Satori Tendou - Blog Posts

Favourite Haikyuu!! Character From Each Team

Karasuno: Tadashi Yamaguchi

Aoba Johsai: Hajime Iwaizumi

Nekoma: Morisuke Yaku

Fukurodani: Keiji Akaashi

Shiratorizawa: Satori Tendou

Inarizaki: Rintaro Suna

Reblog with your favourites!

- Ushijima and Tendou laying on the ground with the tops of their heads touching -

Ushijima: Why do you insist we lay like this?

Tendou: To test out a theory of mine about mind reading. Okay, what am I thinking about?

Ushijima: I’m not sure. What are you thinking about?

Tendou: No, try to read my mind! I’ll give you a hint: it’s a little abnormal.

Ushijima: Are you thinking about yourself and how abnormally perfect you are?

Tendou, blushing: W-what??

Ushijima: Oh, should I be more specific? How about when you get really happy and you smile so brightly that my heart skips a beat? 

Tendou: Wh-

Ushijima: Or when you get excited about a manga chapter you read and you come running to me to tell me about it in the cutest way possible? 

Tendou: No, hang on-

Ushijima: Or perhaps you are thinking about how beautiful you look when you’re not trying to impress anyone?

Tendou, choking up: ...I was thinking about a spork but o-okay.

Capa para a fanfic “O não medo de ser” escrito por Kyoji para a seção de HQ, fanfic com foco no personagem Satori Tendou, para o projeto HQNation, projeto com foco em trazer fanfics para a seção de Haikyuu!!

Se inspire! Não copie! Créditos à  ブリ照り pela arte utilizada e créditos à Marryyyeol pelos recursos disponibilizados de psd e sombreamento.

Voicemails After the Breakup (Haikyuu!! Headcanons)

*GIFs not mine*

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

Word count: 1968

Tooru Oikawa:

“I’m totally and completely over you.”

That’s how the message starts. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You suck in a breath. 

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

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

“I want you back.” 

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

“I need you back.” 

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

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

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

“I didn’t know…” 

A shaky breath. You hold yours in return. 

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

He swallows thickly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Were. 

You were his. 

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

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

“I need to see you.” 

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

“I need to go see you, I—I have to.” 

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

You should probably think he’s wrong.

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

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

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

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

Then the sound of a door slamming. 

His footsteps racing down his apartment’s stairwell.

A car engine revving. 

“I need to see you.” 

And the voicemail ends. 

_________________________

Satori Tendou: 

The message begins with a scoff of utter disbelief. 

“Is that what we’re doing now?”

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

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

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

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

He sighs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He breathes a ghost of a laugh. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tendou soughs.

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

Indecipherable Secret Code (Tendou x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: You could finally say you loved him back!...In private. You were just so nervous of how the team would react if you ever said it in public, but luckily Tendou has just the solution.

A/N: I’m so glad you guys have been enjoying my stories recently! Here’s a little Tendou imagine that I got an idea for from this prompt by @otpdisaster​. Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 1316

        The room was dark and silent, while rain trickled outside. You snuggle closer into Tendou’s lean arms and revel in the peaceful atmosphere. While basking in the aftermath of a tiring study session, you were being spooned by your red-headed boyfriend on your bed. Lightning flashed outside your window, and it suddenly gave you the courage to say what has been on your mind for a couple days now.

       “Satori?”

       “Hmm?”

       “I-” you take a deep breath, “I think I love you.” You tense in preparation for his reaction, only to feel him press his head into the back of your neck. His fingers twitch against your stomach. 

       “I’ve been waiting for you to say it back for weeks now,” he breathes out in relief. You warned him in the beginning of your relationship that you had a difficulty classifying your feelings and communicating them. Tendou had accepted it as a challenge. “I love you too,” he adds at last, grinning wildly against the back of your neck.

       “Umm.” You swallow nervously, not quite finished with the confession.

       “Yes?”

       “I do l-love you-”

       “God, I’ll never get tired of hearing that.”

       “-but I’m not exactly comfortable saying it in front of other people yet,” you rush out, twiddling your fingers next to his own. “I’m really sorry.” 

       “Don’t be,” Tendou chuckles and tugs you closer to his warm chest, “that’s completely fine.” His voice deepens and becomes quieter, more serious. “I’m just glad you feel the same way.”

