Haikyu X Reader - Blog Posts

"you're so beautiful.."

Osamu x fem!reader ¶smut/nsfw¶

MDNI!

content warnings: praising "Angel", light bondage, mirror(you know what I mean), taking you rough, oral, p in v, overstimulation, mentioned aftercare. (timeskip Osamu ofc)

Word count: 2.1k

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Bedroom. You look into the mirror, seeing your reflection. Just in your underwear, your dark purple bra and matching underwear. You move a bit around, a bit posing and looking at your body with a frowning face. You certainly don't like the image of yourself, standing just in your underwear.

While you scan your whole body, you see in the reflection that Osamu comes from behind. He nearly scans your whole body from behind, knowing that this is his view forever now. He slowly wraps his arms around your shoulder, closing his arms infront of you. He now admires your front body in the reflection you both share. You still look a bit displeasured at your body, touching your hips lightly and scanning your chest.

He leans his head on your shoulder.

"what is it, angel?" he mumbles light, following your moves with his eyes.

"I don't think that I'm happy with my own image..." you say, with a pause. "I'm not pretty.." you say with hesitation, knowing that he doesn't like that, hearing you being unhappy with yourself.

"Hey..." he mumbles, looking at your underwear. You hum, waiting for an answer.

"You are the most prettiest girl to me, angel." he says and gives you a kiss on your shoulder. "You just say that now to hype me up" you respond, hanging your arms next to your body.

"I.. " he moves the right string of your bra to the side. ".. saw every inch of your body" he continues, moving the left string down your shoulder. Osamu places his hands on your waist, lightly stroking your lower back. "I know you better than you do.. " he pulls one string of the tanga and it snips back af your waist, you lightly twitch because of it. "...and no one could fit more to me than you" he flips down your bra, your upper body exposed in the reflection. "If you know what I mean angel, or do I have to remind you?" 'Samus hands move to your breasts, holding them and you see a light joy on his face in the reflection. He slowly moves his hands, which he enjoys seeing you slowly getting warmer, breathing in and out more clearer. He likes seeing your body move in the reflection, only because of his doings.

"I like how you react with your body, and that makes it incredible to watch it.." he whispers a bit, kissing your neck and caressing your breasts. "the body I watch in this reflection is perfect as the way it is.." he mumbles against your neck, lightly biting into it. He knows your spots too good now, and he is exited to make use of them.

".. And don't you dare say otherwise now" you watch his doings desperately in the reflection of the mirror, following his hands with your sight. His left hand wanders around your stomach, slowly, his fingers tracing over your body. As his hand wanders to your back, you feel him opening your bra completely, falling down to the ground.

He traces his hand down your spine and you move your chest up, lightly holding your breath of that shiver he gave you. His light cold hand of his, not watchable but feeling every movement of it, gives you the tickle in your stomach you needed. He took the opportunity that you moved you body up, holding your jaw up, that you still can look at yourself in the mirror, and with his other hand touching your lower stomach.

His eyes meet yours in the mirror. They show some deep care but you feel the unbearable gaze from him, which tells that he is ready for you. 'Samu presses your body against his and you feel the bulge of his, against your arse. As he was aware of what you will do, he speaks up with a slight of a command. "you won't move away now. I want to see you in that mirror all the time" His voice echoing in your head makes you feel dizzy, your legs are calming down and you open them a bit. 'Samu was aware of what that would mean.

He places his kiss on your throat and his voice mumbling against it, gives a vibration to your whole body.

"Don't you dare move" he mumbles and he quickly gets something from the bedside table. You stand infront of the mirror, already turned on by his little doings, awaiting something. You see from the mirror, that he grabs a black tie, slowly coming to you again.

"what will you do..?" you say with a bit of lust he can't unhear. He doesn't respond, but it doesn't take long to catch up his intention. You were always wondering why there was a hook over the mirror, placed in the upper middle. It got his use now.

You wanted to stop him, not from his doings, but wanting to treat him right also. As 'Samu told you to turn around for a short time, you grabbed the ending of his plain shirt and pulled it over his head, now exposing his upper body.

You are used to him now but it always is a pleasure to see the one scar you gave him as you were riding him hard one time. A long nail scratch, that didn't heal good enough. You kiss his chest, looking up to his face.

He was slightly surprised but that doesn't stop him from tying your wrists together. For the time, he just looked into your eyes, that scream lust and wanting pleasure.

"you sure are needy for me" you say and chuckle lightly against his ear, giving him an electric shock, while he still ties you up.

" So you do know you're pretty? I'm still gonna fuck you" he hisses in your ear, which makes you feel weak for him, weak but ready.

'Samu turned you to the mirror, admiring your body once again with a smirk on his face, before you would turn into a mess.

He hangs your tied wrists on the hook over the mirror, unable to move because of the height of the hook, forced to look in the mirror. You see Osamu touching your back, following the moves of his hand as he walks next to you.

He squats down, right infront of your pussy. You are used to seeing his face all the time, and it's a shame to just see his back of his head, but as he pulls down your tanga, he breathes against your clit, giving you shivers. You hiss light as he does that and you could hear a light chuckle from him, as he is happy teasing you like that.

You see him placing his hands on your waist, and feel a bite on your inner thigh, following with suppressing your moan by biting your lip. He places some kisses around your pussy, still admiring your body, especially there. You couldn't bear the waiting, and the near little jumps you got, the more he got near your clit.

" 'Samu please..." you say, not able to continue your sentence because you were interrupted by a strong huff of yours as he starts to lick your cunt. Slightly sucking on your clit and moving his tongue to pleasure you deeply. Unable to stop, you grunt by every chill he got you. You couldn't even caress your breast while he licks you out, the tickle getting stronger in your lower stomach.

You breathe out loud huffs, close to finishing. " ugh... 'Samu I'm close-!" you say under your breath. As teasing as he is, he immediately stops and the desperate need to cum right this second, dissappears under your last heavy breaths. It feels uncomfortable, not doing anything because of it, but you would be filled up right after it.

Osamu stands up, and walks behind you. From behind he leans forward, to grab your tits once again, feeling so good in his hands. You were already so aroused, that you whole body starts to react to any of his touches, but as you felt his bulge on your ass again while he leaned forward, your cunt was clenching for it. You could see yourself in the mirror and his devadating gaze from 'Samu.

He moves his hands again, stopping you from cumming right away and you just hear the sound of his belt opening up.You couldn't see anything that would happen, just yourself with those slutty face of yours, that screams neediness.

Used to a view of him entering your wet cunt, you couldn't think now of anything that wasn't his cock inside you, wanting it desperately.

" 'Samu when do you- AH!" Just as he touched your waist, he immediately fills you up with his cock and you couldn't suppress a scream of him entering you fast, stretching you once again. "fuck- you are really needy for me, so warm-" he mumbles against your ear. Grunting soft.

He could quickly find a pace he was comfortable with, but as you were there, a bit of hanging on the hook and arching your back, you feel him filling you more and more. You wanted to close your eyes, just filling the rooms with your moans, but as 'samu noticed, he grabbed your jaw, showing you of what a mess you are for him.

"look how pretty of a mess you are for me" he grunts in your ear, you see yourself, mouth half open, moaning out sweet nothings, hair messy and moving in the pace of 'Samus thrusts.

"ugh...my sweet angel-" he tells you once again under his breath.

Your pussy is swallowing his dick and you feel the orgasm in your abdomen close to spilling out.

"'samu I'm going to- cum-! Ah! Fuuuck-!" you scream out of your mouth while he bit into your shoulder, giving you a visible hickey.

You were ready to cum right this second, but he got the stamina to fuck you all night long.

Filling the room with your moanings and the sound of your skins clapping against each other, the mirror fogs up because of your heavy breathings and your orgasm close is freaking you out.

Finally you couldn't endure it and came with lustful noises you screamed out, 'Samu fucking you through your orgasm, slowly dripping down your leg. You pushed your arse against his cock. Osamu held your face once again, forcing to look into the mirror again to see you dripping down under him.

Tired of the heavy orgasm you have, you smile light at the sight of you having Osamu only for you, filling you up, still moving your whole body while you couldn't even hold yourself anymore. Seeing your slight shaky legs that he got you is quite a view, even to you. A slight smile of yours meet the eager face of his in the mirror, but you couldn't hold you head up anymore.

As a mess you were, your second orgasm build up over the stimulation that was too much. To hear your moans a little louder, Samu moved his hand to your clit, rubbing against it with a speed.

You could just scream your overstimulation out, and shout. He loved taking your voice away.

As your voice cracked, you were just able to whisper under those claps of your skins and the sound of your pussy dripping out once again. "s-samu....please.. It's too much-" you said under a whisper, unable to move your body on your own. Only the tie and the hands of Osamu hold you now, your body so weak of the rough sex, that you don't notice the third orgasm crushing out of you.

Osamu is aware of all that, fucking you until you couldn't speak or walk. That's what he likes, to see you as a filthy pretty mess under him. His last moves got sloppy, getting him to his nerves. His little grunts got louder as he was about to cum just of your pretty cunt. "God fuck you got tighter-" he moans with a deep voice, those spinning around the room.

Close to spilling out his cum in you, he pulled his dick out harsh, which let's you scream of pain again, him moving the lasts moves he needed with his hands and he lets out a last moan next to your ear.

His cum landing on your back, him having a blast of it and hisses harsh as he does.

Enjoying the view of you naked and a mess, full of his cum and almost passing out, he controls his breath slowly.

Your arms are tired of holding your weight and Osamu finally gets your wrists out of that hook and tie, your body almost falling down to the ground, but he catches you before you could.

Some minutes later, Samu helped you get up and into the bath, getting some rest in the bathtub, as you both sit in it now.

He even massages your shoulders now, because of the pain you had to endure the time you hang there. Slowly getting into comfort again...

Quick and simple things about this blog

Pat intp 5w6||🎶🏳️‍🌈 ||they/them

Introduction:

welp hi, my name is Pat and I'm writing just for fun here. About anything, about anyone. There is just a burst of energy that hits me and I write my full heart out for one fanfiction, Imagine or One shot. And a friendly reminder here as nearly anyone that writes here: English is not my first language, so don't wonder if it just are simple words. I mostly write my ideas out as best as I can.

Socials:

Insagram: @sim.patelle

Wattpad: @patient_cake

Well what do I write? :

I write fanfictions, One shots, Imagines and sometimes headcanons (just started that). The perspectives are depending. Sometimes in the first perspective, "you" perspective and "y/n" perspective.

What Fandoms, characters, things?

I just had the idea to upload my stories that I wrote here (I usually write on wattpad in my native language (ger) but my writing block is too huge rn). So here comes a little list of what I written/will write about in general.

Haikyuu fluff/angst/smut mostly

Haikyuu headcanons

fem!reader x fem!

masc!reader x masc!

fem!reader x masc!

neutral reader x fem!/masc!

(those four mentioned mostly smut but also fluff)

dilf!au

angst!

Uploads, requests, etc.:

The uploads are very irregular, mostly when I find the time bc of stress and so on, so pls don't hate me for that-. Because I always have a huge write block after I wrote, it's hard to take requests, or in other words : to make you happy with recent uploads. I don't have anything against it when you request something, (only if you want ofc) but pls don't expect me to write then in a range of three days.. I'm deeply sorry about that.. As I mentioned, I will just mostly upload my stories I've already written.

(This is really a new experience to upload this here, and I would be very surprised if someone would even read that- or follow me-)

Alright alright alright you guys.

I want to say that I hardly see a lot of vanilla smut on here. Some good and soft smut. Not that rough smut. Smacking the ass and all. Always want to see the gentle smut or a first time smut.

Also to point out. It would be good to see some trans too. I love to read some of that too.

asking him for nudes [nsfw]

feat. tsukishima, kuroo, kita, atsumu, tendou

notes: will probably do a version of this for jujutsu kaisen

warnings: female!reader, masturbating, degradation, edging in atsumu’s, atsumu flashes his team 😕, implied cum eating in tendou’s

tsukishima is annoyed, but when is he never? you begged and whined for nudes while the man was at work, for god's sake. he firmly told you no in the beginning and to stop acting like a brat. but when you kept pushing for some, and sending clips of how needy you were, he broke his composure.

the blonde slips into the employee bathroom, locking the door. finally freeing himself, he's already half hard. tsukki sends a picture of himself, smug expression and all with his pretty cock in frame. 'here. happy now?'. and of course he already knows the answer to that when you send a pouting picture in return. tsukishima can't help but take advantage of the photo to get himself off. he makes a video, spitting out profanities and words of degradation while he fucks his hand. he doesn't grant you the pleasure of seeing his face while he does. he knows how much you love seeing his face, but you disobeyed him, and this is punishment.

'you better not touch my cunt. i'm going to fucking ruin you when i get home.'

kuroo is ecstatic. he'll do anything for his pretty baby and the man is more than glad to send you some nudes. he doesn't send them right away though because he has to tease you first. he first sends a picture of his hard on through his slacks, the caption 'this what you want, baby?'. he knows you want more but he wants to see you say it. after successfully getting you to beg, he sends a video of him touching himself through his pants, telling you how it isn't nice for you to get him this worked up right now. how if you were in his office he'd have you bent over his desk. but of course kuroo asks for you to send nudes in return because he's dying to see just how wet you are for him.

being in his own office with no one else in the building, he doesn't hold back. he is loud—very loud. he's moaning your name excessively and telling you how good you always make him feel. asking you if you'll ride him and clench down like you always do so perfectly. his vest and button up are undone and you can see all of his toned chest. he whines and mumbles about how well you take him and how he can’t wait to fuck you. not long after, he orgasms and uses a tissue to clean himself.

'your turn, baby. let me see that pretty pussy i'm going to stuff full later <3'

kita is flustered. when he received a text from you saying 'there's an emergency' he was prepared to drop his farming tasks for whatever you needed. he wasn't expecting you to send him a video of you touching yourself, saying how much you need him. this is all new to him, but he wants so desperately to please you, so he tries his best. kita shreds his clothes, his fit and toned arms and chest in view, beautifully tanned from working outside. he truly looks ethereal.

he feels shy and a little embarrassed showing himself nude on camera but if anyones seen the man, there's absolutely nothing embarrassing about how pretty his cock is. he doesn't realize how pent up he actually is until he starts stroking himself, his whines and moans get gradually louder as he thinks about you and your cute cunt. but however the romantic person kita is, he starts rambling about how beautiful you are, and how he can't wait to start his own little family with you. he thinks you'll look so pretty round and carrying his babies. don't you? he rambled about how he'll take good care of you and your family. there isn’t anything that turns him on more than the thought of you having his kids. he knows you two planned to wait a little longer, but there’s nothing wrong with a little head start, right?

'sweetheart ya can't go and startle a man like that, now hurry home from work so i can finally have my way with ya. need ya pregnant by the end of the day'.

atsumu is smug. he knows he's attractive. he knows he's irresistible. especially when it comes to you. when he saw your message about sending nudes it was right after his practice had ended. sweaty and high on adrenaline, the blonde doesn't need to do much to get himself worked up. just seeing the messages of you being needy could be enough to get him to cum. but he is a performer, and as a performer, he must put on a show.

he teases you in the video, asking you just how badly do you want him and how you want him to take you. he assures you not to worry your pretty little head too much because however it is, he’ll be having you cum multiple times. the thought of getting you off brings himself to the edge and he knows he’s about to cum. but what's this? atsumu stops himself right before he can. his dick is a deep, scarlet red and his hard on by this point is near painful. but if there's one rule atsumu has, it's to not waste his own cum. the only place it belongs is inside of you and not the shower floor. once he’s done edging himself he sends a picture of his painful, rock hard cock.

he ignores the cries of his teammates and the noise of disgust (from sakusa specifically who said for him to 'put that thing away') when coming out the shower. he’s just trying to make it home to you now.

