#sakusa kiyoomi scenarios | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

revasserium · 8 months

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balter + sakusa 🥺

send me a word and a character, and i'll write you a fic

practice makes perfect

sakusa kiyoomi; 2,272 words; fluff... that's it, sakusa isn't good at dancing, you convince him to do it anyway

“wow… i didn’t know that he could move like that…”

“ah… but uhm… it’s kind of shocking, isn’t it?”

“what, that sakusa kiyoomi could be so bad at something?”

komori laughs into his hand, glancing over to the dance floor where one sakusa kiyoomi is doing what seems like his best attempt at a popular dance move and failing rather miserably.

“well… at least he looks like he’s having fun,” komori says, grinning as he catches your eyes over sakusa’s shoulder and raises a hand in greeting. you smile back, shooting him a wink before going back to your equally abysmal dancing by sakusa’s side.

“but. i don’t dance.”

sakusa blinks at you from across the hotel room table, his black coffee steaming between you, his jersey laid out in pristine condition on the freshly made bed. you hum as you reach for another piece of toast, applying a generous dose of butter and strawberry jam with a the same knife, seemingly oblivious to sakusa’s tiny wince as you jab the knife back into the jam jar. the toast is satisfyingly crunchy as you take a bite, making your toes curl as you finally look up to meet his eyes.

“yeah, so?”

sakusa licks his lips, his eyes flickering between the half-bitten monstrosity of toast in your hand and the crumbs littering the corner of your mouth. he bites down the urge to lunge across the table and wipe them away and maybe push you back into bed in the process, but he knows that there isn’t quite enough time for that. not today, anyway. but maybe tomorrow —

“so, why did you put me on the guest list for the dance party tonight?”

it’s a perfectly reasonable question, he thinks, even as you let out a melodramatic sigh, cramming the rest of the butter-jam-toast into your mouth and making for another slice.

“because, all your friends are gonna be there. and weren’t you saying just last week that you missed them?”

“i never said i missed them.”

“you said it’s been a while since you’ve seen them.”

“yeah, because it has.”

“so, you miss them.”

“that’s not —” sakusa sighs, reaching for his coffee. he takes a slow sip, counts his breaths, savors the bitter and tang. meanwhile, you crinkle your nose and frown at him, slathering more butter-jam onto your toast.

“kiyoomi-kun… have you ever done anything you were bad at?”

sakusa frowns at the question — what a strange thing to ask — why would he ever do anything he knew he’d be bad at? he narrows his eyes as you grin and shove the rest of the toast into your mouth. you lick your lips and sakusa bites back the urge to sigh — caught halfway between endeared and annoyed at the mess you’re making.

“no. i can’t say i have.”

“you should try it — could be fun!” you make a show of licking clean your fingers and smacking your lips.

sakusa shudders, unsure if he’s put off by the motion or turned on by it.

“right.”

you hike an eyebrow, “oh, c’mon — you can’t have been good at everything the first time you tried it — what about volleyball? were you good at it the first time you ever played?”

“yes,” sakusa deadpans, and you roll your eyes.

“okay then — maybe you were put on this earth to play volleyball and that’s not a fair example. hm…” you cast about for something else before a devlish grin spreads across your lips like butter and jam and sakusa is held still by both his curiosity and his certainty that this is not going to turn out well.

“what?” he asks, already snappish.

“i mean — i was just thinking — the first time we had sex… you weren’t as good as you are now but you seemed to have had a great time.”

sakusa sputters, nearly upsetting the tall glass of orange juice by his hands.

“that — what — you weren’t that good either!”

but then you’re laughing, shaking your head, “no! i wasn’t! but i also had a great time! see? you can be bad at something and still enjoy it!”

“that’s not — i mean — it’s different!”

“how would you know? have you ever danced before?”

sakusa clamps down on his bottom lip, glaring at the butter-dish, “no but — i know i wouldn’t like it.”

you lean forward, propping your chin on your hands, “how though? if you’ve never done it before?” your grin is just on the other side of a challenge and sakusa can’t fight down the feeling that maybe, just maybe — this is one battle he’s not going to win.

“i just — it’s just stupid.”

you giggle, stifling the sound behind your hand and he shoots you the best glare he can muster.

“c’mon — c’mere.” you motion for him to stand up as you push back your chair and jump to your feet.

sakusa stares, “what?”

“get up! c’mon!” you reach over and tug on his arm, nearly dragging him out of his seat before he has the good mind to stand up, if only to stop himself from tipping over.

you pull one of his hands around you waist and hold the other, palm to palm with your own. you laugh as you force the pair of you into a strange, crab-like march across the length of the hotel room and then back again. sakusa is red-cheeked and frowning by the time you finish your second pass.

“what are you doing?”

“we are dancing!”

when you try to tug him back across the room again, he pulls you to him, letting out a soft groan as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. you feel your warm breath against the tender of your skin — it leaves you shivering.

“that’s not dancing.”

you laugh, gently this time, curling your arms around the width of his body, leaning up on your tiptoes to try and hook your chin over one of his shoulders. you are fighting a losing battle — he’s always been too tall, too quiet, to suspicious — but he’s also always been yours.

“how would you know, hm? you’ve never done it!” you tease as he walks you both back towards the bed, smirking as you tumble back onto it, the length of his shadow long enough to cover your whole body, the light spilling in from the balcony window only serving to paint him in sharp, and shaper lines.

the curls of his hair look nothing short of angelic.

“because i know what it feels like to be good at something,” he answers, his breath a husky wisp of a thing, rolling like thunder across the horizon of your stretched out body and you’re powerless to resist him. you smile, you lay back. you let him tug you towards him by the soft of your hips —

“y-yeah? well… i think you could be good at dancing… if you just tried.”

“i don’t like to waste effort on things that won’t serve my future.”

you feel the mattress around you shift as he crawls over you, his arms by your ears, the tips of his curly-cued hair tickling your forehead. you reach up to sink your fingers into its depth.

“i dunno… i’d actually call it an investment.”

he pauses, cocks his head.

“and how do you figure that?”

you allow yourself the most indulgent smirk you can muster.

“i dunno… it’s just… i hear that dancing is pretty common place at weddings… but that’s just me, y’know?”

and or a second, sakusa merely blinks down at you — just long enough for doubt to start bubbling at the base of your stomach. and then —

“ah… i see…” he leans down to ghost his lips along the bare column of your neck, “so… i suppose it’s something we should practice, hm?”

“or — we could just be bad at it… and enjoy ourselves at the same time.”

his grin is decidedly lopsided when he pulls back, his head cocked.

“is that why you signed me up for the dance party tonight? to practice?”

you shrug, still pinned beneath him, your chest heaving at the proximity, the closeness of his body never failing to make yours simmer with anticipation.

“that depends, are you asking about dancing or practicing being bad at something and enjoying it?”

he leans down to kiss a slow, languid line along your collarbones, your thoughts fizzling out to mere static as he chuckles against your skin.

“either… both.”

“th-then both.”

he’s grinning when he pulls back, his expression just a tad sadistic.

“but first — we’ve still got… what? 15 minutes before we’ve gotta be downstairs for the press conference? why don’t we try doing something we’re both good at and will enjoy, hm?”

you open your mouth to answer, but he cuts you off with his lips, and then soon after that, coherent thought leaves you completely.

later that night, you’re both more than a little drunk, and for once sakusa is laughing like he actually means it, his arms flailing wildly as he tries to work through a series of ill-conceived dance steps.

you catch komori’s eyes over sakusa’s shoulder and shoot him a grin, raise your glass, and down the rest of your champagne in a single gulp. sakusa grins, wide and lazy and very, very drunk before he pulls you in, tucks your body against his and slows the pair of you to a soft sway, even as the music picks up and up and up.

eventually, komori wanders his way over to you both, his cheeks flushed with color, nursing a half-empty champagne flute as he looks you both over with an amused half-grin.

“and what might be going on here, hm?”

you grin as sakusa slowly spins the two of you in a circle and your eyes meet komori’s.

“can’t you tell? we’re practicing!”

komori’s eyebrows skyrocket, “practicing… what?”

“dancing!” this time, sakusa responds, a half-formed frown creasing his forehead as he looks over his cousin.

“you’re practicing… dancing… and can i ask why?”

you giggle as sakusa tries to dip you and it’s only by the strength of his arms that he doesn’t drop you flat on your ass.

“f-for a wedding!” you say, as sakusa pulls you back up and the pair of you continue to turn on the spot.

“w-wedding?” komori has the decency to look confused, “have you guys been invited to one?”

“nope!” you answer cheerfully.

komori blinks at you both for a full ten seconds before realization hits and his eyes go wide.

“o-oh! well — uhm — i’ll let you two get back to it, then!” he makes to back away before sakusa calls after him.

“make sure you practice too! y-you’re gonna be invited!”

komori nearly stumbles over his own feet as he turns to wave at you both.

“su-sure! alright — i’ll uh — look forward to the invite, then?”

you laugh as sakusa spins you out under his arm and pulls you back in again, almost stepping on your feet.

“don’t hold your breath — it won’t be for a while!”

komori cocks his head, “and why’s that?”

you squeal as sakusa hoists you up by the waist and spins you around.

“w-we’ve got a lot more practice to finish before we’ll be ready for it!”

and at this, komori finally laughs, shaking his had as he turns back around, flapping his hands at the both of you as he heads back towards the bar and his own group of friends.

behind him, sakusa positively pouts as he lowers you slowly to the ground.

“what’dyou mean we need alot more practice? i — i think we’re great.”

you lean up to brush your nose against his, “yeah but… i think we could be better.”

sakusa rolls his eyes, “fine — fine — we can —” he hiccups and crinkles his nose, “we can practice a bit more.”

“and then… after?” you ask, feeling suddenly breathless for a whole different reason.

“after… well after — we’ll be married.”

you bite your lips, searching his eyes for any sign of uncertainty, any clue that this might all just be a drunken farce but you find nothing except warmth, except sincerity, except a bone-deep sureness, a marrow-thick knowing.

“but… what if we’re bad at it? being married…”

sakusa leans down to cup your cheeks, his thumbs pressing against the smooth of your skin as he smiles.

“we won’t be… and if we are then… we’ll just have to practice.”

“yeah? you sure?”

“yeah — because… you can be bad at something and still enjoy it right? and… between the two of us — we can get good at anything with a bit of practice.”

you laugh, feeling something very close to tears prickling at the back of your eyes, hot and unsteady and you try your best to blink the feeling away. you clear your throat and nod.

“yeah — practice sounds good. practice sounds perfect.”

sakusa presses his lips to yours, his hands still cupping your face, “no… practice makes perfect… and that’s exactly what we’ll be — perfect.”

