Second Part Has 7,000 Words Lmfao

Thank you to everyone who got me to 500 likes!

Favourite Positions: Iwaizumi

Of all the positions Hajime loved you in, you on top riding him was definitely his favourite.

Maybe it was because he loved the way your tits bounced, how a quick pinch of your nipple would make you squeeze his cock in all the right places. Or maybe it was the way he could grab your hips, ass plush and perfect for smacking.

But if he really thought about it, it was probably because he adored your face when you rode him. No matter how many times you get on top, your reaction is always the same.

“Haj-Hajime…” You panted, face flush pink with effort as you repeatedly slammed yourself down on his thick cock, slight drool leaving the corner of your lips. Your hands were gripping the headboard for support, knuckles whitening as you used your full strength to roll and ride your hips against his, purposefully grinding right against that spot that made you see stars.

He loved watching you lose yourself in him, the once respectable and cohesive woman he fell in love driving herself rabid. All just for him.

Your movements, once smooth and consistent, start to falter with exhaustion, sweat beading down your lower back. Still, you don’t stop, lost in pleasure.

Seeing you like this always drove him wild.

“Can’t get enough, can you?” Hajime rumbled, his hand moving from your ass trailing up your spine in a way that gave you shivers. He stopped at your neck, to which he grabbed and pulled you with a newfound vigor, pulling you so close that your breasts were flush against his chest. He had the chance to look at your eyes, so lost in lust as you panted hotly in his face.

“My turn now.”

With that, his other handheld down your hips as he began to thrust up into you.

Hard.

Drool hit his neck, and Hajime began his own rhythm, with you either trying to form words or a sentence, he isn’t sure. Your moans emphasised with each thrust, mingling perfectly with his grunts. You call out his name, hands moving from the headboards to his shoulders, your fingernails pressing sharp crescent moons into his skin.

“Please, please, please!” You yell, and Hajime immediately understands you. His hand moves from your neck down to where you two become one, as he rubs your clit masterfully. It only takes a few seconds till your whole-body tenses with nirvana. He feels your walls clench around him, milking him to his finish right as you come down from yours.

With a few messy thrusts, he’s left with a soft cock, your juices all over him, and a very sleepy and happy you.

Oh, yeah. Definitely his favourite.

Confessions: Tsukishima

By third year, you'd think you and Tsukishima would've grown out of it—that exhausting little game you two played. Bickering like it was a sport, tension so thick the rest of the team had stopped trying to intervene. Kageyama used to flinch when you raised your voice. Yamaguchi had once tried to play mediator until Tsukishima shut him down with a look. Now everyone just let it happen. It was routine. Expected. Like the sun rising or Hinata yelling.

But even routines fray when they go unchecked.

Practice had been winding down when Yachi leaned in closer, her voice hushed just enough not to carry over the sound of the guys drilling serves. You were both by the bench, pretending to organize water bottles, but really—you were gossiping.

"I mean… he’s cute," she said, trying to hide her smile behind her clipboard. "And he’s nice. The captain of the basketball team asking you out isn’t nothing—you could give it a shot, right?"

You rolled your eyes, glancing toward the court—though your gaze snagged on a tall blond figure for half a second too long. "Yeah. Maybe. He’s handsome, smart, polite."

It was a lie.

You didn’t want nice.

You wanted someone else.

Someone whose voice grated on your nerves, who always had a snide comment for everything you did, who knew exactly how to provoke you and never held back.

You wanted someone who made you feel something.

Now the gym was quiet. Yachi had left twenty minutes ago, and you were the only one left locking up.

Or so you thought.

The doors creaked.

You turned, already annoyed. "I'm about to lock up—"

Tsukishima.

He stood in the doorway like he owned the place, one strap of his bag over his shoulder, golden eyes steady. Annoyingly calm. He didn’t even flinch at your tone.

You rolled your eyes. "Forgot your headphones again? Or do you just enjoy making my job harder?"

He didn’t answer. Not with words.

Instead, he stepped closer, his gaze sharp. Too focused.

Then he said it. Like it wasn’t the most jarring thing to say after a week full of snipes and insults.

“Don’t date him.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I said,”—he stepped closer—“don’t date him.”

You stared, mouth parting. You hated the way your pulse jumped. Hated it more because it was him.

“…Are you serious right now?”

His jaw clenched, but his voice stayed even. “Yeah.”