'ya don't know what you just started, angel. ya better be face down, ass up on the bed when i get home. yer not sleeping at all tonight.'

tendou is spontaneous. one nude was never the same from the last one. you're convinced that him sending nudes is more enjoyable for him than you, considering how worked up he gets. there was one instance where he told you he had a 'surprise for you' to bring home from work, and the man came home with his dick in a box full of chocolates. needless to say, if you didn't have a sweet tooth then, you do now.

but imagine this time around asking for some nudes he actually beats you to it, asking to send something at the same you do.

"i've been waiting for you to ask for this~" he sings in the video "i've been working on something for you, mon chéri~'. your anticipation eats at you while you wait, but it’s quietly followed by a gasp at the sight on your screen. low and behold, the man had made a chocolate mold out of your pussy. how he did it, you don't know. do you even want to know? you're even more choked up when you see him fuck the mold, his pretty moans taking up the video. your eyes are drawn to his slender hips and the way he moves them. you hate to say it, but you really do envy chocolate right now. tendou sweet talks you, saying how he wish he can't wait to have the real thing, and how your real pussy is much sweeter than any chocolate. a cute smile is plastered on his face and his pale skin is flushed a pretty pink, the way he shudders lets you know he's close. he loudly moans your name, cumming deeply inside the chocolate. grinning at his work, he shows it to the camera.

'i made all of this nice filling for you. you're going to eat it all, right?'

do not copy and or repost. likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated though! (c) 2022 hyeque

Something that I find interesting about Oikawa is that he would be so observant when it came to you, not even a hawk could rival him.

I imagine him to be quite the pest when he's around you - always making some comment, stealing your things and dangling them somewhere where he knows you can't reach, just overall making all the little things in life that much more difficult. Why? Because he's bored and you happen to have the misfortune of being his favorite person ever. That's why!

But Oikawa takes mental notes, sometimes actual ones too. He probably has several notebooks dedicated to you and you wouldn't ever have a clue. He oozes with both natural charisma and childishness, which makes him a double threat. It is very easy for him to shift these two moods especially when the time calls for it. He sees the way you react because your reactions are important to him.

You are important to him.

That's why he makes sure to stay close to you as much as he possibly can, scaring off any potential threat regardless of sex. He may be a bit softer towards the girls who surround him but he always makes sure to let them down, to tell him that he's spoken for.

You just have no idea that it's you he's talking about.

Oikawa is used to success. But he also understands what it feels like to lose. That's why he does not have the courage to come clean to you. He can't help but to feel a little frustrated with you because, well, how dare you? How dare you exist there and be all cute? It's even worse when other people take notice and they actually have the courage to approach you, which just makes him want to knock their teeth out.

Oikawa is a pest. But in his way, that's his love language. He can be sweet, don't get me wrong! But messing with you is just too fun.

whiskers — kuroo tetsurou (au).

it’s been a while and i managed to push through with posting a short scenario for this blog. i know i haven’t been active in this blog at all and it will stay that way if there are no requests flying here. i am currently accepting requests for haikyuu and attack on titan (bc i indulged in it for quite a while now). with that aside, happy reading !!

summary : kuroo finds himself in a strange predicament and inevitably bumps into his crush. inspired by ‘a whisker away’.

Kuroo Tetsurou had enough of his life.

Everything was just in shambles the moment his mother screamed at his father, demanding a divorce. And with divorce comes the argument of which parent will take the responsibility of caring for the child. In the end, Kuroo's mother won, making him pack his bags and leave his father behind to live in his mother's house in Tokyo, along with the man that his mother chose to remarry. Living under his mother's care was perfectly fine; she wasn't in the house often because of her work and his mother's new husband tends to be fussing over him any chance he gets, but Kuroo chose to brush all of them with a practiced smile.

In the summer of Kuroo's second year in high school, the dark-haired boy received a message from his father. He was lounging in his makeshift study area in the bottom part of his bunk bed, reading a book that Kenma really enjoyed (it was filled with games though, probably the reason why the first-year liked it so much), when his phone vibrated on top of the coffee table he pushed at the front of his study area. Not having any enthusiasm at the prospect of talking to people, Kuroo sluggishly sat up and opened his phone, displaying his lock screen of the sky and the message from his father. With bored eyes from behind his long fringe, Kuroo tried reading the message without any attachment since it was only once upon a time that he was close with his father.

Father:

Hey, Tetsurou, I'm here right now in Tokyo. The summer festival is still ongoing so why don't we attend the highlights, I have something to talk to you about.

Narrowing his eyes at the glare of his gadget, Kuroo stared pensively at the screen of his phone. Festivals meant reliving those joyous moments he had with his father when he was young; catching goldfishes, buying masks and scaring his mother with the designs of their face accessories, and watching the highlights of the festival, which is the fireworks display. It also meant reliving that time when his father left him intentionally during a crowded summer festival. That event in his life spurred the divorce because as his mother told him, his father is one deadbeat and selfish kind of man. But his father wasn't like that. Kuroo remembered pleading to his mother to forgive the older man but it was all in vain. She still screamed in their dining room to nullify their marriage.

Tetsurou:

OK.

That was it. No residue of the playful nature he always had with his father, as it should be all those years.

Having a few minutes of silence and staring at the bottom of his bunk bed, Kuroo took a deep breath as he ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up even more. Slowly sitting up, the dark-haired boy crawled out of his cozy hideout and stretched his limbs, because lying down and rolling on the carpeted floor definitely made him stiff. Walking towards his closet while taking off his shirt, Kuroo reached out for the red sleeveless hoodie hanging from behind his volleyball club tracksuit, quickly fitting it on him and choosing to leave his basketball shorts on. With his phone and wallet in hand, the tall lad walked down the stairs and opened the door to the living room and dining area.

Peeking his head inside a small crack of the door, Kuroo lazily scanned the area. "Ah, Hikaru-san," he called out, catching the attention of a tall man with soft brown hair and glasses from behind the counter of their kitchen. He was apparently preparing for dinner, which looked like fried chicken. "I'm going out for a bit. Tell Mom that I could be going home late tonight."

The man named Hikaru gently smiled at Kuroo as he washed his hands. "I heard tonight's the summer festival's highlights," he noted, wiping his hand on one of the clean towels by the refrigerator. "Are you going with your friend, Kenma, is it? Or your classmates, Yaku and Kai."

Kuroo shook his head. "Dad invited me."

He swore he could hear a pin drop from the awkward silence ensuing inside the room. This silence is one that he greatly distastes, and this is coming from a child who succumbed to a bout of silence once he moved to Tokyo. There was no question of how Hikaru wanted to be acknowledged as Kuroo's new father and the competition on who deserves to be a better father to Kuroo is brewing between the two males that became a part of his mother's life. Kuroo could see that Hikaru was doing his best but the messy-haired boy never really viewed him as a family even after years of being married to his mom, his dismissive behavior when it comes to Hikaru is masked with cheery remarks and loud rounds of laughter. And that's what he chose to do right now.

The tall lad laughed once again, trying to ease any tension in the air. "I'm thinking of bringing home a box of takoyaki. Do you want anything, Hikaru-san?"

Hikaru composed himself and sheepishly looked down to continue with his current task. "You don't have to buy me anything, Tetsurou." The brown-haired man glanced at Kuroo with a fatherly air. "Are you joining us for dinner later?"

Kuroo paused for a few moments, pretending to think upon the offer before shaking his head an easygoing smile. "Nope," he lightheartedly answered Hikaru. "I'll be off now!"

When Kuroo's footsteps echoed through the empty household, followed by the sound of the front door closing, Hikaru deeply sighed as he planted both hands on the counter. His dejected frame was noticed by his pet cat, Hanako, who mewled in concern as she approached her owner. Realizing his eyes pooling with unshed tears, Hikaru quickly took his glasses from the bridge of his nose and wiped his eyes with his wrist, his forced laughter coming out huskily.

"I'm trying my best, Hanako, but why isn't it enough?"

                                                             *

Summer festivals in Tokyo always bring forth a chorus of laughter and the comfortable mellow lantern lights. There was a subtle beat of the taiko drums in the background, drowned out by the endless chatters of the people choosing to roam around during the highlights of the festivals. The streets of the enormous plaza in their area were arranged to have a line of stalls awaiting for customers, and one of them held a special place in Kuroo's childlike heart ー goldfish scooping. Here he was, crouched down in front of the small tub designated for the goldfishes, his hand poised right above him while his eyes never strayed from that fish who appeared to be brighter than anyone else in the shallow water. Right when he was about to catch the fish, his little net tilted and doubled over the water, scaring away the fishes from any human contact.

"Better luck next time, boy," the stall owner told him reassuringly but the messy-haired boy wasn't reassured at all.

Kuroo stood up brashly from his seated position, surprising the people around the little stall, and walked away with his hands inside the pockets of his sleeveless jacket. There was a hasty apology coming from behind him, along with hurried footsteps of the very person he doesn't want to interact with at the moment. Kuroo continued walking, mumbling apologies to the people he bumped on the way, until a firm grip wrapped around his arm, making him roll his eyes in annoyance.

"What?" he asked the person desperately trying to catch his attention, the expression on the younger boy was hiding the fact that he was hurting because of this meeting.

"Tetsurou," Kuroo Tatsunari, his father stood in front of him, face so distraught that he nearly broke his practiced façade. "You can live with me instead of your mother, that way everyone will be happy. Please, Tetsurou, I already asked my landlord to have my apartment renovated to have your room."

Kuroo was baffled for a moment and he couldn't help but scoff in disbelief at what his father said. After shaking his head, his golden eyes trailed from the face he was starting to see in the mirror (except for the unruly hair he seemed to claim since he was young) to the hand still gripping tightly on his arm, as if asking for him to never leave the owner's side. He had enough of all of this and all he wanted was to cry his heart out and scream all his hidden thoughts to a barren meadow, but all he could do was place his hand on his father's, gently taking away the grip that kept him rooted on the ground for so many years.

With unrelenting eyes, he muttered darkly, "Have you ever wondered what would make me happy?" before turning away and running to who knows where this late at night.

"Tetsurou!"

He did what he always did best ー running away from his problems.

The young boy did this when he was in the middle of his parents' fights when he was just a little boy and he brought it with him until he was in primary school, where his mother took him under her wing all the way to Tokyo. He nearly ran away when Kenma came into his life, the prospect of having friends and interacting with other children his age so dreadful to the boy that he didn't speak until Kenma asked him what games to play, thus, spurring the two to start volleyball. He nearly ran away when middle school and high school came, the latter made his anxiety rise much higher than the previous point in his life. But this was all erased when many of his high school classmates approached him out of nowhere, clinging onto him and confessing left and right, something that he was not proud of.

The messy-haired boy slowed down his pace to a walk, tears bleeding through his vision and blending in with the drops of rain pattering down on him. "I hate this," he muttered, making measured footsteps on the cobblestones, not noticing that his surroundings seem to transition into a shrine. "I hate the world. I hate myself. I wish I would just end this miserable life right away." Just then, a strong odor of tobacco wafted through his senses, making him perk up in wariness.

In front of him was a huge man dressed in an elaborate yukata, casually smoking on a fancy pipe that Kuroo thought was a relic based on its golden sheen that illuminated under the shrine's overhead lanterns. Feeling skeptical at his current situation, Kuroo slightly took a step back with his eyes still set on the man sitting with a mask stall beside him. His heartbeat picked up its pace because of the nerves starting to churn in his stomach but the dark-haired boy still glanced at the number of masks plastered on the stall and oddly enough, all he could see were cats instead of the variety of animals that were displayed in some of the festival stalls down the hill.

"Welcome," the unnamed man said in a raspy and deep voice, his big, slitted yellow eyes glancing over at Kuroo. "Do you want to try one on? It is said to erase all your worries the moment your face touches the mask."

Erase all your worries?

Kuroo gulped before opening his mouth to speak, "How much is one?"

That offer tempted him and based on the man's appearance, he wasn't a scammer that would run away with his money. There was something from the man's voice that compelled him to try just one mask to see if what he said is true because he definitely needed an escape from reality right about now.

The man chuckled ominously. "No need to pay, young man."

The messy-haired boy furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "Is this because your offer is a hoax?"

At this, the unnamed man's chuckles became a full-on laugh. Laughter of scrutiny thrown at him, making Kuroo squirm in his perch. "There wasn't anything about a hoax in what I said, kid. Here," the man reached out from behind him and picked out a black cat mask, throwing it at Kuroo, who leaned forward to catch the object, "try it on."

Kuroo flipped the mask. The front was so detailed that it almost looked real, the paint on the mask's nose seemed to glint with the wetness of a real cat's and even the whiskers protruded on either side of it. The ears also captured his attention ー there were fur inside each one and it even depicted the real colors on what you can see on a cat. The back wasn't much with its embellished white appearance but when Kuroo slowly lifted the mask to try it on, it snuggly fit the shape of his face, sending chills down his spine. It was like the mask was made for him. But his admiring came to a halt when an invisible wall slammed on him, making him lose his balance.

The next moment was so bizarre to Kuroo. At first, everything was normal to him and the next, all objects loomed over his figure like skyscrapers. But when he blinked at the green color invading his optics, his vision seems to sharpen, even more, zeroing on where the man was previously seated and only finding no sign of the unnamed person. His chest tightened with anxiety, jumping at the slightest of sound picked up by his hearing. With shaky legs, Kuroo walked on the pathway with the sole purpose of going home and just wrapping himself in his duvet, praying that the next day will be much kinder to him. Upon passing by a vending machine right at the base of the shrine, his golden eyes widened when his reflection showed a black cat instead of his tall physique.

What is happening?

"What in the world?" Kuroo voiced out but instead of his usual timber, a series of meows ricocheted through the empty shrine. He jumped two feet in the air in surprise, spooked that even the black cat in the vending machine's reflection showed rod-like fur. After a few moments, he slowly walked towards the reflection, both curious and unnerved at what he just witnessed. "How?"

Placing a paw on the glassy surface, Kuroo roamed his eyes over his new body. He wasn't even surprised that the cat he donned has black fur and a small tuff of hair covering a portion of his right eye. Gradually, the boy's parted lips turned into a large smile as he whooped in the air while jumping around. It was cute in a human's perspective ー a little black cat hopping from cobblestone to cobblestone, his little meows twinkling in the night breeze. In all honesty, Kuroo felt so alive to leave his human life behind and the only thought lingering in his head is how much he wanted to be a cat his whole life ー lazing around and looking for different homes all day, no room for homework and the constant argument of familial connections. For an entire hour, Kuroo marveled at the world from a different perspective as he never stopped swaying happily down the path.

Until a familiar scent hit him ー watermelon.

And true enough, there on one of the benches was [Last Name][Name], who was looking blankly at the park in front of her with a half-finished bottle of banana milk loosely held in her hands. It looked like she came from one of her college prep classes based on what she was wearing — a beige turtleneck sweater and a tawny pencil skirt covered by a trench coat. Her hair was the same hairstyle Kuroo always liked on her, a loose braid running down on one of her shoulders, with her fringe carefully framing her ethereal face. It was no surprise to everyone how much he likes the girl and it shows how he gawked at her with round, golden eyes.