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gatakat · 1 year

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surrender | part 1

Love wasn't something Sakusa spent a lot of time thinking about. No. Instead, his mind was filled with thoughts of volleyball.

Training. Strength. Speed. Stability.

He followed a simple routine, and focused on doing his best every day without paying much attention to things that were mostly, realistically speaking, out of his reach.

Not everyone lived their lives the same way, though. Sakusa was well aware of that. Some people had space in their heads and time in their lives to chase love around in ways that Sakusa deemed as little else than fruitless. Miya Atsumu, the everlasting Casanova, was one of those people, although he wisely kept his love life to himself for the most part.

Then, on the opposite side of the spectrum, Bokuto had decided, as of late, to annoy everyone by becoming even more of an airhead than he usually was, all because of one girl. The new MBSY Black Jackals assistant manager.

You.

Bokuto had taken a liking to you from the very first moment he'd seen you enter the gym a couple of weeks ago. By the time you finished introducing yourself as the new MSBY intern for this year, he was practically drooling all over the floor.

Even Miya, who at first had been pretty enthusiastic in agreeing with him about you being hot, eventually had to resort to elbowing him in the ribs. Otherwise, he would just not stop goofing around in order to try and get your attention. Bokuto didn’t care, though, and, from that moment onwards, no one on the team had known peace.

It drove Sakusa nuts.

Bokuto lost track of conversations when you walked past, he constantly goofed around in the court just to try and get your attention, he ran up to you as soon as training was over, he pestered everyone in the locker rooms to take candid shirtless pictures of him for his Instagram… It was an absolute nuisance, and it happened every day; rinse and repeat. All that, and more, just to get one smile from you. And none of it irked Sakusa as much as the way he was calling your name in public right now.

"HEEEEEY!" Bokuto was waving his hands up and down, attracting the attention of everybody on their side of the train platform, while you stayed blissfully ignorant. "HEY! HEY! MANAGER! Over here!!"

Bokuto, along with Miya, Hinata and Sakusa, were about to take a train to the city center for their bi-monthly burger night, when Bokuto spotted you, standing by yourself on the opposite train platform. Distance be damned, he hadn’t wasted a single second in yelling out your name. Sakusa wanted to disappear.

"What is that guy doing…" Miya muttered.

Miya's comment, surprisingly, wasn't criticising his friend’s antics. Everybody else saw it too:

A creepy guy in his mid-forties was approaching you. Dressed in a noncommittal grey suit, he was walking slowly, carefully checking his surroundings while pretending not to look at you. He then stopped, standing right next to you. Way too close to you, especially considering how much empty space there was left on the platform. When he started talking to you, you visibly flinched. Bokuto felt his eyebrows raise and his mouth fall agape.

“That’s… that’s not…” Hinata stuttered.

You were obviously trying to ignore the man, but he would simply just not go away. He continued to talk to you while he got closer and closer. You would take one step backwards, and he would take two steps forward. He was trying to trap you against a corner. You tried to change directions and he forced you to get closer and closer to the platform edge.

“Why isn’t anybody doing anything?” Sakusa grunted under his mask.

All the people around you in the platform seemed to be purposefully minding their own business.

“Let’s go, c’mon!” Bokuto yelled.

Bokuto turned on his heels and darted towards the platform exit. Closely followed by his three friends in a frantic race, the four athletes climbed up the stairs, then ran across the entire station, and hastily went down the stairs to the opposite platform, the one you were on. Hinata, the fastest of the four, arrived first. There wasn’t even a slight hint of shortness of breath in his voice when he spoke firmly:

“Is this guy bothering you?”

The creep looked at the accusatory finger Hinata was pointing at him and, for a split second, he seemed to consider putting up a fight. It was at that moment that Bokuto, Miya and Sakusa joined Hinata on the platform.

Three noticeably athletic men looming over him, all around 1,90 meters tall, were definitely more than enough sign for the creep to swallow his protests and drop out of sight leaving no trace behind. As easy as that.

“You fucking coward!” Bokuto yelled.

At the silence that followed, you looked up at your four protectors. Relief washed over your features, although your face was still pale as a ghost. You let out a big shaky breath.

“Thank you, guys…” You said, still frozen in place. “It was fine, though, you didn’t need to bother…”

“It was not fine!” Bokuto bursted out. “What the fuck was wrong with that guy!?”

“It’s no trouble.” Miya said, frowning. He looked like he still couldn’t believe what he’d just witnessed. “Does this happen often?”

“Well, not that often…” You said, unconvincingly, after you took a little to answer.

“Do you want us to come along with you the rest of the way?” Bokuto offered.

“Oh, no! Thank you!” You started gesturing frantically, your eyes very open. “I’m fine! It’s fine, really. It was very kind of you, but you don’t need to bother. He’s gone now, so I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” Miya said.

“Yeah!” Bokuto insisted. “All you have to do is ask!”

“Yeah!” Hinata nodded behind him.

“No, for real, guys.” You kept saying, flustered. “There is no need. Thank you. Thank you so much. I'm fine, really. He's gone, now, anyway!”

They still waited with you on the platform, despite your protests, until your train arrived and you departed safely, because it was the very least they could do. And, in the meantime, hoping to cheer you up, Bokuto wasted no time in pulling out his phone to show you funny videos until, bit by bit, your face returned to its normal color.

* * *

The incident at the train station left quite an impression on Sakusa.

He already disliked public transport enough, for social and sanitary reasons mainly, but he couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to have to endure sexual harassment on top of that. And yet, you’d kept telling them, over and over, that you were fine… that it was fine. Like you were used to it, like it was no big deal... How you still braved to take the train every day Sakusa couldn’t fathom.

Sakusa arrived early to the gym the next day, as usual. He changed clothes before anybody else made a mess in the locker rooms and then sat down outside the locker room to wait, as he often did. He checked his phone until he heard the door open. When he looked up, he saw you, and was immediately reminded of what had happened the day before.

Although he wasn't often one to initiate a conversation, something inside of him commanded him to ask.

“Was everything alright in the train today?” He said out loud.

His voice resonated all across the empty gym. You seemed startled to see him address you of his own volition for what was probably the first time since you’d known each other. You locked your very wide eyes with his, and took a long look at his entire figure.

“Yeah.” You finally said. You took a couple of hesitant steps towards him. “Everything alright. Thank you for yesterday, again. I swear it doesn’t happen every day.”

“Good.” He replied. “Just let us know if you ever want us to come with you.”

“Okay, thanks.”

You smiled, and Sakusa went back to his phone.

Practice went as usual afterwards, with no remarkable incidents other than Bokuto and the guys asking you the exact same question as Sakusa, and you replying similarly.

Sakusa made a dash for the shower as soon as practice ended and he was soon out of the door and on his way home. There were a couple of errands he had to run before he got to his apartment that night, so he took a little longer than normal walking around the block.

There was not a single hint of sunlight in the sky when he eventually entered the train station to head back home despite the fact that the days were already starting to get longer. It was not easy to focus on the sky, though. Sakusa held his breath behind his mask and then released it slowly. This was not his favorite hour to take the train. The crowd at the station was bigger than what he was used to, and it made him use more mental strength to fight the apprehension.

It made him more aware of his surroundings, too.

He saw him first, and you second. He was there again, a couple of meters away from you. It was the same creep from yesterday, hiding in the shadows, away from the artificial lights of the station. You hadn’t noticed him yet, but there was no mistaking that disgusting expression, those sinister eyes.

It wasn’t Sakusa’s habit to act on impulse but, this time, his feet put him in motion before he had any idea what he was doing. He scooted over to your side and put his arm around your shoulders, startling you; and then turned his head around to glare at the creep, startling him.

The creep vanished in a flash once again. Sakusa turned to look at you again, only to see you looking right back at him, frightened out of your wits.

“I’m sorry. Did I scare you? It's me.” He said, pulling his mask down so you could see his face. "Sakusa Kiyoomi, from the Bla-"

“I know it’s you." You interrupted him. "You’re unmistakable.”

“Oh.”

“And yeah. You scared me.” You said, matter-of-factly. You were pissed.

“That creepy dude from yesterday was here again.” Sakusa explained.

Your mouth fell agape at his words. The color dropped from your face.

“Don’t worry. He already left.”

You kept silent, most likely assessing the situation. Sakusa could see the fear taking place in your features as you looked around, checking your surroundings and the veracity of Sakusa's words. Sakusa squeezed your shoulder and then dropped his arm from you. You did need some comfort, but you two were not that close to be hugging like that.

“I’ll board the train with you.” Sakusa said.

Sakusa tried to be as reassuring as he could, which wasn’t much. He knew he was naturally intimidating with his deadpan expression and his straightforward words, which probably wasn’t helping in this situation, but he still tried his best. He, of all people, knew very well what it was like to be afraid and have no one to rely on.

“I… I…”

“Don’t try to tell me ‘it’s fine’. I know it’s not.” He said. “Listen. I take this very same train home every day. I just normally do it earlier. I’ll wait for you and we’ll take it together every day from now on. That way you won’t have to worry about anything.”

“I… S- Sakusa-san… You really don’t have to…”

“I know I don’t. Don’t sweat it. It’s no big deal.”

You had a silent trip back home sitting together on the train, you looking out the window, him looking at his phone. Sakusa would've liked to think it had been a peaceful ride and, thankfully, you did appear to be a lot calmer than before, but there was still an unmistakable tension in the air the whole time, the kind that lies between two people who don't have much to say to each other. It wasn't the worst uncomfortable silence moment Sakusa had ever experienced, but that fact didn't magically make this situation any more bearable. He just decided to continue looking at his phone, telling himself that he'd only offered to keep you safe, not to keep you company, and he didn't insist when you rejected his offer to walk you home. He watched you leave with relief after you waved him goodbye with a shy smile. This twenty-minute long ride had been more than enough awkward social interaction for the day.

He didn't regret it, though. He couldn't possibly have been at peace with himself if he just let you take the train on your own.

He briefly considered letting someone else know, so that the responsibility of being your guardian didn't rely solely on him, but it soon became evident that he was the only one who took that train every day. Everybody else lived in different directions. Bokuto probably wouldn't mind taking his place every now and then, though. That was something.

So this is going to be my life from now on, Sakusa thought, taking a deep breath as he moved his eyes from his phone to the city landscape behind the window, relaxing his shoulders into his seat.

He knew he would get used to it, eventually. It really wasn't that big of a deal. It was just going to be hard to endure the first days.

* * *

The next day, as soon as you stepped into the gym, you made a beeline for him, an alert expression on your face.