You laughed. Sharp. Bitter. “What, you get to talk shit to me every day and then play jealous boyfriend when someone else shows interest?”

“It’s not that.”

“Then what is it, Tsukishima?”

Silence.

And then, finally, something cracks in his expression. Not a smile. Not exactly. More like surrender.

“You drive me crazy,” he muttered. “But you’re all I think about.”

That shut you up. Just for a second.

He looked away first. “I’m not asking you to like me back. Just… don’t date him.”

You folded your arms, heartbeat loud in your ears. “That’s a shitty confession.”

He glanced back, and for once, his smirk was small. Almost nervous. "Would you have taken it seriously if I said it any other way?"

You paused.

“…Maybe.”

He scoffed lightly, shaking his head. "And Captain of the basketball team? Even you know you could do better. Guy probably thinks a free throw line is romantic."

There was bite in it. Smugness too—the kind that always laced his voice when he thought he had the upper hand. But underneath the jab was something messier, unspoken. Something that sounded too much like 'I care' for either of you to ignore.

But you laughed, and as you stepped past him, you caught a fistful of his collar and yanked him down just enough to crash your lips against his—firm, unrelenting, like every argument you two had ever had boiled down into a single moment.

His breath hitched, but he didn’t pull away.

You broke the kiss just as abruptly, brushing past him with heat still prickling at your cheeks.

“Just take me out this Saturday, asshole.”

Confessions: Kuroo

You knew the day was going to be shit when your coffee spilled on your white blouse before 9 a.m.

The rest unfolded like a cruel joke—back-to-back meetings that ran long, a snippy email from your supervisor that didn’t even pretend to be polite, and a presentation you’d poured hours into that got brushed aside for a 'more time-sensitive matter.' By 5 p.m., your jaw ached from how tightly you’d been clenching it all day.

So when your phone buzzed, and you saw Kuroo’s name flash across the screen, your thumb hovered over the green icon. You didn’t want to talk. You didn’t want to pretend you were fine. But you answered anyway.

“Hey,” he said, voice low and familiar. There was a pause, like he was listening for something in the silence between you. "You sound like you had a day."

You scoffed. “That obvious?”

“You get all quiet when you’re brooding.”

You didn’t reply. The lump in your throat had nothing to do with him, and everything to do with the way he could read you like this—without even seeing your face.

He waited a beat, then said, “Come out. First round’s on me.”

You started to decline—already in your sweats, already half curled on the couch—but his voice came again, coaxing.

“C’mon, I’ll even let you rant about corporate dysfunction without rolling my eyes this time.”

That got the faintest laugh out of you. And somehow, twenty minutes later, you were walking into the bar you both loved, the one tucked between a bookstore and a stationery shop, dim and warm and a little too familiar.

He was already at your usual table—second from the back, under the shelf with the crooked leg that made drinks tilt if you weren’t careful. Two pints sat on the table, and Kuroo raised one as you approached.

“Still drinkin’ like a college student?” you teased, sliding into the booth across from him.

He grinned. “Nostalgia’s a powerful thing.”

You took the glass, took a long sip, and finally sighed. It hit your system like a balm.

For the next half hour, you vented. About your boss. About the way the office printer hated you. About how you were so close to throwing your laptop out the window, and how nobody respected boundaries anymore.

Kuroo listened, as always. Interjected only when you needed him to. Smiled over the rim of his beer like he could do this for hours.

Eventually, when the flush of alcohol had softened the edges of your irritation, he leaned forward on his elbows.

“You ever think you’re just lonely?”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

He didn’t flinch. “I mean—you work hard, you don’t really date, you haven’t mentioned anyone in a while. Maybe it’s not just the job. Maybe it’s... everything else, too.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Is this your way of telling me I'm a spinster?”

He laughed, but it sounded slightly forced. “Nah. Just saying, you deserve someone good. Thought about setting you up with a friend.”

You shrugged, looked down into your drink. “I’m not interested in someone else.”

And that was the truth. You hadn’t been, not for a long time. Not since your second year of college, when Kuroo Tetsurou sauntered into your world like he owned the place—with messy hair, too much sarcasm, and the kind of quiet loyalty that wrecked you. He was all sharp teeth and soft heart, and you’d fallen harder than you wanted to admit. But you’d also accepted, long ago, that he probably didn’t see you that way. So you tucked it down. Smiled when he dated other people. Never said a word.

