with little finesse, shredding them like tissue paper and tossing the scraps aside without a second glance before turning his ravenous gaze back to your exposed form.

For a few seconds, he just stared at you in awe, blatant reverence and hunger written across his chiseled features as his fingers worked to remove the rest of his clothing. Then, his entire body covered yours once more, hot flesh pressing you firmly into the sheets as Ushijima captured your mouth in a scorching kiss.

"I need to be inside you, darling," he gasped out between hungry nips and licks, "right now."

Your thighs instinctively parted in open invitation, hips canting towards him in blatant need. Ushijima settled into the cradle of your pelvis and his eyes locked onto the lewd view of his rigid length sliding against your glistening folds.

A guttural, animalistic growl vibrated up from the depths of his chest as he gripped his shaft and slowly dragged the thick head through the slippery mess pooling at your entrance. His other hand tangled in the sheets next to your head, fisting them tightly as his eyes snapped shut and he shuddered above you.

Your nails raked down the tensed muscles of his back as he repeated the motion, teasing your hypersensitive folds with agonizing deliberation. A soft whimper bubbled from your lips at the slow drag of his cockhead against your clit, at the searing heat and girth rubbing tortuously against you.

"Toshi..."

He was poised at your entrance now, tip notched just inside and pulsing enticingly, but still he hesitated. Your hands gripped his hips, silently pleading him to give you what you craved so desperately.

Ushijima's eyes opened, blazing down into yours as he held himself perfectly still. "Tell me again..." he rasped out in a tone laced with an underlying note of dark command. "Tell me exactly how much you need this."

You let out a frustrated moan and squirmed beneath him, trying desperately to press him deeper. "Need it so bad, Toshi, please!" you begged, shamelessly arching into him and spreading yourself wider. "Need you to fuck me and fill me with cum until I can't move—please, Toshi, please—"

His thick length slicked through your drenched folds in one slick glide, sheathing itself to the throbbing root with a single rough snap of his powerful hips. The harsh stretch of being reamed open by his girth made your eyes roll back, mouth dropping open on a broken keen of sheer bliss.

"That's it...ahh fuck, missed this gorgeous little cunt so damn much..." Ushijima's harsh rumble was utterly wrecked, all sense of composure or decorum evaporating as he drilled himself home over and over in a ruthless cadence.

You could only cling to his heaving shoulders, completely unraveled beneath his ferocious onslaught and utterly drunk on the searing stretch and delicious ache of being so thoroughly taken once more. It had been a week since you'd been stuffed full, and your body hadn't quite adjusted to his sheer size after the long absence.

The friction was mind-blowing, the way his girth speared you so full and deep, forcing your walls to accommodate his unyielding length with every powerful stroke. It was all you could do to breathe and hold onto Ushijima's broad shoulders, body trembling as he hammered you into the mattress with ruthless intent.

His dark eyes roved hungrily across the way your breasts jiggled from the force of his thrusts, the way his cock disappeared so completely inside you, the lewd mess he was making of your cunt. Your name slipped past his lips, a guttural curse, a plea, a prayer as he pounded into you, his gaze flicking back and forth between where your bodies were joined and the unabashed pleasure etched across your flushed features.

"Look at that...you can see where I'm splitting you wide open..." he grunted out in a strained tone, his free hand dragging roughly down the length of your torso to press against the bulge that appeared in your belly with every punishing thrust.The other braced his weight against the headboard, fingers clenching the wooden slats with bruising force.

Your mind went blank as he increased his pace, the lewd sound of your sloppy, dripping core echoing throughout the room and driving you closer and closer to the edge. You could feel the telltale tension coiling tighter and tighter in your belly, a familiar pressure mounting in response to the delicious stretch and friction of Ushijima's relentless rhythm.

"Ahhh, god, Toshi—I-I'm close—" you babbled, feeling the coil wind ever tighter, teetering precariously on the brink of release. "I'm gonna cum, please, harder, fuck—I need—"

The rest of your desperate plea was swallowed in a low moan as Ushijima leaned back on his knees, hauling your legs up and over his shoulders and folding you in half. You felt the change immediately, his cockhead now slamming ruthlessly into your deepest, most sensitive spots.

A choked sob spilled from your lips as you clung to his shoulders, overwhelmed by the sensation of being so thoroughly stretched and filled. You'd lost all sense of time or control, reduced to a quivering, sloppy mess as your husband's thick length pistoned into your overstimulated pussy.

The angle was even deeper than before, his powerful hips snapping with a vicious, rapid-fire intensity that stole the breath from your lungs. He was hitting the perfect spot with every brutal thrust, his heavy balls slapping against your ass with every drive of his hips, the lewd, wet sounds of your dripping core filling the air and mingling with his ragged grunts.

"Cum for me," he growled, eyes locked on your face as his tempo grew even more brutal. "Be a good girl and cum on this cock, just like you promised..."

As if your body was obeying his command rather than your own, a white-hot, overwhelming pleasure crashed over you. You arched and shook as wave after wave of blinding euphoria rolled through your veins. Ushijima continued pumping into you, riding out the aftershocks and prolonging your release as you cried out and trembled beneath him.

He groaned deep in his chest as your walls clenched and rippled around him, his own orgasm rapidly building with each passing second. "Fuck, I can feel you milking me," he bit out harshly, hands gripping the meat of your ass and angling you higher to better suit his frenzied pace. "So fucking tight and greedy, my darling wife..."

Ushijima's thrusts were growing more erratic, the rhythm of his hips stuttering as his cock swelled even thicker and longer. You moaned softly, feeling his girth stretch you almost impossibly wider. Your fingers tangled in the sheets, body quaking and oversensitive but still wanting more.

"F-fill me, Toshi," you begged breathlessly, gazing up at him with a look of sheer supplication. "Need to feel you cum deep inside, please..."

With a sharp groan, Ushijima's eyes slammed shut and his entire body tensed as the first thick spurt of his seed pumped into you. You shivered, moaning at the feeling of his hot, sticky release coating your insides. He was still cumming, his throbbing cock pulsing with each successive pump of his release.

Your walls fluttered around him, milking him dry and prolonging the mind-blowing pleasure as he continued to fuck you through it. Ushijima's eyes remained clenched shut, features twisted in a look of pure rapture as he pumped you full.

After several more thrusts, he finally came to a stop, breathing heavily. A satisfied smile stretched across his face as his eyes opened and fixed on your fucked-out expression. He slowly pulled out, a mixture of his cum and yours leaking from your well-used hole and dripping down your thighs.

"Mmm, look at the mess you made..." he murmured, fingers trailing down to gather some of the slick and smearing it over the reddened, swollen lips of your pussy. "Maybe I should make it even dirtier and stuff it all back inside, hm?"

Ushijima didn't wait for a reply before his thumb dragged through the sloppy, frothy mix and pushed the mess back into your twitching cunt. A small sound slipped past your lips as you felt him work his thick load deeper inside, fingers lazily pumping the rest of his cum into your dripping pussy.

He was already hardening again, his shaft throbbing where it lay thick and heavy against his thigh. You moaned softly at the sight, hips grinding involuntarily as your spent cunt clenched around his fingers.

"What should we do for round two, hmm?" Ushijima's dark gaze burned into yours, voice gone rough with desire once more. "I have several ideas in mind, but I think I'd love to see you ride me...show me what a good girl you are and take what you need, just like you promised."

the atmosphere was silent as the rest of his team looked at him in shock and mostly worry.

ushijima noticed and looked around the room to see the camera staff and team looking at him. 

"what?" 

"you just said..." kageyama trailed off, hesitant to continue. 

"you broke it off with (y/n)?!" kourai interrupted. 

ushijima frowned, as if that was the most absurd thing he heard.

"(y/n) and i are happily engaged. she is my fiancé." ushijima said plainly, as if he didn't just cause the live chat box to spam with shocked and congratulatory messages.

"and you didn't tell us?!" if anyone was the most offended, it would be kourai.

"i thought the ring was obvious. kageyama has told me it looked nice." the team's heads whipped to kageyama who spluttered on how he didn't know it was an engagement ring. 

ushijima hummed. "it seems like i have not announced this." 

"you think?" he hears kourai's retort but pretended not to.

"me and (y/n) are engaged, therefore, she is now my fiance and not my girlfriend." ushijima said to the camera. "i hope this clarifies my answer." a few more questions were answered, mostly questions in regards to you and ushijima’s engagement before the staff announced that the livestream was over.

“that was a terrible way of announcing that you are engaged.” he hears his captain mutter. ushijima nodded in acknowledgement before heading home to you who was waiting to scold him after watching the livestream. 

iwaizumi: 

the trainer didn’t know how he was roped into answering WIRED questions when he wasn’t the one in court. he was already halfway when the staff gave him a new board but he was shocked to see that it was filled with questions not about him, but about you.

“your fans wanted to know about your relationship with (y/n).” hoots from outside the camera’s view were heard, iwaizumi internally sighed, knowing that this would be fuel for the team to tease their trainer.

“let’s get this over with.” the trainer says before ripping the first tape from the board. “is iwaizumi’s girlfriend… staged?” he gave a deadpan expression to the camera. 

“(y/n) has been with me since we were third years, waited for me to return to japan after leaving for california and is currently living with me in our apartment. yes, our relationship is staged.” iwaizumi said sarcastically as he held the second tape by his fingertips. 

“is iwaizumi’s girlfriend… oikawa’s ex. what?” he didn’t know whether the staff is being serious as he gave another unimpressed look.

“no, i’m her first boyfriend and the last.” he smirked at his promise, the staff already knew that that alone will become a trending snippet. 

he answered a few more questions in haste, don’t get him wrong. he loves you but he would rather keep details about your relationship private. 

“aight, last one.” iwaizumi ripped the last piece of tape off the board. 

“is iwaizumi’s girlfriend… single?” he raised a brow at that question. 

“where the hell are you getting these questions?” iwaizumi asked rhetorically. “these are the most searched questions about your girlfriend.” one of the staff answered him. 

iwaizumi shook his head in disbelief. “wow… you’d think people actually unironically search for this.” he cleared his throat before looking straight at the camera. 

“i’m going to say this for the last time. my girlfriend isn’t single and won’t be for the longest time before i make her my wife.” iwaizumi stated, voice clear as if he was determined. 

the staff were clearly having a field day, knowing how much this episode will trend because of how whipped and dedicated the sought out trainer was for you. 

the interview ended shortly.  iwaizumi thanked the staff for having him only to be bombarded with a lot of comments filled with adoration towards your relationship. the trainer smiled before finishing up and heading home. 

“you look happy.” you greet him by the door, iwaizumi scoffed playfully before pulling you by your waist and placing a soft kiss on your lips. 

“of course i am, i come home to you.” iwaizumi thought of the comments from the staff, ‘marry her.’ was the comment that stuck to his mind. 

he already had the ring in the bottom drawer, tucked away by his socks. 

sakusa:

sakusa supposes that being an athlete involved having to deal with interviews. well, interviews that came with the sport, not whatever their team was currently doing. 

sakusa, atsumu, hinata, and bokuto were sat down on chairs, a small metal bucket in the middle of them filled with numerous pieces of papers, printed tweets, to be exact. 

“ooh, this is a good one! were bokuto and hinata close before msby?” bokuto read aloud before beaming at the camera and recollecting the memories from when they were in highschool. 

“fun fact! we all knew each other in some way, waaaay back in high school.” bokuto said before atsumu and sakusa nodded in confirmation. 

sakusa looked at the bucket as his teammates plucked random pieces of papers and answering them with ease. “why are sakusa’s wrists so flexible? please he could like… slap me and i would feel it twice in one motion. great, now all i’m thinking about it sakusa slapping me.” atsumu read aloud, voice turning a mocking pitch at the last sentence. 

“it’s called hypermobility-”  he paused as he saw bokuto and hinata look at him curiously. “otherwise known as being double-jointed. and no, i will not slap you. next tweet, please.”

“how boring, omi.” atsumu teased, sakusa rolled his eyes at the setter. “next. tweet.” 

“okay, okay. calm down.” atsumu surrendered, bokuto plucked another piece of paper before reading it out loud. 

“is sakusa’s girlfriend single? because i saw her in msby’s game against raijins and damn. if sakusa doesn’t wife her up immediately then i would gladly do the honors.” the whole room went silent after bokuto read the paper. the spiker’s eyes widened as he looked towards sakusa. 

“i was only reading the tweet!” 

“no. she isn’t, next question.” was only sakusa’s answer. his voice left no room for argument as atsumu hastily grabbed another piece of paper, moving on from the previous tweet. 

the team believed that due to sakusa’s reaction, that segment would be removed. but to the surprise of everyone, it was part of the final cut and managed to blow up. the fans swooned on how territorial sakusa had been and there were a few feedbacks that sakusa’s eyes softened at the mention of your name in the video. 

sakusa knew that, but he would never admit to it. 

“so.” you start as you lie down next to your boyfriend as the both of you watch the interview. “territorial, huh.” 

“you’re mine and you know it.” sakusa grumbled as he cuddled closer to your chest, watching the remaining few minutes. 

“of course i am, ‘yoomi.” you reply, kissing the crown of his head and watching the interview once more.

the atmosphere was silent as the rest of his team looked at him in shock and mostly worry.

ushijima noticed and looked around the room to see the camera staff and team looking at him. 

"what?" 

"you just said..." kageyama trailed off, hesitant to continue. 

"you broke it off with (y/n)?!" kourai interrupted. 

ushijima frowned, as if that was the most absurd thing he heard.

"(y/n) and i are happily engaged. she is my fiancé." ushijima said plainly, as if he didn't just cause the live chat box to spam with shocked and congratulatory messages.

"and you didn't tell us?!" if anyone was the most offended, it would be kourai.

"i thought the ring was obvious. kageyama has told me it looked nice." the team's heads whipped to kageyama who spluttered on how he didn't know it was an engagement ring. 

ushijima hummed. "it seems like i have not announced this." 

"you think?" he hears kourai's retort but pretended not to.

"me and (y/n) are engaged, therefore, she is now my fiance and not my girlfriend." ushijima said to the camera. "i hope this clarifies my answer." a few more questions were answered, mostly questions in regards to you and ushijima’s engagement before the staff announced that the livestream was over.

“that was a terrible way of announcing that you are engaged.” he hears his captain mutter. ushijima nodded in acknowledgement before heading home to you who was waiting to scold him after watching the livestream. 

iwaizumi: 

the trainer didn’t know how he was roped into answering WIRED questions when he wasn’t the one in court. he was already halfway when the staff gave him a new board but he was shocked to see that it was filled with questions not about him, but about you.

“your fans wanted to know about your relationship with (y/n).” hoots from outside the camera’s view were heard, iwaizumi internally sighed, knowing that this would be fuel for the team to tease their trainer.

“let’s get this over with.” the trainer says before ripping the first tape from the board. “is iwaizumi’s girlfriend… staged?” he gave a deadpan expression to the camera. 

“(y/n) has been with me since we were third years, waited for me to return to japan after leaving for california and is currently living with me in our apartment. yes, our relationship is staged.” iwaizumi said sarcastically as he held the second tape by his fingertips. 

“is iwaizumi’s girlfriend… oikawa’s ex. what?” he didn’t know whether the staff is being serious as he gave another unimpressed look.

“no, i’m her first boyfriend and the last.” he smirked at his promise, the staff already knew that that alone will become a trending snippet. 

he answered a few more questions in haste, don’t get him wrong. he loves you but he would rather keep details about your relationship private. 

“aight, last one.” iwaizumi ripped the last piece of tape off the board. 

“is iwaizumi’s girlfriend… single?” he raised a brow at that question. 

“where the hell are you getting these questions?” iwaizumi asked rhetorically. “these are the most searched questions about your girlfriend.” one of the staff answered him. 

iwaizumi shook his head in disbelief. “wow… you’d think people actually unironically search for this.” he cleared his throat before looking straight at the camera. 

“i’m going to say this for the last time. my girlfriend isn’t single and won’t be for the longest time before i make her my wife.” iwaizumi stated, voice clear as if he was determined. 

the staff were clearly having a field day, knowing how much this episode will trend because of how whipped and dedicated the sought out trainer was for you. 

the interview ended shortly.  iwaizumi thanked the staff for having him only to be bombarded with a lot of comments filled with adoration towards your relationship. the trainer smiled before finishing up and heading home. 

“you look happy.” you greet him by the door, iwaizumi scoffed playfully before pulling you by your waist and placing a soft kiss on your lips. 

“of course i am, i come home to you.” iwaizumi thought of the comments from the staff, ‘marry her.’ was the comment that stuck to his mind. 

he already had the ring in the bottom drawer, tucked away by his socks. 

sakusa:

sakusa supposes that being an athlete involved having to deal with interviews. well, interviews that came with the sport, not whatever their team was currently doing. 

sakusa, atsumu, hinata, and bokuto were sat down on chairs, a small metal bucket in the middle of them filled with numerous pieces of papers, printed tweets, to be exact. 

“ooh, this is a good one! were bokuto and hinata close before msby?” bokuto read aloud before beaming at the camera and recollecting the memories from when they were in highschool. 

“fun fact! we all knew each other in some way, waaaay back in high school.” bokuto said before atsumu and sakusa nodded in confirmation. 

sakusa looked at the bucket as his teammates plucked random pieces of papers and answering them with ease. “why are sakusa’s wrists so flexible? please he could like… slap me and i would feel it twice in one motion. great, now all i’m thinking about it sakusa slapping me.” atsumu read aloud, voice turning a mocking pitch at the last sentence. 

“it’s called hypermobility-”  he paused as he saw bokuto and hinata look at him curiously. “otherwise known as being double-jointed. and no, i will not slap you. next tweet, please.”

“how boring, omi.” atsumu teased, sakusa rolled his eyes at the setter. “next. tweet.” 

“okay, okay. calm down.” atsumu surrendered, bokuto plucked another piece of paper before reading it out loud. 

“is sakusa’s girlfriend single? because i saw her in msby’s game against raijins and damn. if sakusa doesn’t wife her up immediately then i would gladly do the honors.” the whole room went silent after bokuto read the paper. the spiker’s eyes widened as he looked towards sakusa. 

“i was only reading the tweet!” 

“no. she isn’t, next question.” was only sakusa’s answer. his voice left no room for argument as atsumu hastily grabbed another piece of paper, moving on from the previous tweet. 

the team believed that due to sakusa’s reaction, that segment would be removed. but to the surprise of everyone, it was part of the final cut and managed to blow up. the fans swooned on how territorial sakusa had been and there were a few feedbacks that sakusa’s eyes softened at the mention of your name in the video. 

sakusa knew that, but he would never admit to it. 