Sakusa was sitting in his usual waiting spot as his other teammates gradually started to come in through the door. He looked up from his phone at the sound of his name and, right in front of his face, he saw a flimsy transparent plastic box with cookies inside and a yellow ribbon around it. Behind it, you stood, holding it to him. He held out his hand out of instinct, although not really understanding, and you set the box on it.

“This is for helping me out yesterday. They're my aunt's secret recipe.” You explained, your voice soft as you spoke. "What you did was very kind of you, and you really didn't have to, but I am very grateful for it."

“Uh… thanks.” He said, awkwardly. “You shouldn't have bothered.”

“I know.” You smiled, and Sakusa thought that was a sincere smile if he'd ever seen one. You seemed like a good person.

Then, you simply turned around and left to prepare for work.

“Hey, hey, hey, what the fuck was that.”

Sakusa lifted his head towards the unmistakable voice. It was Bokuto, taking big steps towards him, followed by Hinata and Miya. He stopped before Sakusa with his arms crossed in a brassy gesture which completely failed to intimidate him. He was smiling, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“Are those homemade cookies?” Miya asked in an annoying sing-song voice, with an eyebrow raised and a questioning smirk on his dumb face. He leaned down and planted his face in front of the box, closely examining it. "How nice of her. You must have done something to earn them…" He snickered.

Behind him, Hinata looked like a nervous mouse who would explode if he didn’t speak his mind:

“A- are you dating her!?” he failed to whisper, his hand covering his mouth so as not to, supposedly, be heard by any of the other guys.

This seemed to greatly disturb Bokuto, who opened his mouth to protest. Sakusa interrupted him with a big sigh.

“You guys are pathetic.” He said, standing up. “I shooed that creep away from her again yesterday. That was just her saying thanks.”

And, with that, he left the cookies behind him on the chair and headed to the center of the court to start practice on his own, paying no mind to his teammates' voices behind him:

“‘Thanks’ my ass. This guy is hiding something.”

“That creep was there again?”

“Those cookies look good, though…”

next chapter

thanks for reading!

ill post the next chapter in a couple of days (or you can go ahead and read the entire thing on ao3 now. it's an orphaned work)

i deleted my previous writing blog for privacy reasons. i will be reposting all my works (and maybe rewriting some) under this new blog with a different username

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kiwanopie · 7 months

Text

Overnight Lovin’

Sakusa Kiyoomi x Reader

cw: smut, alcohol mention, oral sex(f!receving), dumbification, dirty talk, whipped!Kiyoomi, mutually cumdrunk, PnV sex, creampie. Minors do not interact.

wc: 3.2k

This is not your bedroom.

As much as you’d kill for it to be. Silk cotton stuffed duvet a rich maroon in accordance to equally as soft sheets. Carefully shined mahogany floors checkered in wine colored Persian, a bedroom that’s more fantasy love suite than any commonplace bedroom and fuck if this mattress isn’t like heaven to lay on.

But this isn’t your bedroom.

You point your nose to the oversized shirt flooding a little under your collarbones. It’s just a simple horror tee. Dark colored kanji hovering over an illustration of Jason half obscured by cartoon blood and soft to the cotton touch. It’s big enough to cover a good portion of your thighs that are… not dressed with anything. Huh. Yeah, you are- You feel up your modest covering with a quick pat down of your hands. - Completely naked under this. And honestly a little sore. A certain shift of your hips has your pelvic area throbbing back at you like it’s already tapping out, fingerprint bruises on your thighs that feel tender when you poke them; even your tits are sore - nipples perking under your shirt like they’ve already been prodded and played with. Whoever the hell you went home with last night gave you a run for your money.

Come to think of it, what the hell even happened last night? Last you remember you were twisting your hips against a bar stool while your college buddies raved on ecstasy and coke on the dance floor. — A Shirley temple was enough to start your party high without indulging in any illicit drugs, but you’ve never been much of a drinker. That fizzy cherry vodka already had you buzzing, a few more of those and who knows what’ll happen.

You bite your lip against the grain of new life and newer feelings of lechery. You look too good and too soft not to be bent over a sink somewhere.

“That sweet?” His voice turns your fine hairs into goosebumps. “Looks tasty.”

You gaze up at him with doey eyes so filled with mirth that it makes his palms sweat. “It is.”

You slide your bottom lip through your teeth. Voice as pretty as you are. “You want a sip?”

He’s the smell of Dior and vetiver as he lifts the glass cuplet out of your hands. “Sure.”

You don’t remember who he was or what he looked like but just the memory of his raspy voice turns your sore throbbing into a needy ache. — If the way the sink in his bathroom abruptly stops with a moment of sluggish shuffling, you’re about to find out who exactly it was that rocked your world last night.

You’re already looking up at him when the door opens with a neat click, his muscled limbs stretch his boxers in a way that can only be described as appetizing.

And then you get a good look at his face.

Oh. Holy shit.

There’s… That’s-… How? He looks exactly like he does on his team’s magazine covers. JSM’s top ten lists, Bungeishunjū, and news outlets that brandish his face for a chance at watchability. He’s even more handsome in person. Trademark resting bitch face does little to dilute how painfully attractive he is and if anything the intimidation factor is a bonus. As well as the fame, the money, and of course his position as one of the top most well known athletes in all of Asia.

His name precedes him, the renowned Olympic volleyball player feels even taller than the humble 6’4 his Wikipedia pages cite him as,

He’s Sakusa Kiyoomi.

If it weren’t for the disorienting confusion you may have screamed. This is the guy who fucked you last night within an inch of your life.

Your voice is a little raspy which is expected, but when you open your mouth your jaw is sore. “Ohayō Gozaimasu-“

He clears the floor from the bathroom to the bed in just a few footsteps, you can barely react when he’s grabbing you by the jaw and tilting your head up for a better angle.

And then he’s kissing you.

The kiss is slow and sensual, so sultry that you moan a little in his mouth and he breathes into it with a deep hum. He’s kissing you like he loves you, like he’s crazy about you and like he just can’t get enough. The current of the kiss follows a savory kind of spit swapping that turns your inner thighs misty, and he pulls away with a soft smack that all but leaves a gossamer trail.

His thumb rubs circles on the soft of your cheek. “Ohayō.”

Your heart skips at the little peck he leaves on your lips before finally pulling away.

He runs a large hand through his tousled hair as he moves for a dresser near the vanity. “I ordered us some breakfast that should be here within the hour,”

He pulls out a shirt. “I’d make you some breakfast from scratch but,” Sakusa tugs it over his head. “I figured it’d be cruel to subject you to my cooking this early on.”

You blow a humored breath out of your nose. “I appreciate the sentiment regardless,”

He approaches the bed again and sits himself down across from you, there are love bites on his neck that probably match yours. “I hope you slept well.” He hums. “I slept like a rock because of you, actually.”

Oh god, you don’t even wanna know what kind of raunchy shit you were up to last night.

“I slept like the dead.” You crawl up to him, he’s already opening his arms for you. “Whatever you did put me out like a light.”

You fit in his arms so well it’s almost scary, he wraps his arms around you like he might never let you go. “Uh, Sakusa-san?”

He furrows. “Last name?”

You smile apologetically. “Kiyoomi,” You correct yourself. “I don’t… remember a lot of last night. We came back here from the club, right?”

“You…?” Kiyoomi’s eyebrows shoot up incredulously. “You don’t remember?”

“Not a lot.” You shake your head.

He frowns.

But even still his hand rubs fond lines up and down your back, still holding you just as faithfully, and looking up at you like you’re the best thing since sliced bread. “We marathoned a few drinks and then I had us dropped off at my place. I think… we started in the car, and then in my living room, and then the kitchen, the hallway, my bedroom finally; and then after a few hours we finished each other off in the shower. Around five we kissed until you eventually fell asleep.”

Kiyoomi traces the curves of your lips as he gazes fondly. “Last night was the best night of my life, I think. I don’t know if I’ve ever been with someone who could make me feel so good.” He proclaims. “I hope it’ll all come to you eventually, it was really something special.”

Well with the way he’s been treating you up to this point, it’s not like you’ll have a hard time believing that. Every earnest caress and look of adoration, the way his voice timbres into a loving hum, so smooth it makes you shiver. Hopefully those memories do come back at some point. You’ll never live it down if you actually missed the best night of your life.

You muse it with a little pout at the thought of that, Kiyoomi debates leaning forward and sucking your bottom lip into his mouth. “Hopefully I do remember then. It sounds like we had a lot of fun,”

Your pout drops after a short moment of consideration and you lean in even closer. The soft tip of your nose grazes in feather strokes as you skim it over his and slowly ease your lips down the path way to his, tasting his shuddering breaths as you hover there for a few painful seconds. But he all but melts when you finally meet. A chaste lingering kiss at first, a few sensuous short ones; you do him the courtesy and suck his bottom lip in your mouth instead. — Letting it snap back before you’re starting a trail down his cheek and kissing up until you're nosing under his jaw, using your loving hand to tilt his head up and give you the access that you seek.

He could buy you a ring right now, he wouldn’t even regret it. You don't even remember what you two got up to last night and still you’re caressing him in a way that gives him goosebumps. If you keep this up, he might wind up funding your entire life.

You bring your head up again and pull him into another kiss. Slow and open mouthed, and he damn near purrs when you start pushing your fingers through his hair. “Regardless, you feel amazing.” You whisper against his lips.

God, you might be trying to kill him. “I wouldn’t mind a refresher if you’re up for it.”

He sighs through his nose as he ducks his head to burrow himself into the crevasse over your shoulder, already peppering in searing kisses down your throat. “I was hoping you’d say something like that.”

Kiyoomi sucks in a love bite that makes you whimper so pretty. “I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good you can’t take it.”

With the way you’re already making a mess in his lap, you believe him.

—

He’s a good kisser.

Regardless of where his lips end up. He’s a little messy, a little heavy with tongue, slow when it matters and firm when it counts. He’s great with his mouth. Surprising since he’s known for being somewhat of a recluse in the opinion of the public eye. Some call him aloof, others call him cold, the majority call him intimidating, but right now what comes to your mind is giving.

The way he spits on your already messy pussy makes your eyes roll.

You inadvertently hump into his face as the combination of his tongue and fingers set the pit in your stomach ablaze. He’s fucking you with his mouth so thoroughly that the skewlch of your building arousal reverbates throughout the room. You almost feel bad about how much your thighs are all but compressing the sides of his head, but every effort to lighten up on him has him tightening his hold on you to keep him locked against your sloppy cunt.

You hiss through your teeth as your fingers card through his hair. “F-Fuck… Omi…!”