Until tonight.

You hadn’t meant to get drunk. Not really. You’d planned to drink just enough to take the edge off, to let the tension bleed from your muscles after a long, miserable day. But when the bartender mentioned it was two-for-one night, and Kuroo had raised an eyebrow with that stupid, charming grin, it was all too easy to shrug and say yes.

The drinks hit harder than you expected—smoother, easier, and paired with Kuroo’s low voice and quiet laughter, it was easy to lose track. What was supposed to be one drink became two, then three, and suddenly you were warm in all the soft ways that made the world a little blurrier around the edges.

Your limbs felt too light, your thoughts too soft, and every time he said your name, it rang a little louder in your chest. At some point, you’d slumped further into the booth, propping your chin in your hand and blinking slower with each refill.

“Alright,” he said finally, his voice still light but laced with concern as he reached for your nearly empty glass. “You’re cut off.”

You pouted, dragging your eyes up to meet his, but your grin stayed lazy. "Tetsu," you said, drawing out the syllables, “you’re so bossy.”

“Someone’s gotta keep your chaotic ass alive,” he muttered, even as he flagged down the bartender and handed over his card. He didn’t even look at the receipt when it came.

You watched the way his brows knit together slightly, the way he pressed his tongue against his cheek, like he was both irritated and fond at the same time. Familiar. Comforting.

He slid out of the booth and looped your bag over one shoulder, then turned to offer you his hand.

“Let’s go, before you start snoring in public.”

The air outside was crisp. Night had fallen while you were inside, and the chill that hit your cheeks brought a bit of clarity—but not much. You shivered, and Kuroo automatically shrugged off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders.

You didn’t argue. You leaned into his side, let his arm steady you as you walked together down the quiet street. His touch was careful, guiding. You kept catching faint traces of his cologne—clean and woodsy, something subtle but undeniably him.

“You smell good,” you mumbled into the fabric of his shirt.

He let out a soft snort. “Thanks.”

The cab ride was even quieter. Your head lolled gently onto his shoulder. You felt warm, and his shirt was soft, and you couldn’t stop your lips from parting with sleepy little compliments.

“I like your voice,” you whispered.

He glanced down at you, mouth twitching. “You’re gonna regret this tomorrow.”

“Am not,” you slurred. “You're very kissable. Did you know that?”

Kuroo closed his eyes for a second, breathing in through his nose like he was trying very hard not to react. Under his breath, barely audible over the hum of the city outside the cab, he whispered, "God, it's me again. Let her remember this so I can see the look on her face tomorrow."

When you arrived at his apartment, he paid the driver with one hand and guided you out with the other, keeping his hold steady on your waist. You stumbled once on the sidewalk and clutched at his hoodie.

“Easy,” he murmured, his fingers tightening just a little.

His apartment was dark and quiet when you entered. He didn’t bother with the lights—just led you toward the couch by memory, his hand never leaving yours. You swayed a little as you collapsed onto the cushions, blinking up at him.

“Always takin’ care of me,” you said, voice soft and blurred at the edges. “You’re good at that.”

Kuroo crouched to untie your shoes, brows drawn. “Well, someone’s gotta keep you upright.”

You leaned forward, still gripping the front of his hoodie, and he didn’t pull away. Your eyes met his, blurry but intent, and your lips quirked upward.

“I love you, you know.”

Kuroo froze.

The words were slurred but clear enough to punch the breath out of him.

Your voice dropped lower, more sincere. “I love you. Since the moment I saw you.”

He stopped breathing.

His hands hovered mid-motion over your shoes, his fingers curled like they forgot what they were doing. Slowly, carefully, he lifted his head to look at you.

“What?”

But your head tipped back onto the couch, your eyes fluttering shut.

“I love you,” you repeated, softer this time. “I’ve always loved you.”

“Wait—” he tried again, voice sharper now, a tremor hidden underneath.

But your breathing was already evening out, lips slightly parted, lashes resting against your cheeks. You were out cold.

Kuroo knelt there for a long moment, just staring. The words still rang in his ears, ricocheting through his ribs like they didn’t quite belong to reality.

He sat back slowly, knees folding underneath him, and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. Then he dragged his fingers through his hair and stood up, walking into the kitchen without really seeing.

