Boyfriend!kirishima Who Makes You His Whole Personality — It's Honestly Sickening How Obsessed He Is

Pimple Patches

Bucky Barnes x GN!Reader

Summary: Bucky feels left out when he notices you’re wearing star pimple patches.

Warnings: mentions of insecurity about pimples/acne/skin texture

Word count: 800

A/N: so I put a few pimple patches on this morning which sparked this silly little idea, I hope you enjoy! Banners by @vase-of-lilies

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“Darling, you’ve got stars all over your face…” Bucky’s voice is croaky from sleep, but you can still hear the confusion in his tone. 

The coffee machine hums to life as you smile back at him to say “I am well aware Buck - they’re pimple patches.” 

If it were anyone but your precious boyfriend who had made that comment, you might feel slightly offended at the insinuation that you have acne all over your face, but you know from experience Bucky thinks you're the most beautiful person in the world regardless of any blemish, scar or skin texture, and this is coming purely from a place of innocence. 

Sometimes you forget that he’s actually over a hundred and can be such an old man. 

You chuckle at how bewildered his expression is, clearly still unable to grasp the reason why you have intentionally placed them on your skin. 

“Pimple patches.” He repeats back to you, his voice holds no recognition that he understands what that means, even though you think the name itself is a fairly obvious indicator. 

“They help reduce the inflammation and absorb the gunk from my acne.” Is the explanation you provide him as you saunter over to give him a good morning kiss. “Plus, more than anything they prevent me from wanting to pop them myself.” 

There’s something still bothering him as he sits at the breakfast bar while you serve the aromatic roasted coffee to him in his favourite mug. 

“But why are they in the shape of a star?” 

Bless his heart.

“Because it’s fun! Who doesn’t want colourful stars on their face to cover up their whiteheads?” 

Bucky blows on his coffee, before sipping it slowly while his eyes examine the placement of the stars around your face. He still looks unconvinced by the concept but there is still that twinkle in his eye and the small tug at the corner of his mouth that he is staring at his person.

You're getting used to that affectionate stare.

“Do you feel like you’re missing out? Do you want a star too?” He seems to perk up at the question, but then gives a fake little cough and straightens his shoulders as if to give the impression he’s far too mature to want a star sticker as well.

“I don’t think I have any pimples.” Is what he says instead of giving you a straight answer to your yes or no question.

He’s right, Bucky’s skin is annoyingly perfect when your own can be such a mess, even though you’re the one splurging on high end skincare to treat acne. He’s always told you it’s the serum when you’ve previously broken down about how imperfect your own skin is compared to his.

“C’mere.” You grab his hand, which is unusually warm as he has been holding his coffee, and pull him to the bathroom.

It’s very endearing how he stands with his hands joined behind his back, waiting for you to do anything you want to his face with the giddy grin of a ten year old getting a ‘your a star!’ sticker on their homework.

Bucky watches in fascination and adoration as you carefully lift the star from the sheet and turn to face him. Being this close to him still gives you butterflies, but the warmth radiating from his broad body makes you feel safe and at home.

There’s a faded, thin scar on his cheekbone, one that he got well before the serum saving Steve from a fight, that you place the blue pimple patch onto. “There, your own little star. Now we match!” 

He takes a quick look in the mirror and you determine he likes it given the smile he beams. You wish he could be forthright about his wants with you, even if it’s as silly as wanting a sticker on his face. But you’re working on it together.

“You’re my little star.” He says dotingly as he places a sweet, sloppy kiss to your cheek, in between a couple of your pimple patches.

Looking back in the mirror, he stands taller than you, but he looks proud to not have missed out on the identical patch that you now don together. He practically skips out of the bathroom and doesn’t remove his precious star until you tell him it’s time to peel them off later in the day.

The next morning, you notice Bucky has another star stuck to his cheek as he’s making you breakfast. You smile to yourself, before pointing it out to him.

He says it’s to make sure you don’t feel uncomfortable wearing them around him, which if the case is very sweet, but you have a sneaky suspicion that he might just like matching with you.