Kiyoomi moans against your clit at the wanton sound of your pitched voice. Airy, and breathy, and intoxicating. He’s grinding himself so desperately into the mattress that he’s sure he’s gone sticky.

The veins in his arms pop as he persistently fucks his fingers into your tight little hole, sloppily sucking your swollen clit as the way you roll your hips into his face drives him crazy. “You’re gonna make me cum…!” You whimper. “Fuck, Kiyoomi!”

That crude mixture of his spit and your cum is starting to form a little puddle under your backside, every bit of you he doesn’t get to swallow he doubles his efforts to drink you up sprucely.

Hearing you teeter over the edge makes him feel like he’s following close behind. Your moans are so astonishingly pretty that it’s turning his brain all fuzzy. “Ffffuck! Oh fuck. Oh my god, baby! Fuck-! I-I’m…I’m cumming…!”

Kiyoomi groans drunkenly into your cunt as it suckles on his fingers, he’s so determined to drink every last drop of your cum that he almost comes off as depraved. Lewdly slurping you up as the way he desperately sucks on your clit makes you whine into the air. Still indulging himself in your mess even as you whimper from overstimulation.

He only pulls away because the way you’re begging for him to fuck you is sending him into a frenzy. “Wan’ it so bad, Omi. Please? Do whatever you want to me. U-Use me up!”

“Yeah?” Kiyoomi hums into your mouth as you suck yourself off of his tongue. “Want me to use you? I’ll fuck you till you cry, you know.”

Your misty eyes make his heart skip, the way the head of his cock catches your entrance feels like stepping into heaven all over again. “Please, baby? Give it to me. ‘Wanna feel you inside!”

He gapes a little as he presses himself in, so overwhelmed that his head falls into your shoulder and it’s an effort for him not to outright cry out at how fucking unreal you feel.

He thinks he might just be falling in love with you. Having a pussy like this may just be a hazard for his mental health, there’s no way he’s letting this slip throughout his fingers. “Oh my god,” Kiyoomi chokes. “O-Oh my fucking god.”

“You feel… unbelievable, angel,” He starts his pace. God, fucking you is actually pushing him to the brink of insanity. “…oh my fucking-… s-so tight! So fucking wet for me, angel… holy shit…- you’re so good to me, baby.”

His breathless praises are sending you alight. He’s so deep in your guts that you’re sure you’d find a bulge if you looked down at where your bodies meet. “So good…! So, so good!”

The way you hold each other is so desperate and devoted that it feels biblical. “I can feel you in my stomach, Omi… So deep…! Y-You’re… too deep!”

Kiyoomi grunts as he pushes himself in to the hilt and holds himself there for a blissful second. Grinding his hips in shallow circles that make you choke on your tongue, but you barely know the half of until he’s lifting up one of your legs.

And then the other, lifting on his knees till he’s hovering over your pretty face, - and then he starts pistoning.

The way your face contorts from a flustered glimmer of welling tears to a blissed out gape that cutens as your tears fall is enough to make his balls feel tight enough to burst. Never mind how fucking amazing this new angle is, watching you lose your mind under him as those pretty tits move to the current of his thrusts is making his brain feel all cloudy. — He’s sure the eye contact he’s keeping is transparent in the fact that he’s turned a little love drunk. Ducking his head to press tempered kisses on your throat, but he can’t help himself from the way his lips skim up to your ear and his mouth moves without him really thinking about it.

It’s a pleasure induced haze, he’s sure. But he can’t be forgiven for the absolute filthy things he’s saying to you.

“You hear that?” He drags in a few particularly forceful thrusts that make you sob so prettily for him. “You’re really soaking me up, huh.”

“Is it that good? You feel me deep in your tummy?” Kiyoomi swivels his hips. “S-Shit. What a pretty fucking noise that just was. Fuck, baby. - Oh, are you crying?”

“Too much?” But even still he presses more of his weight on you until every thrust is hitting you to the hilt. So deep that every other press of his hips forces a yip out of you that makes his face hot. — He’s really starting to think he might be ruined for anyone else at this point.

“You’re g’nna take it for me anyway though, huh? Slutty baby… You’re gonna let me fuck you brain dead? Fuck you till you’re all stupid for me?”

You sound as far gone as he is. “Y- Yes! Yes!”

“Yeah, that’s it, angel. Such a… fuck… good fucking girl for me.”

You must be close to cumming cause you’re really starting to milk him for all he’s worth. Sucking him back in every time he pulls away and every moment he continues to fuck into you you only get tighter.

He’s losing his mind. “Ohhh fuck. Fuck! I swear to god I’m gonna break you. G’nna - shit - gonna fuck you till you’re all mine, yeah? H-Holy shit-“

Kiyoomi groans at the way your fingernails start to dig groves into his back. “Mhm. Mark me up, angel. Wanna see you all over me when we’re done.”

You grab a helping of his hair and hold on to it for dear life, you’re drooling at this point. “Oh my god… oh m’ god, Kiyoomi… I’m- I’m gonna make a mess!”

“Yeah?” Which obviously means he’s reaching down to rub messy circles on your clit. “Gonna make a mess? Wanna soak me in your pretty cum?”

“Give it to me then, baby. I’ll fill you up so good when you do.”

You croon in his ear and it sounds like gospel.

And then you’re soaking the bed with your cum.

Kiyoomi doesn’t let up even as your juices wet down his pelvis and legs. He doesn’t stop his punishing thrusts or the rhythm he’s keeping on your clit, still whispering words of filth and praise in your ear, — and it looks like you’ve completely lost yourself to the pleasure at this point. The way his name is clipping so desperately off your tongue is making his eyes roll into his head. And it’s just a few more moments of fucking into your spasming pussy till he’s following you off the edge.

“Oh god. Oh my god.” He hisses. “Mmmh - Oh fuck, baby. I’m cumming… f-fuck! I’m cumming. I’m cumming.”

Oh god, even after last night there’s still so much of it. So much and so hot. Just the feeling of clenching on his hot cum as he continues to fuck into you is sending you over the edge again. God, the sounds you’re both making. Thank goodness his penthouse is big enough to not worry about disturbing any of his neighbors, reinforced flooring probably snuffing out the sound of your debauched love making. He’s never been the most vocal in bed but you’re making him whine into your ear like a cheap whore. And the sounds you’re making - Fuck, the sounds you’re making, he wouldn’t be surprised if he turned his head and found the decorative plants near his terrace sprouting flowers. It shouldn’t even be possible to sound that fucking good and feel this fucking amazing all at once.

Kiyoomi doesn’t even realize that bed making firm clicks into the wall until he starts to slow up his thrusts. Gradually coming down from his high until his desperate movements become slow and sensuous grinding, still rocking into you even as you settle again in his arms.

He lifts his head to bring you into a lazy kiss, a little sloppy, a little butterfly inducing.

You sigh into his lips. “…Holy shit.”

Kiyoomi pulls away to press a few slow kisses into your jaw. “I think I just might be addicted to you.”

“You’re telling me…” You cross your legs over his back. “Is it too early to suggest we go steady?”

He snorts a little. “As if I’m letting you go anywhere after that.”

Kiyoomi raises his back to gingerly kiss you on the lips, so tender it feels loving. Even as he pulls away he seems ailed by it. He is ailed by it. He can’t even imagine how he’ll fare when he has to get up eventually.

His breath is warm against your lips. The way he speaks to you feels reverent. “You’re stuck with me now.”

You smile. And he goosebumps. “Aren’t I lucky then?”

reblog uwu?

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sugarlywhispers · 1 year

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s.kiyoomi + gf moments

☆— fem reader, crack, fluff

☆— a/n; i don't know what this is, i just had a thought and felt like writing it.. it could become a serie of events until the Sakusa Kiyoomi finally admits he loves y/n (?) idk, let me know if you like the idea😊

You have been best friends with Bokuto since you were young. Your friendship was so fun and purely like brother and sister that you even decided to move together once high school was over and your University period of life began. Even if you were very different in personalities, somehow you both worked together and couldn't imagine a life without him as your bestie-almost brother.

After some time living together, you got very used to seeing some people around the house almost everyday, his volleyball teammates.

First, it was Miya Atsumu and Sakusa Kiyoomi. Atsumu was the biggest flirt you have ever encountered in your life, almost to the point in which sometimes it annoyed you. In a good way though. He was a cutie.

While Kiyoomi was very chill and shy, he mostly kept to himself if no one bothered him; but he had the most snarky and filled with sarcasm answers for whatever antics Boo and 'Tsumu could come up with. You loved it.

Then Hinata Shouyo joined the team, and it was like a whirlwind uprooted everything in his path. He was the most outgoing and sociable and kind human being you have ever met.

And it all became like a routine. Everyday after practice, all of them would come to have dinner at yours and Boo's apartment. By this time, you already know all of them and how they all liked things and their meals. Especially Omi. He was a particular, rare especimen.

Bokuto had warned you before introducing him, how he did not like physical contact or how he wouldn't take off his mask if he wasn’t playing in a match or eating. He warned you not to feel offended or take it personal if he bluntly commented on how things were not clean enough or whatever.

But surprisingly, he had never looked down on anything in your apartment or even commented anything in front of you.

There was even one time he did comment in the middle of dinner, "I'm surprised how you maintain everything this clean and organized considering you live with Bokuto…"

"Hey!" Boo complained, mouth full of food, while everyone laughed.

That same night, Boo had pestered you about how the Sakusa Kiyoomi liked you. Of course, you couldn't believe it. The man barely spoke to you outside of those moments the team was present at your apartment.

It was until one night, when everyone came of course after practice to have dinner you were already cooking, when he did something you never thought he would do.

Of course, the amount of noise they made even before getting inside the apartment was a clear sign they were almost there. Shouyo and Boo always came straight to hug, picking you up and squishing you hard as a greeting. Atsumu would fist pump and wink at you before throwing himself on the sofa, of course putting some other volleyball's team match on the TV. While Omi would simply bow slightly with his head, not even getting too close to you, standing on the entrance of the kitchen.

By this time, you already knew and respected each one of them and their ways to show how much they appreciated you.

"It smells so good, Y/N," whined Shouyo as he entered the kitchen and made his way to the fridge to pick something to drink.

Omi was so quiet you have not realized he had followed the red-mostly orange-head and was standing at the door of the kitchen.

"I'm glad you think that," you smiled happily.

"He says that about almost everything. He would eat a bug and say exactly the same thing if he's hungry enough."

To say that you were surprised to hear his deep voice speak that amount of words was small. Yet, you couldn't avoid finding it funny how he always got the cleverest answers and dark humor. So you laughed, while Shouyo pouted, drinking from the beer he took from the fridge–it was Friday night after all.