She looked at the side and when her gaze found him, Kuroo visibly jumped in shock again. The girl rose her eyebrows in surprise at the sight of the adorable black cat pausing a few feet from her. Kuroo watched [Name] open her backpack and mumbling things under her breath as she searched for something in her bag. Brightening when she finally found what she was looking for, the black cat curiously watched as [Name] waved a pack of biscuits in the air and beckoned him towards her.

"I have some snacks, kitty," she told him, which strangely compelled him to come closer. Who doesn't? The girl he absolutely adores called him 'kitty' with that beautiful smile, of course, he would follow her. When he stopped by her shoes, she then lowered her voice, "Is it alright if I pick you up?"

Kuroo meowed in approval, which [Name] happily took as a good response since she carefully picked him up and placed him on her lap. She then softly ran her fingers on his head, making him purr in contentment. Before nibbling on a biscuit, Kuroo enjoyed the warmth [Name] emitted, looking up at her with his pupils blown wide, which is a sign of his fascination with the girl.

"The night is beautiful ー it's like everything disappeared," she pensively voiced out, her eyes softly staring at the black cat on her lap. "I need more moments like these. People want me to do things that they want, not knowing how much I wanted to be free when I step out in the real world. I mean, I'm going to be eighteen soon and it's a sign that my dad should stop placing shackles that makes me want to cry. I don't even want to be a doctor." She pursed her lips as she paused for a bit as she muttered, "It's so suffocating." The girl then felt paws on her shoulder, making her look up at the adorable black cat, which was a few inches from her face. Then, she felt the tiniest kiss on her cheek, something that elicited a giggle from her. "That tickles."

Raising her hand from her lap, [Name] wrapped them around the cat's body, lifting him a little higher and placing him on her shoulder.

"You smell like lavender," she whispered. "I love it."

Through the night, the boy trapped inside the black cat's body heard his heart pound in his chest, his adoration for the girl blossoming like the fireworks lighting the park.

I love this so much <33

SUPER LIKED;

pairing: kageyama tobio x f!reader

genre: college!au, enemies to lovers!au, social media!au, series

warnings: swearing, suggestive language, possible alcohol use in the future

current status: on-going!

synopsis: l/n y/n has been lucky with two things; good grades, and good friends. she also has been unlucky with two things; keeping plants alive, and dating apps. after many and many failed attempts at getting a decent date from tinder, her friends took her phone and deleted the app. perhaps it was time for some self-discovery, that lasted for two weeks. the unthinkable happens when she accidently super likes the person who hated her the most in high school, kageyama tobio. maybe she should’ve listened to her friends and kept the app deleted…

meet the squads:

y/n’s fanboys 

kageyama’s simps

chapters:

1). rip to y/n

2). care to make a bet?

3). old war time lovers

4). she used my government name

5). be our manager?

taglist: [CLOSED]

Voicemails After the Breakup (Haikyuu!! Headcanons)

*GIFs not mine*

A/N: I pity the fools who ignore this a/n bc WARNING, these are hcs without those stupid bullet points bc I have suddenly emotionally decided that they fucking suck. Anyways, I hope y'all enjoy the light angst, for all those survivors who are still vibing in this fandom. Enjoy!

Word count: 1968

Tooru Oikawa:

“I’m totally and completely over you.”

That’s how the message starts. 

Part of you wonders if you missed something, or accidentally skipped ahead. It’s so immediate, like Oikawa could barely wait for the beep before tearing into you. Like he needed to spit poison the second he had the chance. 

And it’s one of those biting remarks that he wants to let fester—for a while, evidently; he doesn’t say anything else for another five minutes. 

All that follows is a loud thud, like he’s thrown the phone away from him. And then footsteps, like he’s pacing, pacing, pacing back and forth, trying to think of more scathing words by burning holes into his carpet. 

You hit a point where you think you should delete the message, maybe try and not care about whatever else he may or may not say after waiting for so long. You nibble on your nails and tug at the snarls in your hair. You pick four pieces of lint off your sweatshirt and seventeen more off the blanket draped over your lap, and you know how many there are because you line them up and count them afterwards as you wait, anxious, listening to your ex-boyfriend’s panting. 

But a small rustle stirs at that five-minute mark, right against your ear. And a sniffle. 

“Fine.” Oikawa’s voice cracks. “You win.” 

You suck in a breath. 

“What do you wanna hear? That I miss you?” He sniffles again, then scoffs bitterly. “That I miss you so fucking much I can’t sleep at night? That my bed is so fucking cold now I can’t even stomach sleeping in it? That every girl I see I automatically compare to you because I have to—I just fucking have to, all because she’s not you. And it makes me sick.”

His chuckle is sour and crackles harshly into your eardrum. “Am I stroking your ego enough, sweetheart? Because you win. You fucking win.

“I want you back.” 

He sighs, and it sounds like he’s rubbing his forehead. 

“I need you back.” 

More beats pass in the silence. More sniffles, too, but stretched out, like he’s trying to steady his breathing. 

You don’t think it’s helping him any. As you wipe the cuffs of your sweatshirt underneath your eyes, his voice returns, thoroughly raw and wounded. It squeaks out of him, barely above a whisper. His voice is so loud and tender, like he’s cradling the phone against his cheek. 

Your hand against his warm cheek, curled over that pink skin, fingertips inches away from brushing through those soft strands, wiping tears. That’s what you wish it was. 

“I didn’t know…” 

A shaky breath. You hold yours in return. 

“I didn’t know anything could hurt this bad.”

He swallows thickly. 

“Those last few moments after you left—I thought that would be the worst of it. When you just walked out. And I keep seeing you do it, over and over and over, in my head like I can’t help but torture myself with it.

“I never knew it would get so much fucking worse.”

He whimpers a little, and your heart constricts unbearably. You tear at the damn thing buried underneath your sweatshirt, massaging the skin like it can soothe that phantom ache. 

Oikawa must hate you. Maybe he hates you like you hate him: not because of the breakup, but because you can go for weeks without seeing him, holding him, kissing him, and everything still hurts like that last time. 

“Thing is, I could’ve sworn you weren’t always in my life. It’s been two years. Only two years. And yet I can’t remember a damn thing before us. It feels like it was always us. Some fog, and then you, and then everything afterwards. Everything that was us.”

“And I hate that we had it so good, YN. I really do. Because missing you has been the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

The frustration in his voice is familiar, a sickening sense of deja vu around it, and you latch a hand over your mouth at how vividly the image comes to you: Oikawa tearing his fingers through his hair, teeth gritted, cheeks flushed and shiny. Like when he lost a game, but different somehow. 

Like this was something he didn’t even know he could lose.

He’s crumbling in a way he doesn’t know how to stop. That ugly part about having something wonderful and new—the moment it’s gone, what the hell are you supposed to do then?

“I just—Goddamnit, I can’t stand how badly it hurts anymore. I can’t,” he cries, desperate and aching, like his hand is fisting at his heart. You can hear the breath hitching in his throat, the hiccuping breaths after his sobs. You can hear every tear, feel it against your own cheeks, a soreness building at the front of your skull. 

Too many tears. Your body is screaming at you, too many fucking tears. 

But it’s him and he was yours and you were his. 

Were. 

You were his. 

You had no idea how much that single thought could make your entire chest throb. 

Oikawa inhales, and it makes your heart race against the thick wall caging it in, squeezing against it. 

“I need to see you.” 

He says the thought like it’s just slapped him across the face. 

“I need to go see you, I—I have to.” 

He mumbles to himself unsteadily, like he’s rocking back and forth. Debating, really, what he’s supposed to do, if he should do it at all, if it’s right after everything.

You should probably think he’s wrong.

You probably shouldn’t be curled over your phone, eyes wide, mouth open, not making a fucking peep. Waiting to hear what he’s going to do. 

Maybe—just maybe—you shouldn’t be telling yourself that as the voicemail counts down to its final seconds, if he decides he’s not going to go to you, that you’ll definitely be going to him.

“I can’t just sit here. I can’t stay in here, without you. This isn’t right, I—”

Your breath hitches when you hear the frantic jingle of keys. 

Then the sound of a door slamming. 

His footsteps racing down his apartment’s stairwell.

A car engine revving. 

“I need to see you.” 

And the voicemail ends. 

_________________________

Satori Tendou: 

The message begins with a scoff of utter disbelief. 

“Is that what we’re doing now?”

He pauses, almost like he thinks you’re going to respond. 

“Heard from someone that I suddenly have syphilis. Yesterday, I had herpes though, so I guess I’m gonna have a tough week.”

A rustle like he’d shaking his head, like he can’t fucking believe it. 

“And sure, okay, I figured that’s fine. You can say all that shit, and it won’t really stick because everyone knows it was us and that it’s you and you’re hurt.”

He sighs. 

“But I saw it, sweetheart. I saw it.” The phone whines like he’s adjusting it against his face, and his voice is suddenly lower, darker. 

“You don’t get to have it both ways, you know. You can’t spread all that shit—all those rumors about how shitty everything was and how we didn’t have anything going for us—and then turn around two days later wearing my sweatshirt. And you don’t get to wear that necklace I gave you for our anniversary and then run away from me the second you see me. That’s just not fair—you’re not playing fair anymore.”

Something swishes around like loose clothing, and a large huff greets your ear from what must be Tendou collapsing into a seat. When his little sounds become quieter, that relentless humming and the excitable clicks of his tongue against his teeth, you figure he must have put the phone on speaker and balanced it on his knee like he always did. Mid-conversation with Ushiwaka, he always used to spin his phone with those long fingers, or bounce the damn thing up and down against his frantic leg. 

And the voicemail came through late last night, one of those dead hours where the only ones awake were Tendou, his scrambling thoughts, and the moths flitting back and forth outside his glowing window. He was always awake, always thinking, always doing something. 

When you’d first broken up, after one long, wrenching fight where you’d both lost your voices and the frustration welled so high you just couldn’t breathe anymore, you’d been thankful for the idea of sleeping soundly for the first time in months. 

You’d been wrong. You weren’t even sleeping anymore; just long, slow blinks where your phone screen would magically turn from 3:45 a.m. to 7:25 a.m., and in five minutes you’d have to get up and slug your way through another day. 

Tendou had been the same. Those naturally wide eyes sagged under the pressure, and the curve of his spine had deepened like he’d been hauling the lack of sleep everywhere he went. 

He must be sitting at his window now, at this moment in his message, pale skin aglow with wispy tendrils of moon. And he’s calling you. And he saw everything you’d done. 

“Not fair. Not fair at all,” he whines, teasing. Always, always teasing, and if you hadn’t heard the slight cripple in his voice on the last word, you’d have gone on thinking he viewed it as one big joke. 

You’re sure he heard the same thing you had—that he couldn’t keep acting like it was all fun and games. His usual, cat-like smile surely fell into a pert little frown, pale lips twisting like he’d sucked on a lemon. 

No fun, no fun, no fun, he must have been thinking. 

“Ya see, I thought we had a little deal,” Tendou drawls. “You’d talk smack and start dressing all pretty just to spite me, and then–and then I’d go ahead and delete all your pictures and put your name as ‘Bitch’ in my phone. And in, like, two weeks, we’d just be two ships, whoosh, whoosh, passing each other on the high seas of life, ya know?”

He breathes a ghost of a laugh. 

“But, sweetheart, you look like shit.” He chuckles for real this time, and it’s disgustingly hollow. “I’m not even kidding. Like someone ran you over three times every morning—it’s horrible, really.”

You curl into yourself even further, and you’re smiling, grinning, lips peeling with how much you’ve cried and how little water you’ve drank after. You hate him; God, you hate how he can make you laugh and cry at the same time. 

“But that’s okay, I’ll give you a pass just this once. I haven’t deleted your pictures yet, so I botched my end of the deal, too.” Tendou tsks his tongue. 

“I won’t go easy on you, though. Here–here, how’s about this: for every day you stop wearing my clothes—because they look horrible on you, sweetheart; really, you’re painful to watch—I’ll delete one of your pictures, eh? That means, in about–uhhdivideby365daysinayearignoringleapyearbullshit–ah, seven years, I’ll have held up my end. S’that good with you?”

You lean your head back, letting the tears flood your hair as he chuckles to himself. 

“Fuck it,” he says after a pause. Hopeless. Breathless. “Fuck it.” He must be gnawing on that pale lower lip, biting and nibbling until it bleeds. Because he lets something go to sigh again, and he must have smacked his head against the wall, and then you think he sniffled. 

“I still want you. I’ve always wanted you. And I’m tired of missing you and wanting you. Doing both hurts too much.”

Tendou soughs.

“So I’m still your Chicken Tendy, baby. Always. And I’ll be here when you're ready, syphilis and all.”

Love Me Through the Phone (Bokuto x Reader) (NSFW)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: After Bokuto leaves for an away game on Valentine’s Day weekend, you’re left to handle the day’s pleasures all on your own. There’s just one little problem--nothing comes close to what Bokuto could give you. Luckily, he offers a solution, and though it’s completely out of your wheelhouse, you find yourself desperate enough to give in.

Warnings: smut, phone sex, mutual/guided masturbation, dirty talk, slight praise kink, slight dumbification, edging (if you squint), (gentle) dom!Bokuto

A/N: Happy belated Valentine’s Day! Here’s a lil gift from me to u that I’ve had stuck on my mind for a while. Yes, yes, I know, I ain’t great at writing smut, so if someone else wrote this prompt w/ Best Boi Bokuto™ uhh… *cough cough* sendittomeplsnthx. Enjoy!

Word count: 2731

        “So… what are you wearing?”

        “Jesus Christ,” you break off into a laugh, picking up the phone. 

        “Nah, nah, c’mon, I’m serious. We gotta start somewhere.”

        Still shaking your head, you lean back on the bed once more, propped up on a few pillows but otherwise completely reclined. “Fine, fine, but anything else like that and I’m gonna have to leave you to your hand.”

        “I promise, now c’mon. Tell me.”

        “Seriously?”

        “One-hundred percent.”

        You purse your lips, debating a little. You can feel how much you want it--want him--and when you shift your hips, you can almost feel it soaking uncomfortably against your clothing. He’d texted you minutes ago with a proposition after learning of your predicament last night. 

        You’d wanted him so bad, but that alone wasn’t enough. Bokuto was off at an away game, and the distance--plus it being Valentine’s Day--only made things worse. You’d tried so hard, even trying to imagine his hand in your own’s place, even his tongue. It was just not enough. 

        Though, Bokuto didn’t seem to know how to handle the situation either. 

        “Fine, fine. I’m, uh, I’m wearing that little dress you like-”

        “Yeah?”

        “-and those silk panties you almost tore that one time.”

        “Really?”

        “Fuck no. It’s a Monday--I’m wearing sweats and a tank top, and I’m pretty sure there’s at least two rats making babies in my hair.”

        “Well at least someone’s getting some.”

        “Kou!”

        “Sorry, YN!” Bokuto whines, his voice crackling through the line. “But come on! Take this seriously.” He pauses, silence flooding your room.

        “Just… let me help you.”

        Your thighs subconsciously clench at the tone. It’s so familiar it’s like they’re preparing to be spread apart. 

        The place between your thighs is soaked by now, far more stirred than you’re letting on. The fact that your voice is still steady surprises even you at this point. 

        “You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

        “Don’t be, baby. Just lay back for me, will you?”

        “Okay.” Gnawing at your cheek, you make the choice to place Bokuto on speaker, setting him down just beside your shoulder so you can hear his every word. At this point, you’re on your back, head lain on a pillow and hands dancing along the strings of your sweats.

        “Comfy?”

        “Yeah.”

        “Good.” There’s a few shuffles over the phone, and when Bokuto’s voice returns he sounds a little out of breath, a little strained. “Good. Okay.”

