The More Bisexuals In Your Life. The Better

"are you like... into that?"

you tear your eyes away from the screen a few seconds after rintarou says it, too rapt by what's unfolding in the movie scene to look away too soon.

"what do you mean?" you ask, glancing over to the other end of the sofa where he's seated. he's slumped down in the corner of the sofa, nestled right into the valley between the cushions where he always sits—which has resulted in a permanent sort of vaguely rintarou-shaped indentation that you hide using throw pillows when company comes over.

he's watching you very intently from his side of the sofa, too intently almost. you'd thought you'd felt his eyes on you while you were watching the movie, but you aren't exactly sure how long he's been staring, and now it leaves you wondering what exactly he's up to.

rintarou nods towards the television on the other side of the room, you look back at the screen once more and see the male lead still at the centre of the scene. he'd just gotten into a fight—shirtless, glistening with perspiration, and a strangely erotic trickle of blood trailing down his philtrum. you swallow a little as you become engrossed in the movie again, forgetting momentarily that you were ever asked a question at all.

"so?"

your eyes snap back to rintarou—who's still focused only on you, but with a slightly more disapproving look this time.

"what?" you ask him, a bit huffily. you're still not even sure what he'd been asking you in the first place.

"you've been ogling that guy since he got the shit kicked out of him," rintarou says pointedly, lifting a hand and gesturing towards the television. "you into that or something?"

there's something kind of accusatory in his tone.

"wha—hu—no," you stumble over your words in your haste to defend yourself. "i've told you i'm not into hardcore stuff. and that would constitute like... doctorate level BDSM."

rintarou's lips purse slightly. "do you think that guy's hot?"

"i mean... yeah," you answer after contemplating it for a moment. "i didn't really think so before but he's kinda sexy in this scene."

"he just got the shit kicked out of him," the boy at the other end of the sofa responds flatly.

"so you've pointed out," you answer. you turn back to the screen, watching as the battered male lead winds a roll of bandages around his ribs, then drags his knuckles roughly across his lips to clear away some of the blood that clings to them. your tongue peeks out to moisten your own unconsciously. "don't you think there's something kind of hot about a guy with a bit of blood on him?"

"is this a trick question?"

you look back at rintarou again, and find him still fixated on you rather than the film. he's pouting a bit, and it kind of makes you want to laugh. instead, you push yourself up from your own little nest at the opposite end of the sofa, crawling down towards him.

"rintarou, are you jealous because i called the bloody guy sexy?" you ask him as you pause at his side, resting back on your haunches.

he nibbles on the inside of his cheek—a habit he's had as long as you've known him—and for the first time in possibly the entire 54 minutes this movie has been playing, he averts his eyes from you.

"...no."

you do laugh then, swinging one leg over his lap to perch yourself atop him.

"you're being silly," you say to him as you balance yourself with your hands on his shoulders. his own come slithering up to settle at your waist, and his grip is a little tighter than you expect. he's still sulking though, refusing to look at you.

there's a loud crash in the film playing on the screen behind you, but you don't turn to look at it—you doubt that would help the situation at hand very much.

"rin," you coax him, making your voice as sweet as possible.

he doesn't look at you, but he does seem to bite the inside of his cheek a little harder now.

you dip down close to him, your mouth hovering over his and your eyes level. "rin-ta-rou."

he finally looks at you, his lips parting in surprise at your sudden nearness. you're so close that your mouths brush slightly thanks to that subtle movement, and he leans into the warmth of your lips to kiss you properly after getting such a small taste of it.

rintarou pulls away after one long, deep kiss, slouching back into the sofa again—but this time pulling you down with him into his little him-shaped indentation—holding you tightly to his chest as he gets you both comfortable. you let him maneuver you however he wants to, placating him with your docility to make him feel better, and keeping any comment about his jealousy to yourself—at least for now.

the two of you eventually find a comfortable way to rest, entwined together on his end of the sofa but both with a clear view to the screen to resume your spectating of the movie.

"what's so hot about a guy with a nosebleed anyway? i used to get them all the time when i was a kid," rintarou mumbles bitterly after a few moments, and you feel the words reverberate through his chest as you rest with your head upon it.

you laugh lightly, and your boyfriend's arms tighten around your waist.

he pipes up again after a few moments more pass in the film.

"you don't want me to start fighting or anything, do you?" he asks you skeptically.

you've effectively lost track of the movie's plot now, but you don't really care that much.

"no, rintarou, i don't want you to start fighting," you reply, patting his chest reassuringly. "you'd get your ass kicked anyway."

"well, apparently you're into that," he mutters.

"will you be quiet and just watch the movie, nosebleed boy?"

(a week later, rintarou sends you a photo from practice—having gracefully taken one of motoya's receives to the face—with an angry red welt on his cheek, blood dripping from his nose, and an obnoxious smirk on his lips. unfortunately, you are kinda into that.)

tobio loves to see tsukishima suffer canon.

In which Mattsun eats you out on the couch

[10:49pm]

It was getting late, and you knew you should be heading home by now. But currently you were pinned underneath your boyfriend on his couch in his shared apartment. His roommate was out, so the two of you had decided to have a quiet night in and watch some movies.

But of course one thing led to another, because Issei was never known for keeping his hands to himself.