       The room returns to its former silence, allowing the sound of rain splattering against your window to attract your attention. The warmth of the figure behind you begins to take its toll and your eyes flutter closed.

       “If I may ask,” Tendou pipes up once more, intertwining his long legs with your own, “What are you so afraid of?” The question leaves you red and embarrassed. Your feelings were always hard to read, but you decide to take a stab at explaining it.

       “I guess I’m just afraid people will make a big deal out of it. It is kind of abnormal for me to be all lovey dovey, you know?” Yes, it was true. You weren’t the most physically-loving person in the world. But that’s what had drawn you to Tendou in the first place. In the beginning of your relationship when he would hug you, you always hugged him a little longer than he intended, and though it made you feel self-conscious, he was always happy to hold you more and more often. 

       Touch-starved. He had called you that one day. It didn’t offend you, and you didn’t quite know if it was true, but it got you more physical contact with him, so you didn’t mind.

       “Well that is true,” he chuckles, then gasps dramatically. The sudden action causes you to flinch and his legs begin to shake against yours anxiously, wiggling the whole bed. 

       “What’s got you so excited now?” Your voice wavered thanks to his movements. He was like a puppy dog wagging its tail. 

       “I’m a genius!” Are you sure? “I have just discovered the solution to your problem.” His voice is mischievous next to your ear. Uh oh, what does that mean?

                               ~~~

       “Bean orange juice,” Tendou leaned over and whispered to you suddenly, causing your face to erupt in a blush. 

       “Bean orange juice too,” you mumble shyly, a small smile growing on your face.

       “What the hell are you two talking about?” Semi spins in his chair and sneers at the two of you in confusion. 

       “It’s code.” Tendou waggles his brows at you and you duck your burning face, hair hiding your ecstatic grin like a curtain.

       “For what?!”

       “Semi, please turn around in your chair and pay attention!” The teacher’s scolding forces him to drop the subject, but not before he throws a confused glare at the two of you. Huh, Satori was right. It works.

                               ~~~

       Volleyball practice had just finished, and you were waiting impatiently for your boyfriend to walk you home. “It’s not safe” my ass. I know how to poke someone’s eye out. 

       “YN!” Tendou races towards you and lightly smacks you on the forehead. The act makes you blink in surprise and you almost cuss him out before remembering oh right, it’s code.

       “Well right back at ya!” you smirk before thwapping your boyfriend’s forehead a little too excitedly. He stumbles back a step and you begin to sputter an apology. 

       “Oh, Satori, I’m so-” Your eyes widen in surprise when he starts to crack up. 

       “Gee, YN, I didn’t know you felt that strongly about me!” He drops a sweaty arm around your shoulders and directs you out of the gym with a wild smile, causing you to grin back up at him fondly. 

       “Okay, those two are weird, but have they always been that weird?” Shirabu furrows his brows, watching the two of you exit the schoolyard while patting each others’ foreheads repeatedly. 

       “Yes,” Semi answers, pursing his lips and shaking his head. “They’re always that weird.”

                               ~~~

        It was their first game of the season, and you wanted to give Tendou some personal encouragement before he began practice. 

       “Satori!” You wave to get his attention before jogging out to the court, wary of flying balls. His eyes gleam while he approaches you, smiling in amusement when you hold out your hand.

       “Good luck.” Your cheeks are flushed and you beam at him when he accepts the offer, shaking your hand gently. 

       “Thank you.” He winks at you and squeezes your hand once before releasing it. Goshiki watches this interaction in complete awe behind his eccentric teammate, eyes aglow while he waits as if in line. Just as you watch Tendou walk away, the first year pops up into your vision, scaring the absolute life out of you.

       “Hey YN!” He grins, sticking out his hand, “Put her there!” You giggle at his eager actions  and shake your head solemnly. 

       “Sorry Goshiki, I just don’t feel that way about you.” With a wave, you exit the gym, presumably to go cheer from the stands. Tendou smirks and pats his teammate’s shoulder before trotting over to practice. Frozen in shock, the poor spiker stares at his hand incredulously.

       “Why can’t I have a handshake?”