The quiet of the apartment wrapped around him like a weight.

“…Whoa.”

--

The morning comes slowly, dragging a dull headache and a dry mouth with it.

You blink against the sunlight bleeding through unfamiliar curtains, your body heavy, brain sluggish. There’s the faint hum of a coffee machine somewhere nearby. The smell is strong and bitter and achingly welcome.

It takes you a minute to remember where you are. The couch. Kuroo’s apartment. The drinks. Your stomach twists as snippets of the night flicker back—his arm around your waist, the way he guided you up the stairs, the sound of his laugh.

You sit up with a groan, head pounding as the room spins for a second. Your clothes are wrinkled, your mouth tastes awful, and your memories are slippery at best. But when you swing your legs off the couch and catch sight of him—Kuroo, in the kitchen, hair messy, hoodie sleeves shoved up as he stirs something in a mug—you feel it.

That deep, crawling dread.

He looks over as you shuffle in, blinking groggily. “Morning, sunshine.”

You grunt, dragging yourself to the counter as he slides a mug across to you without a word. You catch it with both hands, the warmth seeping into your skin. It’s blessedly hot. And quiet.

You sip slowly, staring into the cup, your head still throbbing. The silence stretches. He doesn’t speak. Just leans against the counter and sips from his own mug like this is normal. Like you didn’t say something earth-shattering last night.

Eventually, he breaks it. “You remember anything from last night?”

You blink, then close your eyes for a second, willing your sluggish brain to scroll back through the hazy reel of the evening. “We went to the bar,” you murmur slowly. “You were already there when I came in. There was a drink waiting. A pint—of course. I think I complained about work for forty-five minutes straight.”

You pause to take a sip of coffee, your eyes still narrowed in concentration.

“I had the first two drinks faster than I should have. You were teasing me about my tolerance—"

You stop.

The cab. His jacket. His arm around your waist. The stairs.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, a spike of panic hitting your chest. “And you helped me back to your pla—OH MY GOD.”

Kuroo raises a brow, trying—failing—to hide the smirk that curls onto his face.

You set the mug down a little too hard. "I didn't mean it," you blurt, voice too high. "I mean—I was drunk. Very drunk. You know how I get, right? I say stupid things, I—"

You wave a hand vaguely in the air, flushing deeper. "It didn’t mean anything. I mean, obviously I care about you, we’ve always been really good friends, and I didn’t—"

Your words trip over themselves like dominoes, spiraling into panic as you try to claw your way out of whatever you admitted the night before. Your face is on fire, your fingers drumming anxiously against the side of your mug.

And Kuroo just watches you, quietly amused. Something fond in his eyes. Like he’s letting you run your mouth on purpose.

Then he sets down his cup, crosses the space between you, and gently cups your face in his hands.

You freeze.

“And here I was thinking I’d break first,” he says, voice low and warm.

You stare at him, mouth parted, utterly lost.

“…But you wanted to set me up…?” you whisper, your voice cracking mid-sentence.

He huffs a laugh, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “Oh, screw that. You’re mine now.”

You blink up at him, blinking hard like your brain is trying to keep up. “Wait, you mean that?”

He nods slowly, his hands still cradling your face. “I do. I meant it last night, too. You passed out before I could say anything, but I meant to.”

There’s a pause, the kind that’s too soft to be awkward—just full of all the things that didn’t have time to be said. “I’ve loved you for a long time,” he adds quietly, voice going a little rough at the edges. “Guess I just needed you to drunkenly beat me to it.”

The laugh that slips out of you is half a breath and half a sob, surprised and stunned and disbelieving. “Oh my god.”

He grins, leaning his forehead against yours for a second, and the two of you just stand there, smiling quietly into each other like the world finally makes sense.

Then you squeeze his hands once, step back with a wince, and say, “I’m going to go throw up.”

He lets go of you immediately, one eyebrow lifting. “From excitement?”

You’re already wobbling toward the bathroom, one hand raised in defeat. “Alcohol poisoning.”

He leans against the counter, grinning to himself. “Yeah, that too.”

Rivalry: Terushima

The club room door slammed open, rattling on its hinges.

“WHERE IS HE?!”

The team froze.

A half-eaten rice ball hit the floor. Water was choked on. Someone knocked over a sports bag in their rush to get out of the way.

Higashiyama whispered, “Oh, shit.”