“Sei...” You whine when he gropes a handful of your breast and rocks his hips harder into yours.

He pays you no mind as he keeps kissing your neck, grabbing and reaching and just eating up every part of you in a way that he knows makes your head spin. In front of others he was usually upright and mild with his mischief, but that all went out the window when the two of you were alone.

“Hmm?” He hums against your throat without stopping his movements. If anything the sweet sounds you were making only made him more excited, and you can feel as much when his cock pulses beneath his sweats against your inner thigh.

“M-Makki could—" An involuntary moan cuts you off as you feel his cock press closer to your core. “We should… go to your room.”

You feel Issei’s lips curl against your skin. “He won’t be home for hours baby, just relax.”

And you do, finding yourself sinking farther into the plush cushions of the couch and pulling back to look up at him with blown pupils and puffy lips. “Then please fuck me already.”

You notice a glint in his eye as he hurriedly kisses you again. There’s urgency in his movement now as he begins to ground himself harder against your hips. It earns another moan from you, feeling his cock pressing against your folds.

His hands were already underneath your shirt, but now they were starting to travel down into the sweatpants you were wearing. His sweatpants, the ones that were way too big for you but were so soft and so fuzzy that you always insisted on wearing them whenever you came over. It was almost too easy for him to slip a finger beneath the waist band of your panties and start rubbing small circles around your clit.

“Sei.” You breathe. “Please.”

“You’re so wet.” He whispers in your ear before nibbling on the lobe. “I’ll take care of you baby, just be a good girl for me, yeah?”

You gasp and begin to squirm when his fingers skim past your clit. “Mhmm. I’ll be good, I promise.”

“Good.” He kisses your cheek and sits up on his knees to pull both your pants and your panties off before diving in to give your cunt a swipe of his tongue.

You let out a loud gasp and knot your fingers into his curly hair. “Issei!”

This only eggs him on further and you can feel his nose nudging against your clit for a mere moment before his lips find it and start to suck. Your leg kicks out off the couch, sending your bottoms flying to the floor and allowing more room for Issei to work with. His hands grip your thighs to anchor himself as he ventures further, determined to hear you sing his name at least once before he buries his cock inside you.

And sing you do.

With your orgasm so close to erupting you hitch your heel into his ass and push him further into your cunt. “Issei! Issei! Oh my god Issei I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna—"

Your back arches off the couch as you come hard with your nails digging into his scalp.

Issei eagerly laps up all of your juices and eventually glances up at you with the cheesiest smirk on his face.

“Oh my god.” You pant, sinking back into the couch. “Fuck.”

“Mhmm, we’re getting there sweetheart.” He chuckles as he climbs up to give you a salty kiss, littered with the taste of you. “If you’re still up for it of course?”

You roll your eyes and smirk back at him. “Like you even need to ask.”

He grins and kisses you again, pulling his sweatpants off with one hand. “I’m a gentleman at heart, yenno.”

You can’t help but giggle and kiss him again, eager as ever to feel his cock inside you.

Suddenly the sound of the front door opening stops both of you dead in your tracks.

You let out a gasp as Issei’s eyes stare back down at you, wide with terror. “Fuck.”

As fast as you can you reach for the blanket on the back of the couch and do your best to cover you both with it. Issei settles between your legs, his cock pressing into your folds with enough pressure to make you whimper, but you hold it in as the door closes and footsteps make their way into the living room.

Makki’s staring down at his phone as he walks, and only glances up at the two of you for a moment before returning to it. “Hey guys, whatcha watching?”

“Just whatevers on.” Issei speaks as casually as possible while you’re trying to get your heartbeat to settle down.

“Hmm, cool. Night.” Makki tosses a wave over his shoulder and heads down the hall.

After hearing his bedroom door shut you let out a huge sigh of relief. “Maybe he doesn’t know.”

“No, he definitely knows.” Issei sighs into your collarbone. “Your panties are still on the floor.”

@kuroosdarling

i have been told “your pussy is so good it makes me believe in god” before but never the opposite,…goals to attain i suppose

the rain hitting the windows makes you even less excited to take the trash out than you already are.

you slip on the closest shoes and head down the steps of your apartment complex. the rain continues, splattering your t shirt almost tie dye. by the time you reach the community dumpster, you realize you aren’t alone.

“h-hey! here, let me hold that for you,” suna holds the lid open for you, allowing you to swing the bag right in.

“thank you,” you say with a small smile, squinting at the headlights that reflect the wet asphalt in the parking lot. you’ve seen suna plenty of times, considering you live right above him. “bummer about the rain huh?”

“nah,” suna grunts as he swings the lid shut, shaking the water off of his hands with a sour face. “we need it, but i think it’s soothing. you know, when it hits the roof when you go to sleep.”

you snicker, and he gives you a confused look. “what?”

“how do you hear it if i live right above you?”

too bad it’s dark outside, or you would be able to see how red suna’s cheeks are.

“w-well, normally it’s-nevermind,” he scratches the back of his head while the two of you walk far too slowly for people walking in the rain. but, you reach your stairwell soon enough.

“have a good night, neighbor!” he waves at you while you head up the stairs.