                               ~~~

They won, and they were going to Nationals once again. While it was nothing new for the boys, Tendou always grew excited at the fact, and you were just the same. 

       “Satori!” You raced down to the court.

       “YN! We’re going to Nationals!” He laughs joyfully after you tackle him in a hug, pressing him as close as possible to your chest. 

       “I know!” you nod with him, face stuck in a grin that was beginning to ache. “You did amazing!” Now’s your chance! Do it, YN!

       “I-” you swallow and take a deep breath, leaning back to gaze into his eyes while you finally say it in public. “I…” your chest deflates. I can’t do it. “I hate Shirabu,” you mutter, looking away ashamed. Said boy squawks in offence behind you.

       “Hey,” Tendou lifts your chin, flashing you a reassuring grin, “it’s okay.” He cups your face and draws you in closer. “I hate Shirabu too,” he whispers softly, pressing his forehead against yours. His maroon eyes are peering so adoringly into your own that you can’t help but sigh in relief, drifting forward to press your lips against his.

       Shirabu, however, is less than impressed by your words. 

       “Okay, what the fuck, you two?!”

No One but You (Tendou x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: While managing at your boyfriend’s volleyball game, a nice, blond player from another school approaches and compliments you. He had only been friendly, so why was Tendou acting so weird?

A/N: A jealous Tendou is a hot Tendou, that’s all I gotta say.

Word count: 1260

        Volleyball games were exciting; you had discovered that when you first began dating your whackjob of a boyfriend. Although, to be fair, it’s always fun to see someone you love kick other people’s asses. Either way, watching Shiratorizawa’s volleyball games inspired you to sign up for team manager. Now, as you observed Tendou whining after flubbing a practice spike over the net, you had to remind yourself of why you applied. Before-game practices were a seriously dull affair, so you always had to mind yourself with something. Although today, some random person had decided to turn your frown upside down.

        You moved into the dim hallway outside of the noisy gym, sighing as you began to refill the twenty-something water bottles at a fountain before you heard, “Hey, do you need some help with that?” The male’s voice was juxtaposingly energetic and casual all at the same time, and this piqued your interest. Turning around to view your companion, you were surprised to see a blond with an undercut and pierced ears. He was beaming, and like the sun in the morning, it almost zapped the remainder of your energy right out of you. Nonetheless, you returned his smile and nodded your head.

        “That would be great, thanks.” Your face had softened at his kindness; no one had ever offered to help you carry and fill those assloads of water bottles, and you were the only manager on the team, so his generosity was refreshing. 

        The blond carried a conversation well, and that was all thanks to his seemingly endless amount of energy. You, on the other hand, felt a little guilty every time the chatter fell flat. Not that anyone could really blame you, you don’t ever remember being taught basic conversational skills. You were just born awkward. 

        “My name’s Terushima by the way, what’s yours, gorgeous?” You flush at the compliment and focus on the water flowing in the fountain to avoid your eyes locking onto his tongue piercing. The occasional clink you heard it make against his teeth was already distracting enough. 

        “YLN,” you responded bluntly, screwing on the cap before grabbing for another. Terushima offered you a new empty bottle, and you nodded gratefully while accepting it, ignoring the way your hands brushed. Finally, you finished refills and grabbed two water racks in each hand. Catching on quickly, your volleyball player “assistant” took hold of the remaining carriers and followed your lead back into the gym.

        “So, what team did you come to support today, YLN?” he asked. “Hopefully Johzenji, if you don’t mind staying after these first games.” At his suggestion, you giggled lightheartedly and directed him to the bench on Shiratorizawa’s side. 

        Setting down the racks, you replied, “Sorry, I don’t plan on staying here any longer than I have to. I love watching volleyball, don’t get me wrong, but I like celebrating with my boyfriend after a game even more.” You didn’t notice the grimace that grew on Terushima’s face as he visibly deflated beside you. 

        “O-oh, so then, who’s your boyfriend?” he asked disappointedly. Ignorant to the sudden shift in his mood, you smiled at his question, thinking of your Guess Monster.

        “He should be right over there-”

        “Hey sweet cheeks,” a teasing voice sounded as an arm fell around your shoulders, “who’re you talking to?” Grinning at the sight of your nutso redhead, you gestured to your new volleyball friend.