        “Okay,” you nervously parrot, not really sure what else to do with yourself. Slowly, you’re beginning to gather that neither of you have done this before. Despite Bokuto sounding so confident earlier, he now seems reduced to the same anxious, aroused mess that you are. 

        “All right, now just…just follow my lead, okay?” 

        “Mhmm.”

        “I want you to go slow, no matter what I tell you. Don’t speed up until I say.” His orders, simply the thought of their implications, leave your fingers twitching closer to your arousal. The need to touch yourself was beginning to leave a yearning that ran rampant through your veins. A single spark filled your stomach with heat. 

        “Okay.”

        “Good,” he exhaled. “Now touch yourself.”

        You almost choked on your spit. “Wh-uh, I mean,” your gaze traced along the ceiling frantically, desperately trying to distract yourself from the burning in your cheeks. “Like, where?” 

        Your question had slipped out without a second thought, and when Bokuto chuckled, the flush spread to your chest. 

        “Maybe you’re right,” he pondered. “Let’s go slower than that.” A huff, then his voice returned, excited. “All right, I got it. Think of me, all right?”

        “Kou, I already tried that.”

        “I know, baby, I know. But now you can actually hear me, and you don’t have to imagine a thing. Leave it to me.”

        You were grateful he accepted your timid silence as approval. 

        “Okay, so… think of me touching you, right? Like I’m right there in front of you, baby, and I’m just running my hands all over you-”

        “Kou?” you cut him off, blindly picking at your fingernails. 

        “What’s up? You wanna stop?”

        “Can you touch yourself too?” And it’s when he falls silent that you realize how awkward that sounded. “Ah shit, I-I mean, like, I just kinda felt awkward doing it alone and like I felt like if you were doing it too I’d feel better about it and-”

        “God, YN, you thought I wasn’t doing that already?”

        “What?” 

        He scoffs, and shame begins to sour your anticipation. 

        “The second you said you were touching yourself to the thought of me, babe, I was at it. You seriously thought I was gonna sit here and just let you play with yourself while I’m over here just listening?”

        “I mean, a little…”

        “Shit, YN. I let you tie me up once and suddenly you think I like being blue-balled.”

        “Well…”

        “It was one time!”

        “Whatever, Kou! Can we just…get back to what we were doing?”

        “Fine, fine. But we’re discussing this later.”

        “Okay, okay. Just get on with it, will you? Please, Kou, I…” you pause, body once more growing aware of the situation between your legs. “I need your help.”

        “I know, babe.” Bokuto gulps, taking a second to relax himself once more. You’re busying yourself with fiddling with the bottom of your tank top now, tempted to just lift off the damned thing along with the rest of your clothes. 

        But you’re a little curious if Bokuto would mind that.

        “All right, sweetheart. Like I said, follow my lead.”

        You hum. 

        “I want you to imagine me there, right on top of you, baby. Think of how I’d push your shirt up, how I’d run my hands up your sides. Do that to yourself for me, will you, sweetheart?”

        You listen and copy his words, running your hands underneath the cotton hem and brushing your fingertips along your hips, just as Bokuto had done so many times. 

        Well, it wasn’t perfect. But his voice certainly helped. 

        “Go up higher, baby. I want you to hold those pretty tits of yours.

        “God, I can almost feel ‘em in my hands. So soft, always wanna keep my hands there. So fuckin’ pretty.”

        “Kou…” You do as he asks, but it’s not enough. You want more, now.

        “I know, I know. But remember, sweetheart, I said we’re taking things slow tonight.”

        “But-”

        “Now touch yourself. Imagine my hands playing with those cute little nipples of yours, baby. Make ‘em all tight and perky for me.” Hesitantly, you follow his lead. Your fingers draw circles, tug and caress like how you remember he would after long days. How his hands would yank off your shirt before palming and squeezing and stroking. Some days he was really mean, and your hips shifted at the thought of the dark marks he would leave scattered along your chest. 

        “Feel good?” His voice is breathless, and you’re a little uncertain of whether that means your soft moans had somehow passed through the phone line despite how much you’d suppressed them. Though, Bokuto did like you loud. 

        “So good,” you pant, hands still toying almost torturously. “But I want more, Kou, please.”

        “Fuck, baby, I ever tell you how cute you are when you beg?”

        “Kou…”

        “Fine, fine. But you know I’d play with your pretty tits longer than that. From now on, let’s go at my pace.”

        Fuck. You knew Bokuto had a pace, but when it came to nights like these, it was slower than you’d expect. Though most nights Bokuto jumped you and kept at it like a rabbit, there were just some days where he dragged things out, usually just to hear you beg for him. An ego boost, or whatever. Like he needed it. 

        “Slowly, sweetheart, bring your hands down to your thighs and spread ‘em, nice and gentle--you know how I’d peel ‘em apart.” He broke off into a grunt. “And t-then stroke the insides of your thighs, baby.”

        “Kou?”

        “What’s up?”

        “Do,” you clench your jaw, telling yourself to get over the embarrassment by now. “-Do you want me to take my clothes off?”

        “Fuck, you still have any on? Why?”

        “Oh.” You took that as a cue to tear off your tank top and sweatpants, a little ashamed by the eagerness with which you did it. That feeling only grew when you squirmed out of your panties, catching a glimpse of the glistening stain left on them. 

        An idea hit you, and though you knew it would only make you flush more, you wanted to hear his reaction.

        “Kou?”

        “Are they off?”

        “My panties are soaked.” 

        The reaction was instant. 

        “Jesus–fuck,” Bokuto hissed under his breath. You heard something akin to skin on skin as his cursing hitched, and a strangled groan filled your ears. 

        “Fucking tease,” he rasped when he finally seemed to stop himself from going too far. There was a tension in his voice that warned you he wanted revenge. “Put both hands on that wet little pussy, sweetheart. For that, I wanna hear it.”

        Finally. The second your dominant hand made contact with your swollen clit, your hips jerked up without volition. “Sh-it.”

        “Nu-uh, YN. Keep them there. Two inside, one on your clit. Nice and slow.”

        It was hard to keep a steady, controlled pace. Your hips kept bucking, your back kept arching, and the two fingers Bokuto had ordered deep inside you weren’t reaching that little spot he seemed to have memorized like the back of his hand. 

        The lone index finger you kept circling your clit wasn’t doing your sanity any favors. The muscles of your thighs began to tremble in sheer desire of some actual force, a little muscle behind the action. 

        “YN,” Bokuto’s tone was low, warning. The second you’d sped up your hands to meet your needs, Bokuto could hear your closed-mouth whimpers growing higher. 

        “Kou, please.”

        “Hands off, baby. Completely.”

        “Wha…” you opened your mouth in protest, reluctantly pulling two soaked fingers out of your weeping hole and forcing your hand away from your clit. 

        “I told you to listen, baby. And now that’s all you get to do.”

        “Kou, what-”

        “Ahh, shit.” You slam your mouth shut, biting your lip at the delicious moans echoing through the phone. “Fuck, so good.”

        Bokuto’s strained groans come quick and in between pants. You’re positive there’s a sheen of sweat covering his forehead now, his arm flexed and taut as he strokes himself. 

        “YN, baby. ‘F-Feels so good.”

        “Kou,” you plead, gaze a little unfocused as you listen to his moans while forcing your hands to stay at your sides. You feel yourself twitching, clenching around nothing. 

        “Fuck, wish I was inside you right now.” Throaty moans now filter through the crackling line, so loud you wonder if the neighboring apartment can hear--not that they shouldn’t be used to it by now. “You’re always so fucking tight, sweetheart. Always so wet and tight on my cock.”

        “Kou please, let me-”

        “Hold on. Just a little more, baby--fffuck. Know you wanna touch yourself. Spread your legs for me, but don’t touch.”

        You peel your knees apart once more, frustrated to no longer have any friction to work with. Your hips roll desperately, but it accomplishes nothing but making you more desperate. You can feel your arousal dripping down, now, soaking into the sheets. 

        “You remember before I left, sweetheart? Remember how I fucked your pretty little brains out? Never seen you like that before, so pretty and crying over how good my cock felt inside you.”

        “Yes, Kou, yes! Please, just let me-”

        “Said you couldn’t walk the next day. Said I fucked you so good you couldn’t feel your legs, baby. You feel ‘em now? All spread apart and just fucking shaking? If I fucked you right now, sweetheart, you think you could even think straight?”

        “No, Kou, fuck I need you so bad.” You threw an arm over your eyes, the other digging into the sheets as you waited and waited for permission. 

        “You only got your fingers, and you can’t even use ‘em. All you got is me, the thought of me fucking into you, turning your pretty little brain into mush. Making you feel so good all you can do is cry. Baby, I still got those scratch marks on my back.”

        “Kou-”

        “Just a few more days, sweetheart, and I’ll have you making new ones. For now though, I suppose I could let you play with yourself.”

        You almost cried out in relief, hands darting down to your aching, sopping hole, feeling as it drenched each fingertip with ease. 

        “Three fingers inside. I know you can take it. Pretend it’s me warming you up for my cock, baby, stretching you out and having you dripping all over my fucking hand.”

        He’s right, it is a stretch, and you almost whimper when you press your fingers up and against the little pleasure center deep inside you, fingertips just barely brushing. 

        “Your little clit hurts so good, doesn’t it, baby? You’re being so mean to it aren’t you, rubbing hard circles into it.”

        He pauses, breaking off into a drawn-out groan of your name. 

        “I don’t care. Go faster.”

        And you do, and he’s right, and you just can’t bring yourself to care as you press harsh patterns into your clit, struggling to pump your fingers at the same time without losing pace completely and frustrating yourself. 

        “That’s it. Say my name, baby. Scream my name while you play with yourself. Couldn’t do that by yourself, could you?”

        “Kou--fuck!” You clench your eyes shut, arching your back harder as you speed up your desperate ministrations. Heat gathers at your clit from the friction, and your slick is practically gushing now, loud and pornographic.

        Bokuto certainly got what he wished--there was no way he couldn’t hear how wet you were. 

        “You can only touch yourself with my help, can’t you? So fucking good to me, baby. So pretty playing with your tight little hole like that. Dirty little thing.”

        “God, fffuck,” you whimper, back arching when your gushing finally reaches its peak. 

        “You coming?”

        “Y-es!”

        “I wanna hear who made you feel this good. Who made you play with your own little pussy so good, baby?”

        “Kou! Yes, Kou!”

        “Good girl. Good fucking girl.” Bokuto moans one last time, loud and guttural, and the slick of your fingers brushing and kneading your clit becomes too much. Your legs, spread wide and strained, shake with the effort as your back arches against the pillows behind you, head tossed back and mouth open in a silent gasp. 

        Bokuto soothes you on your way down, small “I love yous” and “so good for mes” traveling over the line. When your body finally stops twitching, you lean over and snag your phone, turning it off speaker and pressing it to your ear. 

        “Thank you, Kou,” you hum softly, lethargic and exhausted. “That was so much better than last night’s shit show.”

        “I’m so relieved, baby.” He pauses, humming. “And glad to know you can’t seem to come without me.”

        “Yeah, well, good thing you’re coming back soon. This was good, but…” You sit up, staring at his side of the bed, a little unkempt from you rolling over to it in your sleep night after night. “I wish you were here.”

        “I know, baby. I wish you were with me too.”

        “It’s so lonely without you.”

        “I know. I miss you.”

        “Plus I finally found out where you hid those handcuffs after that night.”

        “Goddamnit, YN, just throw those fucking things out! I’m not getting blue-balled again!”

On a Cold Winter’s Night (Oikawa x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: Trapped in the university library due to a raging blizzard outside, you are forced to endure the cold night with the man you hate the most: the player who lives in the dorm across from you, Tooru Oikawa. But with tensions and anxieties at an all-time high, you begin to realize your feelings for Oikawa aren’t quite what you thought they were, especially when all he wants to do is keep you warm. 

A/N: I took like six hours to write this??? Bruh callin’ amateur hour in this bitch 😑😑 eh, whatever, enjoy!

Word count: 5345

        Snow, layers upon layers, piled up outside of the library. The glass doors of the library had long frosted over, and inside the lights began to flicker. Outside every window was a blanket of white, everything in the distance far too foggy to see through the flurry of flakes. 

       The lone television suspended above the library’s main desk played the same succession of videos–static with white noise, a scrolling of text warning people to stay inside, three loud buzzes, then more static with white noise. It far overpowered the sound of the library’s heater kicking on, its automatic settings desperately trying to battle the cold that succeeded in invading the closed and locked library. 

       You sighed, sparing another glance at the exit and the wall of snow that kept rising against it. Minutes ago you’d tried pushing open the doors, only succeeding in chilling the tips of your fingers against the frozen metal. Ever since then, your fingers never truly seemed to recover. 

       Just your luck; first a small windstorm had delayed your flight back home for Christmas Break, and now, just when you’d given up and decided to work on a few research projects while being stuck at the university, you were trapped inside the library. 

       But you weren’t alone. No, of course not. As if fate had it out for you, you were stuck inside the building with the one guy you despised with your whole being. 

       “Gum?”

       Oikawa held out a piece, a small smirk dancing on the edge of his lips. When all he received in response was a blank stare, he shrugged and unwrapped it, tossing it in his mouth before toying with the wrapper. 

       The both of you sat behind the librarian’s desk in tall, wooden stools. It was the only place with service, and it was where you had both scurried to the second the storm warning chimed through the announcement speakers. 

       While you had attempted to push through the doors, Oikawa had called the school’s main office, warning them of your predicament. Of course, he’d cut himself off halfway through with a cackle at the sight of the door slamming back in your face, but nonetheless he’d gotten a simple, if completely undesirable response. 

       “The both of you need to stay in there and not leave. It’s far too dangerous to go out into the blizzard right now. Tomorrow morning it should be calmed down, and then we’ll send people over to get you. For now, try to stay warm.”

       When he relayed this message to you, you had him put them on speaker so you could hear it with your own two ears. 

       Pop.

       Alas, it was the truth. You were stuck.

       Pop.

       With your worst enemy. Alone. 

       Pop.

       During a blizzard. 

       “Will you stop doing that?” you hissed, heaving a glare at him. 

       Oikawa froze in his seat, a gum-bubble the size of a golf ball slowly deflating with a wheeze. He raised his hands in surrender. “Excuse me for trying to find some source of joy in this miserable place. Maybe you should try having fun once in a while, YN.”

       Your cheeks burned in shame at that. “I have fun!”

       A single brown brow rose. “Do you?”

       “Yes,” you folded your arms across your chest, “I do. But unlike you, I don’t do it at the expense of other people’s sanity.”

       Long ago, amidst your third week of your first year at the university, you learned that you and Oikawa were two vastly different people. In co-ed dorms, he lived just across from you, and it seemed he reminded you of that every other night. 

       While loud music boomed across the hall and eventually spread throughout the building, you sat inside your dorms, hands over the headphones over your ears. You were usually leant over a textbook, pencil and notes abandoned long ago as you tried to comprehend the words despite not being able to hear your own thoughts. 

       Your roommate would slip out to join the fun, meeting and laughing with someone who had knocked on your door. Then that someone had tapped a single finger on your shoulder, squatting down beside your desk and leaning his head to one side. 

       As usual, a teasing smile danced on his lips. “You gonna join us, or sit here studying like a Debbie Downer?”

       You’d be the first–and most certainly not the last–to admit that he was attractive. Brown hair exploding in tufts and swept across his forehead. Bronze eyes twinkling in the light of your lamp. Thin, pink lips pulled into a goading grin. 