You kept cooking, smiling and listening to how Shouyo complained to his teammate how evil he was with him when he was all nice to him.

"Alright you two…" you meddled, smiling happily at the incessant noise from everyone around, "If you're gonna keep arguing, you could at least help on setting the table, right?"

They both nodded while moving around to find what they needed, still arguing, but now about something else which sounded like Shouyo's height. Omi loved getting on Shouyo's nerves when it came to his height.

"What's that, Y/N?" Shouyo suddenly asked, signaling to a set of a plate, forks, a glass and a mug that were separated in a corner of the cupboard.

"Oh. That's Omi's," you said, your attention anywhere but said man.

"I don't remember leaving my stuff here," he commented, with no mean intention in his voice towards you.

"No, I mean… I know you don't like your stuff mixed with everyone's, so I picked a set I always clean twice and kept it separated from everything else. No one touches or uses that but you," you answered him, still looking at the food you were cooking over the oven.

Oh, God, kill me now, was all you thought as silence reigned in the kitchen.

But then, you felt a tall, warm presence behind you. You knew it was Omi, Shouyou was not that tall–he was only a head over yours, while you knew Omi was much taller.

It was the first time the Sakusa Kiyoomi got that close to you and it shocked you to the core. But what surprised you the most was when you felt his chin rest on your head comfortably.

"Thank you, Y/N," you could feel the vibrations of his deep voice and the rumble of his chest on your back saying your name, his entire dark but comfy aura so close to you, all you could think was how good it felt.

If you would have turned a bit to Shouyo's direction, you would have seen him with his eyes open wide, like those funny cartoons where their eyes popped off their face to express shock. Thankfully, he didn't say anything, he simply turned on his feet and flew from the kitchen to the living room where Tsumu and Boo were.

"You're welcome," was all you could say, almost a whisper, as he comfortably stayed there, barely a centimeter of distance between his body and yours.

If you weren't shocked enough by that, you definitely almost collapsed when you felt one of his fingers timidly caress your hand that was not holding the spoon you were cooking with, resting next to your hip. It had been barely a touch, yet the warmth and little tingling it provoked made you take a deep breath to gather your mind straight.

If you hadn't before, now you definitely were falling for this rare specimen.

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clubkira · 6 months

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DEAR FUTURE HUSBAND .ᐟ

oh future husband, better love me right!

premise. the nhk is hosting another special broadcast featuring the popular fiancées of the jnt’s lineup! and this time, it’s truth or drink! ❤︎

content. haikyu!! jnt / f!reader. (koutarou bokuto, morisuke yaku, kiyoomi sakusa & tobio kageyama). fluff. downbad fiancés. suggestive jokes & allusions to sex. petnames. alcohol. overseas!kageyama & yaku (LDR). reader lives in japan (does not equal being japanese). a little angst.

notes. this part is… a little long! sit down for it ❤︎

soundtrack. dear future husband : meghan trainor.

part one can be read here.

dear future husband m.list // hq. masterlist.

KOUTAROU BOKUTO.

“Been awhile since I last drank,” Bokuto cracks his knuckles upon seeing the many selections of beer he gets to choose, fingers twitching eagerly as they hover over the bottles. “Wonder what I should get…”

You sigh beside him jokingly, nudging his shoulder with your elbow, “We don’t have all day, Kou.”

“I’m just looking!” He chuckles, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

He randomly picks up a bottle of Sapporo, rotating it in his hands before nodding to himself, “This seems good!”

You place your hand on the small of his back, guiding him towards the studio for a final run through before the broadcast, “Alright, Kou. Now let’s get this started!”

The NHK film crew do a final mic and sound check when you arrive as a staff member seats you both at the table in the centre of the studio, a pile of cards with questions written on them, two shot glasses and the Sapporo bottle your fiancé picked out lined on it’s top.

After fiddling with the microphones hidden inside your clothes, the crew give you two a thumbs up and rush back to their cameras to start the recording.

Bokuto’s entire body is turned towards the cameras, sitting on the edge of his seat as he eagerly greets the viewers, “Hey! I’m Koutarou Bokuto,” he catches your eyes with a bright smile, grabbing your hand from across the table, “And this is my fiancée!”

“And we’ve been together for three years now,” You finish for him, hands folded neatly on the table, the cameras pan to show off the engagment rings that sits prettily on both you and Bokuto’s fingers.

“Four months engaged.”

“And we’re playing truth or drink!” You and Bokuto announce happily together, smiling at each other before turning your bodies back to face the cameras. The film crew adjust their angles, moving their cameras off their stands to get better opening shots of you and your fiancé.

“You guys ready to play?” The head camera crew member asks, giving you the okay to start the game.

The studio lights illuminate the white backdropped room, enveloping your eyes in waves whenever you stare at the camera lenses for a little too long.

You and Bokuto nod as he shifts his gaze towards you, “Want me to go first, Baby?” He asks, already grabbing his shot glass and the bottle of Sapporo. You giggle, “So eager to get drunk, Kou?”

“I told you, it’s been awhile!” He beams, pouring out the alcohol carefully into his shot and grabbing the top card from the pile on the table.

“What do you like most about me?” he reads aloud, looking up at you curiously, “I’m pretty sure you’ve told me this exact answer before.”

“Have I?” you tilt your head in thought, thinking the question over, “I mean, probably. It has been three years, after all.”

Bokuto places the card face down on his side of the table, combing through his hair, “I think when we first started dating, you told me it was my hair.”

“It is nice,” you agree, causing Bokuto to start laughing and in turn making you giggle as well. The two of you are already giddy and snickering despite no alcohol being present in your systems yet, “But I think now that we’re engaged, I can give a more detailed answer.”

“Oh?”

He leans over the table excitedly, a wide grin plastered across his face, “Tell me, Baby! What do you like most about me?” His hand is still placed atop of yours, the perfectly cut gems in both of your rings twinkling in sync underneath the studio lights, perfectly complimenting you fiancé’s eyes.

You hum in faux thought for a moment before smirking, “Hmm, your muscles.”

Bokuto’s smile drops slightly to a pout, still keeping his bright composure while masking his lowered grin, “Awe, Baby I thought you were going to say something like, real deep and emotional!” He jests, “Like how you love that I make you smile, y’know?”

You throw your head back in laughter, nudging his shoulder with your free hand, “I’m kidding, Kou!” Your smile is genuine when you see how disappointed he was at first at your reply, looking straight into his eyes as a way reassure him.

“Yes, Kou. What I like most is that you make me the happiest every day I’m with you.”

His smile brightens significantly, a chuckle of his own escaping his lips as he leans back into his chair, “Damn, played by my own girl.”

He slides the pile of cards over to you with a mischievous smirk, “Not that I’m complaining.”

You take the top card off the pile and read it over, fingers twirling the empty shot glass in your hands. Your lips purse as you try to contain the giggles making their way up your throat while reading the question on the card, hands quivering in silent laughter.

“Have you ever wanted to fuck one of our friends while with me?” Bokuto’s eyes seem to pop out of his head at the vast difference and shift in questions, turning to the NHK staff while laughing, “Are you sure this is okay to broadcast?”

The film crew nod, to which Bokuto shrugs, “Alright, then,” before turning back to you. “Uhh, can I just like- take a shot right now?”

“You’d rather drink than not tell me?” You joke, pouring out the Sapporo for your fiancé, “Damn, Kou. Do I not satisfy you enough?”

“Of course you do!” He corrects himself hastily, “It’s just, uh..” he leans in closer to you whisper in your ear quietly, “I don’t want to say Atsumu on national T.V...”

Your hand flies to your mouth in shock, shoulders shaking as you try to contain your cackles, “Atsumu?” you repeat in a hushed tone, making sure you heard him correctly. “Him?”

“He’s got nice hair!”

You both start to laugh at how hair seems to be a common appealing trait you notice in people. Shaking your head in mock disappointment, you shove the stack of questions back over to your fiancé’s side for his turn.

“What is the most embarrassing thing you caught me doing when I thought I was alone?” Bokuto asks, reading from the card he picked off the top of the pile and glancing back up at you.

You hum in thought for a moment, pondering the question.

“Uhm, I think that time you were rehearsing your Valentines day speech to me before we went out to eat at that restaurant a few years ago,” you reveal cautiously, “but you were using a pillow with a photo of my face taped on it as a stand-in.”

Bokuto’s jaw drops at the revelation, nearly falling out of his chair from the shock of what you just divulged to him, “You were there? Watching me do that?”

You have to practically fight the cackle bubbling it’s way up your throat, a smile creeping onto your face when you answer, “Yes, Kou. But it was sweet, so I didn’t mention it to you.”

“You kept that a secret for two years?” He asks again, and you nod.

Your fiancé’s face remains stunned for a few more moments before breaking out into a smile of his own, hand running down his face while laughing to himself. “Damn, I must’ve looked so dumb.”

“I thought it was cute!” You attempt to salvage things, giggling as you pick up the next question card, this time it’s for Bokuto.

“What part of wedding planning is the most challenging part for you?”

“The money…” He pouts, taking the card from you to read it over again before turning to the cameras.

“Weddings are so damn expensive— Did you know wedding flowers can cost up to two million yen?” He exclaims in shock, “For flowers!”

You sigh, plucking the question card from his hand and setting aside on his pile with a smile, “This is why you should leave the financial decisions to me, Kou. Our floral arrangements will not be that expensive, I can assure you.”

“Of course, Baby,” he grins, “I trust you completely on that,” his hands move to pick up the next card, lifting the corner and taking a peek at the question before flipping it over and reading it.

“What is something you’ve wanted to try in the bedroom but haven’t told me about?”

“Impact play,” comes your answer a bit too hastily to be considered normal.

Bokuto has a silent stare off with you for a few seconds after before you both break out in hysterical laughter, your fiancé cackling at how fast and prepared you were when you answered while you exclaim that’s why you could never tell him.

“Baby, that was so fast!” Bokuto reels over the table, pounding his fist into the wood while howling with laughter, gripping his empty shot glass in hand.

“Were you— were you that prepared to answer?”

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you make an attempt to defend your response, “I know you’d absolutely wreck me if we tried, that’s why I never asked!”

“I mean…” He trails off, glancing at you and letting his eyes roam your ring finger as a smirk makes it’s way onto his face, leaning closer to you over the table. “We could always try it at home later—”

“Last question!” You interrupt him, pulling the cards over to your side and grabbing the last question from the stack, you see Bokuto’s smile drop when he sits back in his seat from how you changed topics until he sees you wink at him from the corner of his eye.

“What is something you wish to tell me before we get married?”