        “Tendou, this is Terushima. He plays for… Johzenji, right?” You looked up to your boyfriend, only to see a familiar mischievous twinkle in his maroon eyes while his mouth curled up into a sly grin. 

        “Nice to meet you, Terushima,” Tendou spit his name as though it was poisonous, but kept a light tone, “can’t wait to play your team. If you make it far enough, that is.” Scoffing exasperatingly, you jabbed him in the side at his antagonizing slight. The blond player chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of his neck, beginning to feel suffocated by the air in the gym. 

        “Haha, yeah… so umm, look, I have to go practice, but I’ll see you around?” Terushima meant the question for you, but Tendou took over.

        “We’ll see,” the Guess Monster answered, aiming a glare at the other player. Dark, criticizing eyes tracked the blond while he walked away with tight, tense shoulders.  

        “Good luck!” you sweetly called after him before lightly smacking your boyfriend on the arm. “Quit watching him, he’s not doing anything,” you chide, rolling your eyes before returning to arranging the water bottles on the bench.

        Smirking, Tendou grabs your hips and gently spins you around, but when you make eye contact, his red orbs darken to black. Ever so slowly, he scrutinizes your face as he leans in closely and whispers, “You really need to stop letting guys flirt with you, it makes me sad.” His voice is low and playful, but the jealousy in his eyes wanders into his tone. Wanting to feel more of you, his hand moves up to your face and he brushes a lock of hair away, letting his taped fingers linger on your cheek. While you revel in the feeling of him and his warm breaths on your forehead, you can’t ignore his obviously mistaken words.

        Grabbing his hands in your own, you serenely smile up at him before shaking your head and rolling your eyes. “Satori,” you trail your fingers up and behind his neck, moving into his hair, “no one but you flirts with me.” Lightly tugging on the strands, you draw him down and brush your nose against his softly, teasing him while he groaned silently. Suddenly, Tendou remembers your statement and scoffs at your obliviousness, pulling you closer with his hands back on your hips. 

        “Oh, sweet cheeks, you have no idea, do you?” he teases, but his eyes looked lovingly back into yours. Before you knew what was happening, he pressed his lips onto yours. They tasted like cherry chapstick and you thought it was befitting. Just as he began to nibble on your bottom lip, he pulled away, bringing your mouth with before releasing. With your eyes still closed, you chased after him, only to stop when he chuckled and tapped your nose with a finger. Moaning at the loss, you opened your eyes and sulkily glared at him, a look which he returned mockingly. 

        “Don’t look at me like that, baby, I have a game to play. You’ll get me too excited,” he whined. His pupils were dilated, easily overtaking the garnet that was originally there. 

        “And that’s my problem how?” you taunted, a corner of your mouth quirking up arrogantly along with an eyebrow. 

      “Because,” he purred smoothly, “if I have to deal with it during the game, you have to deal with it the rest of the night.” Before you could react, he pressed a kiss to your cheek and walked away with a chuckle. Tendou’s words hit you like a freight train, and pink that had grown onto your cheeks from the kiss transitioned into a deep rose. You sputtered and choked on air, looking around the gym to see if anybody had seen that. Ashamed at the display the two of you had just given the entire crowd attending the volleyball games, you slumped down into your seat on the coaches’ bench, hiding your burning face in your cold hands.

Bitch, you cappin' and you big mad

I'm just fuckin' trappin', gettin' cat girls and some big bands

— Midline —

Piercer!Tendou // Fem!Reader

Warnings: tongue piercing, bad piercer practices, slight blood mentions, alcohol, and dubcon probably...

Word Count: 1140

Summary: you go to a party thrown by tendou and get a free piercing...sadly no smut in this part oops

a/n: this is only part one...say thanks to @kamoniwa for inspiring this and giving me ideas for more parts....

“I'm just fuckin' trappin', gettin' cat girls and some big bands,” the music was blasting loud enough for you to hear outside.

Each lyric rattling the windows as the bass reverberated down your spine, the air smelt of cheap booze and cigarettes, it was as familiar as any other college party your friends dragged you along too.

The only difference was that it wasn’t a college party, you and your friends had been invited by some volleyball players at your college, mentioning someone named Tendou offering free piercings to anyone who brought alcohol.