“goodnight,” you return his gesture.

when suna enters his apartment, he wonders if he can figure out a new excuse to see you again.

can i request Tsukishima Kei having a psychologist s/o? Headcanons or a scenario, whichever is okay! Maybe something like how their relationship would be, with them being very empathetic and understanding and stuff hihi thank you!!!

MY FIRST REQUEST! Here you go sweet anon <3 My interpretation of your lovely idea. "ADMITTANCES" Pairing: Tsukishima x Fem!Reader

Rating/Warnings: T for Teen, this is SOFT BOY HOURS PART 2

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: Your boyfriend isn't the type the open up; your psychology degree pays off, sometimes.

Note: Fluff. Good to know we're all desperate to see salty boys go soft.

“Y’know, you’re awfully quiet for someone who just won a tournament.”

Tsukishima slips on his hoodie, water dripping off his hair from his shower. You watch him shrug from your cozied place on the couch. “They weren’t aggressive enough. I knew we’d get them on the second set.”

You smile at his calculating tone. “And you guys had the better defence,” you say with a wink, and it makes him crack the smile you’d been waiting for all night.

“That, too,” he murmurs. He rubs at his eyes, and moves toward you. You hand him his glasses and he gifts you a kiss on the top of your head in return. He slumps into the couch with a sigh, massaging at his hands. You watch him for a moment before reaching out gently to take his hands into your own, rubbing at his palms and wrists. Tsukishima rests his head on the back of the couch. “Thanks,” he says, closing his eyes.

“Movie or early night?” you ask. He cracks open an eye to peak at you.

“Movie? I might pass out though.”

You flicker the T.V. to life and click on something easy and light for background noise. You continue to rub at his hands, watching the lines of his face soften at your touch. “Can I ask you something?” He hums his assent before you continue. “Are you excited you won?” you ask, after a breath.

He raises his brows at your practised tone, without opening his eyes. “Is this a girlfriend question or a psychology student question?”

“This is a girlfriend question,” you assure, but then, unable to help yourself, you add, “though I am noting your subtle deflection tactic.”

He groans, but you can tell he’s amused. “I’m too tired to be excited.”

You squint your eyes at him. “I just noticed—”

“I’m sure you did,” he interjects, but smirks and turns his head on the back cushions to look at you. “Am I being observed right now?”

“People are always observing people. I just know what to look for,” you say primly, making your boyfriend snort.

Tsukishima plays along. Despite his sore muscles and drooping eyes, he has always enjoyed the mental back and forth with you. “Okay, what are you looking for then?”

You press your lips together in contemplation. Tsukishima’s eyes soften, watching you hesitate. “I dunno. You’re always so hard on yourself after games. You never celebrate, even if you do well.”

“When you have your own office, I probably wouldn’t start a sentence off with ‘I dunno.’” You scowl playfully at his teasing.

“You’re deflecting again.”

“No, I’m flirting with you,” he says pointedly. His mouth is an impassive line but his eyes are glinting. “You should learn the difference before you get clients.”

You roll your eyes to conceal your pleasure at his compliment. “I don’t plan on being flirted with at my office.”

“I don’t think you have control over how pretty you are,” he counters. His voice is neutral, almost bored, but you can see him fighting a smile.

You try to match his tone, but you’re flustered, just a little. He did that to you, unexpectedly often. “When did you become such a smooth talker?”

He shrugs faintly. “I’m not, I’m just deflecting.” He’s smug.

“You—” you break off, with an incredulous grin. “You’re a difficult case, aren’t you?”

He looks at you from over his glasses, like he’s inspecting you. “Well, let’s see, what does it say about you that you’re dating me? You like projects?” He’s pushing your buttons on purpose, playing with you. It makes you stern, which makes Tsukishima grin –a rare flash of his winning smile. In retaliation, you clamber onto his lap. He grabs onto your hips with ease. You wouldn’t have guessed it, when you first started dating Tsukishima, but now you know how much he loves your affection and touch and attention. He rarely shows it, but you can feel it in the way his hands hold you close.

“You trying to turn the tables on me, Kei?” You lean in close to his face.

His touches the tip of you nose with his, eyes fluttering shut briefly. The sweetness of that small gesture disarms you. There’s an openness with him when it’s just the both of you in private. “Just giving you a taste of your own medicine.”

You sigh, shaking your head. You take in his face with your eyes. “When was the last time you got excited about something?” you try again.

He lets out a gusty breath. “Last week. When I walked in on you trying on my Frogs jersey,” he answers quickly.

Your face gets hot at the memory. “You’re trying to distract me,” you admonish.

“Does it matter?” he mumbles. “I’m just not excitable.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” you say softly. “I think you don’t let yourself get excited about anything because you’re scared you’ll be disappointed. Like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop. And that hurts you.”

He flinches, brows furrowing. You watch him try to hide his reaction to your words but he can’t.

“Sorry. Too much?” you ask, after his silence stretches.

His jaw twitches as he clenches and unclenches it. He’s looking everywhere but your eyes, which is quite a feat considering how close you are. He lets out a short little huff, turning his head from you. He’s annoyed, suddenly, and though the girlfriend in you is sorry to have made him so, the observer in you knows it’s a mark closer to vulnerability than his easy, teasing amusement. You know he can get snippy like this, but then you also know how hard he’s trying to be open to you.