“so.” you start as you lie down next to your boyfriend as the both of you watch the interview. “territorial, huh.” 

“you’re mine and you know it.” sakusa grumbled as he cuddled closer to your chest, watching the remaining few minutes. 

“of course i am, ‘yoomi.” you reply, kissing the crown of his head and watching the interview once more.

Ushijima was unmoved. He stared at his drink, took a single sip, and let it rest in his hand. He didn’t participate in the yelling, the toasts, or the story someone was animatedly telling about a missed serve from three seasons ago. He just existed—quietly, stoically—as a satellite to the chaos.

Except, of course, they all knew he was waiting.

He always was.

There was a pattern to the transformation. First, he’d sit there like stone. Then he’d blink a little more slowly. His brows would draw together—not in anger, but in vague confusion, like he was lost in a thought he couldn’t solve. His fingers would move against his glass, not to drink but to fidget, just a little.

And then…

“Has anyone seen my phone?” Ushijima asked, barely louder than the buzz of conversation.

Hoshiumi slid it across the table immediately. “Right here, Ushiwaka. Sorry! We took a few pictures here and there.”

“Thank you.”

He looked down at the screen. It was still lit with the last message from you from earlier that day: Good luck, baby. Don’t forget to stretch your left shoulder. He’d never replied—he never did, not when he was already in headspace—but now, he stared at it like it was the only thing tethering him to reality.

“You want to text her?” Hoshiumi asks, lightly teasing, which Ushijima didn’t catch onto.

Ushijima didn’t answer. He opened the thread and typed a few letters. Deleted them. Typed something else. Backspaced. Then just stared.

And then finally: “She hasn’t replied.”

His teammates laughed.

“There it is!”

“It’s only been seventeen minutes! I win!”

“No, you cheated. I said ten, and he didn’t even check his phone until minute twelve!”

“Shh, shh, look at him—he’s pouting.”

“Wait, is this the pout phase? I thought that came after the silent brooding phase.”

“Technically we’re entering pout-brood overlap. It’s a dangerous time.”

Ushijima didn’t argue. He simply set the phone down again and folded his hands in front of him. Kageyama leaned over.

“You want me to call her for you, Ushijima-san?”

Ah, yes. Kageyama was too nice for his own good. Trying to enhance his socialization and trying to lessen his awkwardness with his teammates when the conversation didn’t revolve around volleyball.

Ushijima nodded. Just once. Immediately. “Yes.”

...

“Amazing! He’s not even trying to hide it.”

“Can you imagine being that in love?”

“He just wants his wife. Look at him. He’s a whole sad poem in one sitting.”

“She’s gonna get here, and he’s gonna light up like a lantern.”

“May this love run me over.”

Kageyama stood and walked a few paces away from the table, already dialing your number. Meanwhile, the others watched Ushijima sip his drink again—not because he wanted it, but because it gave his hands something to do. His eyes were glued to the screen even though no new notifications had appeared.

Romero leaned in conspiratorially to Hirugami. “Do you think she talks to him in, like, soft tones? Calls him ‘baby’ and stuff?”

“I think so,” he shrugs. “I think they’re sweet like that.”

“Aw, young love.”

The teasing continued, but it softened. Because underneath the jokes and the laughs was a sort of awe.

Their teammate—so serious, so focused, so unreadable on court—was completely and utterly soft when it came to his wife. Not in a loud way. Not in any way that could be easily teased, really. It was quiet. Heavy. Real.

When Kageyama returned, he had a pleased expression. “She’s on her way. Said she just got off work and is driving over.”

Ushijima gave another slow blink.

“Thank you.”

Kageyama nods. Somehow they manage to have conversations even if they just continue nodding to each other.

As soon as Kageyama said it, his phone buzzed with a new message. He didn’t even need to open it. He could tell by the way his entire body relaxed by a single, barely noticeable degree.

Sorry, hun. Just got off work. Are you okay?

He replied.

I’m okay. I miss you.

And then he set the phone down and folded his hands again, this time with more calm. More certainty. You were coming. That was all he needed to know.

The others noticed the shift immediately.

“He smiled.”

“No, he didn’t.”

“He did! Don’t argue with me; I saw it. It was micro. But it counted.”

“He’s already halfway out the door with his heart.”

“Watch, the second she walks through that door, he’ll go full puppy mode.”

Sure enough, fifteen minutes later, the door opened. A gust of cold air followed you inside, along with the soft jingle of the bar’s entrance bell. You spotted them easily—your eyes landing on Ushijima before anything else. And his entire body seemed to change shape.

He stood up—not quickly, but instantly, with a kind of gravity no one else in the room had.

You smiled as you approached, slipping out of your coat and brushing off the cold that nipped your nose softly. “Hi, love,” you greeted softly. “You ready to go?”

“Yes,” Ushijima said, already reaching for his jacket.

As he shrugged it on, you turned to the table. “Hope he wasn’t too much trouble?”

Hoshiumi leaned on the table with a grin. “[Name], your husband is the definition of ‘not trouble.’ We’re just grateful you came to collect him before he sighed himself into the carpet.”

“Tell them what he said!” someone shouted.

“He asked if anyone had seen his phone like it was a national emergency.”

“And he didn’t pout—he brooded. Like a man out of a romantic novel.”

“I think I did,” Ushijima just nodded at their comments about him.

He then stood by quietly, waiting for you to finish your goodbyes. When you looped your arm through his, he leaned ever so slightly toward you.

As they left, Romero raised his glass.

“To [Name]’s husband,” he declared. The table cheered.

Outside, as you two walked toward the car, you glanced up at him, fingers tightening around his arm.

“You really okay?” you asked.

He hummed. Then, in that low, steady voice only you ever got to hear, it softened—

“I missed you,” he said again. “They were loud. I wanted to see you very much.”

You smiled and gave his arm a firm, loving squeeze. “Well. I’m here now.”

And... yeah.

That’s what he’s been wanting to hear all night.

Callahan had to brace himself for a second, pushing the door of his home open before scanning the open area for any signs of the little thief he had locked down in house arrest. He found you calmly nestled within the fortress of the pillows and blankets you'd pulled from his closets, on the couch with a cheesy 2000's Valentines movie playing.

He had to suppress the urge to call out 'I'm home,' since it was instinct to do so when someone else was home. You weren't meant to be his roommate let alone a friend. You were a criminal he'd swore to keep his eyes on.

His footsteps were heavy—a sign that he had come home if you couldn't hear the door unlock—as he loomed over the back of the couch, staring down at the crown of your head.

“Enjoy.” He tossed the bouquet of roses onto your blanketed lap carelessly, watching as you bring it up into your hands to get a better look at it. There's a strange feeling in his gut seeing you appreciate something he's brought home, like a cat hauling a dead rat onto its owner's porch. He'd only play it off as accomplishment to giving something a better use. Nothing more than that.

“It's pretty.” He can hear the smile in your voice and it pushes him to roll his eyes. “Thought you didn't like red roses though.” You tilt your head back to look at him, but you're met with narrowed eyes and a slight scowl to his face.

“I don't. That's why I gave them to you,” he scoffed, circling the couch before taking a seat a few pillows away from you.

“Why'd you come home so early?” You turn your attention away from the movie to him, gauging his reaction.

The question struck him like lightning, and his whole body tensed up. There was no other reason why he came home early than to give you the flowers, to see your facial expression change from the most insignificant gesture—in his eyes.

“You ask too many questions, brat,” He sighed, relaxing his body into the comfort of the couch as he spread his arms across the back, just shy of reaching you. His gaze is fixed straight before a slight rustling catches his attention.

From the corner of his eyes, he can see you look up at him, then back down to the roses, then back up again to flutter your eyelashes. His eyebrows knit together as he tries to decipher your looks before it dawns on him.

“Fuck, fine, I'll let it slide just 'cause its Valentines day.” He groans as he snatches the bouquet from your hands and treads toward his bedroom door, expecting you to follow him.

Callahan's got you laying flat on your stomach while he's standing on the edge of the bed between your parted legs. Both of your clothes discarded onto the floor, rumpled from the rough handling. He leans over your body to reach over the neglected bouquet to the side of you on his bed.

Callahan's fingers hook under the perfectly tied ribbon, undoing it with a simple movement. The flowers fall apart on his bed, scattering as the ribbon holding them together comes undone.

His palm slides under your chin, lifting your head up as he folds the red satin over your nape and around to the front column of your throat. His hands are surprisingly experienced with tying a bow, securing it just above your Adam's apple.

“This romantic enough for you?” He bites out, fingers curling along the ribbon at the back of your neck before he tugs at it. It strains against your neck, forcing your head to tilt back.

“You've got rose petals, a nice house to stay in, a pretty ribbon around your neck, and a fucking great guy to take care of you.” It's a sarcastic jab at himself, knowing how he's defying all his moral codes just for you—and it doesn't feel wrong at all.

He holds you there, observing how you just take it with no complaints, and that scarily turns him on more than he'd want to admit.

Callahan finally releases you, letting you catch your breath for about one good second before he's stuffing himself into you, sliding his thick ridge past that tight ring of muscle. He groans like he's restraining himself from liking it as his hand instinctively grips the ribbon—not pulling it yet.

He's holding you like he's gripping a saddle, and he plans to ride out his high for tonight.

He leans over your back just slightly to drag himself—even if just a centimetre more—deeper as he pushes until his own body slaps against yours. Callahan can feel you fluttering around him, stretching and adapting to his girth as he gently rocks himself forward to speed up the process.

When he assumes you've adapted enough, Callahan pulls out just enough that his tip is still keeping your hole stretched and open for him. He leans back to get a good view of your body connecting with his, gripping and groping the plush flesh of the back of your thighs before he spits on his dick and shoves it back into you.

The sudden intrusion has you yelping into the pillow, nails clawing at his pure white sheets, threatening to rake scratch marks all over them.

He pounds into you, the slick sound of lube and his spit mixing together while he's fucking an imprint into your walls. You feel every thick vein pulsing with need and it makes your legs tremble with each thrust.

“Don't act like you haven't been sleeping around like this before I caught you,” he grunted, giving you a sharp tug to the band around your neck. “But shit if those bastards aren't lucky,” you can't pick up what he's muttering under his breath from the obscene sound of wet slapping and creaking.

You'd protest if you're teeth weren't clamped down around the fluff of Callahan's pillow. The constant slide of his girth dragging along your walls makes you squirm like its ticklish.

Your neck is lightly throbbing from the pressure of the ribbon, but it's in a way that's sickly enjoyable. Not to mention your own cock is rubbing against Callahan's sheets, adding to the mind-numbing stimulation.

“You're quiet today. Where's that mouthy boy I know?” He says it as if he's gently cooing to a dog or a pet, but to you, its a sardonic mock. Callahan grips the satin like a rein, jerking your head up to let all those filthy noises spill from your lips.

His balls draw heavy with the burden of pleasure seeing you arched so much alike to a cat. One hand grips the spot where your waist meets you hips, and he digs his fingers deep enough for crescents to form. With the way you're whining out in esctasy, it tells him that he's found your prostate, and he's actively bumping it every time he thrusts.

There's a sharp vibrating sound that comes from Callahan's phone on the night stand and his screen lights up blue with the words 'Glasses police officer' on it. Callahan mentally curses out that son of a bitch, especially since he was explicit when asking him not to call.

“What?” He growls out into the phone, slotting it between his ear and a hiked up shoulder as he continues to roll his hips back and forth into you. He hears your whine and how you're turning your head to look back at him but he just pushes your face back down, not wanting to deal with your dejected look because he's diverting the tiniest bit of attention away from you.

“When are you coming back to work? You've got a few important paperwork you need to fill out,” Alastair's voice was like nails on a chalkboard right now, especially when that static sound coming from his phone was drowning out your cute moans.

“Do you think doing this will make me want to come back?”

“No... But sir I—”

Callahan's mind is pulled away from the phone call for a minute as he discries the small trembling of your torso, and how eagerly you're pushing back against him like you're trying to encourage him deeper.

“He's about to cum,” He voices his thoughts shamelessly to the officer on the other line, “I'm not coming back 'till tomorrow.”

There's an air of silence from Alastair's part before he speaks up with a flustered and almost out of breath voice, “He's– Who? What—?”

Before anymore questions were thrown at Callahan, he hangs up and tosses his phone to a random corner of the bed, turning his full attention to you. More so to the slight jolting movements you're doing and the breathless and elonged moan you're sobbing into the pillow.

“Jesus christ,” He draws out; the sharp shock of his orgasm comes without warning from watching you lose yourself, and he's overbrimming you with his pleasure. No matter how hard you're squirming or twitching, Callahan holds you down with his hands, pushing down at your neck and the base of your spine, keeping you still as he pumps his generation into you.

Callahan pushes his hair back as he lets out a content sigh—as content as he could physically make himself sound.

“Who was that?” Your voice was so small and hoarse it almost made Callahan feel bad for making you scream your lungs out. Almost.

“Just go to sleep, I don't need your jealous whining,” he huffed, carefully taking off the ribbon from your neck and absent-mindedly rubbing your neck to soothe the pain he inflicted out of instinct.

You held your tongue just so he wouldn't notice he was doing it.

“It’s the third time this month, [Name],” the inspector continued, tone calm, carrying a weight behind it that felt heavier than anger. “Lieutenant Porter wanted to process you and put you in a cell until you talked. I overruled her. And this is all because you haven’t been telling me everything. I know there are names, places… things that happen out there that don’t make it into these reports and that you don’t blurt out during our chats.”

[Name] lounged in the chair opposite Vale, the very picture of studied nonchalance. An exposed thigh, half covered by the flimsy fabric of his shorts, draped languidly over the other, a pose that made the metal chair look like a prop in a forgotten play. He cocked his head and gave Vale a smile that was both ephemeral and infuriating.

"Aw, Valie," [Name] stretched out the inspector's name like taffy. His voice was a breathy rasp, the voice of a boy who'd smoked too many cigarettes when he were still too young. "You know I don't do names. It's not good for business." He pouted playfully. "Besides, what's the fun in making it too easy for you? Take away the stress from the boys in blue and suddenly a fifth of my clients are gone”.

Emmett listened to the boy's flippant words, expression never wavering from that melancholic cast. He sighed heavily. 

“You think this is a game?" The inspector asked conversationally. "You think you're being clever, playing coy with information, keeping me at arm's length? I know you're not stupid — far from it. You're sharp and you’re quick, you've got a silver tongue and a charmer's smile. But this..." He gestured vaguely to the room, to the situation they found themselves in, “isn't a joke."

"I'm not your enemy, [Name]. I'm not here to make your life harder. I want to try and keep you from making it worse, but I can't do that if you won't trust me with the truth." Emmett knew that behind that easy smile there was a keen mind at work, always weighing the risks. Vale couldn't blame the young man for being wary, specially not with the company he kept.

[Name] lounged back with carefree insouciance. "And what's worse?" He grumbled. "If I start singing like a canary, who's to say some big shot won't take offense and have me disappear? Permanently." The young man shuddered theatrically. 

Emmett ignored the macabre quip. "I'm not asking you to rat all of out your... associates." The word left a bitter taste in his mouth. "I'm asking you to trust me with part of the information I need to keep you safe. To keep you from ending up as fish food in the docks.”

[Name] studied the inspector’s face, searching for any hint of deception or ulterior motive. After a long moment, he spoke. “You make it sound so simple, Valie. Like I have a choice in any of this. But you've got to understand, my line of work... things are delicate. Say the wrong thing to the wrong person, and bam!" He clapped his hands together sharply for emphasis. "Suddenly, I'm not just out of a job, I'm out of… well, a life too.”

Emmett frowned, a hand rubbing his temples. "I can protect you, [Name]," he said earnestly. "I've done it before, for others in similar situations. It's not easy, but it's possible. With my help, you can get out, leave this life behind.” The inspector’s gaze softened, compassion in his tired eyes. "I'm not just talking about a witness protection program, I know that wouldn’t be enough. I'm talking about genuine support, resources to help you build a new life away from all of this. Education, counseling, job training... anything you need to get back on your feet and move forward."

[Name] felt a pang of frustration and dissatisfaction. He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Aw, you're a real saint, ain't you?" he said, voice dripping with false admiration. "Offering to save little ol' me from the clutches of sin and depravity." The young man leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. 

“The only intel I can give you is that one of your boys in blue, the big blond Adonis with the nice pecs, was seen getting cozy with one of Frank Rossi’s main dealers down by Cedar Crescent last week. Word has it that your cop had both guns out.” [Name] said humorously. "But I'm sure that's not the kind of dirt you're looking for."

Vale knew that sarcasm and false flattery were [Name]'s defense mechanisms, the boy’s way of keeping people at a distance. So, instead of being offended, Emmett felt a pang of sadness. "Enough games, [Name]. I don't need gossip about my department. I'm well aware of officer McAllister’s... complicated history. What I do need is information on Rossi himself and the Drowned, which I know you have due to your line of work."

The inspector pointed to the folder in front of him. "And let's not forget, you were found near that old factory where the Hounds were storing their weapons. Weapons that disappeared before the attack. So I need you to think carefully. Did you see anything? Hear anything? Know anything that could help us get to the bottom of this?"

[Name] rolled his eyes, leaning back further. "Alright, alright, enough with the heavy-handed cop routine, Valie. You're right, I might have seen and heard things.” He tapped a finger against his chin, pretending to think. "But a guy's gotta have his price, you know? And mine ain't cheap."

Emmett raised a thick eyebrow. "And what exactly do you want in return for this information?"

[Name] looked up at Emmett with a playful smirk, eyes filled with a sudden naughtiness. "Well, inspector, I've had my eyes on you for a while now," he purred, tone lowering to a sultry rasp. "Ever since you first looked at me like that, with all that downcast composure a couple years ago, I've thought you were the most gorgeous thing to grace a police uniform. Chiseled jaw, sturdy biceps, that air of stern authority that just makes me want to..." He paused, biting his lower lip while his own cheeks seemed to flush lightly. "Well, I've imagined all sorts of improper things."

A sudden, unfamiliar warmth began to creep up Emmett’s neck, staining his pale skin a telltale pink. It was a rare occurrence, a reaction he had not experienced in years, not since his early days at the academy. The boy across from him was somehow undoing all his poise, in a way that was more than merely physical, agitating feelings he had long believed entombed.