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thinking about kissing kakyoins scars. he's worried you didn't like his face before but now with those long scars across his eyes, covering up the focal point of his face, he's worried you'll never find him attractive. cup his slender face in your hands, kissing the start of kaks scar right to the end. tell him they add character and show how strong and capable he really is. instead of being a reason to hate himself because he was weak or foolish or anything else he thinks he was, it's a reminder he's survived, adapted, and overcame it all. he's your warrior and as you plant a gentle kiss to his eyelid you hope he can believe that

AKAASHI KEIJI is known as the 'serious kid' around fukurodani.

he's not unpopular, per se. but having a friend like bokuto, all smiles and laughs and "hey, hey, hey!!", it's hard to really stand out.

people saw him as an addition to bokuto, most of the time.

but that was before he met you.

you, with your smiles and bubbling personality, bring out something in akaashi that not even his closest friends could do.

and suddenly, the students of fukurodani academy see a different side of akaashi. one that smiles, laughs, and hands you flowers in the morning before going to class, hand in hand with you.

some find it fascinating. (bokuto.)

some call it weird.

but for you and akaashi?

you wouldn't have it any other way.

hq m.list | gen m.list

✧˚ ༘ Falling asleep next to him ft. Tsukishima Kei

⇢fluff, alcohol consumption (reader is tipsy), written this with post-timeskip Tsukki in mind, your honor they're idiots in love, they want each other bad. anyway, self indulgent short drabble

Tsukishima thinks his heart is going to explode from how close you are to him. The room is silent and you're haf-asleep in his bed, wearing his t-shirt, smelling of his shower products and he almost doesn't mind the sweet, lingering trace of alcohol on your breath.

When you invited him and Yamaguchi to a party that night to celebrate the end of exam season he initially wanted to refuse, but the thought of you going only with his friend, getting hit on by random guys at the club didn't sit right with him. So he tagged along and watched you dance and chat up whoever was willing to spare you the time of day. To say he was irritated would be an understatement but Tsukishima knew better than to comment on your behavior; he knew how easily you sulked and pouted until you got your way. And you always ended up getting your way with him– he liked you that much, though he never found the words to tell you. He had to basically drag you home that night, helping you take off your makeup while you sat on the edge of the bathtub, complaining about your headache. It was Yamaguchi's idea to let you stay the night at their flat considering the state you were in. Tsukishima wanted to point out that you weren't in fact that drunk, just tipsy, but he held his tongue. He couldn't waste an opportunity to keep you by his side just for a little longer. So after you showered and joined him in bed, he was finally faced with the reality of it all.

You're here, pressed up against him, your nose nudging against his jaw as you shift around, trying to find a more comfortable position. He feels warm, too warm, his palms sweaty as he adjusts, rolling on his side to give you more space. His hand comes up to your waist to prevent you from completely rolling over him and the little breathy hum you let out at the touch is a low blow. Tsukishima has always been analytical, trying to make sense of the world through logic and his sharp mind almost never failed him. But what can he do when his brain is basically mush, heart thumping so fast he's afraid you'll hear it if you lay your head on his chest? He tells himself to go to sleep, just close his eyes, take a deep breath and calm down but he can't— not when you're so close and fit so well against him.

And then you speak, a breathy, barely audible whisper of his name and his resolve crumbles. "Yea?" he says back, pressing his forehead against yours, thumb rubbing circles on your hip.

"d'you have some water? My throat feels dry."

He nods as you cough, slipping out of bed and heading to the kitchen to bring you a glass of water. By the time he returns you're already propped on your arm and he can see you blinking slowly in the soft moonlight.

"Here you go. Drink up." he mumbles, fingers brushing against yours when you take the glass and bring it to your lips, emptying it in a few greedy gulps. "Jesus... slow down, it's all yours." You give him a glare and set the glass down as he joins you under the blanket again.

"I was thirsty ok? Plus my head hurts so bad. Can't you give me some paracetamol?"

"Not when you've still got alcohol in your system, dummy. I'll give you one in the morning." he huffs, slipping his hands into your hair to massage your scalp before you get to complain more.