So instead of a barbed counter, he says, “You’re not wrong.” The words are quiet and grudgingly said, but as they leave him so does his irritation. You know it took a lot to say that much. You see the line between his brows smooth at his admittance. You run a gentle hand through his damp hair. Tsukishima lets out a breath again, this time resigned. He gives your earnest, wide-eyed look a sliver of a wry smile. “Happy?”

“Kind of.” You rub a thumb at his temple. “It makes me sad to hear, though.”

He reaches up to hold your wrist loosely. “Don’t be sad. You’re not wrong, but you’re not a hundred percent right, either.” His smile turns sly.

Your brows flicker up at that. “No?”

“There are some things I let myself get excited about,” he says. He tilts his head up and you tilt your head down to catch his waiting lips. “Can I show you?” he asks, when you two part. Maybe he’s deflecting again, maybe he’s flirting, but you know these admittances from him happen in baby steps.

Instead of pushing for more, you let out an amused little sound. “I thought you were so tired.”

“All your psychoanalyzing must have woken me up.” He pulls you in, closer, closer. Closer than you know most anyone gets; that spot in his lap, that perch in his heart. When his gaze flickers to you, you see it, the secret flash of real joy. He’s letting you see it, you realize. He’s showing you this part of himself, a part that’s just for you. When he smiles again, it’s not teasing, or sharp, or wry. Your breath stutters with the sincerity of it.

“Show me,” you breathe, and he lifts you up and up, and carries you into the room you both share, in the home you’ve both made and earned, with each other and within each other.

Top 10 anime men who will lay pipe expeditiously. Haikyuu Edition. *Reupload*

cw: piv, dirty talk, general adult themes. minors do not interact

Akaashi |Run Time: Within the first month| Not exactly a prude, just believes that being more intuned with your partner is necessary to satisfying sex. Plus he likes the build up between general interest and sexual tension. If we’re being honest, he’s probably been thinking of putting his hands all over you since the second date. But he’s courteous enough to let you know that he actually wants to get to know you first. Likes to call you after work during the talking stage just to ask you about your day. Invites you over on his off days to make sure you’re comfortable around him. But again, he’s been holding himself back for a while. And he’s not too coy for a little phone sex in the meantime. - But, boy does he completely lose it when you crawl into his lap during one of your hangout sessions. Your friends still don’t believe you when you introduce them to the guy that “fucked you within an inch of your life” before you officially started dating.

Iwaizumi |Run Time: Within the first few weeks| He likes to believe that the reason he doesn’t rush it is because he’s “old fashioned” and that he’s mature enough to understand that “it takes time for these kinds of things.” Whole time he’s just busy. Trust me, deep down he knows if he had it his way he’d have you folded over three ways to Sunday after the third date. But he has the physical health of like twelve overgrown toddlers to manage and the team moves around pretty often. So, it’s just quick coffee dates and video calls for a while. But trust me, the moment he has time on his hands you’re done for. I suggest clearing your schedule before you meet up! You’re gonna need some time to recover.

Oikawa |Run Time: Within two weeks| First week down though and you can see it physically hurts him that he’s not fucking you as soon as he wants to. Only reason he’s holding out though is because he actually likes you, so he doesn’t want you to think that’s the only thing he’s seeking out. - But you know that meme of that guy who looks like he’s this 🤏 close to having a stroke with all those veins on his face? Yeah. Soon as he knows you’re on the same page though he’s slutting himself out to you like his life depends on it. And he talks the nastiest shit. Will tell you everything he’s been wanting to do to you and then show you in frankly exemplary detail.

Hinata |Run Time: Within a week| To his credit, he’s the most unafraid to let you know how smitten he is with you from the jump. Gave you your phone back after putting his number in with his info under “Shoyo 💕❤️” and told you to call him if you’re looking for someone to treat you right. Literally told you the night you actually hooked up that you were only doing missionary to start off, and when you asked why he replied that you were “Too pretty to fuck in anything but,” With all the sweet talk he uses in the week leading up, you’re not wrong for being completely out of your depth when he fucks you like he hates your guts. But don’t worry, the love’s still there! You’re even prettier when he’s fucked the brains outta you <3

Kuroo |Run Time: Within the first couple of dates| Class traitor often forgets the line between courting a significant other and a sugar baby. Thought the best way to charm your pants off was to buy out the restaurant you’d have your first date at and surprise you with a birkin bag. Isn’t ashamed to let you know he gets off on watching you spend his money and when he’s booking a pent-suite for your third date it takes a very necessary pause during dinner to establish that 1.) Yes, he wants to be your boyfriend. No, he didn’t know that this wasn't the right way to do it. And 2.) He’s only been spending this much money because it’s the only thing stopping him from cumming in his pants the moment he gets within a foot of you. Weird guy. Rearranges your guts like no one’s business.

Bokuto |Run Time: The date after the first| He tries…so hard to hold out, he really does! It’s just god you’re so fucking sexy. Everything you do has his brain short circuiting and he’s starting to want you so bad that it’s making him itch. Your thighs are so squishy and your lips look so plump. Everything about you looks soft to the touch and since meeting you he hasn’t been able to blow a decent load without imagining it’s you squeezing him so tight. Really, the only reason he made it this far is ‘cause first date jitters are a bitch and at the very least he has the decency to let you know he likes you first. - But then you show up in this cute little dress that keeps riding up your thighs when you walk, and the way you pout as you try to pull it down has his head feeling all fuzzy. He tries to stay cordial as he opens the door for you to slide into his car, but the way you smile up at him as he closes it behind you has his resolve breaking into pieces. Lucky for him you’re perceptive enough to notice the literal dick print in his pants the moment he climbs in; and he lights up like a Christmas tree when you suggest a quickie before dinner. Spoiler alert: It won’t be a quickie. Get your refund back on that reservation, sis.