[Name], seeming to notice the effect he was having, chuckled softly. "So, mister," he proceeded honeyed, "I think you know what I want in return for the information you're so desperate to get." He rested his elbows on the table, chin in his closed fists. "I want a taste of you. A real taste, right now."

An uncomfortable stirring spread through Emmett in a fraction of a second. He felt his heart begin to beat a little faster, breath catching slightly in his throat. It was a visceral reaction he couldn't control despite the years of training that should have made him impervious to such base instincts. And, disconcertingly, he felt a sudden rush of blood flow southward, a physical reaction he had experienced just once in the line of duty before. 

The inspector’s voice emerged tighter than he intended, tinged with unconcealed hoarseness and disbelief. “Are you... are you sure that's what you want? You don't want anything else... in exchange for what you know?” Vale’s shoulders were rigid, posture straight, and eyes that for the first time couldn’t fixate in a single place. 

"Either that, or you'll be getting nothing at all, inspector. Take it or leave it." [Name] shrugged nonchalantly, as if the weight of his demands was of no consequence to him.

Emmett knew he should be wary of this bold blackmail, but the inspector couldn't deny that [Name] had never been one to spread falsehoods or fabricate stories for his own amusement. No, if he claimed to have valuable information about Rossi and the Drowned, then he likely did. And given the boy's... intimate history with the crime lord, it would be almost impossible for him to be utterly in the dark about the gang's recent movements. The same applied to Edgar Fischer and his litter of mutts — which were the priority due to that night’s unfortunate situation. 

The older man hesitated, a bead of sweat forming on his brow. He glanced around the stark space, taking in the gleaming steel table, the cold fluorescent lights, the ever-present CCTV camera in the corner. His throat constricted at the thought of what [Name] was proposing, here, in this most unseemly and compromising of places. This was the heart of his domain, where he held the power and authority, where he was respected and admired. The very idea of surrendering that power, of allowing such a lascivious act to occur here, made his trousers tighten even more with disgraceful anticipation.

In a strained voice, he asked, "Do we... do we have to do this here? Now?"

[Name] nodded. "Uh-huh. If we leave it for later, who's to say you won't find an excuse to back out, hmm?" He leaned in before purring. "I know how you straight-laced types can be. Say one thing and mean another, and there's no telling if I'll ever see you keep your word. I want this sealed right now, Valie.”

Emmett's mind raced in a tumultuous mix of rational thought and primal urges. He considered his captain’s open secret, how Silas had been trading sexual favors for information for years now, and yet no one dared to question his authority or dedication to the job. If a man of rank and repute such as Palmer could justify those actions, then perhaps there was no reason why he, as a subordinate, would be faulted for doing the same in pursuit of justice.

Moreover, it would not be a complete surrender of decorum, would it? [Name]'s price didn't exactly entail a full-scale debauchery. It was a simple, albeit intimate, exchange — nothing too extreme or outlandish. He wouldn't be expected to be completely bare or act out any depraved fantasies. Just a... little taste, as [Name] had put it, a small price to pay for some insight that could help him close a case.

 "Very well. I'll agree to your terms, [Name]."

The young man devilishly grinned, feeling a rush of triumph and lust at the inspector’s agreement. Unable to resist, he slowly slid the toe of his shoe up Emmett’s calf, inching towards his hardening length. Just as his foot reached the older man’s inner thigh, Vale let out through gritted teeth, “Not so fast. I want the information first.”

[Name] sighed dramatically, crossing his arms with a huff. "Ugh, fine. You want the goods, don't you? I suppose you should know that Crestview Lane is, like, totally Hounds territory. Or at least, it's supposed to be."

He paused for effect, enjoying the power of holding the official’s attention. "But apparently there's this new bunch of punks running around calling themselves... hmm, what was it? Some edgy name with a W in it. Wounded, I think? Something like that. Total wannabes, if you ask me." [Name] snorted. 

“Anyway, these little delinquents have been trying to muscle in on the E and on the meth trade there. The Hounds are pissed, but they're having a hard time shaking these new guys off. Apparently, they're a real pain in the ass to deal with considering how successful they’ve been with the rich college kids that go to that sort of club."

Emmett felt the pieces falling into place. He recalled Silas's briefing from two days prior, where the captain had mentioned a new gang causing trouble for both the Hounds and the Drowned. The Wraiths, they were called. Apparently, they had the Hounds scrambling to keep up with their encroachment on the drug trade in prime territory, while also making bold strikes against Drowned safe houses all around the docks.

The fact that [Name] knew about this, and used a similar name to the one given by Silas's informant, only reinforced the inspector's belief that the boy did have valuable intel. [Name] wasn't just spouting rumors or baseless claims to get away once again. “What else?”

"Apparently, that geezer who owns the club down there… Cain, I think? Yeah, that old bastard only ever let the Hounds sell their shit at his place. I mean, sure, the mutts paid him a little cut of the take, so it wasn't like they were friends, but still. Loyalty's supposed to mean something, is it not?” [Name] mocked. 

“But then these ‘Wounded’ punks come along, offering him more scratch for the E and meth they're peddling, and shit! Suddenly, that old fuck's singin' a whole new tune. Betrayed his old acquaintances who had been nothing but sweet for a bit more cash! The man is only in it for the money now, specially if you consider the amount of loaded college assholes crawling in that place increased.” 

Emmett listened intently, his mind working quickly to connect the dots. If an associate of Fischer and his men had indeed welched on his long-standing arrangement with the Hounds for a fatter cut from these upstart Wraiths, that would explain the sudden surge of drug-related activity in the area. It would also account for the Hounds' increased aggression and desperation to reclaim their territory.

"Is that why the Hounds opened fire at the club tonight? To take revenge on Cain for betraying their deal and siding with the Wraiths? To send a message to anyone else who might be considering doing the same?”

[Name] shrugged with a playful grin while kicking his foot lightly against Vale’s inner thigh, feeling the growing arousal. "Mhmm, that’s exactly why those mutts lost their cool and shot up the place tonight. The bossman is not happy unless the whole world knows what happens to rats who bite the hand that feeds them. Kinda why I can’t take up on your past offers, haha." He joked dryly to himself. “Now, I've told you everything I know, inspector, so don’t you think it's time for you to hold up your end of the bargain?"

Vale swallowed hard, his collar suddenly feeling tight. As a man of the law, he knew he should put a stop to this, cite the obvious power imbalance and the stark difference in their ages. But the very fact that [Name] was a seasoned… working boy, so worldly beyond his years, only seemed to stoke the official’s shameful arousal. Emmett couldn't deny the twisted appeal in indulging in something so devilishly taboo.

“I suppose you're right, [Name]. You've been good with your information." He paused, collecting himself even as his heart raced. "And I’ll keep mine." His eyes flicked to the CCTV camera in the corner, a flicker of unease and thrill warring within him at the thought of being watched. But no one would dare to question him, not with his rank and solid reputation. “You wanted a taste of me, I believe? Well, you shall have it. But I set the pace." His gaze raked over the boy's form before he got up and locked the door.

[Name]'s eyes filled with desire as he watched Vale lock the door, the click of it echoing in the room. He stood up slowly, taking his time, putting a sway in his hips as he walked towards the inspector. "Mmm, so serious, aren't you, Valie? I like that. It's sexy, in a supposedly dominant kind of way." He reached out to walk two fingers up the older man's chest as the official turned to fave him. "But I think we both know who's really in charge here, hmm?"

Emmett placed his hand over the boy's, stilling its upward climb, trying to softly assert dominance, but this was all too much. His fingers tightened on the bone of [Name]'s hip, holding on for dear life. It was that or just… come apart. The whole damn room felt like it was tilting.

This wasn't him. Emmett Vale was the one with both feet on the ground. But [Name]… Fuck. He could feel the heat coming off him, the easy steadiness in his frame. This was someone who knew his way around a bedroom and pleasure. Anyone could feel it in the way he carried himself, a kind of unthought confidence that Vale would never be able to imitate.

And that was the hell of it. It should have pissed him off, that lazy, indulgent grace. Instead, it just lit a fuse somewhere deep in his gut. The shame of it burned his ears, but he couldn't make himself let go. “I set the pace”, the inspector repeated, more to himself than to the boy before him.

"Sure you do," [Name] agreed easily, his own hand sliding up to cover Vale's on his hip. His thumb stroked slow circles over the tense tendons. "So be in control. Do what you want." He shifted again, a deliberate, rolling motion against the inspector’s groin that drew a sharp, choked sound from the back of Emmett’s throat. "Or," he added, his voice dropping to a whisper, "you can let me show you what you actually want. Been watching you think about it for years, Valie. It's written all over your face right now."

[Name] leaned in, his lips brushing Vale's ear as he spoke, tone shifting from flirty to something more direct. "The camera's on. Let's give them a show they won't forget."

“Fuck it," Emmett gritted out, the words stripped of any real anger. He let the back of his head rest against the door, body bowing under the weight of a surrender he'd never want to confess. The hand that was meant to assert dominance now clutched at [Name]'s body desperately. “Then show me," he muttered. 

A low, approving hum vibrated through [Name]'s chest. "There it is," he murmured, fingers sliding from Vale's hand to the nape of his neck, caressing the blond locks softly. "Was that so hard?" He didn't wait for an answer, turning his head to speak directly into Vale's ear in an intimate thrum. "Now, keep your eyes on me, Valie. Don't you dare look away."

His fingers tangled in the inspector's hair, gripping lightly as he pulled his head back to expose the strong column of his throat. Leaning in, [Name] dragged his lips along the smooth skin, feeling Emmett’s pulse jump beneath the surface at the contact.

Emmett’s hands clenched at his sides, fists curling and uncurling as he fought the urge to grab the boy and take what he so clearly wanted to offer, but even then, he liked being treated like this. He was a man teetering on the edge of a precipice, and the fall was as terrifying as it was electrifying. 

“Don't..." he mumbled, the word a weak protest as he felt teeth grazing the underside of his jaw. But even to his own ears, it sounded more like a plea for more than a denial.

[Name] smirked at Emmett's token protest, knowing all too well that the man would become putty in his hands.  “Shh, let me work, handsome," [Name] purred before sinking his teeth into the tender flesh, biting down just hard enough to leave a blooming purple mark. He sucked and licked at the reddened skin, claiming the prize he had been eyeing for years. 

One hand slid down Vale's chest, fingers working open the buttons of the inspector's shirt soft blue with practiced ease. [Name] parted the fabric revealing a pale expanse of skin beneath, and leaned down to press open-mouthed kisses to the exposed flesh of his collarbone. 

Emmett’s fingers curled into the fabric of [Name]'s shirt as if to anchor himself against the maelstrom of sensation, and let out a soft groan. He could feel the heat of that sinful mouth searing him, branding him, claiming him in a way that made blood roar in his ears. It was an obscene, wanton display of possession. It was wrong, to be reduced to a thing of base need and hunger, specially as a police officer. Specially at 42 to a boy who was 24. And yet, he couldn't bring himself to care, not with those wicked lips trailing fire down the column of his throat, each press and suckle sending bolts of lightning straight to his heavy cock.

Meanwhile, [Name] continued his assault, lips and tongue and teeth painting Vale’s skin with a trail of blooming marks, sucking dark hickeys into the pale flesh until it was mottled with the evidence of his desire. He then paused, admiring his handiwork, taking in the sight of the inspector's collarbone and neck, now a canvas of claiming kisses. The inspector’s skin was flushed, chest heaving with each ragged breath. [Name]'s dick throbbed at the sight as he crouched a bit, capturing one of the inspector's nipples between his lips.

Emmett couldn't help the soft noise that sounded more like a whimper than a groan from escaping his lips. His hips bucked slightly, grinding against [Name]'s thigh in a desperate search for friction. “Shit”, he groaned, the word drawn out and low, barely recognizable as his own voice. 

The inspector’s fingers tangled almost painfully in the boy’s hair as he felt that tongue swirl around the sensitive peak, teasing it to stiffness before suckling hard. It took every ounce of Vale’s self-control not to rut against [Name] like a man possessed. “Don't stop," Emmett panted, "Feels... fuck, that feels good."

[Name] alternated between flicking the now stiff peak with the tip of his tongue and suckling hard, grazing his teeth along the sensitive flesh in a way that made Emmett shudder.

The inspector’s hips jerked forward, grinding his straining erection against [Name]'s upper leg, the friction delicious even through the fabric of his trousers. The front of his boxers dampened with pre-cum, symbolizing how Vale’s usual composure had shattered, leaving behind a man lost in sensation, drowning in the heat of that sinful mouth and wicked tongue. His skin felt too hot, too tight, every nerve ending alight and screaming for more.

He moved the boy's head to just the right angle as he arched into that clever mouth. "More," he gritted out, the word a command even as it emerged as a plea. It was a delicious kind of torture, being at the mercy of [Name]’s whims. 

Emboldened, [Name] slid his hand down to cup the sizeable bulge straining against the inspector's trousers, giving it a firm squeeze. "Mmm, someone's happy to see me," he purred around the pectoral, stroking the rigid flesh slowly. "Is this all for me, Valie? Or do you always carry a phone pole in your pants?"

Emmett looked down, his heart pounding as he watched [Name] sink to his knees before him while lowering his pants and boxers down. The sight of such a beautiful young man kneeling at his feet, his own rigid cock now freed from its confines, was almost too much for Vale. At eight inches, he knew he was well-endowed, and the way [Name]'s eyes widened appreciatively as he took it all in only fueled the inspector’s desire.

He gasped as he felt the first touch of that sinful mouth on his most intimate place, biting back a groan as he felt [Name]'s lips part and take him in, inch by throbbing inch disappearing into that warm, wet haven. The boy’s eyes flicked up to meet his gaze, heavy-lidded, gleaming with unholy lust.

For [Name], this was nothing new. He had done this countless times before, on countless men, up to a point that his jaw adjusted reflexively, but somehow, with Emmett, it felt different. More intense, more intimate. Regardless, [Name]'s body remembered the motions he had been performing for years. His tongue swirled around the sensitive head, tracing the ridge where the flesh met the shaft, before he took Vale deeper into the wet heat of his mouth. He hollowed his cheeks, sucking with practiced ease as he bobbed his head, taking more of that impressive length inch by thick inch.

The inspector shuddered, fingers tightening reflexively in [Name]'s hair as he felt the silken walls of his throat flutter around him. The boy was a pro, his technique flawless, every move designed to drive a man wild with pleasure. He could feel the build-up of saliva, the slick slide of muscle, the press of [Name]'s tongue along the underside of his cock as the boy’s head nose grazed the light curls of his pubes. It was pure whorish sin, and Emmett knew he wouldn't last long at this rate. Not with the way [Name] was working him, producing those obscene slurping sounds that filled the room.

[Name] felt the inspector's cock throb against his tongue as he tasted the first salt-flavored drops of pre-cum, feeling them sliding down his throat. He knew Vale was close, could read it in every shudder and hitch of his breath, in the stunning crease of the man’s eyebrows as his face contorted in bliss. 

And the prostitute wanted to taste him wholly, to swallow down every drop of that thick release and have the inspector unravel completely in his hands. He wanted Vale to fuck his face against that dick the best way he could, wanted to use his mouth for the official’s pleasure until the older man was drowning in it. [Name] wanted... well, he wanted a lot of things, and he planned to take them all, like he always did. One sinful act at a time.

A sudden realization hit Emmett like a freight train - when was the last time he had indulged in such carnal pleasures? When was the last time he had allowed himself to be so utterly consumed by desire, to be reduced to a creature of pure, primal need? The inspector struggled to remember, his mind hazy with lust, until he realized the startling truth: the last time he had been with someone, truly been with one, he had bern barely old enough to drink legally. And now, here he was, at the mercy of a man much younger than him; a boy who had him writhing and gasping like a inexperienced virgin getting his cock wet for the first time.

The thought sent a thrill down the inspector’s, a dark, forbidden excitement that made his balls tighten and his cock throb almost painfully against [Name]'s quick tongue. There was something deeply, deliciously wrong about being at the mercy of someone like [Name], someone profoundly experienced; about surrendering to every whim and desire of a boy almost half his age, physically smaller than him, someone who he definitely had power over. And yet, Vale couldn't bring himself to care, too lost in the pleasure of that hot filthy mouth engulfing his length.

[Name] sensed the change in Emmett's body, the telltale twitch and throb of his cock as it began to pulse with impending release. He could feel the inspector's grip on his hair tighten, holding his head in place as if desperate to bury himself to the hilt and spill his load down [Name]'s eager throat. But the prostitute had other plans.

With a swift tug, he pulled the inspector's cock from his mouth, the thick length slipping out with a lewd, wet pop. Strings of saliva and pre-cum connected [Name]'s lips to the flushed, throbbing head, glistening obscenely in the harsh fluorescent light of the interrogation room.

Vale blinked, momentarily disoriented as he was wrenched from the haze of pleasure, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. He stared down at [Name] in confusion, his brow furrowed as he tried to regain his bearings, the fog of lust slowly lifting from his mind. The sudden loss of that sinful heat around his aching cock left him feeling bereft, a low groan of protest escaping his lips before he could stop it. "What... why did you...?" he started to ask, his voice rough and gravelly from the force of his breathing. But the words died in his throat as he met [Name]'s gaze, the smug, knowing smirk on the boy's face sending a jolt of understanding through him. [Name] had taken him to the very brink of ecstasy, only to deny him that final, blissful push.

The prostitute smirked up at Vale, his eyes wicked. "Ah ah ah, not so fast, Inspector," he chided playfully, wrapping a hand around the base of Emmett's throbbing cock. His grip was firm, impeding the inspector's release as he gave a warning squeeze, edging the older man. "You don't get to paint my face with your spunk. I have other plans of where I want your seed.”

The air between them crackled with tension, the weight of [Name]'s words hanging heavy. Vale felt a fresh surge of lust, his cock jerking in the other’s grip at the thought of burying himself in the boy's heat, claiming him, marking him inside and out as his own.

Emmett couldn't hold back any longer, the dam of his restraint bursting under the onslaught of sensation and desire. His hands shot up to grip [Name]'s face, calloused fingers digging into the delicate skin as he pulled the boy flush against him. Their lips met in a clash of hunger and desperation, Vale's mouth moving over [Name]'s with a fierce, almost bruising intensity. It was a kiss that consumed, a claiming of lips and tongue and breath, all tangled together in a dance of raw need.

[Name] responded in kind, fingers fisting in the inspector’s hair, nails scraping against the inspector's scalp as he pulled him closer, greedy for more. Moans spilled from his lips, swallowed by Emmett’s ravenous mouth, the sounds of his pleasure muffled and lost in the heat of the kiss. The air between them was electric, charged with the weight of the older man’s desperation and the boy's eager reciprocation.