Bokuto’s eyes light up at his question, holding up his shot of Sapporo and beaming brightly. Despite not drinking much during your game, his cheeks are flushed like he’s been drunk on your love this entire time, eyes crinkling with glee when he smiles.

“I hope I can keep being this happy when i’m with you after marriage,” He declares, “I love you, Baby.”

“I love you too, Kou,” you smile with him, raising your own shot to clink your two glasses together and down them simultaneously, the cool smoothness of the beer running down your throats.

You can feel the mild bitterness on your tongue afterwards, it leaves it’s taste behind even several hours after your drinking game when you two return to your shared home.

But the sincerity in Bokuto’s eyes when they fell on you back in the studio, and the way he gazes at you like you’re the only thing in his world even with the several NHK staff and film members recording your every move washes that all away instantaneously, overpowering it with sheer sweetness.

It’s just not one you can taste as easily as the flavour of Sapporo.

You might not have gotten drunk that night, but Bokuto’s certain he’s been drunk on your love for the entirety of all three years you’ve been together and wouldn’t mind if things stayed like this forever.

MORISUKE YAKU.

“You’re going down, sweetheart,” Yaku warns you with a teasing wink, lifting the bottle of Vodka in his hands to inspect the label, “Playing in the Russian League gives me an alcohol tolerance advantage that you don’t have.”

“I didn’t know just playing in Russia meant you were an experienced drinker,” you hum, playing along with his jokes for the fun of it. “I don’t think athletes are supposed to consume a lot of vodka anyways.”

“Well, you might as well back out now,” Yaku advises, shrugging with a sly grin, one of the camera crew’s members rushes up to fix the loose microphone on his suit before scurrying back to their position.

“Don’t wanna get beaten by your own fiancé now, do you?”

You merely roll your eyes at his antics, a reluctant smile making it’s way onto your face as you realign the messy stack of cards on your table, sounds of the director doing a final run through of lights and cameras are heard around you.

“Yeah yeah, save it for after you get wasted, Mori.”

The cameras start up as the director nods in your direction, indicating for you two to introduce yourselves to the viewers tuning in, Yaku holds your hand as he recites his lines.

“Hi, I’m Morisuke Yaku,” your fiancé beams, giving your hand a comforting squeeze, “And this right here, is my wonderful fiancée, whom I adore very much.”

Even several years later, Yaku’s swoon worthy words have an effect on you after all this time, making you feel like you’re still in that young and eager love stage. Attempting to hide your giddy face from him, you turn to face the camera as well with a wide grin.

“We’ve been together for four and a half years,” You gush, the sparkling engagement band on your finger being shown outwardly when the cameras zoom in for a closer look. “Engaged for eight months, now.”

“And today, we’ll be playing truth or drink,” Yaku reveals to the excited viewers, the cameras change positions to new angles while the sound crew makes sure your microphones are picking up your words.

After signaling to the director that they are indeed working, he asks you two, “Are you ready to play?”

You and Yaku both agree as he opens the bottle of Vodka, pouring it into your shot glass first before he pours out his own, “Hm, what a gentleman you are, Mori.” You joke, noticing he gave you your alcohol first before serving himself any.

“Always, for you.” He sighs dreamily, setting the bottle down beside him and pushing the cards over to you with his familiar cheshire grin. “And because I’m such a gentleman, you should go first, love.”

You stifle a laugh into the palm of your hand at the sudden switch in personality but take the top card off anyway, flipping it over and reading the question for Yaku written on it, “What is one thing you wish I did more of in our relationship?”

He groans, slumping down in his seat with his Vodka in hand, “Fly over to come visit me overseas,” he jokingly groans, faux-booing you with a thumbs down and all as he turns to the film crew.

“Did you know she doesn’t get on the first plane to Russia whenever I ask, can you believe her?”

You merely snicker at his jeers and turn your card over, placing it down on the table beside your shot. “Well I’m sorry, but I’m unable to predict whenever you’ll miss me spontaneously.”

“It’s not spontaneous,” Yaku argues, “I tell you like, two minutes in advance.”

You raise an eyebrow at his claims, “Wanna bet, Mori? I have screenshots.”

“Maybe I’ll just drink to this instead.”

You both giggle as he shakes his head in defeat, taking the next card off the pile and reading out loud the first question for you.

“Have you ever—” Yaku begins to lose his composure as he reads, holding back his giggles before sputtering out, “faked an orgasm with me?”

You burst out into laughter as Yaku discards the card to his side, head thrown back in hysterics while using the table to stabilize himself.

“Well?” He asks, wiping the tears that have begun to form around his eyes, “Have you?”

You begin to reach for your Vodka shot, causing your fiancé to break out into another, more excessive fit of cackles, “Are you serious, honey?”

“Okay well, maybe!” You confess wholeheartedly, raising the Vodka to your lips, “Back when we were first dating!”

Yaku scoffs disapprovingly, but you can tell he’s not seriously mad when you down the vodka and he’s looking at you worriedly, asking if it was too strong for you afterwards.

You dismiss his concerns, saying it’s fine and that you can handle it before he relaxes and pushes the cards back over to you.

“Have you ever had a dream about me cheating on you?” You ask him, Yaku’s face immediately sours at his question, you look to him expectantly and wait for his reply.

“… Ugh, yes,” he begrudgingly admits after a few moments of silence, eyebrows furrowing as he recalls it unpleasantly, “I had a dream once where you cheated on me with Lev.”

“Lev?” You cackle, “The— the 6’5 russian guy from your highschool volleyball team??”

Yaku’s hand moves to his vodka-filled shot glass, “Yes,” he moans, “It was awful. Hope I never see Lev butt-naked in my dreams ever again.”

“You don’t have to drink to this one, Mori,” you giggle as Yaku downs his vodka quickly, not even flinching at the burn, maybe he was right about the tolerance advantage. “Since you answered it.”

“Ah, don’t care,” he groans, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his suit, “After having to reimagine that scene, I needed the alcohol.”

Yaku takes the next card off the pile of questions skeptically, flipping it over and reading it out loud.

“Do you have any insecurities when it comes to me playing overseas in Russia?”

The question causes you to stop and think as Yaku places the card face down next to him, pouring another shot and sliding it over to you. “You don’t have to say anything, sweetheart.”

His gentle tone reassures you but you shake your head, pushing the vodka away, “No it’s okay, I don’t mind saying it.” Yaku looks surprised but nods understandingly, taking the glass back and giving you the room to process your next words while he remains quiet.

“I think my only insecurity is not knowing if you’re safe while overseas,” you admit to your fiancé. Yaku doesn’t say anything in response, knowing you have more to say as he lets you say what you need while silently encouraging you to elaborate.

“I hate not having you beside me because I don’t know where you are, and I just miss you a lot you know?”

Yaku’s cheek rests against the palm of his hand, concern washing over his face again as he looks across the table to you, “Awe, honey. I didn’t know you felt that way,” he coos, “do you hate whenever I leave for volleyball season?”

You shrug dismissively, the weight of your words beginning to catch up to you as your voice becomes quieter, trailing off at the end. “I mean, I don’t hate it, but like- I wanna know you’re alright while in Russia…”

Yaku’s about to speak when you shake your head dismissively, “It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” before you’re reaching for the deck of cards, already pulling the top question up and flipping it over to read.

Your eyes drag over the words as a pit begins to form inside your stomach. The next question for Yaku causes you to cringe, still reeling from the uneasiness of the last one as you awkwardly ask him, “Have you… ever regretted or had doubts about our engagement?”

Yaku’s face of concern turns into one of astonishment, he looks almost appalled at how unsure you look and sound while asking him.

“Absolutely not,” he states firmly, holding your hand that holds engagement band on it, you can feel the distress radiating off him as he reassures you in a hushed tone.

“I’ve never once regretted proposing to you, and I fully intend on marrying you.”

Yaku’s words dislodge the lump in your throat as you begin to chuckle to yourself, eyes looking down at his hand where the engagement ring he wears that matched your own. “I’m sorry if you thought I was doubting you, Mori. It’s just—”

“You don’t need to justify your feelings,” Yaku reiterates sternly, “I know, okay? You don’t need to explain this on live T.V.”

Knowing he’s only trying to make sure nothing of what you say can be interpreted wrongly later by media, you nod as he sighs in relief with an uneasy smile.

“I think this next question is our last one,” he announces, his smile morphing back into that familiar cheshire grin, the one that always brightens your day. You think he’s doing it in an attempt to lighten the mood, or maybe he just naturally makes you happy.

Yaku picks up the final question card and flips it over, reading it over with a calm smile, “What have you enjoyed most about being engaged to me?” His voice is gentle as he looks up to you, placing the card down on his pile.

“Well, love?” He encourages you, knowing he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable he gives you the choice, “Do you want to answer, or take a drink?”

You’d be a fool to drink at this question, there isn’t anything to drink for here but there’s just so much about being engaged to Yaku that you love that you can’t quite find the words for it. And while the majority of your engagement has been spent with Yaku being away in Russia, it doesn’t mean you enjoy it any less than if he were with you in Japan.

“… I enjoy knowing you will always be with me,” you begin to speak slowly, making sure your words are clear and concise while twirling your empty shot glass in hand absentmindedly.

Trying to fit all you want to say to your fiancé in a few words is tough, but you manage to shorten it enouhh to say all you want to tell him. “Because even while you’re playing overseas, I know you will always come back home to me.”

Yaku’s face unexpectedly heats up at your words, the apples of his cheeks turning bright red as his lips form into a shy and nervous grin, one isn’t anything like the mischievous and playful personality you’re accustomed to seeing while with him.

“I… I love you, sweetheart.” He manages to speak after some time, loosening the collar of his dress shirt nervously, but the smile on his face never falters. “I always have and always will.”

He extends his hand out to you, motioning for you to give him your shot glass. You hand it to him and he pours out some Vodka, sliding it back over to you once full before filling his own.

“Yes, honey,” he whispers unconsciously while pouring his alcohol, and it’s the happiest you’ve seen him all day. From his flushed complexion, dopey smile and euphoric demeanour, he appears to be glowing. Or maybe it’s the blaring lights behind him that are playing tricks on you.

Your fiancé has never looked so sure of himself until this moment, Yaku’s eyes never straying from yours as he raises his shot glass, breaking into his biggest smile yet.

“I will always come back home to you. No matter how long we are apart for,” and to that, you both cheer, clinking your glasses as you toast to your engagement.

Downing the alcohol in unison, the bitter sting of the Vodka attacks your throats relentlessly, but neither you or Yaku care about that in this moment or the next.

The world’s most intense Vodka brewed directly in the heart of Moscow, Russia could never be so strong as to have an effect on either of you when you’re in the presence of each other. You’re certain that Yaku would drown himself in the harshest of Vodka’s if it meant it was all for you.