       “Come on, I promise the water’s warm.”

       It was at that moment that you started to hate him.

       “Get out of my room.”

       The smugness blanketing his face had dropped for a split second, and you genuinely wondered if you were the first to ever resist his charms. But how could you not, when in every second of your interaction with him, it felt like he was laughing at you?

       Hesitantly, it seemed, he rose to his feet, stumbling a bit. You shouldn’t have been surprised that he was already drunk, but you hadn’t smelled it earlier when he was inches from your face. 

       “All right,” he chuckled, rising to his full height with his hands on his knees. Swiftly, he turned and made his way to your door, not bothering to look back at you again. “I know when I’m not wanted. Enjoy your studying, YN.”

       How he’d learned your name, you never really. You’d figured he caught it on the first day of the one class you shared with him, English, amidst mandatory introductions. Since then, every time your name fell on his lips, he more sang it than said it, always in that sly tone of his. 

       You hated it. You hated him. 

       And now, as you spent the third day of Christmas Break locked inside alone with him in a freezing library, you found yourself despising him even more. 

       Pop.

       “Well, YN, you should know better than anyone that I have a knack for driving people insane,” Oikawa hummed, long fingers folding the edges of his gum wrapper against the desk surface. Your eyes drawn to the action, you absentmindedly scoffed. 

       “Yes, I certainly do.”

       His eyes darted to yours, an emotion flitting across them before dropping back down to his miniature origami. A chill ran up your spine. 

       “I’m going to go look for some blankets,” you sputtered out of the blue. You found yourself reflecting his shocked look, a little surprised at yourself at the outburst. 

       “Okay,” he grinned after a pause. “Hurry back soon.”

       Ignoring the wink he offered you, you slipped out of your chair and left him alone behind the desk counter, effectively beginning your search for stray, abandoned coverings. 

       Instantly, you realized the rest of the library was significantly chillier than the desk up front. Though the heater was still pumping and hissing through the air vents above you, it was now rattling much more forcefully than before.

       Must be the snow piling on top of the electrical system or something. 

       The fluorescent lights buzzed above you, still cutting off and flickering every few seconds as you passed bookshelf after labeled bookshelf. Signs labeled with genres and areas of study swung from the ceiling over rows of different-colored bindings. So distracted, you let out a yelp of pain after stubbing your toe against an abandoned book cart, plenty of go-backs filed one after the other in no discernible order. 

       “YN?” Far off, Oikawa’s voice called after you. Despite the distance you’d created between the two of you, he still must have heard your pained shout. A small part of you was surprised he bothered to acknowledge the noise at all. 

       Maybe he’s not a complete pain in the ass.

       “Yeah, that was me, I’m fine! Just hit my foot on something!”

       “Do you need help finding your way around? I’m sorry, I forgot my walking rope, so we’ll have to hold hands!”

       Nevermind, still a dick. 

       “Fuck you!”

       “That’s why I’m here!”

       Rolling your eyes, you purse your lips to prevent giving in to his teasing further. With a few hissed curses under your breath, you continue venturing through the uninhabited building. Though you did find a few abandoned belongings, none of which were of much use. A few too small hoodies, one suspicious pair of sweatpants, and some stray sunglasses. One poor soul even forgot their backpack at one of the work tables, and despite your initial curiosity, you refrained from digging through it and instead left it where it was. 

       It was when you arrived at the individual work areas divided by wooden partitions that your search finally paid off. Because it was arranged against a line of floor-to-ceiling windows, it was significantly colder in this work area than any other place you’d come across. Luckily, that also meant there was a higher chance of you finding spare blankets–which you did. 

       One was still strewn across the back of a work chair, a black fur throw with no designs but a single tear at one corner, presumably where a tag had been. Another, this one cream-colored, knitted wool, sat in a crumpled pile on the very last desk of the entire area, arranged in the furthest corner of the library from the entrance. The bulb in the ceiling above this desk had been out ever since the first time you’d been in the library, so you weren’t surprised to figure that people crammed out naps between studying in this dark little corner.

       While gathering the two–scratch that, there was another on the ground next to you–three blankets in your arms, you spared a look outside the windows. Frost and a glaze of ice covered each corner where metal met glass, and, because you were on the first floor, you could see how high the snow had piled by now. It reached as high as your hips, with more flakes joining or splatting against the pane every second. 

       The sun, you could see, was just barely setting, the gray of the sky growing darker. Soon enough, it was darker inside than it was outside. 

       The power. It had gone out.

       “YN!”

       Because the heater sputtered a few more clicks before kicking the bucket, you could barely hear Oikawa’s voice, far off and muffled, over the large distance you’d covered in the library. The lights above you no longer buzzed, and instead an unsettling silence took over the building. 

       “Oikawa! The lights!” You hugged the blankets to your chest with one straining arm, the other fumbling with your phone flashlight. You began the trek back to the front desk, squinting to try and make out shelves and stray books along the way. Despite the long-sleeved T-shirt you wore, a chill was beginning to nip at your skin, and you slowed to wrap a blanket around your shoulders. 

       “I know, the weight of the snow must have taken out the electrical box or something!” His voice was getting closer; he must have been making his way towards you in return. 

       Passing through the towering bookshelves, you made it out and turned a corner onto the main path they created. A shadow of a figure stood inches from your face. 

       “Shit!” You flinched back, kicking a leg out blindly in self-defense. The tip of your snow boot struck something hard, and a strangled groan escaped the person as they dropped to the floor. Now level with the light of your flashlight, the person was finally visible–Oikawa hugged his shin to his chest with clenched eyes and gritted teeth. 

       “Ow, ow, ow, owie!” 

       You winced, your guilt growing worse after realizing he had just been searching for you. 

       “Oh, sorry,” you cringed, dropping the blankets and hovering your hands over his coiled form. You wanted to help, you just weren’t sure how. “Do you… do you want some ice for that?”

       The glare he threw you chilled you to the bone more than the weather outside.

       “C’mon,” you hid a snigger behind your hand, straightening up and offering him the other, “it was just a joke. I really am sorry. Let’s get back to the front desk; I’ll help you.”

       The huff he released ruffled the bangs on his forehead. “I should make you kiss it better,” he pouted, hand latching onto yours and pulling himself up. He almost yanked you down with him, but you’d stationed a hand on one of the shelves for support the second you felt his whole weight. You hadn’t expected it, but you supposed you should have guessed it–Oikawa’s body was packed with muscle from years of playing volleyball. 

       Even now, as the main setter of your school’s team, he had daily workouts that only made his body stronger. You’d passed him once during a warm autumn day; he was jogging around campus shirtless while you were on your way back to the dorms after just getting out of class. He was headed straight for you, and during that time, everything seemed to move in slow motion. 

       One, two, three… eight, you’d counted, eyes raking down his chest. The sweat glistened on his bare skin, bathing him in a glowing sheen due to the midday sun. A narrow waist trailed down, down to volleyball shorts hanging slanted on his hips. A smug snicker drew your gaze up, past a broad chest and shoulders and onto Oikawa’s simpering face.

       “Like what you see?” his lips mouthed, but you couldn’t hear over the pounding in your ears, blood rushing to your face. 

       “You’re disgusting” were the only words you could think to say, though they were the exact opposite of how you felt. Maybe you were actually speaking to yourself, ashamed at the way your body reacted to a man you hated with your entire mind. Nonetheless, his face fell in shock, and you brushed past him, ignoring how he’d stopped dead in his tracks and continuing back to your dorm. 

       The view from that day was still imprinted in your mind, as though somehow your mind was afraid of forgetting it. Forgetting him. 

       But you would never forget how much you despised his attitude. 

       You released his hand as quickly as you’d grabbed it, reaching back down and gathering the blankets off the floor. A red flush took over your cheeks, and for the first time you were glad the electricity had gone out. Maybe the rest of your body was beginning to freeze, but your face was completely warm. 

       “I’m not kissing anything, perv.”

       You tried to leave him stranded behind you, moving forward to return to the front desk through the darkness, but his longer strides easily caught up with you aside from a small limp. 

       “The night is still young, YN.”

       Instead of a proper response, you settled for a scoff, avoiding the gaze you knew was locked on your face. An amused hum escaped the man beside you, but you blocked it out. 

       Finally back at the front desk, you spared another look outside. The sun had set completely now, a dark blue hue now in the sky as more and more snow collected against the glass. It seemed the warmth of the room had been sucked away completely, leaving behind a stale, frigid atmosphere that dried up the back of your throat.

       “The blankets will certainly help,” Oikawa broke the silence behind you, “but we’ll need more than that. I snagged what I could from the backroom, some water bottles left in the fridge or so, but we need food.” When you shifted to face him, he nodded his head toward the vending machine next to the restrooms. 

       “You want to break into the vending machine?” you deadpanned. 

       “Unless you’ve got generous amounts of cash, of course,” he smiled sarcastically. 

       “Maybe we should wait until morning before we start committing crimes.”

       Oikawa shrugged. “Desperate times, YN.”

       “We’re not that desperate.”

       “Not yet.” He eyed the cloud of air his words left, releasing a larger, experimental breath and watching the fog that hung in the air afterward. 

       The sight made your stomach clench a little. If the cold from the outside had seeped in that quickly, you had a feeling three measly blankets weren’t going to last the two of you through the night. A wave of goosebumps ran along your skin when you thought about the cold too much. 

       You swallowed. “I’m sure we’ll be fine. We just have to make it till morning.” The strain in your arms from holding onto the blankets too long finally drew your attention back to them, and you busied yourself with arranging the throws on the floor. You handed one to Oikawa, saving one for yourself before spreading the last on the floor behind the front desk. 

       The rough carpet floor was less unforgiving when covered with a blanket, but you knew that in a matter of minutes your backside would be numb either way. Oikawa snagged the water bottles off the counter and passed them down to you before settling on the floor himself, a distance far too close for your comfort, but the heat he was giving off silenced any of your complaints. 

       Then it was too quiet. You cracked open a water bottle and took a sip, then you opened it again and took another sip. All the while, you saw Oikawa watch you in your peripheral vision, and when his staring came to be too much, you scrambled for your phone. 

       “Shit.”

       “What?”

       You patted your hands down your legging pockets once more, then along the ground. You flapped around your blanket, hoping to hear a weight thump against the floor, but there was nothing. 

       “My phone’s missing.”

       “When did you-”

       “Dammit, I left it on the ground after kicking you!”

       “Hey,” Oikawa screeched, offended. “You say that like it was my fault!”

       “Well,” you rose to your feet, Oikawa following suit, “you were the one who scared the shit out of me!”

       “Didn’t you know I was looking for you?” He followed you down the main walkway through the shelves, his presence inches from your back.

       “Yeah, but I didn’t expect you to materialize right in front of my face!” In effort to escape his suffocating presence, you quickened your pace, eyes on the ground but not really seeing anything.

       “Oh, I’m sorry, my bad. Next time you go missing during a snowstorm, I’ll be sure to wear a bell so you know exactly where I am at all times.”

       “That’s not what-”

       Crack.

       The both of you froze in place, argument out of mind in an instant. 

       “Was that…?”

       “Uh oh.”

       You both directed your attention to underneath your foot, where an object lay cracked from your aggressive stomping. 

       Dropping your face into your hands, you let out a loud groan. “Could this day get any worse?”

       Oikawa had squatted down to investigate, nudging your leg out of the way before picking up your cracked phone. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, it was useless anyway.” He tapped and poked at the screen, toying with the buttons. “Looks like it was out of battery.”

       “Fuckkkkk.” You tore it from his hands, performing your own investigations of pats and brushes along the screen before calling it quits. “Isn’t yours out too?”

       Solemnly, he nodded, taking his phone out and allowing you to tap around on it before throwing it back in his pocket.

       “So we’re fucked?”

       “Majorly.”

       The pair of you slumped back to the main desk, flopping onto the ground and wrapping back up in your blankets. A shiver of cold mixed with frustration had taken over your body in a short span of time, causing your breaths to escape with slight chatters of your teeth. 

       You could feel it now, on the tips of your fingers and the end of your nose. A chill seeped through your leggings and slid up your shirt sleeves, sinking into every pore and leaving your hair standing on end. Your muscles began that all-too familiar buzz, a slow but steady trembling in effort to get your blood moving. Your toes curled in your boots. 

       “It’s cold,” you commented, the words slipping out like an afterthought. 

       You thought he’d agree, hum, or even nod his head. Instead, Oikawa scooted closer to you on the blanket, enough that his upper arm brushed the end of your shoulder. Then, slowly, as though approaching a wounded animal, his arm rose and wrapped around you, not only covering you with his heat but also with his blanket, still soaked in the warmth from his body. 

       Mind blank, you didn’t move a muscle for what seemed to be five minutes after he’d moved to embrace you. 

       “Is this okay?” he’d whispered into the silence, voice soft yet hesitant. 

       “W-why?”

       “You said you were cold.” He shifted a little, but didn’t move away. And surprisingly enough, you didn’t want him to. “I–didn’t want you to be cold.”

       A blanket of silence falls over the two of you, an atmosphere of peace you never thought you’d experience with the brunette man in your life. His warmth left you in a sort of lethargic trance; you didn’t want to move away, though your mind was urging you to, nor did you have the energy to. For the first time, you wanted Oikawa close to you, and you didn’t want him to leave for a while.

       You were exhausted.

       Formerly, the two of you were both leaning back against the wall. Now, tucked into Oikawa’s side, your right arm pressed into the side of his chest while your left was cushioned a distance from the wall by Oikawa’s arm, wrapped sturdily around your shoulders and urging you to lean toward him instead. 

       Man, you were tired. 

       “YN?”

       “Hmm?” Your eyes cracked back open, and you shifted your gaze to him, waiting. 

       His head was leaned back against the wall, eyes still closed as a single brown tuft of hair fell across his forehead. In the light the moon reflected off the snow, you could see the length of his lashes brushing the apples of his cheeks, the sharp edge of his jawline that you yearned to run a finger along. He didn’t bother to look at you for a response when he muttered, “Why do you hate me?”

       The question zapped you to attention like a taser, guilt flooding your chest for a reason you didn’t quite think you knew. There was a strong urge in you to pull away from him, but the hand on your arm tightened, halting any drastic movements.

       “I… I don’t…”

       “I know you do,” he sighed, tongue running out along his lips. “Please, just tell me.” There was a sort of surrender in his voice you never thought you’d hear. For a second, you missed his smug tone. You missed the teasing lilt of his voice. You missed the Oikawa you knew. 

       You wanted him back. 

       “You’re weirding me out, Oikawa.” In this position, you couldn’t poke him in the cheek, so you settled for his thigh. He barely flinched, peeking a single eye open. “Go back to acting like that smug little shit I know you are.” His lips quirked up.

       “I promise I’m still me, YN. I’m just a bit curious is all.”

       “Yeah, well, it’s freaking me out. I want the normal you back.”

       Wrong words.

       “You do?” He was wide awake at that, head straightened up and eyes wide and at attention. If he was a dog, his tail would be wagging. 

       “Nevermind.” You twisted in his grip to get your back facing him. 

       “No, no, noooo.” Both of his hands grabbed onto your shoulders, shaking you back and forth. “Say it again. Say you want me again.”

       “God, you’re such a perv,” you stutter, voice wavering with his movements.

       “You’re so mean, YN!” he whines, finally releasing your shoulders. You think he’s given up and let down your guard slightly, a little curious at his expression. But when you turn your head to face him, two arms wrap around your waist, yanking you back and in between Oikawa’s outstretched legs. 