Vale could feel every inch of [Name]'s body pressed against his own, the other’s frame fitting perfectly against the hard planes of his own. His cock throbbed, impossibly hard — his balls were probably blue by now, but the younger didn’t let his grip go from around his girth. The inspector needed to be inside [Name], needed to bury himself in the boy's body until he was drowning inside it, until he could stake his claim in the most animalistic way possible. The urge was overwhelming, a deadly tsunami of lust that threatened to sweep away the last of his control. Nothing else mattered, not the case, not his career, not the world outside these four walls. Not the poor cop watching from the CCTV the depravity that was taking place in the VFMP’s interrogation room, or the scolding he’d receive from Palmer in the following morning. In this moment, there was only the searing need to possess, to take, to make [Name] his own in every way a man could.

[Name] felt the inspector's desperation in every movement, in the way his hands roamed feverishly over his body as they kissed. He could feel Vale's cock throbbing against his palm, hot and hard and ready, blood flowing with unbelievable intensity, and it sent a thrill of power through him to know that he had reduced the respected inspector to this state of wanton need.

Emmett's hands fumbled at the fastenings of [Name]'s flimsy shorts, fingers clumsy in their urgency as he tugged and pulled, finally freeing the boy's own straining erection. [Name] gasped into the kiss as cool air hit his heated flesh, hips canting forward into the inspector's touch. He nipped at Vale's bottom lip, soothing the sting with his tongue before pulling back just enough to guide the older man's hands to his hips.

[Name] gasped out, voice rough with desire. "I need you inside me, Emmett. I need to feel you split me open on your fucking prick." He punctuated his words by squeezing the rigid flesh in his hand, feeling it jerk.

With a groan, Vale let [Name] guide him backwards until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the table. He sat down heavily and rested an open palm against the hard surface, breath coming in harsh pants as he looked up at the younger man with desperation. [Name] wasted no time in straddling the inspector's lap, bare ass nestling against the thick ridge of the other man’s dick as he wrapped his arms around Emmett’s neck.

"Damn it, you feel so good," [Name] breathed, rolling his hips to grind against the hard flesh of the inspector's cock. At that, Emmett’s hands tightened on the globes of [Name]'s ass, kneading the firm flesh as he pulled the boy more against him, and he wanted nothing more than to see his fingerprints blooming on the younger man’s skin the same way he had been marked up so throughly with the harlot’s hickeys.

[Name] gazed down at the older man, eyes clouded with lust and something appreciative. He had fucked innumerable amounts of people before, but never had it felt like this intense or all consuming. There was a vulnerability in Vale's desperation that called to him on a primal level, a raw, unchecked need that made [Name]'s own desire burn hotter.

The boy took charge, eyes gleaming with lust. He reached between their bodies, gripping Emmett's thick shaft and aligning it with his entrance. With a single, brutal thrust of his hips, he impaled himself on the inspector's cock, taking every inch of that impressive length deep inside him in one go.

“Fuck!!” The cuss tore from [Name]'s throat, a guttural cry of ecstasy as he was split open on Vale's massive prick. His head fell back, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the sheer, overwhelming pleasure of being so thoroughly filled. He could feel every throbbing vein, every ridge and vein of that thick cock massaging his inner walls, rubbing against his prostate with devastating precision.

Vale let out a strangled, mewling howl, fingers digging into the flesh of [Name]'s cheeks hard enough to bruise. The silken heat of the younger’s hole engulfing him was like nothing he had ever experienced, the boy's body gripping him like a vice as he was swallowed entirely. Emmett hips jerked up involuntarily, burying himself even deeper into that perfect, clutching heat.

For a moment, they were frozen like that, locked together in a moment of pure, white-hot bliss. The world fell away, the only sound their harsh pants and the creaking of the table beneath them. Everything was forgotten except the point where their bodies joined, the slide of sweat-slicked skin against skin, and the electric tingle of nerve endings screaming in overloaded rapture.

[Name] forced his eyes open, wanting to sear this moment into his memory. He wanted to burn the sight of Vale's face into his mind, the way his features twisted in a rictus of agonized ecstasy, a sheen of sweat on his brow. He looked... transcendent, transported to a higher plane of sensation that the boy had only ever glimpsed in fleeting, lesser moments. But this... this was different. This was everything.

After waiting a quarter of minute for them to adjust, [Name] began to move, rolling his hips in a slow grind as Emmett’s dick applied pressure against his prostate with devastating precision. The pleasure was blissful, even with his vast experience. He could feel the inspector's heart pounding against his hand as he laid it on the older man’s chest for support, watching the rapture on Vale's face as he started to ride him with increasing fervor.

Emmett's head fell back, eyes squeezing shut as he surrendered to the pleasure, to the warmness of [Name]'s body. He moved his hands from the younger’s cheeks to his hips, taking him deep and then rising until just the tip remained inside. Then with a swivel of his hips, [Name] would sink back down, impaling himself on every thick inch of the inspector's aching cock. 

The wet, obscene sounds of their coupling filled the room, the slap of skin on skin and the boy's breathy moans mingling with the inspector's guttural groans. Emmett could only gaze up at him in awe, watching, transfixed, as the younger man began to lose himself in the throes of passion, body undulating with a grace that was breathtaking. 

The sight of [Name] above him, head thrown back in ecstasy, was seared into Vale's mind. He knew he would fantasize about this moment during sleepless nights toll the end of his life, no matter how much he might to forget it.

Lost in the haze of sensation, the inspector acted on instinct, one hand coming up to grasp the hem of [Name]'s shirt after removing the boy’s hand from his sternum. With a sharp tug, he yanked it up and off, baring the smooth expanse of the boy's own chest to his hungry gaze. "Don't stop," he gritted out, voice low with need. "Hell, you feel so good..."

Vale’s calloused fingers found the pebbled peak of one dusky nipple, rolling and plucking at it until it strained towards his touch. The bud tightened further under his ministrations, sending a bolt of sensation straight to the boy's core. 

[Name] gasped and arched into Emmett's touch, the inspector's fingers on his nipple sending electric jolts straight to his throbbing cock. He could feel the blood pulsing hot and heavy in the thick vein along the underside, the skin there flushed and feverish. Pre-cum beaded at the swollen tip, dripping down to splatter on the inspector's stomach as the young man continued to ride him with wild abandon.

Sweat matted the boy's hair to his forehead, skin slick and glistening under the harsh fluorescent lights of the interrogation room. The heat between them was intense, their bodies sliding together with the effortless glide of sweat-slicked skin. [Name]'s own hand came down to wrap around his aching cock, stroking in time with the roll and grind of his hips. The sensation of Emmett's fingers on his nipple, plucking and teasing, only added to the overwhelming bliss of being so completely filled and stretched around the inspector's massive girth.

"Want to feel your sperm all inside me... agh, want you to make me come on your fucking cock". The filthy words spilled from his lips, breath coming in ragged gasps as [Name] chased his rapidly approaching climax with single-minded focus.

Vale felt the pressure building at the base of his spine, balls drawing up tight as the pleasure crested, threatening to overwhelm him. "Shit, I'm going to..." he grunted. With a roar, the inspector came as he cock pulsed and jerked, erupting deep inside [Name]. The boy's walls gripped him like a velvet vice, milking his spent cock. Rope after rope of hot, thick seed painted the younger man's insides, flooding his channel with the inspector's release. 

But [Name] didn't stop, didn't even slow down as the older man shuddered and spasmed beneath him, lost in the throes of his own climax. If anything, the feeling of Emmett’s hot cum filling him, marking him, only spurred him on. He could feel it, semen sloshing inside him with every bounce of his hips, every stroke of his own weeping cock.

He continued to ride Vale through his orgasm, using the inspector's twitching, spent cock like his own personal fuck toy. His hand flew over his own dick, the wet, obscene sounds of his stroking filling the room along with the creaking of the table beneath them. The pleasure was addictive, caused by the overwhelming fullness of being claimed so completely, inside and out, pushing him rapidly towards his own peak.

[Name]'s body suddenly tensed, a hoarse cry and a litany of curses ripping from his throat before the inspector's name fell from his lips like a prayer. His cock jerked and throbbed in his grip, pulsing as thick ropes of cum splattered against Emmett's stomach and chest, painting both his own hand and the older man with his release.

The boy's body clenched and fluttered around the thick length still buried deep inside him, milking the last drops of seed from the inspector’s spent flesh. The feeling of [Name]'s hot cum splattering his skin, marking him in turn, only added to the overwhelming sense of satisfaction and virile pride that suffused Emmett in the aftermath of their mating.

They remained locked together, chests heaving against each other as they struggled to catch their breath, sweat cooling on their skin and two pairs of eyes half-lidded. The room was filled with the mingled scent of sex and the residual heat of their passion. 

[Name] let out a breathless laugh. "Bet the boys in blue out there loved the show," he quipped with a grin while glancing towards the one-way mirror. "Probably just watched the best porn of their boring-ass lives. Lucky bastards."

He felt the inspector's cock twitch inside him at the thought of an audience, and [Name]'s grin widened into a devilish smirk. "Looks like someone's eager for serving an encore performance," he gave a little wriggle of his hips that made them both gasp. "Careful, Inspector. Keep getting this turned on by the idea of an audience, and you’ll end up behind bars due to public indecency yourself.”

Emmett's eyes widened at the joke, but specially at thought of a spectators, a flush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. He knew the entire encounter had been recorded, every sordid detail now immortalized on film for all of the VFMP to see, something that’d be guarded forever in the messy archive room of their Bastille.

The inspector would need to secure that tape, to make sure it didn't fall into the wrong hands. But he knew he wouldn't destroy it. No, he couldn't bring himself to erase this perfect, filthy record of their coupling. Instead, Vale would take it with him, hide it away in the privacy of his apartment, to be brought out and savored in private moments of lonely pleasure.

"Careful, boy," he rumbled, mimicking [Name]’s words. "Keep talking like that and I might just give them a real show. Might bend you over the hood of my car in the parking lot and fuck you in front of these fuckers and everyone in this forsaken city."

Even as he said it, he knew he wouldn't. Couldn't. Not because he cared what they might think, but because he wanted to keep [Name] all to himself, even though he knew that was a definite impossibility. 

“Promise?," the younger man asked teasingly, clenching his inner muscles around the thick length buried in his ass. "Bet you'd get off on showing everyone what a dirty old man you are, parading around someone like me."

"But for now," he proceeded as he felt Vale start to harden again, "how about we take this somewhere more private? My place isn't far from here. Unless you want to repeat this public performance?”

Emmett’s jaw clenched and his brows furrowed again, weighing his options as he slicked back the sweaty hair of his forehead. 

Noticing the official’s hesitation, [Name] said. “What do you say, Inspector? Ready for round two? And maybe, if you keep being good for me like this..." He nipped at the lobe of Emmett’s ear before soothing the sting with his tongue. "I'll let you tie me to the bed and have your way with me all night long, all for free. Would you like that, Valie? Having me at your mercy, completely at your command after I ruined you? Get your payback?"

Vale stared at [Name], a mix of awe, lust and something almost like inner disappointment in his eyes. He had become a beast, a creature of pure sensation and need, and it terrified him. Not because he was afraid of [Name], no - but because he was afraid of what the boy did to him. He had fallen so easily, so completely under [Name]'s spell, becoming just another in a long line of men left thrashed and scattered, utterly obsessed with the insatiable, alluring boy.

The inspector's sense of morality, his unshakable code, had been eroded in a matter of moments, crumbling like sandcastles beneath the tide of his own lust. It shamed him, the ease with which he had succumbed. The official had always prided himself on his control, his ability to stay above the corruption that plagued the city. 

Emmett Vale had weathered the storms of Veridian Falls, remained virtuous in a place where everyone else had long since collapse. But it had taken only the caress of a prostitute’s hands, the heat of his body, to shatter the last of Vale's resolve and turn him into an animalistic creature. One touch, and he became just another pawn in [Name]'s game, ready to follow the boy anywhere he led.

But as he looked into [Name]'s eyes, saw the wicked gleam of triumph and satisfaction there, he knew he couldn't resist. Couldn't resist the chance to have the boy at his mercy, to explore the depths of his own dark desires. To lose himself in the comforting warmth and tightness until neither of them could think of anything but the slide of skin on skin and the pulse of pleasure between them. 

“Lead the way”, Emmett commanded as [Name] lifted himself up and started dressing his bare body again. 

Vale knew that, by dawn, he would have been shaped into a beast of lust and need, his fate now forever tied to the harlot who had ensnared him so completely. One of the last cathedrals would still stand, but it would be forever marked by the fire of [Name]'s touch — he could only hope the few decent men left in the Veridian Falls Metropolitan Police would not have their tenets shattered as effortlessly as his.

Inspector Emmett Vale would be forever changed, a man unmade and reborn in the image of his own darkest fantasies. And [Name] would have claimed another conquest, another thrall to add to his ever-growing harem of the lost and the willing.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Murmurs, gossips, rumors and half-baked claims. That's all you hear and all you see, whenever you go out for groceries, draped with long coats, a pair of masks and a black sunglasses, when you scroll throughout the media, hell you barely go out because of your relationship but still, it's all the same thing.

Your eyes scanned the screen of your phone, softened yet saddened, reading articles and headlines of your lover's success and immediate bad remarks,Toji Fushiguro.

In the care of his home as it was yours as well, spacious condominium and multiple rest houses, the comfortable humming of the air-conditioning set a cozy atmosphere within the room, there hanged and displayed his awards, medals, trophies and championship belts, but there was your picture with him sat beside of all his hard-earned opulences, glimmering brighter than any of it.

You met Toji even before he started to pursue boxing, you were his first. His beloved, The one that softened his brute and hardened heart. You remembered, no, you reminisced the times.

There you sat in the golden hour, sunset bleeds, seeping through the window as the curtain danced in the breeze, the crisp of the pages when anyone flips it, the incoherent murmurs of the students sets you to mood, though you pondered as you gently glided your pen on the paper. He stared at your form for hours, you felt it, the burning holes on your back. Toji Fushiguro.. he was a complex character in your book though harmless most especially to you, unconsciously you guys became friends, mutuals, the way his gaze dripped into your form like he's carving the every crevice of you into his memory, immortalizing you. even when the teachers are calling for him he wouldn't budge, he bugged you, the large pad of his palm pats your head tenderly, will tease you, he shares his lunch with you even when he's not that blessed financially, Toji noticed that you don't eat so he reminds you so, You were top of the class afterall, you kept studying until the sun is down, Someone that was definitely not on his level, You were classmates, high-school sweethearts if you may.

Toji's definitely not the one to start a fight.. well not until you came into his life. Not only that you were top of the class, you also get people to cling on you, and he didn't like it, not one bit.

Though he does understand why people would cling on you, you were smart, pretty, and handsome, that's literally it, what's there to not like? Though one thing that he didn't like about you is that you're too kind.

You let people touch the places that he caressed, you let people touch the every fiber of you ever so carelessly. Toji felt his stomach churned as his jaw locked, teeth gritting at the sight.

His patience finally ran out, he felt something inside of him ignited when he saw you, cornered at the corridor with some lousy student who reeked cigarettes and failed hook-ups, you look extremely uncomfortable and scared, pressing your textbooks in your chest, avoiding eye contact, pushing the man away as the he forced his way to kiss you as he slithered his hands on the small of your back.

Then it collided.

A clean punch, straight to the face.

The man flew to the ground with a thud, he was knocked-out.

OH MY GOD, HE KILLED HI—

You screamed internally as your mouth agape in shock, dropping your textbooks on the ground with a thud, eyes widening when you saw Toji clasps your wrist gently, telling you to follow him.

“ Calm down, pretty. He's not dead. ”

You heard his voice, deep and gravelly, you listened. You then noticed the texture of his hand gripping your wrist, it was large, the pad of his palm were rough, you also felt the line of his scars, yet they were warm and clean.

Toji led you to a place, part of the campus that you've never been to, It was quite hidden after all. It was full of wild flowers and grasses, trees standing tall, shielding the grassy pasture from the sunlight, the atmosphere were calming, as the cold wind greeted you.

“ How did you know of this place..? ”

You asked in wonder, as you saw Toji already sat down, leaning his back beneath a tree, patting to the ground beside him for you to sit.

“ Let's just say that I like to explore. ”

“ And go skip classes? How adventurous. ”

“ Wow. I just saved your ass and this is what you're going to pay me back? ”

You giggled at the dry sentiment, eyes crinkled into a crescent like shape, blinking only see Toji's gaze upon you, you breath hitched as you stayed silent.

Toji liked you, whether you believe it or not, he was smitten even. But the question is how? Yes your overwhelming good qualities is there but there's just something about you that he couldn't get enough. He never found it on anyone else he ever encountered.

Toji remembered the day he met you. He was utterly miserable and battered with gashes and bruises, his hair was a storm from the brutal training he experienced, he sat down on a swing at some random playground and there was you, who offered him some water and a towel with your name initials sewed, wafting the fabric conditioner and a light conversation, treated him like a human in need, the way your eyes held such gentle gaze, your fingers treading to his entangled inky black strands, Toji never felt so safe from someone who's your size.

He bit his lip, as he tasted the metallic taste of blood from his freshly opened scar on his lip. His family was quite famous when it comes to sports and enterprises, The reign of prodigies, The Zenin family, but he rebelled against them, changed his last name, he gained freedom, though under one condition, he'd pursue boxing and win championships.

You noticed the forming scar on his lips, it bled out, abruptly standing up to buy some medicine or antiseptic cream some of sorts only to feel a warm yet rough palm grasping your frigid arm from the temperature, looking down to see Toji's gunmetal irises, almost in a pleading way, pleading you to not leave him alone.

“ Stay. ”

The arena roared like thunder, while the broadcasters gossiped, and joked through the mic, echoing throughout the stadium, sharing their insights about the possible outcome of the fight.

The fans shouted his name, chanting it like some prayer, they cheered for him like he already won, he saw signs and a tons flirtatious messages and innuendos.

It is not a surprise that Toji has down bad fans and a few stalkers in the span of his boxing career, he's big, broad shoulders that can easily tower over someone, slender waist, rippling mounds of muscles across his arms and thighs down to his strong legs.

To be honest, Toji never really cared about some obsessive fans and stalkers bothering him, because in reality, they wouldn't even try to get close, because they can't, Toji is already capable of handling himself to some minor inconveniences and danger of the disrespectful fans, Yes they could post some of his thirst traps online for clout or something, they don't matter to him, they could dwell on his past for all he care, make insane headlines about him but one thing that the publicity could never touch is his lover, you.

