#lib.haikyuu

His warm, calloused hand squeezes and palms at one of your breasts, your nipple starting to perk up against the heat of his rubbing palm.

You huff, suddenly realizing how drenched in sweat the sheets beneath you are, his muscular legs tangled with yours are scorching.

The press of his lower stomach against your back is molten. Always your personal heater beneath the sheets.

He shifts again, the bedsheet becoming noisy against the left side of his hip as he grinds against your ass.

That hard, thick, sizzling length only separated from your skin by the thin layer of your panties.

Something akin to a grumbled whine interrupts his snores. You don’t have to turn around to picture the furrowed state of his brows, his open mouth turning pouty.

Your own lips curving upwards, heavy eyelids now softened with fondness. One of your hands drifts between your thighs to guide his cock there. His dark red, veiny length now cupping your mound. His fat mushroom tip heavy against your underwear, settling onto your clit.

The thick, curved underside of his cock presses up against your folds, your underwear now damp as the fabric is pressed up into the wetness of your hole.

Your index finger and thumb find his leaky tip, smearing pre cum against his angry red cock head, against your cotton underwear and your tingling clit beneath. Your fingers spreading far, far apart as they move down the thick length of his cock. Your palm against his hot, veiny member, finger tips only able to curl halfway around it’s meaty underbelly. You give a light squeeze before retracting your hand, hearing another sleepy whine, his hips jutting desperately.

“Hold on, honey..”

A breathy giggle that he most likely can’t hear, always a heavy sleeper despite his desires. Your fingers easily pull your underwear to the side, his hot, solid cock finally at home against your folds. His leaky tip jutting up and up, deliciously squishing your clit, your hips moving to match his movements, letting the hard wetness of his cock glide between your pussy lips, his heavy balls nestled between the warmth of your soft thighs.

“Mmph..”

You tilt your head back to look at his sleeping face, his hand wandering from it’s teasing of your breast, calloused fingers sliding down your side until grasping your hip firmly. Your body tilting until the tip of his cock leaves a leaky trail between your folds as it seeks your dripping, already clenching hole.

Your pussy lips spreading apart as his cock finally pushing up into your waiting, slick hole. The weight of his cock at home within your gluey walls.

His pouty lips finally settling back into that wide, dopey smile, lashes still closed against his now flushed cheeks, snores replaced with those grumbling, scratchy sounds of satisfaction as he rocks into you.

“Good morning, Kotarou.”

That was a little better.

You sigh and carefully wipe your forehead with your sweater sleeve, hoping that there wasn't any flour dusting there. The heat from the oven had quickly overpowered the mild temperature that the apartment was usually set to and you felt hot and sticky despite the crisp, autumn weather you could see outside the kitchen windows.

The kitchen counters were covered in flour, apple peels and the star and heart shaped cookie cut outs you had wanted to try this year. Your little tower of mixing bowls and measuring cups crowded the kitchen sink in that way that always overwhelmed you a little bit but that was a problem for future you. At least you had that fancy new dishwasher this year.

You glance at your phone where you had Kenma's stream playing in a tiny square above the ad-riddled website with the crust recipe. The game he had been trying out, some indie demo about fishing in an endless ocean, had been replaced with his break splash screen.

"Hey."

Familiar palms slide across your hips, long deft fingers softly rubbing against the sweater that covered your tummy, his thumbs brushing up and down in that grounding caress. His chin gently pressed into your shoulder, the soft black cotton fabric of his over sized hoodie pressed against your back, his warmth easing the tension that had built up in your shoulders from your baking activities.

"Kenma.."

His name turns into a puff of soft, adoring laughter as his hands on your stomach pull you closer to him, arms sliding to lock you close to him, his forehead against your cheek as he presses his lips to your neck.

"Smells good.." he mumbles, soft and mellow against your skin.

You brush some of his messy dark locks out of the way to get a better look of how his golden eyes gleam in the afternoon sun flooding into the kitchen windows, so beautiful and his, the same eyes that had met yours 15 years ago in the high school gymnasium.

Cat like eyes you hoped to see shine in the same way for many, many more years. Golden brown like autumn leaves, cinnamon apples and so, so much more.

"You think so? I hope it tastes as good as it smells, but I don't know about that, the crust didn't really come out too goo-"

You're unable to finish your thoughts as he nips gently at your neck, his hands rubbing up your sides.

"It's good."

Not the "..looks good" of five years ago.

Not the "…you didn't have to" of ten years ago.

Not that awkward, wide eyed expression that had graced his face the first time you had clumsily thrust a slice of apple pie onto his school desk, his lips caught in a wobble that looked more mortified than anything else.

Something a little different this year.

"Yeah?" Your cheeks so warm, your lips curved too easily, so tenderly. Your body shifting to face him, heart to heart.

Something so familiar, the way it always was between the two of you.

"Yeah. It's good…."

His forehead against yours, lips a breath apart. His cheeks turned something delicate and pink. The corners of his mouth quirked upwards in that perfect, precious smile you knew so intimately by now, soft like basking in the warmth of speckled sunlight beneath multi colored leaves.

"…Because you made it."

Something a little different, perhaps something marking his 30th year in this life, growing and changing, remaining the same, settling into who he was. Just like how you were.

Becoming a little more comfortable with absolutes, because that's what the two of you were to each other, wasn't that right?

Always and forever your Kenma, day after day, year after year.

His lips pressed against yours, hands beneath your sweater, your hearts entwined.

Another beautiful, happy birthday.