       “What the-” While you struggle in his arms, Oikawa only holds you closer, leaning back and taking you with him so your back rests against his front. He hooks his head over your shoulder, and you tense when you feel a breath of warm air against your ear. 

       A shiver tears through your body, but you’re relieved he doesn’t comment on it. 

       “Say it again, YN.” And he definitely feels the shiver that time. A breathless snicker heats up the skin of your neck, but you’re too trapped in his arms to escape the overwhelming feeling it erupts in you. 

       “God, I hate you,” you sigh instinctively. 

       Oikawa grows still. The fun and games are over, it seems, as he pulls his head away from your neck. The arms encircling your waist have become rigid. 

       There’s a thump against the wall. Then a pause. “Why?”

       You bite your lip, and though the words are on the tip of your tongue, you can’t seem to force them out. You’re ashamed, embarrassed, regretful. All of those ugly feelings he pulls out of you every other day, you draw out of yourself in this moment. 

       “Oikawa, I-”

       “Tooru,” he corrects.

       Flustered, you continue, “Tooru… whenever you… you always just… I never…” You groan at your lack of words, throwing frustrated hands over your face. The heat in your body, though small, rises. “I just feel stupid around you.”

       “Stupid?”

       “Like an idiot.”

       “Idiot?”

       “Yeah.”

       “Yeah?”

       “Stop it.”

       “Sorry,” he pauses, “I just… you think you feel stupid? Around me?”

       You don’t understand what he means, so you stay silent. 

       “So… you feel like an idiot around me… why, exactly?”

       “Because,” you wave your hands around, not really sure what your gestures are doing considering he can’t see them, “you just… you tease me all the time! And when we’re in class and you look at me and I just feel like I’ve got shit all over my face! And when you throw those stupid-ass parties, I feel so lame because it’s not like I don’t want to socialize, but I hate the way people act at parties! And then you come along and tell me that I should join, but I know it’s gonna fucking suck and I know you’re gonna see that I stick out during parties like a sore thumb and that makes me feel even worse and I-”

       “YN!” A hand slips from your waist, slapping over your mouth and effectively cutting off your rambling. A disbelieved breath sounds behind you. “Jesus Christ, YN.”

       And you feel like even more of an idiot. You take some pleasure in the fact that he can’t see you as tears begin springing in the corners of your eyes. 

       But then there’s a hard pressure against the back of your head. And then something soft against the back of your neck. “YN, YN, YN,” and you realize his lips are on your neck, his face buried into your hair, “God, you just… you drive me fucking crazy, you know that?”

       You didn’t know that.

       “The fact that you can say all of that, and think all of that, and feel all of that, without realizing why I even do it at all drives me insane.” You feel his mouth move against you with every word, your skin growing hot under his breath. You try to speak against his hand, and thankfully he pulls it away when you do, returning it to your waist as though it doesn’t muddle your mind. 

       “What are you talking about?” 

       And he laughs like it’s the dumbest question in the world. And maybe it is, but you have to know. 

       His lips are on your neck one last time before he pulls away, leaning back against the wall once more and taking you with him. “YN,” his fingers twitch against your skin, the cold of them biting through the fabric of your shirt, “do you have feelings for me?”

       And you feel like the biggest idiot of all, because you do. 

       You do have feelings for him, and you only just realized that now. 

       “Holy shit.” 

       Oikawa stiffens. “What?”

       “I have feelings for you.” The words slip out before you can stop them, mostly because you’re still in disbelief. Did you really? After all this time of thinking you hated him, of hating how he teased you, you seriously had feelings for him and you didn’t even notice?

       Stupid. So very stupid. 

       A loud scoff from Oikawa breaks you out of your stupor. 

       “Jesus Christ, you’re gonna drive me nuts.”

       And you can’t even turn around and call him an asshole because he’s turning you in his grip and pressing his lips against yours. The hand on your chin, the other on your hip, all to pull you closer, spin you around and tug you onto his lap without separating from you. 

       Your hands are in his hair, and you’re tugging, and it’s that whine you always hear whenever you don’t respond to his teasing, that needy one you thought you always hated because it just shakes you to your core but now you get it, you finally understand it. And those long fingers, the ones he always slams onto your notes drunkenly whenever he’s having a party and you’re not there but you forgot to lock your door so now he’s in your room and he’s bothering you, begging you and toying with you to get your attention, those fingers that have stolen your notebook away and held over your head while he smiles and stubbles around, getting you to chase him–they’re on your hips and you know they’re leaving bruises and you like that they’re leaving bruises. 

       You like it all because it’s so cold tonight and he’s so warm and he’s always so warm and you want more, more, more. 

       And he hovers over you, and you gasp. You hate how he teases you because he loves it so much, and that makes you love it. You love it. 

       It is cold tonight. There’s a blizzard raging right outside the doors to the library, stacking up snow higher and higher. You’re both trapped, but you don’t want to leave. Because despite all of the cold, you’re both very, very warm. 

                               ~~~

       The next morning, when people find the two of you, they blame it on that little notion that runs through everyone’s minds when people are stuck together during a cold blizzard, because surely that’s what it must be. 

       And surely that’s why your cheeks are flushed and full of embarrassment, because although everybody knows how weird it can be, during such a life-threatening situation, it’s a desperate attempt to stay warm.

       So when they found you the next morning, thankfully safe and sound and wrapped around each other to try and preserve warmth, they were glad that you two innocent, poor little students, who must have been so scared to be trapped in a building without electricity and heat, were going to be okay, and that they could safely escort you out of the building and back to your dormitories with an official apology. 

       Until one of you asked if they could leave so you could finish what you’d started. 

       “Tooru, you fucking pervert!”

Reborn (Bokuto/Akaashi x Reader) ~Chapter 8~

(Supernatural/Soulmate AU)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: How do normal people react when they get kidnapped by a vampire and a wizard claiming to be their soulmates? Because you try to choke them out with their own breakfasts. But maybe that’s just you. 

A/N: Sup y’all, ik ik it’s been a long time and whatnot, but let’s be honest, my a/n ain’t what ur here for. Hope you like it, and sorry for the wait!

Taglist: @burntcilantro  @alloverbutterflies  @neonghxst  @zaejia  @momothepeachgirl  @black-veil-chemicalz  @bumblebeel  @blxkstar  @keigosbitch  @planetmae​  @rikorene  @idiot-juice-enthusiast  @cherriomilkmangos  @floriane4536  @shimy-deko  @lanceyfancypants  @asteroikawa  @bokutowo  @ichiraku-verse  @samie-babie  @astro-anomaly  @hq149  @pagan-and-gay​  @erinoikawa  @missbuwan  @drunken-dreams @prettyinblack231  @franko-pop  @artisticamore  @bokkubeam  @bokutosfeather  @autumnandhotchocolate  @tendo-sxtori​ (probably forgot some, it’s been a while :/)

Word count: 4620

        “Do you think she’s okay?”

        “For the fifth time, Bokuto, she’s fine. I told you I’ve already checked and made sure.”

        “Yeah, I know it’s just are you really sure?”

        “You’re pushing it, Bokuto.”

        “All right, all right.” 

        Silence fell as your eyes fluttered open. 

        “But are you certain?”

        “Boku-”

        Akaashi’s voice was cut off by a cry, and before you knew it the sun flooding your eyes had been replaced by Bokuto’s face. 

        “YN, YOU’RE ALIVE!”

        “Bo,” you croaked, leaning up onto your elbows before pressing a hand to your temple, “it’s too early for that volume.”

        “Afraid not, my love,” Akaashi rose from his seat on a stump a few feet away and moved to kneel by your side. “According to the sun, it seems you’ve slept more than half the day away.”

        “Oh,” you glanced around, observing the spanse of dirt and trees before you. The sun sat directly above your head, unencumbered by clouds and backdropped by shades of blue. Birds chirped high and far in the trees, and a gentle wind cooled the sweat that had been beading at your forehead. “Looks like my kind of morning, if I’m honest.”

        Akaashi scoffed with a smile, rising to his feet before offering you a hand as Bokuto clambered away in search of something. “Trust me, I know.”

        You sputtered at the jab before taking his hand, almost losing your playful air at the contact. His hands were soft to the touch, gentle and warm. So warm. 

        It finally occurred to you that this was the first time in weeks you’d been relaxed enough to truly revel in the comforting touches Akaashi always provided. The heat flowing from his form thawed the frozen limbs you’d generated from sleeping on the forest floor for hours. When it reached your chest, a feeling akin to finding something long lost embraced you. 

        “A little lie here and there never hurt anyone, you know.”

        “Sometimes it does,” Akaashi’s face fell into seriousness, a fitting but usually undesirable look for him. 

        Wanting to return the atmosphere to buoyancy, you opened your mouth to take back what you said, but not before clamorous footsteps behind you drew both of your attention. 

        “Darling, I caught and roasted a squirrel for you to eat!” Bokuto finally returned to the clearing where you had all settled for the night, holding what appeared to be a stick with a disturbingly charred creature on the end. 

        Your stomach growled.

        Akaashi glanced down at you, half-shocked, half-concerned. Your gaze was still locked on the burnt animal, however. 

        Maybe it was the fact that you had only been eating berries and suspicious leaves for the past few days, or maybe you were truly losing your mind. 

        But damn were you hungry. 

        For modesty’s sake, you accepted the skewered squirrel with pursed lips and blank eyes, but deep down you were all but ready to swallow it whole. 

        “Thank you, Bo,” you trailed off, trying to keep a straight face as your mouth watered. 

        Akaashi’s hand settled on your shoulder. “My love, you don’t have to-”

        “No, no, it’s fine.” Shrugging his hand off, you moved to claim the stump he had sat on earlier. “Can’t wait.”

        Both boys watched you with conflicting gazes, one distressed and anxious in a way you’ve never seen before on him, and the other overjoyed. 

        Judging by the way the thin tail had flaked off at your touch, it was well-done.

        This is supposed to be disgusting. This is supposed to be gross. You don’t want to eat this, YN.

        You gulped, still observing the squirrel from every which way to see where to start. 

        But I’m so hungry.

         By the time you were finished with your breakfast, Akaashi’s face had turned pale and Bokuto’s had broken out into a smile. 

        “Did you like it?”

        “Loved it.”

        With a deep dismay at yourself, you knew you spoke the truth. 

                                ~~~

        “I say we go west.”

        “That’s the way we came, YN.”

        “Oh.”

        You’d been in the woods for what must’ve been three days, maybe more during your long rest after escaping Kuroo. Bokuto said you were out for forever, and you weren’t exactly sure how to convert that into a measurement of time. 

        Said vampire stood next to you, holding and swinging your hand with his while waiting for Akaashi to determine the correct way to get home. 

        Earlier, Bokuto had plucked a dandelion and placed it behind your ear, adding more to the collection whenever he got the chance. 

        Right now, he’d had plenty of time, collecting so many that he’d given up on your ears and placed them atop your head. “I don’t know how to make one of those crowns,” he’d said sheepishly. 

        “Akaashi, can’t you just whip up a spell and find out where we are?” you groaned, taking a flower off your head and setting it behind Bokuto’s ear. His face flushed from the force of his smile. 

        “I don’t have any ingredients at hand, my love,” Akaashi spoke, gaining your attention once more. 

        “What happened to you being able to just, like, poof it out at any time?”

        “Using magic to attack an enemy is different from using it to escape a miles-long forest. And I suppose we should continue heading east.” 

        Akaashi set onto his chosen path, dodging moss-covered rocks and dangling twigs with you and Bokuto at his heels. Every few minutes he would glance back at the two of you, dandelions behind your ears and hands held before he trekked on ahead, back straight and stiff.

        Guilt and shame filled your chest at his obvious discontentedness, and when you murmured his name, he didn’t turn around. “Akaashi,” you repeated, much louder than before. 

        He halted in his tracks and turned, face a perfect mask of placidness as he responded. “Yes?”

        You dragged Bokuto up to him before grasping the wizard’s hand, interlocking your fingers tightly. “Much better,” you grinned, a weight dropping off your shoulders the second his eyes lost their dejection. 

        “If you think so, my love,” Akaashi whispered, raising your hand to press a kiss to your knuckles. 

        “Wait!”

        He froze, brows furrowing. 

        Uncurling your hand from his, you ignored his heartbroken look and tugged a yellow flower from behind your ear, placing it behind his own and ruffling his hair along the way. A chuckle worked its way from his lips, affecting you much more than was appropriate as you grasped his hand again. 

        “Okay, now we can go.”

                                ~~~

        Three months? A year?

        As you lay on the ground, only the moon to keep you company, you ponder how you’ve come to be where you are. Among the arms of two supernatural creatures, ones anyone else your age would have laughed at the idea of even existing. 

        You had a whole life behind you, one that would never be the same if you dared to return. If you were allowed to return.

        The men that lay at your sides, one completely wrapped around you while the other only grasps your hand, don’t make a sound that doesn’t convey absolute slumber. 

        Only days--weeks?--ago had you told them that you loved them. In the heat of the moment, the word had just slipped out, out to the men who catered to your every whim, every want and need. I love them. I love them.

        I love them…

        Right?

        You loved animals. You loved rainy days. You loved the scent of your favorite fruit and the feeling of stretching first thing in the morning. 

        All these things felt so easy to define aloud, to say affirmingly “Yes, I do love these things. I love them with all of my heart.”

        But loving or simply saying you loved Akaashi and Bokuto had a different effect on you altogether. It felt… revealing. It had the same emotional impact as those dreams of going to school naked. You were bare, leaving yourself wide open to enemy attack.

        But these two men weren’t your enemies. They wouldn’t dare to hurt you in such a way. Countless times have they revealed your feelings to you, told you about how you made them feel deep down inside their hearts. You were the love of their lives, and they’ve told you so, verbatim. 

        Is that what you were feeling then? Love? 

        When Bokuto nuzzled against your neck in that moment, forcing your chest to thump, was that love? Was it the feeling of calm that settled over you when Akaashi ran his thumb over your knuckles? Was that love?

        “Keiji?” you whispered, glancing to your right to see if he had stirred. His hand tightened around yours, leaving your heart stuttering. Though his eyes were shut, lashes gently brushing the tips of his cheeks, his lips tilted into a soft smile. 

        “Yes, my love?” A single eye fluttered open, carefully revealing a deep blue iris that scanned over your face. You were hesitant to ask, afraid to sound like a child asking a juvenile question. But you so dearly wanted to know. 

        “What does love feel like?”

        The question hung in the air as you felt Akaashi stiffen beside you, his hand pausing in its caresses along yours. You lay beside him a bundle of nerves, wondering if somehow you managed to press the wrong button in so few words. 

        “W-what I meant to say was-was that, umm, you know, is there like a criteria, or… or, like a checklist-”

        Akaashi chuckled, effectively cutting you off and forcing a blush onto your face. Shame filled your chest and you lightly pulled your hand from his grip, returning your gaze to the moon. As his laughs faded away into the night, you watched in your peripheral vision as he sat up, leaning back on his elbows as he crossed one leg over the other. Of course, your actions escaped none of his attention. 

        “My love, I’m sorry. I did not mean to laugh.” He ignored your scoff and continued. “It is just… all of these times I have met you, fallen for you over and over and not once have you ever asked for my criteria of love.”

        “Good to know I’m especially stupid this round.”

        “No, that is not what I meant,” he shook his head, shifting into a cross-legged position before nudging you to face him with a finger on your chin. “What I mean is… you are so different this time. In a good way. For the first time in so many reincarnations, I feel as though I am learning a side of you, a side of YN I have never known before. It’s endearing.”

