You’re finally back home after the celebration with his team—an elegant, slightly chaotic dinner party thrown for their hard-fought victory. the night had been loud, full of laughter, clinking glasses, and congratulations.

you had caught plenty of attention—with your charm and presence, it was impossible not to. you’d been enjoying yourself, letting loose just enough, completely unaware of how closely kiyoomi had been watching your every move.

now, as you step into the apartment, the air shifts. he’s there, solid, imposing, uncomfortably close, and your pulse skips a beat. before you can blink, kiyoomi pins you against the door with a measured, controlled force, his hands bracketing you so there’s nowhere to go. his dark eyes are narrowed, sharp as knives, calm but impossibly dangerous, radiating a tension that makes the hair on your arms stand on end.

“you’ve been… busy tonight,” he says, low and controlled, but with a subtle edge that makes your stomach tighten. “laughing with shoyo and bokuto… having drinks with meian… and… touching.. miya.” each name lands deliberately, heavy with meaning. his jaw tightens, the faintest shadow of a growl in his voice. “explain. right now. and don’t even think about lying to me.”

the apartment is quiet around you now. the laughter, the clinking glasses, the cheering of teammates—gone. just the two of you, the soft hum of the city outside, and him. the heat of his presence presses in, dominant, possessive, utterly his. you’re tipsy, hazy from the night’s wine, and still catching up to the storm hidden behind those carefully controlled eyes. until now, you hadn’t realized the jealousy simmering beneath his calm exterior. now, there’s no mistaking it.

he leans in just slightly, not enough to touch, but enough that the dark weight of his gaze makes your pulse spike. “give me an explanation,” he demands again, deliberate, edged with possessive intensity. the quiet dominance, the sharp possessiveness, it’s terrifying, thrilling—and completely him.

a pause hangs in the air as he studies your face, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. you’re still oblivious, cheeks flushed from the wine—or maybe from him—while he exhales, almost reluctantly, a slow, measured breath.

“right now, my dearest.”