Atsumu |Run Time: The first date| You can’t blame the guy for being shamelessly attracted to you, can you? Who cares about old fashioned courting! It ain’t worth the money if you ain’t walking funny? - All jokes aside though, he’s a firm believer in if two consenting adults like each other enough, they should be able to fuck whenever and however they want. Doesn’t find you any less respectable for letting him put your legs behind your ears on the first date. Although that was after he’d already bent you over in his car, folded you over his kitchen counter, and had you leaving drool stains on his hallway area rug. Eh, you’ll plan your next date in the shower - little hard to talk though with your face pressed against the glass.

Matsukawa |Run Time: Scheduled a time and place for you to link before hand| Hey, if you wanna turn this thing into a relationship then he’s up for that too. But he’s not gonna stress himself trying to hold back from fucking your pretty little brains out. Soon as he gets the O.K. he’s picking a time and place and hightailing it over with no stops in between. And he’s not bullshiting when he says he’s gonna fuck you stupid. The guy digs you out like he’s trying to ruin you for anybody else. But it’s not entirely his fault! He gets sick of carrying that meat missle around too 😔

Hanamaki |Run Time: Straight up just asked if you’d let him| Hedonist to the max. And no shame either. The moment he gets the feeling that you might be sexually interested in him, he’s diving in with no goggles. I mean, obviously he cares about your interests and your pursuits in life; might even think you’re nice enough to take home to mom’s one day. But that’s not what his mind’s set on right now. Only thing in his head is if he should start with collapsed doggy or drill you in from the side just to get you drooling for him that much quicker. But hey, dick was so good you forgot he don’t got a job!

Honorable Mentions!

Sakusa (Surprisingly)| Comes off as a prude because he apparently has “High standards.” Can’t admit that if he finds you attractive enough, he’ll just straight up fuck you. |

Terushima |Likes to “Do you like my tongue ring?” Himself into some pussy.|

Sugawara | Plays the part of a good loving school teacher just looking for a companionship. Gives it up as soon as he sees you’re into him.|

Osamu | “m’not a scrub like my brother.” No, baby, you’re a whore.|

And finally number one…

Suna! |Run Time: Text him at 3:00am and he’ll be there by 3:05am| Standing at 6’3.2 and 176lbs, you have caught the affection of a man who truly believes that “a hole is a hole” once he’s found himself physically attracted to someone. That’s not to say that he’s particularly loose with what he’s got but if you’ll take it? Once hiked to your place in the middle of January with basketball shorts on ‘cause you sent him a “U up?” Text in the middle of the night. Woke up the next morning with a fever but god was that pussy worth it. Fucks like he’s trying to prove something so you’re in remission for the next couple of days afterwards. And then will have the nerve to wanna be the little spoon after the fact. - Tries not to look as elated as he is when you finally tie him down but with the way he turns your insides into mush the night following, you can tell he’s pretty excited to finally call himself your boyfriend.

reblogs are appreciated 💕 ps, tumblr pls suck my balls? 🥺

The sun isn’t out yet, but there’s blue city lights cascading from the blinds along your bedsheets, and they mix with the linen in a way that lets you know that it isn’t quite morning. You blindly reach for your bedside table, letting your palm smack against the wood until you meet your phone. You squint at the light as it meets your eyes, and then furrow your brows as the time blurs and unblurs in your vision.

It’s three in the morning, 3:27, to be exact, and by the time your senses start to really come back to you, you realize there’s a gentle whirring coming from somewhere in your home. You go to turn, shifting in the sheets to see if your husband, Kuroo, is awake, only to see empty sheets, pillows stacked against your back in his place. And once again, you find your brows furrowing, a little click of your tongue as you scan your bedroom for any sign of your husband. Though your door is set slightly ajar, you can’t find traces of him anywhere—no papers scattered across his nightstand, no pens or journals laying atop your dresser, not even the sound of his distant footsteps settling into the floor of the hallway..

Instead, the little whirring that you’re certain first woke you, stops, and now you’re certain that if you don't find out what that was, you’re going to go insane. That and, obviously, finding your husband. A thought of your own priorities flits across your head, but you only sigh, blowing air out through almost-closed lips, and get up, letting the cold air hit the exposed skin of your arms and legs as you get out of bed.

You grab one of the folded blankets from the ottoman that rests at the foot of your bed, wrapping it around your shoulders and letting it drag along the floor as you walk—your footsteps light enough that they hardly make a creak in the wood, the balls of your feet taking a majority of the pressure anyway. Your cat, whom you had not seen on that same ottoman, perks up and runs after you, presumably awaiting an early breakfast (which, much to his dismay, he will not be getting, but he’ll give you hell for it anyway, you're sure). 