        “That,” you swallowed, glancing away as a sudden feeling of breathlessness washed over you. In the pit of your stomach sat a comforting warmth, threatening to overtake you and make you shiver. “That doesn’t really answer my question.”

        “I know, love, so here is my answer: I do not know.”

        Your jaw dropped. “Seriously? You’re kidding me, right?”

        But a sincere smile, carefree and so, so unexpected out of Akaashi made you wait to hear an explanation. Boohockey.

        “It’s true. Each time I fell in love, every single time was different. I just knew.”

        “Surely you’ve gotta know how that doesn’t help me at all.”

        He laughed again. “Yes, I know. But, if it helps at all, I didn’t know it in here,” he trails his index finger gently along your temple, “I knew it in here.” When his hand drops to the middle of your chest, your heart jumps.

        “That,” you gulp, “must have been quite the surprise for a wise old wizard like you.”

        “It was,” he amusedly hums, looking away from you only so he can resituate himself on the ground. He returns to holding your hand as he settles back onto his side, facing you. “A pleasant surprise.”

        The night falls into silence once more, only occasionally broken by Bokuto’s natural mumbles. 

        Did you feel it in your chest? Not just the heart racing, but actual love that came from them, for them? 

        When Akaashi’s thumb ran over your knuckles once more, uncertainty was washed away and replaced by contentment. You were calm, at peace, and possibly…

        “Oh, and, my love?”

        “Hmm?”

        “Please, do start calling us by our personal names like that more often,” Akaashi murmured, lips pressing against your hair. “We would so adore it.”

        Definitely in love.

                                ~~~

        The next time you wake, it’s not to the pleasant sound of one of the boys stirring you or whispering your name. 

        Instead, it’s to the sound of a cracking twig. Leaves rustle in the trees far too insistently to be only the wind. And when you hear distant, unintelligible mumbles, all of your worries are confirmed. 

        Somebody’s out there.

        It’s barely morning, the sun just beginning to paint the sky a gentle blue as the stars finally disappear from sight. Your face feels frozen and stiff, it having been the only thing Bokuto and Akaashi hadn’t covered with their forms throughout the night. Your body is stuck within a tangle of limbs and you can’t quite tell which ones are yours and which aren’t. 

        Again a branch crackles and your eyes narrow, surveying the towering treetops above you for the source of movement. You suck your bottom lip in between your teeth and gnaw.

        Neither of the men beside you have even twitched, both completely unaware of your fraying nerves. 

        How can they not hear that?

        You move to escape the jungle gym that is Bokuto and Akaashi around you, unhooking the leg curled around your hip and carefully unclasping the hands wrapped around your waist. Brushing off the dirt and rocks that had stuck to your skin during your sleep, you take a peek down at them. 

        You’re only half surprised they’re still asleep when you catch a glimpse of their faces. Bokuto’s face looks relaxed for the first time in weeks, brow completely unfurrowed and nose twitching as he mumbles in his sleep. Akaashi, on the other hand, has dark circles you’ve only now noticed, creating sagging skin underneath his eyes that made him seem like a different person entirely. 

        It’s been months and yet just here and now are you realizing how the events that have transpired may have affected other people aside from you. As much as you cared and worried for them, locked up and left to die in cages, they cared and worried for you. 

        You, the one who’s been kidnapped by their worst enemy.

        You, the one they’ve dedicated their lives to protecting. 

        You, their soulmate. 

        Suddenly, your shoulders sagged. Here you were, thinking they were still coasting on the high of finding their reincarnated love, thinking that all of this adventure, all of these miserable events were just a regular Tuesday for them. 

        He finally found you, they’d said, back when they’d taken you away from your college and back to their home.

        In all of the centuries they’ve been tracking reincarnates like you down, only this time did Kuroo find you too. 

        The thought of the werecat leaves a twinge in your side, but you’re dragged out of these thoughts by the sound of yet another rustling branch. With one last glance down at the men, you purse your lips and sneak away to investigate. 

        Due to the sun only just now appearing, the dirt under your shoes is hard and unforgiving. Morning dew on the occasional blade of grass and fallen leaf beads and trails down the plant life, soaking into the forest floor like a daily tradition. Some drops patter down onto your head after dripping off the tree limbs soaring above you. 

        It’s quiet, peaceful, and for a moment you completely forget why you’re even out there. 

        And then you spot them. 

        Two creatures, hundreds of feet above you. Somehow they’ve found a sturdy branch to rest on at such a height. You can only see their outlines, black and human-shaped. 

        And yet not human at all. 

        Breath speeding up, you try to back away slowly, as quietly as it seemed you’d come. Your hands wave around at your sides in effort to make sure you won’t back up into anything-

        Crack.

        Wonderful. 

        Their whispering stops, and the creatures’ outlines move in such a way that you’re sure they’ve just turned and spotted you. 

        Shit.

        Your head pounds, shouting at you to run or yell or something, but your feet feel frozen to the floor. Cold panic strikes your heart. 

        The only thing that finally urges you to move is the sight of wings sprouting from the creatures’ backs. 

        “Cr-rap,” you whimper, just before turning around and bolting. 

        You hurdle over fallen branches, kicking rocks up behind you as you avoid bumping into trees and tripping over uneven ground. Blood roars in your ears now as you sprint, muscles still sore and whining from the last race you’d run just days ago. But you don’t dare look behind you. 

        This cannot be happening!

        “BOKUTO!” you cry out. “AKAA- AHHH!” At the feeling of two limbs wedging themselves under your arms, you scream, pure, unadulterated terror seizing your chest as your feet unwillingly leave the ground. You kick your legs, trying to hit something, anything, that you might catch on to get out of the grip of the creature behind you. Instantly, you debunk this plan the second its grip loosens on you and you slip just an inch closer to the ground. 

        The ground that is now a few feet too many below you to land safely. 

        “I have a fear of heights, I have a fear of heights, I have a fear of heights,” you babble, hands waving around wildly and finding purchase in the upper arms that currently hold you. “I don’t wanna die, I don’t wanna die, I don’t wanna die.”

        Eyes practically bulging out of your skull, you try not to black out when the creature continues flying you higher, wings flapping forcefully behind you as its hot breath brushes your neck. The greens and browns of the forest blow past you in a blur, so fast that the second you surface above the trees, the blue sky blinds you and leaves your head foggy. 

        The creature finally stops, flapping its wings slower only to maintain its spot inches from the tops of the trees. You whimper when you feel your feet brush the pointed tip of a pine tree. 

        “Hinata!” it--he?--calls, tightening his grip under your arms as he struggles to hold your scrambling body still. “Hinata, call the others!”

        The trees below you crackle closer and closer until the second creature surfaces, looking not much like a creature at all. 

        In fact, he looks like a young boy, no older than sixteen with scruffy red hair and nervous brown eyes. He wore black shorts and a white shirt, one which you assumed was backless considering what was sprouting out from behind him.

        Wings. A human with wings.

        How…

        They were covered in black feathers and spread out as far as he was tall, each one the length of his entire body. 

        What…

        “Kageyama,” “Hinata” scratched the back of his neck nervously, wings still powerfully flapping behind him as he hovered across from you. Occasionally, his gaze would dance down to you before flitting back up at your… kidnapper- Shit, why does this keep happening? “Are you sure we should be doing this?”

        “What do you mean, dumbass?” the voice behind you snapped, deeper and angrier than his friend’s. “She’s an intruder on our territory, and this is our duty. Now call the others.”

        “But what if she-”

        “If it makes you feel any better,” you choked out, voice quivering as you tried to adjust your grip harder on the boy behind you, “I’m not intruding willingly. In fact, if you just return me to the ground--slowly--we’ll just leave you alone and be on our way.”

        The boy behind you tensed while his friend’s eyes widened.

        “‘We’?”

        A roar from deep below you sounded, angry and out for blood. “YN!”

        Even you shook in fear at the sound, nails digging into the boy’s arms harder. 

        “Who is that?” Kageyama barked out from behind you, but even his voice trembled slightly. 

        “Kageyama, I told you this was a bad idea!” the ginger pleaded, eyes flitting back and forth between his friend and the trees below. 

        You opened and closed your mouth, searching for words that wouldn’t get you dropped to your death when you heard a distant rumbling. 

        In a matter of seconds, the wind slowly began to pick up, blowing your hair into disarray as both of the flying men flapped their wings harder, struggling to steady themselves like surfboards in heavy tides. The sunny, clear day that was evidently forecasted disappeared in the blink of an eye.

        Grey clouds formed from nothing and grew darker and darker, growling with thunder as rain started to pour down on you. 

        Kageyama started lowering himself toward the trees with a cuss before barking at an open-mouthed Hinata. “Get lower, dumbass! You don’t wanna get struck!”

        The ginger quickly shut his mouth and nodded, following his friend’s lead and taking cover from the droplets amongst the trees. The second you all found home on a sturdy branch, however, lightning clapped and hit your very tree, electricity sparking it aflame in seconds. 

        Both of them yelped in shock while you screamed, the strike splintering the tree. 

        “YN!” Akaashi’s voice rang out and you dared to glance down at the forest floor, the sheer distance making you nauseous. He held out his hands towards you, his fingertips bathing in a dark red glow. You knew he couldn’t safely catch you from this distance, even with the pacing Bokuto by his side’s help. So what was he…?

        A particularly harsh gust of wind hit your split tree, forcing your branch and everyone on it to lean closer toward the floor. Akaashi’s eyes widened when you didn’t immediately smile in relief at the sight of them--in fact, you did quite the opposite and screeched in fear, scrambling backwards on the branch so you didn’t slip off. 

        When your back met the chest of Kageyama, he grabbed your shoulder and turned you to face him, blue eyes blaring. His black hair grew tousled in the wind while he sneered at you. “Who the hell are you here with?”

        Wind started blowing harder and rain drops hit you like bullets, pounding down on you as the sky rumbled angrily once more. The forest grew uproariously loud as tree limbs crashed against one another, snapping off and soaring through the wind only to collide with more trunks. 

        And with all this noise and distraction, none of you noticed the vampire crawling his way up the trees until he tackled you by the waist. One arm wrapped around you like a vice, crushing you against him while you shrieked. The momentum of his jump carried you both off the branch and into wide open air, which did nothing for your racing heart as you wrapped all your limbs around him and held on for dear life. You buried your face into his shoulder, almost breaking your nose against his collarbone when he, you assumed, crashed into a second tree and used his three free limbs to hang on. 

        “YN!” Bokuto called out, wind still whipping past both your ears. “Are you okay?”

        “Y-yeah,” you nodded, not even daring to lift your head. 

        “Good.” The hand wrapped around your waist moved to rub your back gently as he spoke. “I need you to hang on tight, okay?”

        “Mhm.”

        You tightened your grip around his form, humming nervously when he let go of your waist to utilize his second hand. “It’s okay,” he reassured you, and you began to realize the wind and rain had slowed. “Just hang on.”

        Bokuto climbed down the tree, you wrapped around the front of his chest like a koala as he mumbled calming words to you. 

        When you felt him stop climbing and heard rushed footfalls, you carefully raised your head and peered out around you, almost crying in relief at the sight of being on solid ground. The second you made a move to unwrap yourself from Bokuto’s body, however, his arms wound themselves around you and effectively halted any form of escape. Another solid form pressed into your back and you knew Akaashi had joined the party too.

        “My love,” kisses were peppered along the back of your neck and shoulders, “are you okay?” 

        You didn’t bother responding fully, instead just humming and nodding your head. You stayed locked in their embrace until your body and your mind cleared. The second a wave of warm tingles crawled up and down your spine, you let them know you were ready to be released by gently pushing away their forms. 

        A pouty whine escaped Bokuto’s lips as you pulled away and you breathed out a laugh. “I’m okay, I promise.”

        “But you’re still on our territory,” an entirely new voice spoke, strong and commanding. The responses in Bokuto and Akaashi were instant as they both whipped toward the new man, tense and ready for a fight. Akaashi’s hands were washed in a red mist and Bokuto released a growl, pushing you behind him as his eyes flashed red. 

        You were severely outnumbered, you soon realized, as Hinata and Kageyama had seemed to finally call for the others like they’d planned. 12 or so men, all winged and ready for a fight, stood surrounding the three of you. The leader you’d heard talk earlier stepped forward, brown hair and browner eyes looking more intimidating than they should as he looked over you all. 

        At each of his sides stood men, one with light, fair hair observing you all with furrowed brows while the other’s head was shaved completely, a sharp-toothed sneer focused on all of you. Behind the latter, you noticed, stood a cowering Hinata while the former helped a fallen Kageyama rise to his feet, obviously favoring one leg over the other. 

        “Who are you?” Bokuto stepped forward, shoulders curled forward as he eyed all of them down. He was obviously gauging his chances, and all but he seemed to know they were slim. 

        “Shouldn’t we be asking that question?” the bald one snarled, causing the vampire to take a step forward. When the winged man returned the favor, Akaashi placed a single hand on his shoulder before glancing back at you. Swallowing lightly, you slipped a hand forward, sliding it into Bokuto’s palm and softening your gaze when he squeezed it for a second. 

        Kageyama’s gaze dropped to the action for a second before raising back to Bokuto’s face. 

       “Calm down, Tanaka,” the leader turned his head, throwing the overexcited man a warning glare. When he turns back to the three of you, his back straightens. “My name is Daichi, and you’re in the Karasuno Crows’ territory. Now, who are you?”

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Indebted and In Debt (Vampire Kenma x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: Kozume Kenma is one of the most infamous vampires to ever exist, the legends of him and his clan rivaling that of Dracula himself. His preserved sarcophagus lies in the heart of Tokyo’s Supernatural Museum, subsection C: Vampires. You, on the other hand, are the reason wet floor signs exist. A chance slip, an accidental cut, and a band aid missing the trash can all lead to the chance meeting of you and the vampire committed to serving you eternally. “I am forever indebted to you, Mistress.”

A/N: lil idea I just had. Don’t know where I’m gonna go w it, if anywhere, but like y’all can read it if u wanna🥺👉👈 Enjoy!

Word count: 3631

        “Years ago, this museum was founded after the first sighting of a werewolf in Tokyo. He was spotted at midnight under a full moon just as he- Ma’am, please refrain from touching the artifacts.”

        Sheepishly, you pulled your hand away from a hip-high ancient wood carving of a mermaid, inching your way back toward the group as the tour guide fixed you with a dirty look. With a small huff, she straightened her shoulders under her Victorian-style overcoat that matched the rest of her gothic getup. An ancient London day dress made her seem as though she had crawled out of one of the many paintings on the wall that depicted Jack the Ripper as numerous supernatural creatures. The only thing that set her apart was the ID badge that hung around her neck. 

        As you returned to both of your friends’ sides, you avoided their shaming gazes and instead busied yourself with pretending to listen to the tour guide as she restarted her monologue. 

        “YN,” one of your friends, Akira, hissed, “you promised you wouldn’t touch anything!”

        “I didn’t!” you whisper-yelled back. “The lady stopped me before I could.” 

        At your half-effort to clear yourself of blame, Akira leaned her head back and let out a loud sigh. Kanna watched the interaction with a ghost of a smile on her lips, sniggering a little as she always did when Akira lectured you. 

        Both of your friends had invited you with them today as a celebration of passing your first semester of college together. Kanna had obtained the tickets in some way that went along the lines of “My dad’s brother knows the cousin of a guy who…” yadda yadda yadda. 