Kei's thumbs rub against your temples, soothing the dull ache and you finally relax, your protests melting on your tongue as you close your eyes again. "There, better?" he whispers and you nod, cuddling up against his chest. "Yea, thanks Tsukki. You're a saviour."

"A saviour, really?" he teases and you chuckle.

"You know what I mean."

And Tsukishima knows– at least he hopes he does. Hopes that behind that little sleepy smile and content expression of yours lays a feeling akin to his. But he pushes down those thoughts, leaving them for tomorrow because he's finally starting to fall asleep and as his breath settles and his eyes flutter shut, Tsukishima promises himself that one day he'll get you to sleep by his side every night.

eddie you say? 👀 if we’re talking eddie again can i request relationshipy fluff? Like sleepovers or something??

okay so verdict is .. we all missed eddie?

When Wayne Munson slid you a key to his house over coffee, he didn’t expect to have you sneaking in at two am.

You’d snuck in quietly, crept into Eddie’s room, toed your shoes off, and peeled the puffer you wore—over your pajamas—off your chilled body. His room smelt like lingering weed and cologne as you’d entered, but as you crawl into his bed the smell subsided.

“Eddie,” you whisper into his neck, preening for the reciprocation of his touch. “Eddie.”

He moves, shuffling in his sleep. He’s pretty like this, though you’re afraid he’s always pretty. Cheek pink from where it dug into his arm, hair mussed from sleep. He’s shirtless and warm, heat emanating from his smooth skin. Eddie’s always been like this; a heater. In the summer he can’t stand the way you move away from him in your sleep, desperate for some air.

“Baby,” you whisper a little louder, like a child commanding the attention of their mother. Any other night this may embarrass you, but you’re too desperate for his affection right now.

Slowly, he rouses. He doesn’t notice you at first, too occupied with the floating feeling of the in between sleep realm, or maybe too used to the feeling of you next to him to notice discrepancy. When he does though, you can’t help but feel a pang of guilt at his initial fear. Flinching, he moves to shuffle away before the streetlight casting in from his bedroom window catches on your face.

“Hi, I’m sorry.”

“Y/n?” He murmurs, voice thick with sleep. “Baby..” he rubs his eyes forcefully and you can’t tell if it’s apart of his usual dramatics or his sleepy stupor. “What are you doing here?”

You frown moving closer quietly, nestling yourself into him. He peers at you with the curiosity of a scientist and his creation. You’d’ve never done this in the beginning. Too scared to ask Mr. Munson Wayne for a glass of water. “Missed you.”

“So, we’re just breaking and entering now?” His hand comes up to cradle your head gently. He’s not serious, anything but it. His girlfriend appearing in his bed is a gift horse he’d never be stupid enough to look in the mouth. Leaning down, he nuzzles his nose in your hair, pressing a long kiss to the skin he finds. “You have work tomorrow, my love.”

“It’s not breaking and entering, I have your house key.”

You manage the sentence like it takes the most out of you; like you want the preserve the feeling of sleep holding you down; to stave away any alertness you can find.

“You have work tomorrow.” He repeats, sleepy concern lacing his voice.

“Steve can open without me.”

Eddie grumbles. It’s true. Slowly, he lowers himself back down to lay beside you, letting you climb your way on top. Your arms snake around him, desperate for any skin you can find. You want to feel him, to be as close to him as possible. You’ve missed him so much over vacation, lying with him right now doesn’t feel real. It’s carnal the way you squeeze his back, though there’s nothing lustful in the touch. He groans, letting himself wrap around you as well.

“You missed me?”

You’re too lost in his heartbeat to register his voice, too sleepy to respond. “Mhm.”

His nails drag up and down your back slowly. “Missed you too.”

You shiver, kissing his chest in response. There’s no need for words when the both of you feel like this; tired and in love. He pulls the old duvet higher up over the both of you to cover your back completely.

And that’s how Wayne finds you the next morning. Tangled in each other like sticky spaghetti.

“Hey, boy, have you seen..”