So you walk, little Peanut trailing along behind you, and make your way down the stairs until you arrive at the entryway of Kuroo’s office. Peanut starts to meow at your feet, but just inside you can hear the shuffling of papers and the click of plastic against plastic. Slowly, you open the door, knocking against the wood as you move inside. Peanut rushes in before you can even fully see Kuroo, settling down by the heater. Kuroo turns when you've just barely made it into the room. He’s still wearing the clothes he slept in and, supposedly, will continue to sleep in those clothes, but he’s standing over your files and his desk like he’s just finished something that he’s terribly proud of—his eyes crinkled at their corners in a barely-there smile. And yet, he looks almost apologetic, despite being nearly a foot taller than you, he looks small, his shoulders slumped a bit as he plays with his hands in front of him.

Kuroo’s always been an attractive man to you, but now he almost seems a little prettier. You can’t decide if it’s the way the blue light hits against his skin, still tanned from your honeymoon, or if it’s the way the black strands of his hair still stand out wildly against each other from just getting out of bed. No matter the occurrence, you smile at him, choosing to ignore the weight of the blanket around you and the red that’s sure to be present in your eyes at this hour.

“What, are you doing paperwork for your secret business or something?”

Kuroo laughs, his shoulders visibly relaxing at the sound of you teasing him. He shakes his head, waving you off as he goes to pick at another stack of papers.

“Yeah, yeah, you caught me. Genius,” He pokes back, and you roll your eyes, taking a few strides across the room to reach him and wrap your arms around him, your head leaning against his back. “I was just shredding a couple things. Felt cluttered.” He laughs a bit at himself at the end of that, and then turns, craning his neck to see where you stand behind him. “Sorry if I woke you.”

You hum against him, a wordless gesture of you’re fine, and then stand there for a moment—you're sure that you’re on the verge of falling asleep standing up when Kuroo goes to move again.

“Uh, I need to, you know, shred a few more things.” You press your forehead against his back, groaning into him as he laughs at you again, breaking himself free from your arms as he moves a few more things from files to what you presume must be a “shred” pile. And then the whirring sound comes back as he starts to shred things again, much louder this time and much more annoying, but you’re a little glad to have both found the source of the sound and your husband in one fell swoop. So you lean back against the one clear part of his desk, watching as he moves between pile and shredder, pile and shredder.

“One question,” you begin, speaking just over the noise. Kuroo hums in acknowledgement, quickly meeting your eyes before returning to the papers. “What prompted you to start shredding things at three in the morning, exactly?”

Kuroo sticks out his bottom lip, downturning his mouth as he shrugs and sorts through a few more papers.

“Call it divine intervention,” He replies, and you only roll your eyes, leaning across the shredder to swat at his arm while he laughs, feigning a bit of pain at the motion. “Okay, okay, I woke up and was bored. This seemed like the best option.”

“You know, generally if people wake up at three in the morning, they go back to sleep. Maybe tell their wife they love them-”

“Well, you weren’t awake, now were you.”

You stick your tongue out at him, and he copies the movement before he shreds his last papers. You tilt your head, looking at the window into the compartment of the shredder. You step forward, a hand out in front of you and reach for the paper in Kuroo’s. But the warnings for him to stop reach his ears a little too late, because he’s already pushing the papers through the shredder, trying to force it through the blades as the shredder makes a terribly sad clicking noise. Peanut perks up at the sound, scurrying out of the room and, from the sound of his paws against the ground, up the stairs as well.

“Babe, I think-”

“No, don’t worry I got this, it does this sometimes.”

“Yeah like, when it’s jammed?”

Kuroo looks up, brows drawn together. “When it’s what?”

Laughter splutters from your lips, though Kuroo widens his eyes, his gaze darting between you and the shredder.

“I swear I didn’t know shredders could get jammed,” He says, standing up and trying to pull the sheets out of the blades. Yet, undoubtedly, they stay where they are. you mumble something about him making you laugh, and Kuroo just backs away, watching as you bend down to unplug the shredder. 

“You are so smart,” you begin, taking the top of the shredder, stuck paper and all, off of the bin. And what you say is true. If you didn’t know it by the way you’ve known him for years now, by the way he sat by you and talked you through math problems you didn’t quite get in college, you would certainly know it by the array of degrees hung above his desk. But in this moment, with that look on his face and his hair hanging in his eyes, a too-full bin for your shredder sitting in front of you, you’re sure of one thing. “But god, you are so stupid sometimes.”

He narrows his eyes at you, playful in the way he purses his lips, and you just shrug, settling your blanket around your shoulders as you kneel on the floor in front of the shredder. You know Kuroo’s watching you as you pick at the pieces of paper, cutting them away with the nearby pair of scissors until you can start to loosen the pieces from the blades—ever so carefully. 

“You know, normally shredders turn off when the bin is getting full,” Kuroo begins, peering into the shredder’s contents to see what’s been sitting inside. If you know him, you’re sure that it’s been a few months at least since he’s emptied this, and who knows how long he’s been up shredding things. You turn over the top to see bits of shredded paper stuck in the blades, and sigh. You know you should go upstairs and grab your old tweezers, that you should use those to grab the paper and move on, but the blanket is warm and your legs are tired and frankly, you just want to get this done so you can both go back to bed.