A little Vodka is nothing compared to what he’d go through for you.

The way Yaku’s entire demeanour changes when with you, the largest of smiles etched onto his face for a side he only shows while you’re with him here, in Japan.

Remaining wholely committed to you even while seperated by land and sea is all a true testament to your relationship, and it puts your heart at ease.

Yaku may not always be at home; but Yaku knows that home is with you, and he knows he’ll always be with you in due time.

KIYOOMI SAKUSA.

“Oh, he’s a lightweight,” you tell the film crew who are adjusting their camera stands nearby as Kiyoomi pulls out the chair at the table for you to sit at, giggling when you hear the faintest muffled groan come from underneath his face mask.

Sitting atop the table is a bottle of Scotch, the deck of question cards and two shot glasses on it’s sanitized surface as per request by your fiancé.

“This’ll be so easy for me.”

“As if,” Kiyoomi scoffs, taking his own seat across from you and scooching his chair forward, “I’ll beat you and then have to hear you drunkenly cry about it back home later for the next several hours.”

“Nope,” you declare mischievously, folding your arms over the table and laying your head in them while looking up at your fiancé, “Hey, did you know Atsumu told me you’re an emotional drunk?”

You can see Kiyoomi’s eyes twitch underneath his thick black locs, hand reaching to grip his hair in annoyance. “That fucking—”

The director interrupts him unexpectedly when he calls to the rest of the crew in the studio for everyone to take their places behind the cameras, Kiyoomi sighs deeply as his shoulders relax and he leans back in his chair waiting for the broadcast to begin.

“I’m Kiyoomi Sakusa,” he states to the viewers plainly, barely acknowledging the cameras pointed straight at his face when he motions to you, “And this is my fiancée of almost a year.”

You can hear the way his voice softens lightly when referring to you as his fiancée.

“We’ve been together for four years now,” You welcome the viewers much more warmly than your fiancé does, announcing eagerly, “Engaged for eleven months, and we’re playing truth or drink!”

Again, you’re a lot more excited than Kiyoomi is when the director asks, “You guys okay to start playing?” but he agrees to it nonetheless, the subtle nod of his head doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

Kiyoomi grabs the stack of cards full of questions and shuffles the deck around a bit, when asked by the director why he did so he answers, “So if anyone planted any weird questions at the top of the pile for her they’re pushed to the bottom.”

After reorganizing the cards, Kiyoomi hands the stack to you, letting you have first pick of the game. You try to argue, but he doesn’t listen.

“Ladies go first,” he says, expectantly waiting for you to start.

You take the first card of the newly shuffled deck and begin to read it for your fiancé, “Favourite memory of us, pre-engagement or post-engagement?”

Kiyoomi taps his empty glass against the mahogany of the table repeatedly for a brief moment, thinking it over before letting out a deep sigh-turned groan, reaching over and pouring out some Scotch for himself as you sit back in stunned shock at his actions.

“Wait, what—”

“Don’t question me,” he rasps, lowering his face mask and downing his shot with ease, there’s hints of floral notes in the Scotch he can taste.

He pulls his mask back up seconds later and looks up at you, you swear you can see a smirk forming under his mask from the way his eyes lift in amusement afterwards, causing your cheeks to heat up at what he could’ve been thinking about that he had to take a shot to get out of saying it.

Finishing off his Scotch, your fiancé takes both the top card off the deck and his empty shot glass before reading aloud his first question for you.

“What was your first impression of me when we met?” Kiyoomi reads monotonously, his stare hardens when he notices you jokingly reaching for your shot glass, tossing the card over to your side with a groan.

“Really?” He huffs, arms crossed over his chest and glaring halfheartedly at your tease. “Didn’t Motoya say you like… hated me at first or something?”

“I didn’t hate you,” you giggle, pouring the Scotch into your glass while avoiding your fiancé’s gaze, “I just.. am a little thirsty right now.”

“Haha,” Kiyoomi laughs dryly, watching as you down your shot quickly, the citrusy notes in the Scotch make it pleasant to drink. “You’re soo funny, dear. Must be really thirsty today.”

“I am,” you wink, placing your glass back down on the table before taking the next card off the pile.

“What is the most embarrassing nickname for me you have in mind?” Kiyoomi asks, and you snort.

“It’s only embarrassing because Atsumu came up with it…” you turn to the cameras to whisper to the viewers, facing your fiancé who’s giving you a skeptic look that soon turns into existential dread when you begin to snicker.

He groans, “I swear to god if it’s Omi-Omi—”

“It’s Omi-Omi.”

You can practically feel the annoyance radiating off of Kiyoomi while you bat your eyelashes innocently at him, playful shrug of your shoulders as you pull the cards back over to your side, taking the next card off the deck while your fiancé whispers something about killing Atsumu at the next practice from across the table.

“What colour or colours are your favorite on me?” You look up at the director almost immediately before Kiyoomi can even open his mouth, “Can I just say it— Because I know.”

The director nods, “He told me once it was black and gold,” Kiyoomi mumbles something incoherent under his breath, whatever he’s saying being muffled by his nask as he hides his face away from the cameras, the camera crew exchange a look amongst themselves.

“Aren’t those the colours of the MSBY Black Jackals?” One of the crew members mentions offhandedly and you smirk, looking over to your flustered fiancé with the most shit-eating grin you can muster, “Yes, yes they are.”

“Should’ve just let me answer instead,” he mutters while pulling out the next card from the deck to move the game along, coughing as his face slowly returns to it’s natural colour.

He chuckles when he reads it over, “How would you spend an entire week without me?” he turns to the cameras with his own smug face, placing the card down on the table. “She doesn’t.”

“I can,” you interject and he gives you a deadpan stare, “Yeah, can. Doesn’t mean you do, though.”

“Anyways,” you swerve back to your answer, taking the card from his side and reading it over yourself.

“I would have a very relaxing week without you, consisting mostly of singing and dancing in our empty kitchen without you to judge me.”

“I don’t judge you.”

“Yes you do.”

“Nope.”

You two could probably have this back and fourth for hours on end but you stop when you catch the director’s eye, one of his assistants motions to you hurriedly that it’s nearly time to end the broadcast.

With that in mind, you pick up the last question card, flipping it over and reading it for Kiyoomi.

“What’s one thing you’d like to tell me at the alter if you couldn’t say anything else.”

“That I love you,” Kiyoomi says almost immediately, tracing the rim of his shot glass with his ring finger delicately, you can hear the gentleness in his voice when he speaks. “And that I hope you’ll always be my lover, whatever that means for us in the future.”

“That’s more than one thing, Kiyo.”

“I don’t care.”

You scoff playfully, tossing the card aside and pouring out two shots of Scotch for you and your fiancé. Whilst handing him his glass your rings bump together momentarily, the clinking of the diamonds makes the two of you smile, though Kiyoomi’s is hidden underneath his mask.

“Cheers, my dear,” he mutters softly, lowering his mask again to drink and allowing you to finally see the beautiful smile he hides underneath, usually reserved only for you.

“Cheers, Kiyo,” and you two drink, the Scotch tastes lovely and refined on both of your tongues when it runs down your throats with ease.

It’s light and sophisticated, and the flavour profile fits Kiyoomi so well. You consider telling him that, but refrain because you think he won’t understand what you mean; not knowing he’s thinking the exact same about you.

Kiyoomi thinks you two may be a match made in heaven, if such a thing exists then it perfectly encapsulates the two of you.

As the cameras cut and several crew members rush around the studio, Kiyoomi doesn’t notice any of that in this moment— his gaze continues to be locked onto you wholly; lovingly enraptured by the beautiful image of you across from him that he hopes will be burned into the back of his head like the taste of this Scotch, but for many years to come and not just a mere few hours.

Kiyoomi can drink Scotch at any time he pleases, but being married to you is something he is excited for and craves everyday of his life as the days on the calender tick down to your wedding, it keeps him motivated to continue each day if he knows it’s just one day closer to a life with you, one where he knows you will be with him every day going forward.

The day you two will finally be united as one. Kiyoomi can’t wait for that morning to come, when night falls and after the ceremony is done he can finally refer to you as his wife and not just his fiancée.

TOBIO KAGEYAMA.

Tobio gulps upon seeing the Sake being poured into his shot glass by the NHK staff member, being handed the alcohol before they pour out another shot for you, to which you graciously accept with a smile and nod of your head.

“Uhh…” His piercing gaze reaches across to you across the table, nervously fiddling with the glass in hand as he twirls it inbetween his fingers, “I don’t, really hold alcohol well, love..”

“Really?” You stare at him blankly, squinting down at the alcohol in your own shot, “what do you drink in Italy then, Tobio?”

“Limoncello,” he sighs, “but it’s supposed to be sipped slowly, not downed like shots usually are.” He makes a face as the thought of attempting to drink Limoncello like shots ripples through his mind, it would most definitely not end well for him.

You chuckle and give him a reassuring smile, placing your hand over his gently. The diamond on his ring is cool to the touch when you run your thumb over it, with sharp and well defined cut corners. “You’ll be fine, Tobio.”

He nods unsurely but allows the NHK camera crew to do their final run through, making sure everything is in order before the cameras begin to roll and the director is motioning for you both to recite your lines.

Your fiancé’s voice is a little strained, a faint stutter can be heard as he speaks slowly, “I’m… Tobio Kageyama,” he manages to say before craning his head to his left, across the table.

“And I’m her fiancé,” his eyes shift towards you as you give the cameras a polite wave, “We’re playing… truth or drink.”

“We’ve been together for five years,” You excitedly tell the viewers, holding up your ring finger to show off the dazzling diamond atop it, “And engaged for two.”

The director asks from out of frame, “Why have you two been engaged for so long?” A question that most viewers are probably wanting to know, Tobio answers it for you.

“I wanted to marry her sooner,” he timidly admits, looking down at his lap to avoid the harsh glares of the camera lenses, “But with me playing in Ali Roma, it’s hard to plan things out, I guess.”

You nod, “Besides,” you chime in giddily, taking over for him, “It’s fun to be in this little engaged stage for a long time, makes everyday that bit more exciting.”

You ramble on about how fun it is to call Tobio during his off days; calling him at three in the morning in Japan while in Italy it’s 7PM to tell him about a cute floral arrangement you saw earlier that day while shopping that you’d love to have at your wedding.

Facetiming him in the dark of the night, wrapped in blankets and wearing his highschool volleyball jersey to ask him what kind of food from Italy he wants to incorporate into the wedding menu, and texting him photos of different style of wedding dresses you’re considering wearing on your big day while getting out of the shower.