Toji's refined and smooth skin glistened beneath the gleaming lights, his sweat dripping down his chin down to his chest, his dark strands sticking in to his forehead, sharp eyes, his pinkish, plump lips forming a thin line as his scar parted, smirking from the sight of his opponent, as he pounded his gloved fist together— bouncing off his feet, to warm up.

Whenever he was in a match, he would think of you, waiting for him at the backstage, sitting prettily as you watch him through the big screen, wearing his olympic jacket draping over your small figure, so when he wins, he would hang his gold medal adorning your neck as it shines.

He snapped out of his trance when heard his coach yell at him, signaling him and giving him instructions, Toji merely hummed as his adjusted his black mouth guard and head guard in place, answering his coach, muffled.

“ Do you hear me, Fushiguro? ”

“ Loud n’ clear, boss. ”

You shuffled at Toji's temporary quarters, fixing and tidying up his mess as you guys will go home together, stuffing his clothes and other necessities in his duffel bag, you hummed, hearing your lover's PR team scramble on their feet as the fight finally starts, leaving you alone, you were contemplating if you're going to the manager's office, there hanged the enormous screen to watch.

After you finished tidying up, you went to your own bag, prada. It was gifted by Toji on Valentine's Day, reaching inside to get your so called essentials, mask, sunglasses and a cap, to cover your image, unlike Toji, you would actually like to entertain fans though he never lets you, he never did, though you understand why.

You went your way to the manager's office room, the air conditioning hits your face gently, sitting down at some chair.

The match finally started as you sat down.

You watched Toji swung his fist with accuracy and impact, as it collided to his opponent's cheek, tilting his head guard to the side, you winced.

“ Yikes—! That will sent me to coma, immediately. . .”

After a few rounds, the tension is getting too high, hot even. Everything's on the flow until the bastard opponent purposely spat on Toji's foot, just to anger him, spoiling his mood, only for Toji to land a final blow on him that took a tooth from him in the process, knocking him out, he must've seen stars.

You barely contained yourself from laughing, remember.. you need to stay behaved, you watched through the screen as the referee finally took Toji's bulging arms up, declaring his victory, you squealed from your seat in glee.

You stood up from your seat, turning off the television, making your way out only to bump into someone.

“ Are you Toji Fushiguro's manager, can I please get his autograph? Is he here?! ”

Your eyes widened at the sight, you scanned his appearance, he was tall, his body was quite toned as well, greyish hair, tanned, lime eyes, he was wearing a backstage pass, though he might've got it wrong, it was a fan, you never met a fan before. Wait, why is he here..?

“ Oh.. I think you've mistaken me for someone else, though Toji isn't here yet, this is the manager room as you can see, kindly get out please. ”

You politely dismissed the fan, only for him to clasp your hand together, you gasp.

“ Uhm, Sir.. I think this is not a great ide— ”

“ Would you please accompany me to the backstage? ”

This. . .This man is really stubborn and quite irritating.

“But this is the back stage, you just got the specific venue wrong. Dumbass.”

You internally thought, as you retreat one of you arm from his grip, you gave him the look.

“ Fine, follow me. ”

“ Woah, you're really kind...”

“ Quiet. ”

You led him to backstage room, only to found the PR team already tidying up the place, some of the staff greeted you.

“ This is the backstage, you may sit right over there.. ”

You pointed at the chair beside the coffee table, only to feel a hand patting your head rather harshly, messing your hair in the process, with one hand pinching your cheek even with the mask on.

“ You're really kind y'know that, though what's your name and why are you wearing a mask, are you sick? You're quite cute too. ”

Once again your eyes widened as you mouth agape, as the staff froze on what they're doing and tried to warn the man as if he was asking for his early death (he is).

You tried to tell him to stop but your words only go into his ear and comes out to the other side, you also tried smack his hands away, the staff also tried to help, but it was too late, you felt it from a mile away.

He's here.

And he saw it, the way that the man is holding you.

Oh you fucked up.

Your legs felt like jelly, they're shaking as you take it, your chest heaved, whimpering as you drooled into his broad chest,

“ What'd I tell ya about meeting my fans, hmm. . .? You dumb boy. ”

His words slurred into your head as you felt his long and think fingers, pump in and out of you covered in slick, his other hand smacked the globe of your ass, watching it jiggled in friction as you let out a wonton moan.

“ Fuuck— look at you, clenching your cute little cunt on my fingers. ”

You merely buried your face into his neck, arms scratching his back, the cold surface of the gold medal pressed up against his broad chest, it was hanging on your neck, muffled whimpers was heard, feeling his long fingers curling inside your gummy walls.

“ Nghh— m'sorry. . . won't do it again! ”

You lift your head to apologize, tears filling your eyes, only to choke on your own saliva, you felt his fingers protruding and bullying your prostate dead on, rubbing against your walls, as you writhed and shake uncontrollably.

“ NGHH— ”

Toji pushed his thick fingers in and out of your creamy hole, slick dripping and coating the globe your ass, making obscene sounds, slippery and wet delicious noises, your thighs throbbed.

“ Such a greedy slut, aren't you, doll? ”

You bucked your hips, grinding down into his fingers, straddling his strong arm, locked, you felt Toji's hands gripping your legs together, lifting it up to your head, pulling his fingers out of your tight fucking hole, dipping his head down to suck your creamy hole, his slick tongue licking the stripe of your ass, slipping his long tongue in your warm walls, frothy spit dribbling down his chin down to his neck, glistening, your felt his plump lips ghosting just righton top of your tight ring, his scar, feeling heat in your tummy.

Toji pushed apart your legs, going for your lips, kissing you sloppily, you tasted the slick, feeling his large hand slithering in your neck choking you in the process, you whimpered.

“ I'm gonna fuck you so hard the only thing that your mouth will babble is my fat fucking cock. ”

His gravelly voice ranged through the heavy tension, the smell of sex reeked on the air, his pearly whites peaking, a quirk of his lips, smirking as he looked down at your form, his glimmering gunmetal irises stared sharply, helplessly.

You can't stop twitching and moaning uncontrollably, you bit your lips, almost bleeding out, pretty little tears rolling down your cheeks, as your eyebrows knitted together.

“ P-please you're too— deeeep. . .”

Toji held your wrist together, upwards, his other arm held down your hips, your weight dipping down into the mattress, he merely dismissed your complaints, angling his hips, hitting the bundle of nerves, his thick, veiny cock abusing your prostate, the creamy and bubbly loads of his cum made an obscene white ring on your rim, dripping down the globe of your ass.

“ Shut up and take it— you dumb boy. ”

You drool into your pillow, like some cheap whore, you yearn— no, chase for it, the coiling heat inside of your tummy, your consciousness almost blearing out from the sheer impact of Toji's thrust.

His thrust was brutal and passionate, he fucks it deeper inside, Toji watched his cock go in and out of your tight cunt, the creamy and frothy cum coating his shaft, deliciously.

Toji groaned, almost whimpering when he felt you clenched around his dick.

“ Are you trying to snap my dick in half, Doll? ”

Toji then gathered your legs together, your thighs collided, lifting your legs over your head, gripping it tightly, he sloooowly— pulled out his cock, the thick and veiny shaft, almost pulsing.

He then slip it back in a heartbeat almost knocking out the air out of you, you felt so full, so filled, you let out a silent scream.

“ Sooo big— too muchhh nghh. . .”

You babbled, trembling, knees weak, you felt him in your tummy, Toji noticed, as he pressed down the forming bulge below your bellybutton, rubbing it, you moaned and whimpered loudly, you tried to remove his palm, your tongue lolling out like a slut.

“ Look honey, Daddy's sooo— deep inside of your boy pussy. . .”

Toji's brutal thrust was consistent, the bed kept creaking, hitting the headboard on rhythm, he trained for endurance, plenty of stamina, he wasn't close to done, even after multiple orgasms, he could go for days— weeks, even.

Plap, Plap, Plap!

But you can't, you weren't built for it, but he was willing to shape your body, he will train you to take his dick, to take his heavy loads, he wanted to breed you until you're so full of his creamy cum, his seed, he wanted to see his hole full of hot cum, dripping down your ass, plugging it back in with his fingers.

Your stomach was covered in cum and slick, your cock ached from so much cumming, your chest heaved, your body was covered in sweat, the bed was also covered in slick, sweat and cum that dripped out of you.

Toji then glided his fingers, combing his hair into a slick back, few of his inky dark strands sticked onto his forehead, huffing gently, he then slipped his strong arms on your back, lifting you, as your head lulled down into his shoulder, wrapping your arms around him for support, straddling his waist with your legs.

Toji immediately got the memo, securing your form against his warm body, he leaned in to kiss the crown of your head softly.

“ Doing so good for me, aren't you my angel? ”

You melted, burying your head deeply into his neck, your arms slithering around his neck, lifting your head to kiss his jaw, tenderly, in return.

Toji's eyes widened, as it softened, grinning softly, kissing the tip of your nose down to your swollen lips.

“ Two can play that game. . . ”

His rough voice ranged throughout your ears, you felt his steady heartbeat with yours, your smooth and soft tummy against his toned stomach.

He then walked his way into the bathroom, there sat a pristine bathtub, the shower was surrounded with glass, the light, almost dimmed, illuminated with serenity, Toji sat you down on the stool, as he prepared the bathtub, turning on the warm water combined with cold.

Your legs were still wobbly, the aching feeling in your back was still lingering, you almost winced.

Toji lifted you once again, dipping his foot first to test the water's temperature, now dipping his whole body in with you in his arms, the water sloshing and engulfing your tired body, his strong thick thighs down to his legs surrounding your sides, you leaned onto his chest.

Toji grabbed the bottle of shampoo, pouring it into his palm, lavender.

He glided the liquid into your scalp, meticulous fingers entangling the knots of your hair, he also got your favorite body wash, gliding it over your supple skin, the foamy and bubbly soap, glistening all over your body, you massaged your neck, shoulders, arms, down to your back, and stomach, grabbing the shower head and rinsing you.

After a while, you decided.

“ Baby, can I wash you as well. . ? ”

You timidly asked your lover, playing with the water beneath you.

Toji's eyes widened, as he grinned, his hand slithering up to your jaw, tilting it to face him, he kissed your jaw to your lips, his tender gaze drowning you, sweetly.

“ Aren't you a sweetheart? ”

Your eyes softened at his gesture, you made your way, facing him, you knelt down, it was wobbly, you tried to grip onto the sides of the tub for balance, you almost slipped, yelping until you felt warm hands kneading and pressing up to your hips.

“ Careful now, wouldn't want you to drown and hit your head, angel. ”

“ Shut it. . .”

His rough and gravelly voice was heard, you blushed profusely, you took the bottle of shampoo, gliding it to his scalp, pulling his dark hair into a slick back, you stole a sweet kiss on his forehead, you also used your favorite body wash, gliding it over his refined arms, and his toned body, his scars, you felt his gunmetal irises stared at you, he's gorgeous.

Toji merely stared at your form, taking good care of him, the tender touches, the way you kissed his forehead, tracing his scars that he once hated, you loved them, and he learned to love it as well, he felt the coiling heat on his stomach, he didn't flinch, when he felt your fingertips ghosted above his tip, he felt blood rushed to his cock, fuck.

Once you were done, you leaned onto his broad chest, until you felt it.

He was still hard.

“ You think we're done yet? Nuh uh. . . ”

Your eyes widened, looking beneath the water, only to see the crown of his bulbous tip poking between your thighs.

Toji then slipped his hands to caress your stomach down to your neglected cock, his other hand fingering your creamy and warm cunt, you mewled into your palm.

He lined himself up, guiding his cock to your entrance. Thick, hard, veined— he thrusted upwards, hitting your sweet spot, you drooled, pushing it deeper.

He knelt down in the tub, standing up, lifting you up, with your knees up to your head, folding you in half, as he lined up his shaft to your slick hole, thrusting inside, hitting your prostate, you moaned and whimpered profusely, your toes curled.

He fucked you in long, steady strokes, pushing deep with each thrust, making sure you felt every inch, every vein of his dick. The girth of him inside you was torment, your cock spurt out thin sheen of cum. head tipped back, neck full of fresh bruises, mouth drooling, his shaft was coated in creamy cum from the previous loads of cum he fucked into you earlier, it dripped out, making wet squelching noises when he thrusted in and out, he filled you to the brim just like a creampie.

“ Fuuuck— you're so fucking tight. ”

Toji cursed, buried himself deep, and came inside you—hot, thick spurts of his creamy load that made your thighs spasmed.

“ No matter how many times I fucked this pussy, it's still so fucking tight. ”

He pulled out only to thrust back in with a deep, filthy squelch, and you moaned—a raw, high-pitched moan that echoed in the room, he gripped your thighs tighter, he pushed you down to his shaft pushing the cum deeper, fast, you saw the tip of his cock bulging in your tummy.

“ NGHH— s-slow down. . ! ”

You whine. He grabs your hips and slams in again, fucking you with the weight of his cock, his heat, his heavy balls slapping against your ass.

“Fuuuck— fuck— take it— ”

He snarls, his rough and gravelly voice gets you intoxicated, you're too cock-drunk to even comprehend, slamming in and staying there as his cock throbs. And pulses, his every vein dragging along your velvety walls, he painted it white.

Toji’s voice is low, his breath hot against your ear, and his cock is buried deep inside you, pulsing with each heavy and fast grind of his hips, clinging to him as he starts to thrust, brutal and deep, it hits your prostate, making your cock spurt out loads of smooth cum dripping down your shaft, you moaned loudly, the remaining energy in your body leaving.

You passed out after you came, consciousness leaving your system, you felt your ears ringing, and Toji's inaudible voice.

You woke up, in your room, it was dimmed, dark curtains surrounded the glass windows, the coldness of the room hits your body, your hair and body was warm and dry, except your hole.

Your bleary sight is finally vivid, your eyes widened, you saw Toji still thrusting inside of you, you whimpered when your mind finally functions.

“ Well look who's finally awake. . . ”

He kissed your lips, with your mouth open, almost in instinct, slipping his warm pink tongue inside, he grips your thighs, pushing them up, folding you until you’re fully exposed under him. His cock hits that spot that makes you gurgle in the process, choking in your saliva, your hole feels so raw.

“ Did you sleep well, angel? You passed out. ”

“ Ngh— how long was I asleep. . ? ”

You barely nodded as you asked, your voice was hoarse and gravelly, with your swollen lips and eyes.

“ Almost for five hours. . .”

Your mouth agape, your eyes widened in fraction, you gripped onto his biceps.

“ Baby, what about your training. . ! Mr. Shiu w-would be so livid! ”

Toji merely dismissed you, thrusting his cock in and out of you, the cum is overflowing from the amount of loads that he dumped inside of your boycunt, he pressed down the bulge in your tummy, his canines peaking once again.

“ Training can wait, angel, I'm not done breeding you yet. . . ”

He starts thrusting harder, faster. His heavy balls still filled with his seed, he's so pent up from the days that he didn't get to fuck you because of those stupid trainings, from the times that he'd get so horny, wet dreams about you bouncing up and down his dick with his cum dripping down his shaft from your sopping wet cunt, his balls slap your ass with every thrust, creamy squelches, looong deliberate thrust dragged along your hole, like some cheap fleshlight, his personal cum dump.

Plap, Plap, Plap!

You can only moan and whimper as you take it all, you felt something vibrate on the bed, it was Toji's phone with an unfamiliar number displayed on the screen, Toji noticed as he smirked,he accepted the call and put it on speaker, you stared curiously at him, he stared at you with his phone on his ear, you heard a quite familiar voice, annoying even.

“ Hello, Mr. Fushiguro? Again I apologize for what happened yesterday, It wasn't my intention to discover your lover, and harass him at that, your management told me to apologize to you and your lover, I signed the contract that I wouldn't reveal these events on the public eye, may I please apologize to him, If I may. . ? ”

“ Why of course? here he is. . . ”

Your eyes widened as you finally get what he was planning, you frowned at him, Toji merely smiled at you, mocking you, you flushed when he put the phone beside your ear, your hands weren't exactly available right now as it was restrained by his vice grip.

“ Ah, hello, I would like to apologize to you as well, as I said, it wasn't my intention to harass you, I was just so excited to see Mr. Fushiguro, and I didn't know that he has a lover, you were quite a beauty, I can see why he's so protective of you. . . ”

Toji gritted his teeth and jaw, he felt something inside of him, possessiveness and jealousy, his eyebrows knitted in irritation, that made him thrust upward inside of you, deep and hard, you tried to muffle your noises as you bit your lips, he gripped your hips down with his other hand onto the mattress, but you still tried to answer.

“ Y-yes. . . It's a-all good now— mhnghh— ”

“You like this. You like being used and stuffed full to the brim while that bastard hears us, don’t you? What a whore. . . ”

Toji leaned in to your other ear, he whispered with his hot breath fanning in the surface of your ear, every time his hips slam into yours, you feel the slap of his skin, the obscene slick of his cock grinding inside you, you really tried to muffle your moans but the heavy and squelching noises says it anyways.

“ O-oh, Is that so? I'm glad then. . . Though are you alright? you seem to be distracted. ”

“ No worries, I-i just pulled a muscle—! ”

He pressed his hips flush to yours, his cock still twitching inside your soaked hole, he then grabbed the phone back to him.

“ Alright, that's enough. bye, sayonara or whatever. ”

“ Ah— Goodbye— ”

Turning off the phone and tossed it on the side, he stared down at you, watching his thick shaft still piercing you for almost a day now.

“ Haaaah. . .ngh—Tojiiiii—”

He thrust in, hard, You jolted, a delicious moan spilling from your lips as he grinds his hips deeper, refusing to pull out, you’re shifted on your back, legs trembling while you're folded in half, gripping the sheets, while his cock pulses deep inside you—raw, hot, wet and creamy.

“ Such a good boy you are. ”

He breathes, and panted, his voice rough and almost hoarse, while he caressed your hips tenderly.

“ Took me so well and letting me fuck you dumb and fill you up just like you deserve. . .”

You merely nodded profusely, accepting your fate, because you're so sure that he wasn't done yet.

however, you aren't expecting the way he reacted weeks after dealing with your teasing and questioning, fueling the thoughts swirling inside his head.

"toshi, if you ever cum inside me, you should set it as your phone background! actually, wait, no, because what if your teammates see it..."

"..."