So you start picking at the paper with your fingers, careful not to touch the blades, much to Kuroo’s displeasure—he’s making those sounds he makes when he doesn’t quite know what to say, stumbling over breath and syllables instead of real words.

You just shrug, still focused on picking out the pieces of paper with your hands, while Kuroo gives up with a groan and a backwards tilt of his head. You chuckle a bit at him, more through your nose than through your lips, and then watch as he picks up the bin and goes to empty out its contents.

It’s not long after that you sigh and lean back, the rest of the paper finally out of the blades and, thankfully, not a cut on your hands in sight. When you look up, Kuroo has half of the bin emptied into his office trash can, the other half too much paper to even try to fit in there.

And though normally you would love to poke fun at him for this, though you’d love to make some comment that makes him roll his eyes and knock his shoulders into yours, you’re feeling particularly tired right now—you’re fairly certain it’s closer to 4:00 than it is to 3:30 now—and you’d feel much better if you could just get back in bed like most normal wives do with their normal husbands.

you almost make yourself laugh. Wouldn’t normalcy sound nice?

“You stay there,” you start, finally letting the blanket fall from your shoulders and into a sad little pile on the ground, “I’ll take that out and get another bag, you finish whatever it is you need to do.”

Kuroo goes to say something, and from the look on his face you knows it’s going to be something along the lines of well, there wasn’t really an end-goal, per se, and the thought of that makes you want to drag him upstairs and force him to sleep, so you just stare at him, a little blankly, and at your expression he puts his hands up and does a look of playful surrender.

So you grab the bag out of the trash, and then notice a few pieces of paper scattered on the floor around the can, so you lean down, going to pick one of them up to throw into the bag with the rest of them. And then you stop.

The paper seems a little thicker, cardstock, maybe, and there’s a familiar frilly design that seems to roll around it, disappearing in certain places to fade into a soft tan. You pick it up, turning it over in your fingers and scanning the bag that hangs off of your arm for more pieces of the document. you find more of the blue design that carts around the edges, and then your eyes fall onto another piece of cardstock. This time, with hard, block lettering, an a and part of a g sitting next to each other. You look a little further down, and then, staring back at you, is the mess of part of your own signature, you’re sure of it.

You turn, slowly. You’re a little scared to see Kuroo’s face, honestly, whether or not he even knows what he’s actually done. You aren't surprised to find that he’s oblivious to your realization, instead he’s leaned over his desk, sorting through papers and mumbling something to himself, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t feel a little betrayed by the fact.

Because, held in your own hands, shredded up into a reused bag from your grocery store, is the stupidest decision you think Kuroo has ever made. It tops the time in college he only ate mac and cheese for two weeks, it’s above every time he blacked out and made you take care of him and his awful hangovers the next day, it’s even above all the times he proposed to you with no real plan, just popping the question to think, hey, maybe you’ll say yes this time.

“Kuroo,” you start, and he hums, eyes meeting yours for a quick moment before returning to his papers. “Did you shred our marriage certificate?”

Kuroo stills. He turns, sending a rush of air out of his lips and clicking his tongue while he leans back against his desk.

“No.” The ‘o’ is drawn out, accompanied by the shake of his head. “No, that would be a stupid idea, right?”

“Right.” Your voice is steady, your tongue running against the back of your teeth. “That would be very stupid.”

“Yeah, exactly, so I definitely did not do-” He pauses, smacking his lips together- “that.”

And you could kill him. In cold blood, right here, you could become a murderer in your own home. You won’t (you’ll think about it until the day he dies), you would never. What you do, however, is drop the bag with the shreds of paper in it, sending cheap confetti (or in this case, cheap confetti mixed with confetti that accompanied the cost of a several thousand dollar wedding), flying through the air and scattering along the office floor.

You put your head into your hands, smoothing out creases that are beginning to form in your skin, and against everything in your chest, you yell.

“Why?”

You look up from your hands to see Kuroo biting at his lip and slowly gesturing. you swear you can see the gears turning in his head.

“So, you know how you love me? Like, a lot?”

No, you think.

“Yeah, sure,” you reply, voice a little hardened, tone a little flat.

“So, I was thinking,” He starts to move towards you, still gesturing wildly as he keeps trying to explain, “that you only really need marriage certificates for divorce, right? And we’re never getting divorced, so there’s definitely no need for that to be around.”

And Kuroo, your husband, the one who asks you to tie his ties in the morning and stumbles around the kitchen because he never learned to cook properly, the one who read over your every paper in college and reads over your every story now, is also the only one of this Earth who could ever make you feel this kind of anger. It’s the kind of anger that you can feel in your throat, like it's clawing at you and you have to attempt to dispel it with every shaken breath. You do, of course, one in, a second out, until you can finally bear to fully bring your face out of your hands.

“We needed that.” If you say any more, you’re sure you’ll want to yell again, but Kuroo stares at you blankly, his lip still caught between his teeth. “You know, for taxes, health insurance, a mortgage.”

And as if in one final realization, Kuroo nods, eyes a little wider, a breath escaping through his nose.

“Those aren’t like, that important,” He says, and there’s a joking lilt to his voice, but it gets cut off by the tilt of your head, your eyes feeling a little more tired than usual. You stand there staring at each other for a moment, and then in one movement, you stand up, grab the blanket, shake the shreds of paper off of it, and walk towards the door, avoiding the papers like they could be shards of glass.