You unintentionally forget about your jittery mess of a fiancé while you speak, beaming as bright as the glowering studio lights as Tobio looks at you amazed.

Tobio’s nervousness slowly fades when he sees the ring on your finger and just how happy you are to be engaged to him. It’s always been a worry of his that you hate the long wait to get married to him, that playing overseas would hurt your relationship because of long he is away from home at times.

But your gleeful joy in telling thousands of viewers in real time that you love just being engaged to him for two years; that you don’t mind it at all, brings some peace of mind to his fragile heart.

“Are you two ready to play?”

Knuckles slowly unclenching as he takes a deep breath, he nods his head to the director, indicating the start of the game. He starts first, picking up the first card from the pile.

“What is the most awkward date we’ve ever been on?” Tobio’s face drops immediately upon reading, turning the card face down on the table and turning to the director, “Can I start over? Or make her drink?”

“It’s her choice if she wants to answer or drink.” The director answers.

Tobio turns to you hastily, eyes practically pleading with you not to say what you have on your mind, he’s already inside your mind and fears for what you could potentially reveal on national television, causing you to erupt in a fit of giggles as you reach for the Sake.

“Fine, fine. I won’t say, Tobio.” You’ve never seen your fiancé so relieved, almost seeing the metaphorical weight lifting off his shoulders with your own eyes when you take the shot.

The Sake is sweet, like sticky rice. It’s feels cool when it hits the back of your tongue and nice to drink, reminding you of the Italian sweets Tobio would send you from Italy. Noting that they’d pair nicely with Sake, you consider getting Tobio to send you more of them in the mail soon.

“You owe me for that one, Tobio,” you chuckle after finishing your shot, “Whatever the next question is you have to answer it.” He groans in protest but agrees after some convincing as you reach for the question pile and grab your first question for him.

“Have you kept a secret hobby or interest hidden from me?”

Shockingly, Tobio nods his head and unexpectedly calm about the question he was supposedly ‘forced’ to answer, “I got into gardening when I first came to Italy.”

“You what?” You utter, delightfully surprised at this revelation, “What plants do you take care of in Italy?”

“I have a few hanging Boston Fern and Ivy in some pots around my apartment…” Tobio tells you, adverting his gaze from your eyes the more your smile grows towards him. “I didn’t mean to keep them from you, I just… forgot to mention it everytime we call.”

“Tobio…” You laugh at how empty headed your fiancé can be at times, sometimes you think he’d forget his head if it weren’t secured to his body. “We call almost every day!”

“Yeah, but you usually call me late at night!” He defends himself, “I don’t normally leave my room that late at night, so you never see them!”

You shake your head in disbelief at this, faux disappointment at your fiancé for keeping this interest of his hidden for so long, “When I visit you in Rome, you have to show me these plants, deal?”

He nods in approval at that arrangement, a small smile creeping onto his face as he takes the next card off the deck, “Have you pretended to like a gift I gave you when you actually didn’t?”

You consider reaching for the Sake but reel your hand back at the last second, deciding to tell him straight up.

“Yeah, the lingerie you sent me a few months ago.”

“You didn’t like it?”

Tobio’s mouth hangs open, visibly swallowing his shame away as he sets the question card down on the table, a hand running through his hair in deep thought.

“Okay well, didn’t like isn’t the right word per se—”

“Was it the style?” Tobio begins interrogating you sternly, brows furrowed and that determined look in his eyes you’re so familiar with while watching his volleyball matches.

“Was it the colour, or was it too flimsy? I tried going to a new store that time, I knew I should’ve just stuck to the other one—”

“Tobio!”

He’s immediately brought out of his thoughts by your cackles, blinking as he’s focused on your laughing figure in front of him. His cheeks are tinted a dark shade of red, thinking he’s said something embarrassing when he whispers a low, “Yes, love?”

Through fits of giggles and laughter, you barely manage to sputter out, “It was just the wrong size, babe!”

Tobio’s eyes widen significantly at the reveal, looking down at his hands where his engagement ring sits comfortably in his ring finger, feeling his body shrink in on itself further into his seat while you’re howling across from him.

If you were seated beside each other he’s sure you’d be slapping his arm too for good measure.

“C-can we move onto the next question…” He mumbles just above the microphone strapped to his dress shirt’s minimum level to pick up sounds. If his old highschool teammates were here— if Hinata were here, god, he’d never hear the end of it. “Please?”

Finally settling down from your giggly high, you vaguely nod, still catching your breath when you reach for the next question card on the pile and flip it over as Tobio tries his best to calm down his reddened face.

“What is the most romantic thing your partner has ever done for you?”

After Tobio’s managed to relax himself, he thinks the question over, chin in hand as his gaze lands directly on the Sake bottle on the table beside him where he gets lost in thought while mulling over the question.

“I think…” he mutters to himself, “When you told me it was okay to go play in Ali Roma, instead of discouraging me to stay in Japan.”

His answer legitimately surprises you, “Is that, really your response, Tobio?”

He nods, hands reaching up to the nape of his neck. “Yeah… I don’t know if romantic is the right word, I guess.“

“But knowing you were there to support me; even if I could tell you were scared for me going overseas, it felt like the most romantic gesture someone could ever do to me.”

Tobio blinks, suddenly remembering his words are being broadcasted on national T.V and coughing awkwardly, “Uh, yeah, that’s my answer.”

He begins to notice the gazes of the rest of the film crew and director that are burning right through him, feeling the colour returning to his cheeks.

Tobio looks over to you anxiously, finding you with the brighest eyes he’s ever seen, he could get lost in them if he stared into them long enough. You purse your lips for a moment, before a smile blossoms across your face.

“Wow, Tobio,” you breathe out dreamily, “That was… so sweet of you to say,” Tobio has a hard time meeting your gaze, you can tell he’s still feeling anxious so you grab his hand and force him to look you in the eye.

“I will always support you, okay?” You tell him firmly, he’s a bit startled at how forward you’re being but nods before you quickly add, “Even if I don’t like being so far away from you, you don’t need to worry about me. Don’t be so nervous about this, alright?”

Tobio’s lips quiver into a strained frown before he sighs, “It’s not that simple,” you feel his hand give yours a light squeeze for comfort, interlocking his fingers with your own. “I wish I could just… not be so worried for you. But I love you too much for that.”

“Loving me means you understand that no matter what, I am right behind you,” you voice to him directly. “Maybe not physically, but no matter where you go, I will follow eventually.”

Tobio goes silent for a few seconds, even when he knows dozens of people in this studio— hundreds of thousands are watching him live, he’s only looking at you; having eyes only for you. With a shaky nod of his head, he finally manages to crack a smile.

“I understand.”

Releasing your hand from his grip, he pulls his next question for you from the pile, looking far more relaxed than he did at the beginning of your game. He’s comfortable in this stage of your relationship, even if he knows that others think it’s strange— the distance between you two, the long engagement period.

He knows the only opinion that should matter to him—that does matter to him is yours alone.

“When you hear my name in public, what comes to your mind?”

“That you have done another amazing set,” You answer with ease, allowing yourself to feed his ego for once. “Or won another game, who knows at this point? You can do it all.”

Tobio seems satisfied with that answer, even uncharacteristically relishing in your praise. “Ah, I am pretty good at volleyball, aren’t I?”

You lean over the table to punch his shoulder lightly, a teasing grin dances on your lips which matches his own, “Yeah yeah, you’re welcome for being so supportive of my fiancé.”

“Well thank you then, love.”

One of the camera crew’s members motions to the director, indicating it’s almost time to wrap up the broadcast. Feeling at peace, you grab the final card of the question deck, eyes flickering to Tobio as you read.

“Anything else you’d like to say to me about our engagement?”

Tobio takes a deep breath, steadying himself before he speaks. He wants to make sure he tells you everything on his mind, but maybe that will have to wait for another time— a more private time.

One that isn’t being broadcasted on national television. So he’ll settle for the next best course.

“I just wanted to say…” He hesitates for a moment, his mouth opening and closing at times until he can find his bearings. “That being engaged to you has taught me a lot of things.”

You’re about to say something in response until he holds his hand up, indicating he isn’t done yet.

“And… I wouldn’t mind if we stayed like this forever.”

Tobio notices the slight look of confusion in your eyes as he continues, “Wh-what I mean is, uh… even though we aren’t married yet, you make me so happy that I feel like I could be okay with what we have.”

“I still want to marry you!” He blurts out worriedly in an attempt to explain himself, “But knowing you’re not bothered by how long we’re engaged for is enough to reassure me that no matter how long we wait for, I’ll still be as happy as the day we marry.”

Tobio shuts his eyes, burying his head in his hands from sheer embarrassment, “Fuck, that was so stupid sounding-”

“Hey now..” You pry his hands away from his face with a pout, leaning across the table’s surface to cup his cheek, “That wasn’t stupid, that was sweet!”

“Really?” He asks, unsure if he believes you, “I’m not really good with my words, y’know.”

“Well I understood what you meant,” you smile, pressing a kiss to your ring finger and placing it on your fiancé’s lips, “And I feel the same way.”

Tobio’s face erupts into a bright scarlet red as you pour the two of you a shot of Sake each, downing them together with your rings on prominent display for all of Japan to see.

Your fiancé is still quite popular in Japan despite now playing overseas, overhearing the NHK film crew and the thousands of viewers who tuned in were watching his broadcast with you while dying in laughter.

It’s not laughter to mock him however— as he soon finds out when after the cameras cut and he can still hear the staff talking about how adorable he looked during the live special.

And his old highschool friends blowing up his phone, sending him clips of his broadcast with hearts and kissy face emojis, but you swear to him that it’s all well intentioned. Maybe not Tsukishima’s to some extent, but nontheless.

All Tobio knows he can do is sigh, turn his phone off and settle into your arms after everything’s been said and done. His time in Japan is limited after all, he has to fly back to Italy in a few days time.

He knows it hurts to leave you again, and you hate sending him off at the airport. He wishes he could marry you immediately— but there’s still so much to be done until that day can arrive.

Tobio doesn’t know when the lucky day will come when you can instead wear a wedding ring on your finger rather than an engagement ring, but as Tobio has discovered today; the two of you will be okay until then despite it all.

It takes a lot to make Tobio anxious about your engagement, but it also takes a lot to shake the strong foundation the two of you have built with each other over the years.

The two of you have planned your future with each other as the main component of it all in the centre of it for as long as you can remember, and he’s prepared to withstand any obstacles that threaten his happiness with you.

Tobio is at ease knowing you have his back, and he has yours even while separated by thousands of miles of stretching oceans and ground.

reblogs are appreciated .ᐟ ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

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