"mm, maybe a video instead? ooh, yeah, i want a video of you cumming in me then pullin' out so i can see it spill out, toshtosh, would you do that f' me?"

he doesn't reply and doesn't give you a chance to comment again. the visual you painted in his mind just too much for him.

next thing you know, ushi's got you folded in half on the bed, making sure you feel every drag of his stupidly fat cock against your hot gummy walls. he's pulling out to just the tip before slamming back inside you, groaning each time you let out a whimper of his name or squeeze down on him.

"toshi, t-toshi! h-hoohmygod, please, baby, c-calm down, 'm sorry f' teasin', oh my goddd...!"

you're so fucking wet and noisy, he wants to make you be quiet because he feels like your going to make him cum too fast but he'd never ever do it as the thought of not being able to hear you is painful.

he's lost track of time, your cunt making him brainless as he pumps his cock in and out of you as he groans your name, one of his hands pinning your arms to your back while the other presses your head into the pillows.

"s-shhh, honey, let...let me make you feel good, y're so loud..."

it's so fucking messy and sloppy, his cum is dripping out of your tight pussy from how many times he’s emptied his load into you, but he still isn’t stopping, no, he can't. it’s leaking from between your thighs, leaving a milky white sheen on his dick, dripping down onto the bedsheets.

"m-mmh, nooo, toshi, don' wanna be quiet, i-i wan' you to hear how good you make me feel, baby," you purr between moans, knowing that your voice was enough to get him off. the throb of his dick inside of you told you that you were right.

“i...i thought 'bout fucking you like this all day, during practice…that i’d fuck you full of my cum, get it so deep inside you," he mutters with a grunt, moving his hands off you so he could drape himself over your back.

"f-fuck, everyone knew something was off, kageyama kept asking me if-if was okay, how 'm i 'posed to tell him my pretty little honey is waiting at home for me to fill them with my cum?”

with an affirming coo, you manage to tilt your head to the side to look over your shoulder, wanting to see how ushijima is holding up and god, the sight is so sinful.

ushijima's dripping in sweat, his bottom lip swollen and puffy from his teeth digging into it. his fluffy hair is messy and sticking to his damp forehead, and his eyes are shut, squeezing in pleasure when the head of his cock brushed against that sweet spot just right, making your cunt spasm around him.

but his eyes keep opening to see the mess between the both of you. each thrust causes his cum to spill out around him, loud, wet squelches filling the bedroom. and it's only fueling his need to fill you up again, and again, and again, until he can’t anymore.

ushijima can’t stop himself, flipping you over onto your back and folding you into a mating press and, god, he's so fucking happy he did. the way you sob his name, your nails clawing at his back as you cry in pleasure about how much deeper he is now driving him insane.

“t-toshi, cum in me, please, wanna make you a daddy, please.”

“I know, baby, I’ll give you all of it, fuck you full of cum until you can’t take anymore.”

fuck, he’s so loud, he sounds so good. ushi's deep, drawn out groans and pants of your name making you go dizzy, his big hands squeezing your waist tightly each time your hands tug at his hair.

“mm, fuck, that’s right, take all my cum, look at you, so good, can you take more? let...let me cum in you again, baby, you promised you’d make me a daddy, right? i-i need to make sure it sticks.”

while planning the journey, ushijima was going to book a hotel but tendou urged him not to waste his money, stating that his penthouse has a spare room for wakatoshi to sleep in. he embraced tendou's kind offer, and hence, at the end of their first day in paris together, ushijima joined tendou as they travelled back to his apartment.

what he wasn't expecting though, was a random woman roaming around the penthouse when they arrived. tendou didn't seem jarred or disturbed by your presense, so ushijima assumed your weren't an intruder. but equally, you weren't cleaning or cooking, so you couldn't be hired help. did tendou have a girlfriend he failed to mention?

when he turned to his friend to question your occupany in his apartment, tendou explained that he gets quite lonely while in paris — far away from his family and most of his friends — so he pays someone to keep him company. and you do your job very well, keeping him warm inside and out.

ushijima is still quite confused by his friend's explanation, so tendou suggests a demonstration.

though, tendou knows yourtimid and don't like visitors or guests — and hence his nickname for you: 'moody kitty' — so it takes some convincing, but you eventually agree.

your bent over the crytsal top coffee table, with your face and tits smushed against its cool surface while ushijima and tendou, stood next to each other, take turns ploughing into from behind. your skirt has been ripped off, so your bare ass and glistening pussy are on full display to both of them.

currently tendou is balls-deep inside you, sloppily rutting into your cunt over and over, while his familiar, slender fingers rub your folds and tormet your sensitive clit. your melodious moans ring throughout the room and highly overpower his low grunts that emit from his gut with each sporadic thrust. "mph, what a pretty, pretty kitty." he muses. "you've got nothing to be shy about. wakatoshi thinks your sexy too, right?"

"yes." he replies bluntly. ushijima stands aside and strokes his cock, mesmerised by the way your perky ass bounces and your entire perfect body quivers around tendou's dick. meanwhile, tendou doesn't seem to care about the fact he's got your brain fried from his tip repeatedly bumping your cervix. he just continued to rut into you, despite how your twitching figure and squelching pussy indicate that you can't take much more.

"ngh, fuck, sa— hah, satori! too much.." you whine against the table, the beads of saliva forming at corner of your mouth, sticking to the table, "m' so close!"

usually that would be a trigger for tendou to fuck you even harder, but in this instance, it reminds him that he has a guest present and signals that it is time for you to switch handler. "mmh, sorry about this, sugar.. you know i love to see your pretty pussy cum but.." without warning, he jerks himself out and motions for ushijima to take his place. "wakatoshi's turn now, princess. ya ready?"

you gasp at the unexpected action; your entire body suddering at how the cold air floods your previously conjested pussy. the burning sensation in your abdomen momentarily dies down, but it's short-lived, as the gape is soon filled by ushijima bullying his fat cock into your soaked cunt.

thankfully, tendou's actions and foreplay has made you sufficiently wet and lubricated, otherwise there would be no way in hell he'd be able to fit that monster dick inside your tight hole. even you laid there, shocked that it was fully inside you, as you could feel the way it protrudes from your tummy and pushes against your walls.

"mmph, too big! too full.. i can't!" you mewl, clawing at the smooth glass surface of the table to cope with the deliciously agonising stretch of your cunt. while ushijima and tendou simply pass entertained smirks to each other at your sweet cries.

"yes, you can, kitty. don't be shy." tendou purrs while stroking your plump ass, almost patronisingly. "be a good girl for wakatoshi like you are with me. show him how well-bahaved you are. c'mon, he doesn't bite."

ushijima does far worse than bite. you most definitely weren't ready for the way he fucked you. it was like you were being repeatedly impladed, yet somehow it was the best thing you've ever experienced. he had your eyes rolling back in your head and your tongue shamelessly hanging out from your mouth.

meanwhile, an entirely amused tendou slithers under the glass coffee table and lays on his back. that way, when he looks up, he can fuck his fist to the sight of your obscene facial expressions as you get your guts rearranged by his friend.

a smirk flickers over his lips, "not so shy anymore, are we, princess?"

you can't even pretend to grant his question with a sarcastic response as your mind can't even begin to form a coherent thought, from the way ushijima's bulbous tip tortures your g-spot. his dick raking against your spongy walls over and over until they are woefully sore from having to swallow him again and again.

since you were already high from sex with tendou, less than a minute with ushijima's dick inside your pussy already had you begging for a sweet release, "p-please! it's too much.." you cry, steaming up the glass under you with your hot breath, " 'm, ahh!— gunna cum!"

tendou's face burns as his hand furiously tugs at his cock, your gorgeous face and tits serving as perfect jerk material — not to mention your pornographic moans and drenched noises from your poor cunt. "nuh-uh, (y/n). can't cum til you ask wakatoshi for permission." he coos, meeting your lust-clouded gaze from beneath the glass — he can tell how badly you need to finish but unfortunately he loves teasing you even more. "c'mon. be good n' ask. use your words, kitty."

stringing together an intelligble sentence felt like an impossible task, but as you squeezed your eyes shut, and tensed your cunt around wakatoshi's lethal dick — relentless slamming into your pussy, you somehow manage to choke out, "mmmph, please, ushi— hah, fuck!" you spluttered, barely completing two words before an overwhelming surge of bliss overcame you again, throwing you off. but you found it in you to persevere, "can i cum? please can i finish?" you hastily breath out your inquiry as if it were all one word. your chest pressing against the glass with each deep breath you heave while stifling your impending orgasm.

ushijima continues his rythmic pace, his dick throbbing with in the confines of your homey walls as he feels his own climax fast-approaching. ".. yeah." he grunts.

but now it is your turn to shock him. as soon as merely utters the golden word, your cunt immediately clamps down on him, as you let your fiery high blissfully roll over you and totally embody the lust brimming in your abdomen.

and due to this, you even elicit a quiet groan from ushijima as he succumbs to his own climax and fires his hearty load into your hole. it's the best he's every had; he lets his vision glaze over as he's transported elsewhere. somewhere hot and soft. as he revels in the way your convulsing cunt desperately milks him dry, as though it were trying to savour every last drop of his precious seed.

even once you're both done, and you start coming down from your high, he remains buried in your snug cunt. he can't bring himself to pull out.

while ushijima stands there panting, tendou takes a break from pleasuring himself to crawl out from under the table to stand at the opposite end of the coffee table, where your face is. "how's that? good, isn't she?" tendou chuckles at his typically stoic friend appearing to visibly fucked-out.

wakatoshi nods breathlessly.

tendou hums in agreement as he slips his fingers under your chin to prop it up, as he uses his other hand to manoeuvre his cock into your glistening lips. he gazes down at you, and smiles warmly as you obidiently accept his length into your mouth, "she's perfect."

★ KUROO + KENMA

tw & tags.. power dynamics, inappropriate workplace relations, cockwarming, meanie! kenma, degredation, slight analplay, praise, handjobs, good cop/bad cop

kuroo and kenma have important work to do. recently, bouncing ball corp and it's affiliates have signed a contact to run a major event with the japanese volleyball association, led by yours truly. hence, there was less than a week less until the event and still mass amounts of work needing done.

there were heaps of paper work in kenma's office that required filing, while kuroo had thousands of emails to respond to and marketing to clear as head of the jva promotional division. together they decided that they needed to tackle this backlog head-on and pull an all-nighter together at kenma's office in tokyo. there they could have peace and quiet to simply focus on all the duties that required their attention.

they begun work at around 9AM and kept going until 5PM. then they took a one hour dinner break before resuming the grind. however, they ran out of steam again at around midnight, despite the multiple coffees and energy drinks they had gone through.

something stronger was nessecary to keep them focussed. and thankfully kenma had just the thing.

his cute secretary usually clocked out at 5PM but kenma was weary of the fact him and kuroo were going to stay late today, so he scheduled you a night shift instead.

kuroo was skeptical at how a secretary would be able to help with their workload, but he kept his inquires to himself while kenma summoned you to the office.

you arrived around ten minutes afer he texted you, and when kuroo laid eyes on you, it was like he had been instantly awoken, but mostly below the belt. the way your white blouse clung to your alluring figure, and your skirt was inappropriately tight and he could leer over every curve of your perky ass.

"ten minutes? what the hell.." kenma chides, but with a lot less force than usual — he's too tired to spank you like he usually does.

"sorry! i fell asleep at my desk again.." you clasp your hands together and apologise profusely, "i am really sorry. i put a special ringtone for your texts too that's really loud but i still slept through it.."

"again.. do i need a shock collar or something?" he stresses, fidgeting with the pen in his hand as he slouches against his desk. "or how about a vibrator? and i can keep the controller for it."

you blush at the idea, and kuroo is also thoroughly scandalised upon hearing the way kenma talks to his assistant. surely that violates lots of workplace harassment laws, he thinks to himself. however, his view will change once he starts to understand the special nature of the relationship you have with your boss.

"kenma, be nice." he comments. but kenma just rolls his eyes.

"this is kuroo, the head of the promotional divison at the jva." he introduces you to kuroo, then does the reverse, "and this is my secretary, (y/n)." his head snaps back round to glare daggers at you, "be polite, (y/n). don't embarrass me."

you nod nervously under his piercing amber scrutiny and rush over to shake kuroo's hand. "hi, nice to meet you, sir." you splutter.

kuroo smiles up at you warmly, "nice to meet you too." he's got a strong grip but you don't let go until he does first. then, you glance back at kenma for his approval, but all you see is him motioning for you to come closer to him.

which you do, wordlessly. once you are within arms-length, he yanks you forwards and pulls your skirt up, revealing your supple ass and your black thong. "you call that underwear? that's dental floss, slut.."

he spreads your cheeks and runs his slender fingers over your cute asshole, entranced by the way it subtly quivers at his cold touch. "kenma.. stop.." you whine, and kuroo watches in dismay as this happens.

little does he know, you are completed accustomed to and accepting of kenma's perverted antics. you're just a lil' shy when it comes to ass stuff. but even then, you have a safe word with kenma and it certainly isn't 'stop'. kuroo is too horrified (and turned-on) to utter a single word. he's petrified.

kenma lets go of your ass and for moment kuroo believes he has come to his senses, until kenma commands in a low voice, "strip." then kuroo's jaw virtually falls to the floor. and he's even more shocked when you actually do it.

they both watch intently as you sensually pull your skirt down then follow it up by tugging your panties off to reveal your entire ass and pussy. you also unbutton your blouse, then undo your bra and let your tits fall out. your nipples visibly pebbled and erect due to the cold air. and finally, you slip your heels off and shuffle awkwardly in place, awaiting further instruction.

midway through your little show, kenma begins to pull his trousers down to free hardened length. when he holds it in his hand, he doesn't even need to say a word, he just gazes up at you with that risque glint in his eye and you are already trained on what to do next.

usually he'll suck your clit a bit first or play with your nipples to dampen you enough to take his cock, but he hasn't this time, hence you especially struggle to sink down on him. but being the helpful man he is, he pushes you down by the shoulders until your sat nicely on his lap and he is balls-deep inside you.

"nngh, kenma, hurts.." you stutter, your nails digging into the thick material of his shirt. your growing increasing wet by the second, your juices even dripping down his shaft, but that hardly takes away from the strain on your walls.

"of course it does.." he mutters, picking up his pen in one hand and resting the other on the small of your back. "just stay put, okay?"

at some point during that suspicious encounter, kuroo was able to put the pieces together and realised that your relationship might not be entirely professional, like he had initially thought. which was a relief; he worried he was going to have to file an urgent report to HR about his childhood best friend.

"kuroo.." kenma spoke softly, "come over."

kuroo was unsure at first, but perhaps it was due the growing tent in his pants, or maybe his lust-clouded judgement, but he gave minimal resistance before he stood up from his chair, and dragged it over to kenma's side of the desk.

he then took a seat again, but right beside you and kenma. your face was hooked over kenma's shoulder, nuzzling into his bleached hair, while kuroo admired your naked figure, tenderly tracing your exposed spine with the pads of his fingers.

despite this attention, you paid no mind to kuroo whatsoever, causing a gasp to be ripped from your throat when kenma smacks your plump ass. "(y/n), what did i say about being polite?"

you pout at his harsh words then turn to kuroo with glossy eyes, who can only dote over your adorable expression. he cups your cheek in his hands and coos, "aw, don't be so mean to the pretty girl, kenma." he directs his first comment at his friend, then the latter at you, "you're tired, sweet thing, aren't you?"

you nod at his understanding, then nuzzle into his neck instead. he chuckles at this, "yeah? we're all sleepy, huh." you quickly realise he's more buff than kenma, from the way his muscles flex against your skin as he rubs your back. also, he smells like a man; an expensive man. you don't know what cologne he's wearing but it's intoxicating and so romantic.

kuroo starts to undo his fly and pull his cock out from the parition in the fabric of his trousers, but kenma — cold stare not averting from the paperwork in front of him — is quick to warn, "careful. she's a messy slut." he accenuates his point by shifitng his spare hand from the small of your back to under your ass, where he lift you slightly to reveal the creamy ring of essence you've left at his base.

kuroo, opting to save his trousers from being soiled, pulls them down to his knees. "not a slut," kuroo correct gently, as he works on freeing his dick from his briefs, "just excited."

you nod, gaze dropping to watch kuroo rub his long, exposed shaft. his other hand toys with your nipple, playfully but firm enough that it forces your body to face him. he huffs a chuckle at the way you gawk at his impressive length, "think you can help me out too, beautiful?"

"mhm." your hand wanders over his beefy thigh before you fingers cautiously wrap around his cock. his fierce eyes are fixed to you with a glaring precion, soaking up your every move. from the way your bare tits sway as you lean forward, or how you swallow a lump in your throat formed due to kenma cock still nestled up within your walls.

once you have him fully in your grip, you begin to pump his cock gently — stroking it, more than anything. and kuroo lets out a satisfied sigh at the stimulation. however, kenma must have misinterpreted it as a sigh of frustration, as he urges you, "(y/n), go faster. why're you being so lazy today?"

kuroo shakes his head, relaxing back into his chair, and holding your face into his neck by cradling your head. "it's fine, kenma. she's doing perfect." he reassures, pressing a benign peck on your temple, smiling into your skin, "you're too harsh."

kenma rolls his eyes, not averting his feline eyes from the work afore him even once, "she's not your secretary; i know she can do better." kenma argues, in his signature monotone, on accentuated by his tired voice, "maybe you're just too nice to whores."

"awh, don't listen to kenma, sweetheart. you're not a whore." he musues, admiring the way your pretty hands tug at his dick, and how your gorgeous naked body looks sprawled out across him and kenma. he could just eat you up; starting with those cute tits. "maybe you should come back to the jva headquarters with me. i have a lot of things i could use your help with."

"stop that." kenma spits.

kuroo titters at his half-assed attempt to poach his friend's secretary, then leans forward so he can reach his laptop. the rest of the night goes on like this, with kenma's cock planted inside your pussy, and kuroo occasionally grunting under his breath while you stroke him at a very mild rate. it's awfully intimate, and although you anticipate the encounter will escelate once kuroo and kenma finish their work, unfortunately you all fall asleep before that happens. and the janitor has a nasty surprise when he walks in on you all in that position.