“That’s it,” you say, “That’s it, I’m going to bed.”

Kuroo goes to follow you, chasing you with the sound of his voice as he says, “Okay, I’ll come with you. You know, I feel like maybe this is something we should talk-”

“Tomorrow.”

“What?”

“We will talk about this tomorrow. I hear the guest bedroom has a very comfortable mattress.”

Kuroo stands in the doorway. For a moment, it looks like he wants to fight you on this, to chase after you up the stairs as though he could make everything perfect with a true love’s kiss, something to break you from whatever curse tonight could be and instead flood you back into what used to be normal married life.

But you're sure he couldn’t possibly know what that would mean at this point. As you ascend the stairs, you see him furrow his brows before turning back into the office. you know, deeply so, that he loves you. That he does these things more out of impulsivity than true stupidity and malice, because he’s always been like this. He’s always been one to stay up late, to do things last minute because there was always something that seemed more interesting going on elsewhere. Or even just that, if a thought ever were to pop into his head, it had to be acted upon. Nearly twenty proposals later—most done in the midst of disaster, when you had flour in your hair or dirt in your knees—you should know better than to think anything is out of malice.

But you know that doesn’t stop him from making stupid decisions. It really never has. So though you feel a pang of guilt as you cross the threshold from the hallway into your bedroom, you can’t say that it stops you from crawling into bed. It doesn’t stop you from drowning yourself in the drenched moonlight of linen sheets. It doesn’t stop you from placing your back against the pillows that Kuroo placed there. It doesn’t stop you from closing your eyes and, in an instant, falling back to sleep.

But you wake up awfully early. It’s to the sound of Kuroo more than it is to the birds, to the feeling of his palm on your shoulder more than it is to the sunlight washing your skin. But still, you wake, squinting your eyes at him as he stands over you, bags dragging down and into the rise of his cheeks, his hair a calmer mess than it was before, but still struck with that feeling of unkempt bedhead.

This early in the morning, with this little sleep in your bones, you almost forget why you’re upset with him. But then you catch the piece of shredded paper that’s caught on the old, oversized t-shirt he won at some bar playing some drinking game, and you feel a pit settle in your stomach. You close your eyes again, take a breath, and then look back up at Kuroo.

“I have a surprise.” His voice is almost a whisper, but there’s an air of excitement that seems to coat each of the syllables. You don't speak, only let him guide you off of your bed and down the stairs. Peanut once again trails behind you, letting both of you know that now is certainly time for his breakfast. After what you’ve been through, he probably deserves it soon.

But you both walk, and Kuroo brings you through the door and into his office once more. You yawn, rubbing your eyes at the way the morning light shines through the window above the desk, but when you open them once more, you find that there’s been a mosaic created along your floors.

Well, maybe mosaic is a bit of a stretch. There’s shredded pieces of paper scattered all along the office, some that have been placed together in groups that seem to make up other documents, but the one that sits in the middle is made entirely of cardstock—with that frilly blue pattern circling the edges, the words ‘MARRIAGE CERTIFICATE’ written out along the top. At the bottom, both of your signatures are put together, and though the lines aren’t perfectly together and you can tell it’s been shredded and forced to rejoin, it’s still the certificate, nevertheless.

“That cannot be valid anymore,” you say, and Kuroo laughs. You glance over and find him leaned back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.

“Oh, definitely not.” He pushes himself off the wall then, stepping over some shredded and half-put-together papers to kneel down, picking up the certificate so now you can see that it’s all been taped together. “But it might make for a fun memento.”

“You know, as much as I really love a good memento-” Kuroo rolls his eyes at you, he knows well enough that you hate souvenirs, always have, and don’t dare let him try to buy you something no matter the occasion. He usually does anyway. “-I don’t think a memento can put me under your health insurance.”

“Health insurance, smealth insurance,” He says with a wave to his hand. He’s met with another glare when he looks back up at you. “I’m kidding! Just like, promise me you won’t get injured for the month it takes us to get the replacement.”

You take in a breath, holding it in your chest while you stare at your husband across the room. He shrugs again while you look at him.

“You are insufferable.”

“You know, I hear some people say that’s my charm.”

Kuroo places the certificate on his desk, trying to prop it up against the wall as it slides back down the desk. He grumbles for a moment before trapping it between the wall and journal, mumbling something about a frame before he turns back to you.

And then you laugh at him. Nothing bright or loud, in fact it’s rather soft, barely taking up more space than a breath would. Instead, it’s the way your face scrunches and the shake of your head that makes everything seem like it’s almost okay.

You are aware of quite a few things in your life, one of which being that paper shredders do, in fact, jam, but one of the other things, and one of the things that you prefer to know, is that a craving for normalcy is hardly ever satisfied. So as you stare at your husband, laughter bubbling up your throat, you figure that you should’ve expected this.

“Okay but if we get the certificate, I have one condition.” you laugh again at the prospect of if, but let Kuroo continue anyway. “You still can’t divorce me.”

“Deal,” you agree, “But only if we call them by nine.”

reblogs and feedback are super appreciated ❤︎

so I got into grad school today with my shitty 2.8 gpa and the moral of the story is reblog those good luck posts for the love of god