        Either way, you agreed to go with because, as expected, nobody was watching you and everyone had their eyes on them. Both of your friends were significantly beautiful, Kanna towering over you with long slim legs and hair that trailed down her back in waves while Akira stood just about at your chin, her hair chopped into a bob that never failed to frame her glowing eyes and constant frown. 

        Standing with them was like hiding in plain sight--an effortless camouflage. 

        You only realized you were lost in thought when Akira stalked back from the tour group that had managed to travel thirty feet ahead of you, her hand grasping your arm and dragging you back up to join them. When you returned you saw Kanna flirting with a boy who looked around your age and you distantly remembered him from your chemistry class. 

        Of course, he didn’t recognize you. 

        As the tour group made its way through the cathedral-shaped museum, stopping for a few minutes at a time for each exhibit of mythical beasts, your gaze darted back and forth between the ever-growing collection of sculptures and weaponry. 

        You remember being obsessed with the supernatural as a child, even getting into some intense arguments about whether vampires or werewolves were better, but at some point the infatuation had faded away into passing fascination--you were almost envious that someone had been able to preserve their own childlike spirit so much that they created an entire museum for it. 

        The outside of the makeshift cathedral looked exactly how you’d expect: towering spires with windows of stained glass depicting angels, suns, and crosses. The inside, however, was so juxtaposingly modern that it slapped you in the face the minute you entered. The walls were painted black with maroon accents, effectively maintaining a gothic theme. Though yellow lights embedded in the ceiling lit up each hall, brass sconces were still nailed to the walls, balancing two flickering candles each. 

        Everyone walked down a red velvet carpet that covered polished dark wood underneath and muffled their footsteps, the dull thumps somehow making the museum more ominous. Much like the exhibit you were in now, which was centered around witches, a single television hung at the far end of each exhibition room, ceaselessly playing a small, summarizing video of the creature’s origins. 

        As it murmured in the background about how witches and wizards were not the same thing, you inspected a broomstick that was supposedly owned by a witch from Salem. It floated in the air with two clear strings tied around either end just above a carved marble pedestal holding a gold plaque. The broom of Sarah Good, it read, caught and hanged in the Salem Witch Trials. Her descendants now live in New Orleans, the supposed location of a secret witch coven.

        You licked your lips thoughtfully, moving onto the next artifact with vested interest. The next was a cat skull and on its plaque it explained-

        Before you even got to read the words, you lost your footing and toppled over, crashing to the ground in a single heap of limbs. 

        Ow.

        Groaning, you righted yourself back onto your butt, inspecting the untied shoelace that had sniped you. Several gasps rose around the room, but not for you. 

        The wooden stand holding the cat skull balanced now on a single leg, tipping over in slow motion. Crap! 

        You tried to scramble up onto your knees to catch the fallen display but before you could, a form blew past you in the blink of an eye and caught it in its tracks, righting it back on its four legs before recentering the cat skull. 

        A chuckle left the museum worker as he spun back to face you, piercing green eyes observing your fallen form. Well, piercing green eye--the other was covered by a tuft of black hair, just as spiky and wild as the rest on top of his head. As he smirked, you could see a hint of his canines, looking sharp enough to cut through skin. You blamed the sight on the lighting. 

        And on the obvious supernatural fetish. 

        The man offered a gloved hand to you, the rest of his form draped in a velvet black trench coat, and as he pulled you to your feet, you glanced at his ID tag. Kuroo Tetsurou, exhibit handler. Of course he would be on the lookout for clumsy visitors such as yourself. 

        Good thing, too, because you were like a bull in a china shop. 

        “Thank you,” you mumbled, half-avoiding your gaze because you were embarrassed and half because you were never too good at handling yourself like a normal human when it came to attractive men. 

        “Of course.” He held your gaze and hand for just a tad longer than was socially acceptable before letting go and stepping back. “Though, perhaps stay a couple feet back when observing the artifacts.” 

        Those “fangs” had to be fake. 

        The worker left you with one last chuckle and a wink before walking away, hopefully to never see you ever again. God, that was embarrassing! A small pout grew on your face as you flushed deep red, refraining from hiding your face in your hands because you knew that’s what everyone else in the room expected from you--you figured you’d entertained them enough for one day. 

        While glancing around for a hole to bury yourself and die in, you realized your tour group was long gone. The witch exhibit wasn’t exactly packed with people so you could easily tell your friends were gone as well. 

        Muttering a small curse, you made your way through to the exit, flinching.  when the animatronic witch posed at the door cackled in your ear. 

        The dimly-lit hall was clear of people aside from a few stragglers searching for a room to inspect. As you made your way down the hall, voices floated out from each room, none sounding familiar. Each doorway had its own silver plaque positioned above, naming the topics of the room. 

        Centaurs. Genies. Unicorns.

        The tour you had gotten tickets for stated that it wasn’t going to go into every room in the museum, but it would brush over the most popular exhibits. And if there was one thing you remembered, it was that the newly-renovated vampire exhibit was the main reason the group you traveled with was so large. 

        The museum had added an artifact that bolstered their popularity greatly--the supposed sarcophagus of Kozume Kenma, one of the leading vampires of the Nekoma Clan. 

        Vampires. There!

        You speed-walked into the room, slowing your steps when you entered because you’d recently learned where traveling through an expensive exhibit without thinking would get you. 

        And yet, when you bursted into the room and saw a glimpse of Kanna’s black hair bouncing through the exit, you threw all caution to the wind.

        “Kanna!” You zipped in between the red ropes restricting visitors from getting too close to the paintings, darting around glass cases holding blood-stained cloaks and taxidermy bats while waving your arms like that would somehow catch the eyes of someone with their back turned. “Kan-NUH!”

        A wrinkle in the carpet launched you forward and you waved your arms wildly for balance. 

        If anyone had entered the room at that moment, they would have walked right out. You looked insane, like you were acting out your own rendition of monkey-turning-to-woman.

        Your fall landed you against a table where a sharpened blade sat, pointed upward for show. One hand slammed against the surface of the marble while the other, in your panic, slid just along the razor-sharp edge. 

        Shock came first and you flung your arm away with a gasp, stumbling back and crashing into what felt like another table. You reached your bleeding hand back blindly to stable yourself while the other reached up to press against your racing heart. 

        The pain was finally kicking in and the break in your palm began to drip down your hand, leaking blood with ease. Your hand shook so bad you could barely feel it, numb with panic as you gasped for breath. 

        Finally, when your gaze stopped wavering in sync with the pounding of your head, you glanced over at the sword display. No blood seemed to stain the blade, but a large sign hung just in the background stating PLEASE DON’T TOUCH!

        Definitely not a first for you.

        You looked over your shoulder out of instinct for just a second, wanting to see what sat on the table you currently leant on to see what other rules you were breaking, only to feel your throat close up at the sight. 

        A mummy sat in a polished black coffin, carved of wood with details of vines, leaves, and finally a cat’s yowling face carved into the latch that hung over the cracked-open space. A bloodied half hand-print sat right at the head of the body, coloring the mouth area red while the rest of the wrapping remained an aged white. 

        “Shit!” you hissed with panicked eyes, lunging back and away. “Shit, shit, shit! Oh, I’m so fucked.” A large sign, even bigger than the flatscreen that played the story of the first vampire, read DO NOT TOUCH OR APPROACH. SARCOPHAGUS IS EXTREMELY FRAGILE. 

        The three underlines of each word hit you like a freight train and you almost gagged. Unlike your other little slip-ups, this one would seriously cost you. 

        There was no way the coffin didn’t cost more than your apartment and college tuition combined, and you were already toeing the line of serious debt. 

        Do I tell someone? Do I not tell someone and let myself get caught?

        In terms of damage, the mummy looked totally fine. The small discoloring around the mouth was barely even noticeable from your ten-foot distance away, but the closer someone would get, the easier it would be able to see. Other random speckles of stains littered the wrappings, of course due to age, but in a museum for vampires? With red stains on the mouth of said vampire?

        Someone would see. Eventually. But according to the sign, no one would get close to it for a while. 

        Maybe you would escape this scot-free. 

        Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and fished for a band aid in your pocket. Injuries were common so you always kept some on hand. 

        “You’re gonna be fine, YN,” you mumbled to yourself, fighting to tear open the wrapper. Your hands were shaking so badly it was almost impossible and tears stung your eyes. “You’re gonna be fine. Just take deep breaths.”

        After five minutes of shaky fumbling and calm words, you finally just ripped the package in half and pulled out of the now-deformed band aid, slamming it over your wound and calling it a day. 

        Yesterday, you took four finals in four classes. Today, you damaged a fragile museum artifact that, if caught, would cost you thousands. 

        You were going fucking home. 

        You tossed your band aid wrapper in the trash with a huff, not noticing the single, stained paper fluttering to the floor just in front of the exit. 

                                +++

        Blood. Air. 

        Blood. Sweet, sweet blood. 

        Thirsty. Hungry. 

        Dark. 

        Pain. 

        Escape.

        Escape.

        Escape.

        Hoarse wheezes was all Kenma could manage as he lay stock-still on a soft surface. Pins and needles pricked at his every limb and he almost groaned in relief because it meant he was alive. 

        His tongue was heavy as a rock and was dry as sandpaper but he could still taste the sweet flavor on his tongue. Metallic-like, it was both nourishing and yet not enough.

        No, no. Definitely not enough. He needed more.

        Twitching his finger was an exercise that if he wasn’t completely dehydrated would have worked up a sweat. Moving the rest of his arm made him wish his death had lasted. 

        But someone had blessed him with blood, with life, and now he had a debt to repay. 

        Kenma wasn’t like Kuroo. He followed the ancient laws of vampires, now matter how outdated they were. Born-vampires had one code, and that was that whoever gave you blood and therefore everlasting life, was your master forever. 

        This was code. 

        Kenma thought of Kuroo and how he’d taken blood from all kinds of people, an action that would’ve been called taboo by the vampires of old. 

        Then Kenma thought of Kuroo alone and wondered just where he was. 

        It was completely dark, and each muscle he moved seemed trapped in the same position. A loud rip split the silence that previously mingled with Kenma’s wheezing as he reached up an arm and patted at his face. 

        Trapped. Stuck. Wrapped in something?

        “K…” Kenma tried to call Kuroo’s name, but even the first letter scraped at his throat hard enough that he gagged. 

        It was so dry. He needed more of the blood he’d given. 

        Just a drop would be a blessing. 

        “Ku…”

        But he had to get out first. 

        If he knew one thing about Kuroo, it was that the man was loyal. If he knew another, it was that he was also immortal. 

        Because Kenma followed the ways of the code, he was the right hand man of the Nekoma Clan. Kuroo was the leader, but he knew to protect his own.

        “Kuro...Kuroo.”

        The pain was irrelevant. His hand still scratched at his face, slowly yet desperately as he ached to tear away the cloth. To see light for the first time in centuries. 

        Footsteps echoed miles away, perking Kenma’s ears. 

        “Kuroo...Kuroo.”

        They drew closer and closer, ever so muffled through the wrappings that trapped Kenma in darkness. 

        “Kuroo...please.”

        A hand batted away the one Kenma kept patting over his face and Kenma heard the zing of a blade. 

        “Kuroo…”

        “Shh.” Kuroo’s voice urging Kenma to shut up had never sounded so melodic. “I’m here. I’m here.” 

        Kenma let himself relax, allowing Kuroo to cut through the thick cloths encasing his body like a cast. The latter cursed under his breath each time he sliced a bit too close to the skin, almost breaking it. 

        The process was long and painful. After coming back to life, Kenma suddenly had the urge to move, something he’d never had before. 

        Except he knew exactly why he needed to move. He needed to find them. Whoever they were. 

        Though eternal servitude was never exactly Kenma’s life goal, he knew it was an honor to be deemed worthy as someone worth eternal life. To be given such a gift was a sign that your life was meant to be spared. 

        When all the bindings split away and Kenma could open his eyes, a ringing burst in his ears accompanied by a pounding headache. He’d never known candles to burn so brightly, but maybe that was something of this new age. Or perhaps he was laying below a skylight. 

        Neither. The light source was a rectangular shape directly above, harnessing the light of a thousand white flames to make the room glow. It buzzed as well, or perhaps that was the few moths that flew around it. 

        “Kuroo,” Kenma reached a hand up to cover his eyes, “I have to-”

        “Shh.” The older hushed him once more before holding a cup to his lips. “Drink this. It’ll help.”

        The cup was dark and Kenma couldn’t see what was inside of it. Panic struck his heart and with a sudden burst of energy, he slapped the cup away from his face.

        “NO!”

        The cup flew, spilling clear liquid through the air before cracking against the floor with a splat. The older man in the room sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. 

        “Kenma, come on. I know the dumbass laws and your dumbass willingness to abide by them. You know I wouldn’t force you to drink blood you didn’t want.”

        Kuroo was right. Kenma trusted him to not force blood on him and he trusted Kuroo not to try and bring him back either. Kenma wanted his revival, if it were to ever happen, to be of someone else’s desire to revive him. 

        He’d just… panicked.

        “I know.” His throat suddenly felt parched and sickly and Kenma returned his gaze to Kuroo’s face. “Could you…?”

        “Yeah, I’ll go get another one.”

                                +++

        “I’ll never let go, Jack.”

        “Just move over on the door, bitch!” you wailed, sobbing into your ice cream and curling deeper into your blankets as the movie drew to a close. Tears ran down your face and half a tissue box sat in numerous crumpled-up balls on your coffee table. 

        To be fair, a large majority of them came from when you first got home from the museum. After throwing yourself a pity party, you decided to give yourself even more reason to cry by watching the Titanic movie over a bowl of ice cream.

        Your phone sat beside the used tissues, occasionally lighting up with missed calls from your friends hours earlier. Texting felt like a waste of energy, and you could certainly tell them what happened tomorrow.

        If you weren’t being arrested for damaging museum property at that time. 

        Even the thought sprung another nervous wave of tears to your eyes and you clicked off the movie, searching for another story to bawl your eyes out to. 

        Three loud knocks cracked at your door, making you flinch. 

        Probably Akira and Kanna, worried out of their minds. 

        “Guys,” you stood up and turned on your living room lights before walking to your front door, “I promise I’m fine. Something just happened today that really-”

        But when you turned the knob, it was neither of your friends. 

        It wasn’t even female. 

        It was two guys, one looking vaguely familiar while the other was entirely unknown to you. 

        The first, significantly taller and with the same ruffled hair, was Kuroo. Just the sight of the museum worker made you want to jump out your window and onto the sidewalk ten floors below. 

        The other was shorter with blond hair just past his chin, the roots a dark brown. His eyes were glowing with a sort of anticipation but his face appeared otherwise bored. 

        Nerves began to dance under your skin and you shifted from foot to foot, your hand still on the door. You only realized you were biting your lip when both men drew their gazes to the action, and after that you immediately stopped. 

        “Uhh, y-yes?” You gulped and watched them both with flared nostrils, ignoring the way the blond’s eyes followed your throat. “Did you n-need something, offic- I mean sirs?”

        The familiar one’s lips quirked, something akin to amusement dancing in his eyes as he watched your anxious movements. Yet, he never said a word. 

        Instead, the blond one stepped forward, somehow looking uncomfortable in a red sweatshirt and black sweatpants. There was an air of seriousness around him even as his face gave off a feeling of nonchalance. 

        Here it comes.

        You tensed up your shoulders and closed your eyes, waiting for the words of your doom. 

        Instead, cold fingers grabbed the hand you had limp at your side and you felt a softness brush over the back. 

        You opened your eyes once more only to see a small smile with fangs peaking out as the blond pulled his lips away from your hand. 

        “I am forever indebted to you, Mistress.”

        “What?”