He pauses, hand on the cold doorknob. It’s certainly a sight Wayne thinks. Eyeing the shoes and backpack of work clothes on the floor, his eyes flit back up to the tangle of lovers. You lay practically all the way on top of Eddie, long sleeves and pants you’d picked out to protect you from the chill drowning you. Under the fabric that is your pajamas, Eddie snores softly, arm still around your middle. This is the type of parenting Wayne never thought he’d have to do with Eddie. He shakes his head, weary smile playing on his lips as he leaves the room to find his boots himself.

He’d given you the key for a reason.

i wish i had met you earlier (eddie munson x reader)

cw: depressing pillow talk and comfort idk, reader was sad and lonely an: a nod to the only boy ive ever loved who coincidentally became the only man ive ever loved. we grew up together and i still wish i had met him earlier. wc: 1k

“I wish I had met you earlier,” you whisper.

“Earlier?” he smiles, nose scrunching at the silliness, not knowing the depth of your sentiment. 

“Yeah,” you smile back. It’s hard not to do— to smile, when his eyes are so soft, and his lips are that plump, just kissed colour, and your body still hums from the evening behind you. His lashes flutter the slightest bit, blinking away your flattery with a bashful roll of his eyes. 

“You’d be sick of me already if we met earlier,” he lightly huffs, cheek squishing further into the softness of your shared pillow, crooking his smile. 

If the lights were on, you’re sure you’d see a flush suffuse across his face. It would highlight the curvature of his cheeks that accompany his boyish simper, and it would emphasize the winsome rounded tip of his nose. When he blushes like that, your heart always adds an extra beat into its rhythm, one that lives for him. You can picture it so clearly, your heart flutters all the same— that’s not the point of this though. 

“I wouldn't be sick of you,” you promise.

“No?”

“I'll never get sick of you.” 

Tactile as always, he draws his affection over your features, trusting his touch to communicate what he feels. His fingertips dance over your cheek bone, daring to grace close enough to your eye to feel the very tips of each silken lash, flittering with every reflexive blink. He feels the fan, every feathery gust of air, and it affects him in magnitudinous ways— feeling any part of you is like that, a full-hearted reminder that you are here. You are here and you are his. 

His palm settles to your cheek, fingers curving just below your ear, cradling the edge of your face. His own version of a promise, he shares his warmth and oath-taken heart through his touch.

“When would you have wanted to meet?” he asks curiously, blinking his own thick lashes at you as his gaze meets yours. 

“Just before high school.”

He smiles widely, “you answered that quickly,” he says, thumb tracing once over the hill of your cheek and back down.

“I’ve thought about it a lot,” you smile back. You lean into his touch and he draws his thumb across again. You close your eyes for a moment and he does it another time. 

“Why?” 

The softness inside you hardens momentarily at the question. Swallowing thickly, you also know the answer, but it doesn’t come out as quickly. It gets stuck to the roof of your mouth, stuck to the tip of your tongue. His eyes encourage your honesty, and on the sole notion of knowing him and knowing his heart, you trust him with this part of you.

“Maybe if I met you then, I wouldn’t have been so lonely.”

His thumb glides across your cheek and you watch as his eyes give way to his realization that it wasn’t a light hearted question for you. It wasn’t just pillow talk like it was supposed to be.

“Maybe if I met you then, I wouldn’t have been so sad,” you continue, trying to smile.

“You were sad?” His brows turn up, worry lines settling in. It’s a sorrowful look he gives you, not pity, but a softness, a grief, a regret. 

For a split moment, you think that maybe you should lie— make it all go away. Maybe you should lie, but you couldn’t, not with him. Not when his hand is so graciously connected to you, and the warmth of his bare chest radiates into yours, and your shared pillow smells like your shared shampoo, and the sheets smell like the laundry soap you picked out together, with hints of your lotion and his body wash scattered throughout like every kiss you’ve ever shared here. Maybe you should lie, but you couldn’t— especially not when you love him and he loves you. 

“I was so sad, Eddie.” 

You muster a smile, but it betrays you, trembling just under your lower lip. The corners of your mouth remain pointed high, but it’s not a smile, not with the way your lips purse tightly, holding back what your eyes cannot. Your lash line fills, but less than a few side fallen tears survive the heavy blinks that draw them back inwards.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, thumb tracing under your eye this time. He pulls you forward with the lightest touch, a gentle encouragement, and a purposeful reminder that he’s here. He's here and he’s yours. 