You and your friends thought it was too good to be true, nevertheless, here you were showing up with a bottle of everclear in clutch as you made your way inside.

The music only got louder as you got inside, making it nearly impossible to think as someone pointed you and your friends to the drinks.

That’s when you saw him, a room off to the side of the kitchen with a few people gathered inside, shaved red hair catching your eyes as his piercings glinted different colors in the changing strobe lights

You found yourself curious, hovering around the room before getting separated from your friends and going inside.

He was much more attractive up close, lithe fingers working quickly to pierce the person in front of him, someone you recognized as Goshiki as his friends chuckled around him and teased him.

You’d had a few shots with your friends and they were quickly catching up to you as you tried to ignore the way your stomach turned flips the longer you watched him push the needle through Goshiki’s nipple.

You could feel the butterflies in your stomach as an ache creeped it’s way into your chest at the thought of his fingers against your own nipples, the pinch of the clamp as the cool metal heats up against your body heat until the needle starts to go in and—

“Princess~”

The mocking tone dragged you out of your thoughts as your eyes met Tendou’s, a smirk playing on his lips as he waved his hand at you.

“Are you next?”

You gave him a sharp nod as you felt the heat rising to your cheeks, you knew you were caught the moment he motioned for you to sit down with a dark chuckle.

“Gettin’ your nipples pierced too then?”

“N-no,” you choked on your words as you stared at him wide eyed, you felt like a deer caught in headlights as you noticed the blown out look in his eyes.

“That’s a shame I’m sure they’d look cute on you,” the way his eyes traveled over your body with each word before hesitating on your chest had a shiver wracking through you.

“What’re you gettin’ then,” his eyes still lingered on your chest as each word reverberated with the music’s bass.

“I— uhmm—“ you hadn’t thought this far ahead before you sat down, even if you had the way his eyes were consuming you would have made you forget as you struggled to remember how to speak.

There was a deep chuckle from him as he licked his lips at the way you were squirming underneath his gaze.

You’d caught a quick glimpse of something on his tongue and finally remembered a coherent word as you pointed at his mouth.

“That,” the way he cocked his brow at your words had a coil tightening in your stomach as a devious little smirk played on his lips.

“You mean this?”

He opened his mouth, sticking his tongue out for you to see, the once hidden piercing now on full display for you as you tried to nod in response, your mind choking on the thought of how his tongue would feel between your thighs.

You tried to shake the thought from your mind as he prepped the small space, pulling out a fresh needle, piercing, and changing his gloves.

There was a nervousness budding back inside you at the sound of latex snapping against his hand, you suddenly felt sober yet intoxicated all at once as your mind went numb.

“W-what about the clamp?”

He chuckled at the nervous sound in your voice, “what do you mean?”

“Ahh a-are you going to use it?”

His laughter was even louder this time as his gloved thumb swiped over your bottom lip.

“Nah, it’s not sanitary anymore, plus it’ll hurt more so just sit real still and quiet for me princess.”

Before you could protest he had his fingers in your mouth, forcing it open as he shoved his fingers further and further back until you were gagging around them.

The taste of latex was strong as tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes, he gave you an apologetic smile but it didn’t quite meet his eyes as he watched you.

He pulled them back slowly, running them along the flat of your tongue before he had his thumb pressed under it and his forefinger holding it in place by the tip.

“This’ll hurt just a tiny bit.”

You could see the needle glint in the light and your first thought was to squeeze your eyes closed but you didn’t, you were too enthralled with the way the veins in his hands flexed with every movement of his fingers until the needle was piercing straight through your tongue.

There was a sharp pinch of pain enveloping your sense as you let out a strangled yelp, tears overflowing as you squeezed your eyes tightly shut and the taste of copper overpowered the taste of latex.

He was quick as he replaced the needle with your new piercing, a gloved hand coming up to stroke away tears on your cheek as you opened your eyes to look at him.

“All good princess?”

You nodded at him as you tried to ignore the throb in your tongue and the even more prevalent throb in your little wet cunt.

“Then up we go,” he helped you stand up before he let you sit in a chair beside him, leaning next to your ear as he began to whisper.

“I still think you’d be cute with those nipple piercings, if you give me your number later I’ll drop by your house, however, a home visit will cost you something extra.”