★ KAGEYAMA + SUGAWARA

tws & tags.. oral (m receiving) , tit jobs, rough sex, handjob, sex worker! reader, degredation, praise and general messiness

the schweiden adlers scheduled a practise match against another team in their base location, and even though kageyama didn't anyone to watch, sugawara heard about the match through the grapevine and decided to attend — since he was in the area and had the day off work — in order to surprise and show support for an old friend.

suga appears in the stands with only around thirty other people watching, since it was only a practise match. around halfway through the game, kageyama noticed his familiar face in the small crowd, and they briefly flashed each other smiles of acknowledgement.

after the match, suga approached kageyama and they caught up a little bit. talking about what they've been doing since graduation and how things have been going in their personal lives. their conversation was cut short though as kageyama was being urged to shower and change out of his jersey by his coach, and suga happily offered to walk with him to the changing room.

as they walked through the hallways of the sports centre, they continued their idle chatter. suga brought up, "being a professional volleyball must be stressful, huh?"

"eh. not really." kageyama shrugged.

"huh?! seriously?! i mean, i work at an elementary school and i'm stressed out, like, all the time. i've already started finding grey hairs!" suga explains frantically, "so, i have no idea how you cope as a volleyball player. when there's so much pressure for you to perform well at matches, in front of millions of people."

kageyama is a bit perplexed by the 'grey hairs' comment, but he glosses over that and instead replies, "i guess it is a lot of pressure sometimes. but i deal with it pretty well."

"how?" suga asks desperately, anticipating kageyama to introduce him to some sort of intricate zen technique, or a life-changing diet regime. and naturally he was extremely disappointed when tobio responds with,

"there's a janitor at home base who gives blowjobs for ¥4000."

suga simply stares with his mouth hung agape, astounded. taking bjs off some old crusty janitor was not the solution he was seeking at all. however, kageyama must've interpreted his stunned silence as curiosity, as he added, "c'mon, i'll show you." as he makes a b-line down some random hallway, which was clearly not the direction they were meant to go in for the changing rooms, and suga has no choice but to follow him as he can't navigate through this building on his own.

albeit, he makes his intentions very clear as he marches after kageyama, "i'm not going to pay some random guy for a service like that. and you shouldn't be doing that either, it's messed u—" as he drones on, kageyama halts outside a random door and knocks on it, and suga is left truly speechless when the door creaks open and stood there is you in your tight-fitting janitors outfit.

suddenly, suga was reaching into his wallet to see if he had ¥4000 on him.

after an awkward interaction (followed by a smooth monetary transaction), your kneeled down in the janitor's cupboard with suga and kageyama stood in front of you. your bare chest was exposed but you kept your pants on, unlike the two of them who were eager to jam their dicks down your pretty throat.

kageyama was as rough as usual, making full use of your hair in order to maneuver you around to his will, forcing you to deepthroat his cock when he felt like it. "just like that, fuck. keep fuckin' going." he'd heave angrily, brows furrowed together in hedonistic fury.

he loved seeing the imprint of his dick in your neck, or against your puffy cheeks. and the way your eyes would screw shut whenever you got a taste of his bitter precum that would seep onto your tongue as you sucked. "better not stop.."

sugawara was far more adept at feigning kindness. he wouldn't grip your hair the way kageyama would, no, whenevr he wanted your attention, he'd gently cup your chin and guide it so you were gazing up at him. but it was all an act really, because he was far more perverted than kageyama every was. like a wolf in sheep's clothing.

whenever you were pleasing tobio, suga would lean over and fondle your tits while you'd pump his cock. he'd tug and pinch at your hardened nipples and smirk devilishly whenever he'd get any reaction from you. and he was up for far more than bjs, he'd bend his knees slightly so his dick slid perfectly between your tits, and when you'd press your girls together, he audibly groaned at the soft sensation.

through heavy lidded eyes you met the doting hazel stare of suga, who smiles down at you, "you're so pretty.." he muses, leaning over to cup your cheek in his hand, gently grazing your burning skin with his thumb. "such soft tits. you're a dream, dear." the kindness was foreign to you, thus you smiled up at him, while he continued to drag his dick between your tits, bumping your chin occassionally.

kageyama was quick to notice that your mouth was currently unoccupied, and hence seized the oppertunity to snap your head round towards him by your hair, causing you to yelp. "go on," he urged, guiding his cock back to your closed mouth and tapping his leaky tip against your lips, "get to work. swallow it, slut." he growled, a mocking smirk playing on his features.

tobio wasn't usually so forceful with you. he was abrasive, sure, but never rude. there was something different about him today, but admittedly, you kinda enjoyed it. the sinister glint in his ocean eyes caused a canal of heat to stir in your core, and pool in your panties, as you gazed up at him and obidently accepted his length back into your adoring mouth. all while sugawara was still thrusting his dick between your plush tits.

you pushed them together even further, causing a stifled whimper to be pulled from suga. "uhh— that's perfect, angel. thank you — acht, so much." he heaves, unable to suppress a delighted grin at your adorable little face, all stuffed with kageyama's cock, and your gorgeous tits which engulf him so well. "you're too good at that.."

kageyama's cock is shoved virgously down your throat, and he basically uses your mouth as his very own fleshlight. piloting your movements with his fist balled up in your hair, as his hips rock against your sloppy mouth. "heh, you look like a fuckin' whore like this." he blabbers through gritted teeth, "shit- might be cause you are one." and you can tell by the way his grin disappated and his eyes grow watery that he's getting close to his high.

but suga beats him at the chase, as his dick twitches against your chest and before you are given any time to prepare, he unloads his seed between your tits. and being the kind woman you are, you use your hands to push them together to keep his cock wrapped up tight as he climaxes, even if that means your entire chin, neck and tits are all coated in a layer of his semen.

he's got quite a hefty load, and he only pulls away once you are thoroughly painted. his eyes were screwed shut while he came, but once he is able to pry one open and look at the sticky mess he has made of you, he can't help but snicker to himself. "acht, sorry, angel. i've made an awful mess of you, haven't i?" he hums, talking to you in a disturbingly clement tone, "don't worry, it'll be easy to clean. we are in a janitor's cupboard, there should be something that could wi—"

"don't. she looks hot like this." kageyama states bluntly. during sugawara's orgasm, kageyama mercifully reduced his pace and allowed you to slowly bob back and forth on his length and lick his shaft. but not to make it easier for you or anything, of course not; it just happened naturally as kageyama was more entertained by watching sugawara cover you with his hot cum. it was so filthy.

"hah, look like even more of a whore now. covered in cum." kageyama huffed out a chuckle and began to increase the rate at which he was thrusting his cock into your mouth, with such intensity it was such to leave your lips bruised. "bet you like that, don't you? don't you?"

"mmph!" was all you were able to respond as kageyama frantically slammed you against his cock over and over, right until his thick cum unexpectedly shot down your throat. warm and suffocating, threatening to stick to the walls of your throat if you don't swallow it all — so you do, tentatively.

meanwhile, kageyama and suga's eyes did not part from you, not once. "yeah, drink it all up." kageyama groans, stumbling in place from his euphoric high, "savour it and don't miss any. not a drop."

you choke it all down like he orders, then open your mouth to show the proof. kageyama exhales in satisfaction, while sugawara pats your head, "wow, what a good girl, eh?"

you nod, pleased with your work, and believing that the session was coming to a close, you are about to stand upright from your knelt position on the floor, until suga uses his hand on your head to push you back down. "not so fast, angel. you're not done quite yet." he sings, reaching for his wallet which he sat on one of your shelves, "there's another ¥8000 in it for you if you want to go again."

you press your lips together and furrow your brows contemplatively. it's a tricky decision, and suga can detect your hesitancy, and thus he attempts to further persuade you, "c'mon, i think you'd look so pretty covered with some more of our cum, eh?"

★ MATSUKAWA + HANAMAKI

tws & tags.. analplay, vaginal, fingering, shower sex and just general pervertedness.

what you did not realise was that becoming matsukawa's girlfriend and moving in with him and hanamaki meant you were signing up be a live-in sex doll for both of them. and they were so so mean to you.

despite still living together, you didn't quite grasp how close they were prior to moving in together. they were certainly a dynamic duo. it's like you couldn't even have sex with just matsukawa anymore, it always had to be a threeway. which you didn't mind at first because double penetration is always fun, but it often gets to a point where you are so overstimulated, you can no longer tell if the cock stuffed balls-deep into your mouth is your boyfriend's, or someone else's. and the copious amount of cum dribbling out of your ass might've been his too.

and they weren't just meanies in bed either. matsukawa had a fasination with your tits and would pinch your nipples or tug at them while you were trying to cook dinner — or when you were trying to do anything in peace, really. hanamaki was more of an ass man, but when it came to you, he was just an all-round provoker. whenever you wore a skirt he'd always try to pinch your clit or tease your pussy in any way he could. it drove you crazy but you also loved it.

and it was impossible to escape them either, since there was usually always at least one of them in the house. and they were both constantly on. you can't even watch a movie together in peace; when you are at the most climactic part, and you assume they are both super absorbed into the film, they'll both start trying to finger your holes out of nowhere.

hell, you can't shower alone any more, they need to insert themselves in there too. even if they just had a shower that same morning.

so, here you all are together, squeezed into the one shower cubicle because they can't seem to seperate themselves from you for twenty minutes. you're all nude and pressed up against each; mattsun is standing in front of you, facing you and rubbing shampoo into your hair, while hanamaki is stood behind you, his erect cock sliding betwen your plump thighs.

you smile into your boyfriend's buff chest, as he caresses shampoo into your scalp, while you work on exfoliating your arms. he chuckles at the sensation and tilts your head up so he can press a long, sensual kiss upon your lips, which you happily return.

as your lips intimately weave together, you feel one of soap hands attach itself your tit and begin fondling it. you can't help but giggle at how typical that is, but you keep kissing and allow him to continue, as he still uses his other hand to massage your scalp. "got such cute tits, baby." he groans against your lips.

"you say that all the time.." you whine, and he only laughs.

"'cos it's true." he briefly pinches your nipple, causing you to mewl, "they're perfect. you're perfect, (y/n). got the best body i've every seen." his kisses trail from the corner of your lips to your jaw, to your neck, until your head is tossed back and you're moaning as he sucks deep hickeys into your skin. now his grip on your head is just being used to keep you close.

"barf." hanamaki grunts to himself while rolling his eyes. he was originally lathering shower gel on your back, be he seems to have descended to massaging your ass cheeks.

you cry even louder as matsukawa's fingers travel from your tits to between your thighs. he toys around with your labia and aggressively rubs your clit a little to warm you up, but due to all the lubrication from the shower, he doesn't need to wait long before he is able to slip his two digits right up your pleading enterance. "nghh— issei, don't stop, please!"

"i won't, baby. this desperate cunt need me that bad, huh?" his mouth frees itself from your neck, leaving marks that will surely blossom into pigmented hickeys by the morning, and he begins to kiss you again. but this time much more feverishly, shoving his tongue into your mouth and grinding your bodies against each other as he rapidly fingers you.

your legs even part slightly to grant him more access, and he takes this as a sign to speed up. lethally thrusting into your pussy and curling his digits against your spongy, sensitive walls until your basically sobbing for mercy into the kiss. "ahh— fuck, issei. 'ts too good! faster, faster please, issei! i need you.."

"course you need me, baby." his honeyed words are hot against your earlobe, "who else is going to fuck this greedy pussy everyday, huh? tell me." naturally, one of your legs ended up hooked around his hips; not only to increase the closeness but also so he could reach your g-spot with ease. however, hanamaki interpretted that as an oppertunity for himself. you paid no mind at all when you heard him getting on his knees behind you, no, you were far too involved with the wet make-out session with your boyfriend and the way he expert finger slid feverishly in and out of your cunt.

but you had no choice but to notice his actions when you felt hanamaki's tongue worm into your tight ass. instinctually you jerked away from the kiss to gasp and writhe at the strange sensation, but matsukawa held you very still in his strong arms.

"awh, baby, what's wrong?"

it didn't take a genius to figure out what his friend was doing to you, and he couldn't help but be entertained by it. the way your little face screwed up at the intrusion yet he could tell your eyes glinted with excitement at the foreign sensation. your even bit down harshly on your bottom lip as though you were trying to prevent your tongue rolling out and giving away how much you truly liked it. so fucked out you couldn't even respond to his simple question.

"look at that face. aren't you just the cutest thing?" he swiped one of his soapy hands across your nose, leaving a trail of foam in it's wake. not that you cared, you were too overcome by the feeling of hanamaki's tongue gliding in and out of your ass, and his soft lips working expertly against your puckered hole. "feel good, baby? want more?"

you hesitated, looking up at your boyfriend with a slight grimace, and he contiued, "no point in lyin'. i can see it all over your face. you like it, dont you? you don't need to be ashamed, pretty girl. we're here to take care of you, okay?" he got increasingly closer to your face as he spoke, and at the end of his question, he locked his lips with yours. and kissed back, despite the shrieks caged at the base of your throat from how good hanamaki's mouth was making you feel. in tandem with your boyfriend's fingers still sloppily thrusting into your messy cunt.

when hanamaki eventually pulled out, you were only spared a momentarily rest, as the power of matsukawa's fingers was growing by the second. perhaps you had been given relief from the tongue inserted into your hole, but the force of matsukawa's fingering was ready to lead you to your climax at any moment. and you were moaning desperately and frantically against his lips in preparation. "issei, please, please! 'm so close, fuck me faster. please, issei."

meanwhile, hanamaki had grown painfully bored. it wasn't fair that his friend got all of you attention — and why? just because the two of you were dating? rubbish.

he thought maybe while in the shower he should focus on cleaning himself. he searched for a bar of soap, then a luffa. during which, he saw one of those luffa's attached to stick hanging from the shower caddy. the stick part was likely to aid in the luffa reaching one's back, but it gave him a bright idea.

he reached over and grabbed it. and just as your insides were ready to spill all over your boyfriend's fingers stuffed into your pussy, hanamaki jams the handle right up your tight asshole. as much of the length as he could manage in one push.

"takahiro!" you squeal, your voice echoing off the walls of the shower as you finally come undone over your boyfriend's fingers. your own fluids ejecting from your pussy mixing in with the lukewarm water already dripping all down your legs.

"takahiro?" matsukawa defensively jerks his fingers straight out of your pussy upon hearing you call his friend's name instead of his own. "who has been fucking your cunt this whole time?" he argues, completely oblivious to what is going on behind the scenes.

"you like that, (y/n)?" hanamaki muses cockily, toying with the stick a tiny bit. observing how moving it only slightly would elicit such large reactions from you. "want my dick in there too? huh?"

"what?" matsukawa snips.

★ BOKUTO + ATSUMU + SAKUSA

tws & tags.. oral (m + f receiving), anal, breeding kink, impact play, rough sex, degredation, praise, squirting. won't make sense unless you read part one.

sakusa subconsciously twitches at the delicious sight of you completely bare, bent over in front of bokuto, and your glossy lips wrapped firmly around the base of atsumu's cock.

invited into the ordeal, regularly he'd turn his nose up at something like and scornfully report the indecency to the coach, but there was just something so alluring about you in this state. that's how his legs moved on their own to carry him towards your body, specifically situating himself beside bokuto and promptly kneeling down.

as he does so, his eyes are lasered to your gorgeous, gently shivering body, all bare and exposed for them. his gaze is especially stuck to your pretty, glistening cunt, currently stuffed with bokuto's beefy cock and drooling around it.

bokuto and atsumu are both in a state of shock. they're still out of breath as they were coming down from their imminent, unfulfilled orgasms, due to sakusa's rude interuption. but they can't find it in themselves to be mad or frustrated. in fact, they briefly share a look of relief with each other, due to sakusa opting to join their little tryst instead of rebuking them for it.

however, evidently some shuffling needs to be done in order to accommodate for sakusa's desires. he's on his knees beside bokuto, clearly wanting to get a taste of your pretty pussy (thankfully before it was soiled with bokuto's cum.) so bokuto, very kindly, pulls out with a lewd squelching noise, to allow kiyoomi to shuffle over between your legs so his head aligns with your cunt.

"you okay if kiyoomi joins in, baby?" atsumu asks mockingly while stroking your hair, snickering when your reply is entirely muffled by his cock stuffed in your mouth.

"she doesn't mind, do ya?" bokuto asks rhetorically, grabbing a joyous fistful of your ass as he does so. "this pussy's wet enough for all of us, huh?"

"yeah, you're a brave girl, you can handle three guys, right?" atsumu looks down at you with a condescending smirk, as he strokes your head with his thumb, "we'll be gentle with this delicate body, promise."

"you know we take good care of ya." bokuto smiles, holding his cock which has been smeared with your fluids. not that he minds, only makes it easier for him to relocate and slip it straight into your tight ass, along with the subtle forewarning, "incoming." before he jams it right into you.

atsumu laughs as he watches you eyes screw shut and your mouth twitches around his dick. "that hurt, baby?" he teases, not expecting a response. he can read it all by the mere expression on your face. it was the most sultry agony, the congestive sensation created a infectious pleasure that pervaded your entire nude body. every inch of your exposed flesh pricked in delight at how bokuto's fat length felt in your snug ass.

"shit, she's tight.." bokuto gritted, barely leaving you with any time to adjust before he automatically began rolling his hips against your ass, "don't think you'll ever pull me out of her.." he panted with a ghost of a smile.

the pace began to pick up, in every hole. atsumu held your face in place as he always did, while he fucked into it. while bokuto marvelled in the newly discovered sensation, groaning uncontrollably while slowly thrusting into your pristine asshole — very sedate and savouring every inch of you.

the new addition, sakusa, was planted between your legs. his big hand captured your thigh to hold it in place and ensure your legs were sufficiently parted. his thumb dug into your supple skin while his other hand worked at your folds, spreading them wide so he could admire your splayed pussy for a moment. then, he buried the flat of his tongue deep against your labia, and pressed his lips against your cunt — exploring your pussy thoroughly with just his mouth, investigating every dip and lapping at each part.

he was quick to locate your sensitive nub and paid it all sorts of attention: from vibrating his tongue against it to sucking on it to kissing it tenderly. all of which caused you to whine as atsumu continued to shove his cock down your throat.

"fuck— ki— mmph, kiyoomi, what're you doing t'her?" he grunted, tossing his head back from the way your mouth reverberated around his dick. "the bitch won't shut the fuck up— mgh, that slutty mouth."

sakusa didn't answer. though you did feel him smile against your juicy cunt. this confirmation was enough to persuade him to venture further. his furious make-out session with your damp pussy was halted when he abruptly chose to dive inside your hole, swiftly shoving his tongue past your entrance and worming around in your homey walls. all while his lips still moved against your puffy folds.

since he had been teetering on the edge of an orgasm right before sakusa had entered the changing room, it wasn't long before atsumu's pumping into your mouth became sporadic, and he began to lose stamina, due to his impending climax clouding his mind and draining his energy. "ah, shit, baby. you've got me so close; so god damn close. finish me off quick and i won't make a mess all in this pretty hair, mkay?" he joked (or at least, you hoped he was joking.)