One day you’d like to explain it all, but it’s a hard feeling to understand. You’re not sure if it’s wholly a feeling to begin with— it’s more like a ghost. A haunting of all the feelings that used to exist. It washes over you in fast moving gray clouds, settling into your chest like heavy smoke in your lungs, lingering only long enough to remind you of how it was. Just enough to make you sputter, but not enough to hold the bleak weight of it all once again.

Breath coming out heaving and choked, Eddie’s palm glides to the back of your neck. His thumb presses soothingly into the tensed and taut muscles, and as soft as air he breathes a whispered apology against your lips— a simple ‘sorry,’ but it translates to so much more when he holds you like he does. 

Sorry for bringing it up. 

Sorry for the ghosts in your lungs. 

Sorry for the years of you that died all alone with nobody to mourn them. 

Sorry that no matter how many flowers you bring to their grave, they still come back, just like this, to haunt you.

Sorry— breathed against your lips and into your lungs, filling you with the gift of a life with him in it. 

“It’s not your fault,” you answer.

“I know,” he replies.

“I’m still glad I met you when I did,” you say. 

He looks into your eyes, steady gaze sincere with a tender adornment. Entirely loving, but his usually gladness is hindered by the gravity of the moment. He moves in closer to you again, lips just barely brushing yours as he speaks. 

“I wish I had met you earlier,” he whispers.

———

ty! <3

visits to uncle waynes house

reader who can’t stand satoru but then he gets hit by a curse that turns him into a cat. you find him, to his dismay, and take him home, only for him to realize how different you are when he isn’t around to pester you.

at first, he causes a lot of trouble. breaking things in your house, tearing up the pillows. he just wants to be a human again, but nobody can understand him! but you still take care of him and coddle him no matter how much trouble he causes, so different from how people treat him normally, as if he were a nuisance (which he kind of was on purpose). and he finds himself falling for you without realizing it.

so he stops being a bad cat, steadily losing hope that he’ll ever be human again. and satoru would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t enjoy how you stroked him while you read a book or let him sleep beside you at night. maybe it wasn’t so bad? so he decided then if he was going to be just a cat, he was fine with being your cat.

the higher-ups had taken note of his absence, obviously, and he only knows cause you’ve mentioned it to him. you had this endearingweird quirk where you’d talk to him as if he were a real person.

throughout his stay in your home as a house pet, satoru finds out a lot about you. you’ve always kept to yourself, but you vent your frustrations out to him while he’s like this, and he offers his comfort the best he can. which you appreciate, rewarding him with kisses that he secretly enjoys.

once he turns human again, by some miracle, his first thought is to go and find you. and when he does, you give him the cold shoulder like you used to, and it surprises him. before he realizes that, ah, he wasn’t your pet anymore. he was gojo satoru.

satoru realizes his feelings for you in that moment. when he feels the ache in his chest from your dismissive behavior, it leads him to starting his most important mission yet—winning your heart once more.

but this time, it’ll be as a person, not a damn cat.

is your girlfriend single?

characters: ushijima, iwaizumi, sakusa

warnings: timeskip! also not beta-ed

note/s: i do not feel like writing a new piece rn so here's a lil repost from my old account (2)

(suna, atsumu, bokuto)

ushijima:

ushijima tried his hardest not to look as if he wasn't bored in the ongoing interview. well, he wasn't. but he has been told by their manager that his resting face looks very unapproachable.

he was fiddling with his fingers as the rest of his team members were answering fan questions. letting out a small smile whenever he finds some questions funny and the way that kourai reacts overdramatically. 

"ah, here's a question for big boy, wakatoshi!" kourai announced as he squinted his eyes on the influx of questions.

"yes?" ushijima responded, sitting up a bit more upright. 

"is your girlfriend single?" kourai bit his lip as he tried not to laugh at the question. 

the spiker furrowed his eyebrows in thought. 

"i do not have a girlfriend." was all he said.

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

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

"what?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

iwaizumi: 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

sakusa:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i was only reading the tweet!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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