The last part held a dark tone in it that sent goosebumps crawling up your spine as he sat back down and turned to the next person waiting to be pierced.

He’d pulled out all the same tools as before, however, this time he pulled out an antiseptic and the clamps as he cleaned them off with a chuckle.

Despite the way your brain screamed to tell him off or to get up and leave you sat there wide eyed and lip quivering as your new piercing kept you silent.

quick photo study ft tendou in which i had no idea what i was doing but at least it was fun-

i love him chat

Haikyuu

Karasuno

Nishinoya Yu

Kageyama Tobio

Hinata Shoyo

Tsukishima Kei

Nekoma

Kuroo Tetsurou

Morisuke Yaku

Fukurodani

Bokuto Kotaro

Akashi Keiji

Shiratoni

Wakatoshi Ushijima

Semi Eita

Satori Tendo

Aoba Johsai

Oikawa Tooru

Iwaizumi Hajime

Inarizaki

Shinsuke Kita

Miya Atsumu

Miya Osamu

Others

Meian Shugo

Sakusa Kiyoomi

Hoshiumi Korai

Status: The request box is open only for the monthly one-shot voting if the characters are chosen.

Jealousy: Tendou (NSFW)

The event was a swirl of warm lighting, soft laughter, and the rich, heady scent of tempered chocolate and burnt sugar.

Somewhere in the heart of Tokyo, a five-star patisserie had been transformed into an evening affair—a private industry showcase for chefs, culinary press, and the occasional wide-eyed investor. Tendou Satori moved through the space like he belonged to it. Which, of course, he did.

You stood near the back wall, watching him with an easy smile. Even dressed in black slacks and a soft linen shirt, half-buttoned and rolled at the forearms, he looked like trouble. The smooth curve of his freshly-shaved head caught the ambient light, shining faintly as he turned in profile to greet a cluster of press. He was striking—his angular features more mature now, but his grin still full of mischief, his eyes always dancing.

You were his plus one tonight—his girlfriend, his anchor, his favorite distraction. And while you didn’t know the first thing about ganache ratios or butter emulsions, you did know the way he talked about his craft with such unfiltered joy. It was endearing. Infectious. Sexy.

The event had gone well—Tendou had been in his element, the crowd eating out of the palm of his hand as he joked his way through tasting stations and critiques. You’d lingered behind while he stayed back to help clean up, perched near the edge of the room, sipping something bubbly and watching him from afar.

That’s when Ryouta—one of the younger chefs, clean-cut and too confident—approached you again. You’d met him earlier, briefly, and now he was back, a tray of glossy pastries balanced on one hand.

“Still hungry?” he asked with a smirk, holding out a delicate lemon-honey tart on a golden tasting spoon.

“It was really good,” you admitted politely.

“Here,” he said, stepping closer, holding out a dark, glossy square balanced on a miniature spatula. “This one’s been giving me trouble all month—bittersweet ganache with orange blossom and sea salt. Let me know if it actually works this time.”

He watched you intently as you leaned forward. “It’s all about the bloom at the end. Should hit just after the salt fades.”

You bit. Smiled.

“Yeah?” he asked, already reaching into the tray again. “Alright. Try this one too—different profile, less floral.”

He held it between two fingers, lifted it toward your lips.

You hesitated. “Uh…”

“It’s fine,” he laughed. “Happens all the time at these things. No one touches anything with their own hands.”

That logic was questionable, but the dessert smelled incredible, so you took it gently from his fingers and let it melt on your tongue. Rich. Decadent. It bloomed in layers—bitter, then sweet, then citrus.

You were nodding in delight when a voice—low and sing-song—broke the moment in two.

“Well, this looks cozy.”

You turned.

Tendou stood just a few feet away, hands in his pockets, head tilted like a cat watching something wiggle in the grass. His expression was all sharp corners and candy-coated charm, but you could see it—the tension. The tightness in his shoulders. The twitch of his jaw as his eyes dragged over Ryouta’s hand, still hovering too close to your mouth.

“Oh, Satori,” Ryouta said, laughing. “She’s got a good palate. I was just letting her—”

“Feed her with your fingers?” Tendou cut in, smiling wide. “How generous.”