"y-yeah, me too.." and bokuto was the same, although since your clenched little asshole was basically suckling on his cock, his pace had steadily been far more relaxed, holding onto your plush ass cheeks while he leisurely dragged his cock from and into your hole, exhibiting a prolonged groan each time. "shit.. look, your ass won't let go of my cock. hah, guess i gotta cum inside. you don't mind, do ya, (y/n)?"

"nah, she's used to being our cumdump." atsumu huffed a chuckle.

"damn right she is." bokuto panted with a harsh slap on your ass, causing you to clamp down on his cock which pried a stifled whimper from him. "shit." he cursed under this breath.

the bubbling pool of hot liquid within in your stomach was also growing exponentially every passing second. you were just so full; stuffed to the brim with appendages jammed into each of your pleading, desperate holes. there was no breathing room left. bokuto's monster cock was forced so far up your ass that you were left straining to try fit him all inside, a lewd stretch of your hole each time he'd push into you. along with atsumu's length, which required you to deep-throat whenever he carelessly shoved it as deep as he could physically manage.

at the cherry on top was sakusa's expert tongue rummaging around your spongy insides as though he searching for something. and he was, and you had hell to pay when he found it; your g-spot. his merciless tongue abused that shit to an unholy degree. you were only spared a break in ten second intervals when he'd yank his tongue out of your cunt so he could kiss and lap at your wet pussy, devouring your folds and licking up your juices, but that relief was fleeting, before he would dive right back into your hole and resume his torture on that gummy, sensitive spot inside you.

you weren't sure what his agenda was. why he was so adament on making you feel extraplanar levels of ecstasy, and how he possibly got off on that, but you weren't left with much time to contemplate before you were furiously orgasming aginst his face, squirting your fluids onto the floor and into his mouth while your entire body convulsed.

bokuto and atsumu quickly followed suit. "shit, (y/n), let go— your too fuckin tight— hah—" the way your ass cleched around his cock was enough to tip him over the edge. vision filled with stars, bokuto unloaded spurts of his hot seed into your asshole, filling it all up to the brim, enough cum to peek out your puckered enterance after he pulled out. "oh, fuck.. that grip.. was insane."

meanwhile atsumu experiences a similar flurry during his finish as ropes of his sticky cum are shot down your throat. his head tips back and he grinds your face down on his dick as he finished, until the tip of your nose was brushing his base, "ah, just like that, sexy. drink it all up.. keep suckin' til i'm dry, baby. i'll tell you when to stop." he blubbered all sorts of nonsense when he was high.

by the time he removed his cock from your mouth, you were too paralysed from pleasure to even move and inch, still bent over with cum sliding down your throat, and filling up your asshole too. not to mention sakusa's lips which were still locked to your pussy, but thankfully his tongue had given your g-spot a break.

bokuto motion for atsumu to come round the back, so he lurched over. bokuto spread your cheeks and planted a big hand on the small of your back to keep you bent over, as he displayed his conquest to his friend — the sight of his cum peeking out of your puckered asshole. "so damn cute." bokuto expressed triumphantly. then he tilts his head and comments, "reminds me of a cream filled donut."

"hah, fatass."

౨ৎ TOBIO KAGEYAMA

your fans are speculating: that you and kageyama have broken up. fans are recording footage from you on your latest tour and claim that you're "clearly disassociating" and "somewhere else mentally" when it comes to singing your iconic love songs. you and kageyama have always kept your relationship private because he's not a very open person to begin with, and you don't want to give the media more material to misconstrue. you know that kageyama hates when some random person will annotate your verses on genius lyrics and try to make the claim that your innocent metaphor is you wanting to jump ship and leave kageyama. and you hate how it's your own fans who are making wild accusations of you no longer being with the man all your love songs are about.

you posted: kageyama, with his back turned to the camera so all that fills your camera is the surprisingly broad expanse of his muscular back and shoulders. he's not even flexing, and it's obvious that he's a world-class athlete. he's facing the closet, trying to find a shirt to put on, and it would be a semi-innocent photo, the pinterest-perfect photo inspo for every private not secret relationship out there, except for the fact that there are clearly faint, red lines — scratches — running down his back. you caption the photo with a "monday morning 🤍" (your insane fans spam the comment section to exclaim how they knew you two were still a thing... and to speculate that this photo is somehow an easter egg for an upcoming song/album. well, they're right: you two will always be a thing, and tobio dicked you down so good last night that you could write him a whole album.)

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"fuck," the word slips through his gritted teeth, and you can tell that your tobio is still upset about how your fans seem divided. half of them claim no one could ever make them hate tobio (you find those fans to be absolutely adorable), and the other half...

well, the other half are making slideshow posts to audios that go "some boys take a beautiful girl and hide her away from the rest of the world" and the ones that seem to go viral are always the ones that feature you and tobio.

"not hidin' you away." he mutters, never slowing down his thrusts. he admires the expression on your face as he fucks into you, his ego pleased with how receptive you are to his every movement. he has you speared on his cock, your tight little cunt full of him, your eyes getting so adorably teared-up because he's just a little bit too much for you to handle. tobio isn't good with words; he thinks you're the most beautiful girl to exist, but he can't verbalize it. so he just takes in your sweet, fucked-out face, the reaction only he's capable of drawing from you, and it all gets so overwhelming for him.

he has to bury his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the sweet scent of your body wash as he continues to bully his cock into your soaked pussy. "why's it bad if i want to keep you all to myself?" he's practically whining, and you think this would be so cute if only you weren't currently chasing after your release. or rather, tobio's forcing you to cum, whether you want to or not. it's not like you can stop him; tobio devotes himself to always ensuring that you finish before him. he likes the satisfaction of knowing only he can take care of you, and he especially likes the way his cock looks with you creaming all over it.

when he gets like this, all you can do is cling to him, your arms wrapped around his muscular build. when he gets rough with his thrusts, when his body gets just the slightest bit sweaty from the exertion (evidence of just how much work he puts into fucking you), you have to dig your manicured nails (the set he paid for) into the skin of his toned back. otherwise, you'd lose your grip, and your hands would slip off.

tobio relishes the slight stinging pain of your nails scratching down his skin. but the scratches aren't enough. he needs to make you cum. when you get so caught up in your climax, you start clawing at him as you lose control. he loves the scratches you leave on him; it's proof that he's yours just as much as you are his.

౨ৎ ATSUMU MIYA

haters are saying: that you're just using atsumu for content. you're a gold digger. you're not genuine. you're not "wifey material." spectators are claiming that atsumu is playing worse than before because he's too "pussywhipped" for you. well, he likes to cheekily admit to you that he is addicted to your pussy, but they're wrong about everything else. obviously. however, the haters are feeling very vindicated whenever they see atsumu hasn't been posting you as much. (you're traveling for a new vlog series on your page, but no one knows.)

he posted: a mirror selfie. which isn't breaking news. atsumu miya always breaks the internet when he posts a mirror selfie because the only thing worse than a hot guy is a hot guy who knows he's hot. no one is a stranger to the sight of a post-workout, sweaty, shirtless atsumu, who flaunts his tight abs and muscular thighs with a steamy mirror selfie. but this photo? this one is going triple platinum. it's going down in history. this selfie is taken in dim lighting; the curtains in the background are drawn shut, he's got one hand gripping his phone (making the phone look tiny in his big hand), and he's got one arm wrapped around you. it's not an innocent hug, though. he's cupping your ass, and the phone in front of his face does nothing to shield his satisfied smirk. you're clad in nothing but lacy lingerie from a designer who loves to sponsor you, and you're clinging to his side, almost like you can't even stand without his support. it's clear that the two of you definitely were... appreciating the work your favorite designer put in when they created that lacy set.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"what do you think?" you're smiling at him, knowing damn well what he's thinking.

atsumu looks up at you, reflexively licking his lips as he takes in the sight of you wearing a new set of lingerie that you just got delivered. it leaves little room for imagination, and the material looks so delicate, atsumu is already thinking about how he'll have to apologize to the designer for ripping it off of you.

"i think I'm the luckiest man alive right now." atsumu is shameless in the way he's admiring you, the way the setting sun still peeks through the curtains, enveloping your body in a delicious golden glow as you inch closer and closer to him.

in a matter of seconds, he's pulling you on top of him, placing wet, sloppy kisses over any centimeter of your skin he can reach. when you make a move to slip off the panties, he protests.

"leave 'em on f'me, baby. please?"

he fucks you with you still wearing the lingerie set. your breasts are spilling out of the bra, and all he did was move your panties to the side so he could stretch you out with his cock.

"fuckin' idiots, tellin' me you're not good enough to marry. i'll show 'em what a good girl you are, right? gonna put a ring on your finger, and make you my wife." he's fucking his cock into you, making sure that your cute cunt knows who it belongs to. "gonna fuck a baby into you, sweetheart. no one's gonna say shit about our family, huh? 'cause i won't let 'em."

your cunt clenches up so nicely with every comment he makes that atsumu knows he has to make all those pussydrunk promises come true.

౨ৎ TETSUROU KUROO

the tabloids are posting: paparazzi photos of you — the socialite daughter of the man who owns the msby black jackals, and jva's promotion division's golden boy, tetsurou kuroo. it's late at night, and the two of you are clearly leaving a party celebrating the success of another eventful volleyball season. you're wearing the iconic ysl heels with a black mini-dress that honestly should be called a micro-dress. your hair is a mess, you're walking like your knees are struggling not to wobble, and walking three steps behind you despite his longer stride is kuroo; his tie is crooked, his cheeks are flushed, and he has a grin that says something like i just fucked one of the richest bratty heiresses in japan, and i left her wanting more. the amount of blind items that are allegedly alluding to you and kuroo are being spread all over tiktok. one reads, "this sports club heiress was seen exiting a party with this semi-known marketing mastermind who works in the sports industry. apparently, they couldn't keep their hands off each other, and no one can recall seeing them together during the party; everyone only caught glimpses of them running away from the festivities together."

you posted: a photo slideshow on instagram of your absolutely iconic outfit from the party, only these photos were clearly taken before the party. your hair is done, your makeup is perfect, and your caption states don't believe everything you read. the last slide is a screenshot of an online headline speculating about your "new man" with a photo of a grinning kuroo from that night. the reason why this makes everyone go insane is because you're no stranger to a scandal — this is, however, the first time you've ever addressed a headline.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"hurry up," you hiss, your eyes darting from left to right as you make sure no one is nowhere near the secluded corridor kuroo somehow managed to find.

"y'know, i thought girls were supposed to like guys who don't blow their loads prematurely." even when he's bullying his cock into your slicked up cunt, savoring the way your sensitive walls are clenching around his dick, tetsurou has a very annoying habit of still sounding entirely in control. for someone who can't keep his hands to himself when it comes to you, he's irritatingly great at playing nonchalant.

but he's just a man, after all. he might tower over you, his large body shielding you from any prying eyes, and he might know your body so well that he can bring you to completion twice (once with his fingers curling against that special spot of yours, and another one so rudely wrung out from you when he slid his cock in your orgasm-recovering, overly sensitive pussy) in just the fifteen minutes he's been toying with you tonight, but you know that he must be feeling something. you saw him shift his pants the moment his eyes met yours from across the room, when his eyes travelled down your body and followed the way your dress emphasized the curvatures of your body.

"if you don't finish right now, i'm not going to let you cum inside." you threaten him, trying to steady your voice as you bite back a moan. it'd be a major issue if the two of you got caught, with the volleyball association's golden boy being buried balls-deep inside a sports team owner's bratty daughter.

with every sharp snap of his hips, kuroo is only forcing more slick to come gushing out of your pussy. he can't even take the time to admire the white ring you left around his cock; he's too focused on chasing after his release because he didn't get to where he's at by not being opportunistic.

"if i cum inside, you have to keep it in your panties the whole night. you wouldn't want that, would you?" he sounds a little breathless now, his pace quickening as his thrusts get sloppier. he's smiling at you, that damn annoying smile that makes you want to roll your eyes or insult him. but your body betrays you. his grin only widens when your pussy tightens up at the idea of having his cum soaking in your panties while you interact with people at this party. a dirty little secret shared only between you two.

he lets out a breathy chuckle at your body's betrayal. "okay, princess. since you want it so badly, i guess i better give it to you."

you could practically cum again the minute you feel the warmth of him finishing inside of you. you're a spoiled brat who gets what she wants, and while you refuse to admit it, you want him. all of him.

and he's going to give it to you.

౨ৎ WAKATOSHI USHIJIMA

the media is going crazy over: the fact that ushijima is the type of person who doesn't clarify anything because he just assumes that everyone can read his mind. he's blunt, sure, but he's not really the type who does much explaining. after the first game of the season, an interviewer asks him if he enjoyed spending the off-season with you, his girlfriend and one of the most beloved, fan-favorite WAGs of all time. ushijima stares straight into the camera as he states in his usual deep, flat rumble of a voice, "the off-season was successful, but she isn't my girlfriend anymore. thank you." and then he just walks off, like he didn't just drop the most insane piece of information ever?

he posted: a photo of an ultrasound that was clearly taken out of his wallet since it's thrown on the table in the background. he's holding it in his left hand, and the overhead lighting is reflected from the silver wedding band he's wearing. now that he's off the court, he's able to wear it. in typical ushijima fashion, there is no caption, but a picture is worth a thousand words. you're not his girlfriend. you're his wife, and soon to be mother of his child.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"mmph — 'toshi!" you squeal out, your calves burning from the stretch as your beloved wakatoshi has your legs bent and spread for him. he's just so big that you'd never be able to handle all of him, and yet, here you are, bent into a mating press every night since the two of you have gotten married. you try to beg him to slow down, but words escape you as he buries himself into your pussy, letting out a deep, guttural groan as the warmth of your cunt coats his cock. there's no better feeling than this.

even if you could request for him to slow down, it wouldn't have mattered or made much of a difference. your husband has a one-track mind. when wakatoshi is set on a goal, it's hard to break his focus until he sees it to the end. and right now, wakatoshi's goal is to fuck a baby into you, to see you round with life because of the seeds he planted.

he's hunched over you, abs tightening and flexing with every sharp inhale of breath he takes. he's gonna fuck himself empty, going to keep filling your cunt with his seed 'til he's shooting blanks. his eyes glance at the ring he put on your finger before returning to admire your blissful expression and the way your body seems to have gone boneless from all the fucking he's had you endure.

"just a little bit longer." he manages to say, before forcing his cock in even deeper. "just have to make sure it takes."

౨ৎ TOORU OIKAWA

everyone is claiming: long distance relationships never last. when oikawa makes the shocking announcement that he is no longer a japanese citizen, everyone immediately wondered what that meant for the future of your relationship. does that mean it's over? officially? if oikawa is leaving behind his hometown, then by default, is he leaving you behind too?

he posted: a photo slideshow, only most of the images were clearly taken by you. the first one is of him driving; the two of you are in his convertible, and he's wearing a white button down with most of the buttons undone. on the stark white of the shirt are kiss marks; the imprint of your lips lined with cherry-red lipstick are all over the material of his shirt and on his freshly-tanned skin. the other photos are of what you two ate for dinner, the sunset from the beach, and a selfie of you two looking more in love than ever. fans are quick to point out the massive hickey on your neck, and tooru tags you in a reply to the top comment that points it out, and he's saying "you missed a spot babe." you reply back, "i ran out of concealer because you gave me too many to cover"

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

"i missed you," your boyfriend mumbles into your soft skin. tooru can get so clingy when he goes long periods without seeing you, and you indulge him because he's tooru. he's got his face buried in the space between your shoulder and neck, and his breath is warm against your skin as he speaks.

"everyone is saying i'm abandoning you, but that's not true." he whines.

"i know, baby. i don't care." you laugh softly, absentmindedly playing with the soft strands of his hair. he settles into you, and it's almost sweet, until he starts nipping at your skin.

"tooru, what are you doing?" you can't find it in yourself to chastise him too harshly, but you do have to restrain yourself from pulling back.

"jus' want to show everyone that you're still my girl." he peers up at you, licking his lips. "you'll let me do that, won't you?"

tooru bites and sucks at your skin, sharp canines grazing your soft flesh. he sucks at your most sensitive areas while he works his fingers in and out of your gushing cunt. when he pulls his fingers out and holds them up, so the sunlight can shine and really highlight how much of your juices is coating his digits, he smiles. his girl gets this wet just from him marking you up?

as he sucks on his fingers, relishing in the way you taste, he can't help but be happy to know that no matter how far away the two of you are from each other (for now), you're still his girl.

౨ৎ RINTAROU SUNA

your fans are telling you: suna doesn't care about you. suna doesn't put forth any effort into your relationship. suna literally streams on twitch during the off-season yet he can't seem to ever post you?? suna doesn't deserve you. suna—

suna is a lot of things, but nothing like the deadbeat, ashamed boyfriend allegations. in fact, all your well-meaning fans are so far off on how he treats you that you and him get a good laugh from the outrageous conclusions they've jumped to.

you posted: a photo of rintarou with his head on your lap, and you've got your fingers playing with his hair. it's a sweet photo, really. except for the fact that you decided to pair it with an audio that's a snippet of a song that goes "he's so pretty when he goes down on me" and a caption that reads this song is so relatable 🤍

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩

anyone who thinks rintarou is a selfish lover, a lazy lover, someone who merely tolerates you or is ashamed to be with you... they clearly don't know either of you very well.

because even when he's exhausted from practice, rintarou comes home craving you. craving your sweetness, your warmth, your love — and your pussy. he's obsessed. rintarou suna loves to eat you out, and he does it with such passion, such enthusiasm, that it's hard to refuse him, even if he's been going at it for the past hour.

your juices are leaving a stain on the bedsheets, and your slick is coating your inner thighs. it doesn't help that rintarou is messy with his technique. he needs your legs spread for him, granting him easy access for him to just dig in. he's still in his practice jersey, and when he feels your grip loosening from the strands of hair you're tugging at, he'll slow down his pace, calming down to just tiny kitten licks while he peers up at you.

your head is thrown back in pleasure, and your hips have a mind of their own as they still jut forward, as if trying to bring your cunt impossibly closer to him. no need for that, really, seeing as how he craves to bury himself in your warmth, to suck on your cute little clit and have you humming all over his tongue.