You blinked. “Wait, it’s not like—”

But he was already by your side. He slid an arm around your waist and plucked your champagne flute from your hand like it had offended him personally.

“We’re gonna head out,” he said cheerfully to no one in particular. “Enjoy the rest of the night. Try not to lose any more chocolates to strangers.”

And then he was guiding you—no, steering you—toward the doors. Not rough, not rude, but with enough silent urgency that you didn’t ask questions.

Not until you were in the car.

“Okay,” you said slowly. “What was that?”

Tendou didn’t answer at first. His fingers drummed against his knee, eyes fixed on the city lights flashing past the window.

You leaned in. “Satori.”

“I watched another man feed you dessert with his fingers,” he said, tone bright and clipped. “Which was wild, by the way.”

You blinked. “He’s a chef.”

He turned his head toward you, smiling a little too wide. “So am I. But I don’t let people lick chocolate off my hands unless they’re gonna moan about it later.”

Your cheeks flushed. “I didn’t moan.”

“Not yet.”

The rest of the ride was quiet. But your body wasn’t. Your heart drummed loud in your ears, a slow and fluttery pulse you could feel all the way down your arms. There was a weight behind his silence that made your thighs press together involuntarily, your breath shallow with anticipation.

Every glance he didn’t give you felt like a brush of fire, and every flex of his fingers against his knee sent a little jolt down your spine. You were still tasting the chocolate—but now it was wrapped in tension, thick with something dangerous and deeply personal. It sat behind your teeth like a promise unspoken.

But the moment the door shut behind you both at home, it was like the tension snapped loose.

Tendou grabbed your wrist and tugged you to him—not harshly, but with purpose. His mouth met yours in a kiss that was all teeth and caramel heat, hands sliding up your sides like he couldn’t decide where to hold you first.

You gasped into him. “Satori—”

“I don’t share,” he murmured, lips brushing your jaw, your throat. “Not food. Not you. Not the way you taste.”

He backed you toward the kitchen counter, palms skimming down your thighs to lift you up with practiced ease. Your legs wrapped around his waist without thinking.

“I didn’t think it would bother you,” you whispered, breath catching as he kissed your collarbone, nipping just hard enough to make you shiver.

“It didn’t,” he said, voice dark. “Until it did.”

He tugged your dress up, mouth following the line of your thigh, his hands everywhere—hot, demanding, worshipful.

“You gonna let anyone else feed you like that?” he asked, just before he slid your panties aside with two fingers.

You moaned. “No—”

“Say it.”

“I won’t,” you gasped, hips jerking as his mouth met you, tongue sweeping slow and devastating. He licked into you deliberately, like he wanted to savor every reaction—every stuttering moan, every twitch of your legs around his shoulders.

His fingers gripped your thighs tighter, holding you open while he devoured you. It built steadily—no teasing, no games—just hungry focus and the low hum of pleasure as he drank down every sound you gave him. You couldn’t stop it; your legs were trembling, your fingers tangled in his shirt as the heat curled, then peaked—

You came with a cry that echoed through the foyer, hips bucking as his name slipped broken from your lips. He didn’t stop until you were shivering, overstimulated, eyes glassy.

He looked up, mouth slick, eyes shining with something darker than mischief. “We’re not done.”

Then he stood, leaned in close, and kissed you deep—slow and messy and full of intent.

And melt, you did.

Again and again, until the only thing you could remember was how his name sounded in your mouth and how good it felt to be wanted this much.

—

The morning after, the room was quiet.

Golden light slipped through the blinds, casting soft shadows across the sheets. Tendou lay on his side, propped on one elbow, head tilted slightly as he watched you sleep. You were sprawled against the pillow, breathing slow and steady, hair tousled from his hands and the night before. The blanket had slipped down just enough to reveal the evidence.

His marks.

Your skin was littered in them—hickeys blooming along your collarbone and throat like wine-stained petals, small bruises dusting your ribs, and faint bite marks along the curve of your thigh where the sheet barely clung. Some were shallow, teasing reminders. Others were darker, deeper. Possessive.

He let his fingers trace a lazy path down your spine, not enough to wake you, but enough to feel you sigh in your sleep, your body instinctively curling toward the touch.

He smiled to himself.

“You’re covered in me,” he murmured, voice low, smug, and barely audible. His hand ghosted over the marks like he was admiring a painting he'd made just for himself.

You stirred slightly, blinking against the pillow. “You went feral,” you muttered, voice rough with sleep.

He chuckled, eyes still on you. “You liked it.”

You rolled onto your side, facing him now, the sheet falling from your shoulder.

“You got jealous over chocolate.”

“I got jealous over you.” His eyes met yours—sharp, unrepentant, glowing in the morning light. “And I’d do it again.”

You didn’t answer right away. You just leaned in and kissed him, slow and warm, lips brushing his lazily, your hand cupping his jaw.

“I think you left a tooth mark on my hip,” you whispered, breath curling against his mouth.

“Good,” he said, the corners of his lips twitching up. “Now everyone knows you’re mine.”

But Tooru had to, somehow, have the bad luck of attracting the soul-searching eyes of pretty Ushijima Wakatoshi with his taciturn nature, dry wit and soothing quiet; an ass of epic proportions simply because Tooru cannot figure out for the life of him, how a Wizard of Ushiwaka’s stand can be so terribly unimaginative and dull.

It’s off-putting to say the least and if Tooru hates anything then it’s a) people who are better than him and b) especially if they have nothing that makes them stand out from an average crowd of Wizards in The Consortium.

Traits which unfortunately also apply to Ushijima Wakatoshi.

It’s one of the reasons he doesn’t quite know what to do with Satori.

Aside from the fact that Tooru is pretty certain that he shouldn’t be caught dead with the redhead who has been excised from The Consortium at thirteen, he knows that was Satori has is special.

Tooru doesn’t know what it is, but it’s…

It has bite.

It has teeth.

There’s a prickle of something metallic and acidulously dangerous at the back of Tooru’s tongue every time he gets to witness Satori’s Magic up close and personal.

Most days, thinking about Satori makes him angry.

Nothing is set in stone and all that. But he has a really good feeling about that.

Tooru groans, loud and frustrated, and dramatically throws himself over the steps at his back. Proper, respectful Consortium Wizard rolling around in the streets like a five-year old.

His tabby Princess has slipped onto the pavement between Satori’s knees. She licks her paws, smooths them over her ears and her face- left first. Entirely unbothered by the flamboyant man next to them.

A Princess that doesn’t bother with the jester.

“Alright, Princess,” he mutters, when he finally feels the first tendrils of The Hive reaching for him and his eyes alight on the red-yellow sign of one of their street-level eateries.

He shifts her so she can burrow deeper into his hold. “If you ever had any fleas, the river drowned them good and I don’t have to be disappointed that a life on the street made it hard for you to uphold your royal standards.”

A wet, cold, nose presses against his collarbone in response and Satori feels it when she tucks herself carefully into the space he gives her. A warm, gentle weight pressing right against the beat of his soft, dumb, heart- already nine-tenths in love with her.

Tooru snaps his notebook shut with a tense face. “Again?” he snipes. “I already agreed about the front-“

“Not that,” Satori languidly interrupts the man before he can fly into another one of his rages. “But I mean, how we tried to get a look at it.”

Tooru narrows his eyes. “You also already expressed your displeasure over my idea of getting a higher vantage point,” he hisses. “Loudly.”

Well.

It did get them thrown into the damn river so Satori would really like to emphasize that it wasn’t just pettiness that had urged him to that particular folly. But that’s not the point right now. 

“You gotta stop this, princess,” he sighs as he feels the weight of her small body spreading over his feet.

The tabby looks up at him with a slow, content blink as she oozes herself all over his shoes.

“I’m gonna pick you up and bring you home if you’re not careful, and you don’t even know what kind of man I am,” he lectures her, “that’s no way to find yourself a human.” But even as he chides her, he bends, scratching her behind her dainty, bright ears.

She pushes into his touch, eyes closing into a content cat-smile and Satori can’t help but echo the sentiment.

His phone vibrates off the ledge and drops on his nose with tear-jerking insistence.

Fucker.

Satori rolls over with the grace of a half-dead street rat before he sits up, feet touching the clean, cold concrete of his apartment. Tenderly he rubs at his face, fingers prodding as he inhales deeply through his sore nose.