Futamata grabbed Bobata’s arm. “Is it too late to run?”

Bobata just stared, resigned. “We’re already in the splash zone.”

But the one person who should have been afraid? He wasn’t.

Terushima barely had time to lift his head before you snatched him by the collar and slammed him against the wall, forearm pressing hard against his chest, pinning him in place.

A sharp oof left his lips, but even as you glared daggers at him, even as your breath came in sharp, furious exhales—

He grinned.

“Oh, wow,” he murmured, eyes flickering with something dangerous—something excited. “Didn’t realize you liked it rough.”

Your grip tightened. “Would you care to explain to me why I was just called into the principal’s office to be chastised for my so-called proposal for the volleyball team to offer shirtless pictures as a way to increase funding?”

The entire team collectively inhaled.

Futamata wheezed. “Oh my god.”

Higashiyama muttered, “That’s gotta be a new record for dumbassery.”

Bobata just covered his face with his hands.

Meanwhile, Terushima blinked at you, head tilting back against the wall as he let out a slow, amused exhale. “Damn. They really thought you—?” He laughed, shaking his head. “That’s actually incredible.”

“You absolute menace,” you snapped, shoving against his chest slightly before pressing him back down again. “You submitted that under my name.”

Terushima’s hands lifted lazily, like he was some innocent bystander in all this. “Now, now, let’s not jump to conclusions—”

“Jump to conclusions?” Your voice rose, incredulous. “You’re really about to stand here, pinned to a wall, and try to tell me I did this to myself?”

“Well—”

Futamata cut in, laughing in disbelief. “He’s gonna try it. He’s really gonna try it.”

And then, the real nail in the coffin—

Bobata scoffed, shaking his head. “He’s just trying to get Yoko Nakamura to date him.”

Silence.

Terushima’s expression dropped. “EXCUSE ME?”

Higashiyama immediately nodded. “Oh, yeah. Didn’t Yoko say she liked guys who were ‘confident but not too cocky’?”

Futamata grinned. “And someone said, ‘Hey, I know a way to prove I’m the perfect mix of both.’”

Your jaw dropped. “So you mean to tell me—” You exhaled sharply, shoving against Terushima’s chest one last time. “You pulled me into this mess because of a crush?!”

“Okay, first of all, I wouldn’t call it a crush—”

You leaned in, voice low and sharp as a knife. “Listen to me, very carefully, Terushima.”

For the first time, his smirk faltered.

“If you ever pull something like this again—if you ever use my name for one of your dumbass ideas, if you ever make me sit through another awkward meeting where the principal is looking at me like I’m about to pull out a portfolio of thirst traps—”

Futamata audibly snorted, but you didn’t even acknowledge it. Your glare burned into Terushima.

“I will make your life a living nightmare.”

The air in the room shifted.

You saw it—that flicker in his eyes.

Not fear. No, that wasn’t what you were going for.

It was something else.

A slow, sharp, assessing look. The slight way his jaw tightened, the way his smirk wasn’t quite as smug as before.

It was the realization that you were dead serious.

For a long moment, neither of you moved.

Then, finally, finally, you let him go.

The second you stepped back, Terushima rolled his shoulders, exhaling deeply like he had to shake off whatever had just happened.

You, on the other hand, turned on your heel with a huff and stormed out, calling over your shoulder, “Get your act together, Terushima. Or don’t—I don’t care. Just stay the hell out of my way.”

The door slammed shut behind you.

Silence.

All eyes turned to Terushima.

He glared back. “What?”

Bobata shook his head, exasperated. “Honestly? Pulling her pigtails in the schoolyard would be more subtle than this.”

Terushima scowled, running a hand through his hair. “You’re all full of shit.”

Higashiyama shrugged. “Dude. She literally had you pinned.”

Futamata snickered. “I dunno, man. She got the last word and left you looking stupid. You sure you’re not into that?”

Terushima threw his head back with an exaggerated groan. “I hate all of you.”

But even as he muttered under his breath, even as he grumbled about his entire team being traitors, his eyes flickered toward the door.

And for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t entirely sure who had won that exchange.

Cursed Fate: Chapter 1

"You’re not alone, you know."

Kaito’s eyes flickered open, the memory of that night drifting back into her mind like an unwanted visitor. She was small again—too small—sitting curled up in the corner of a room that wasn’t hers, in a world that still didn’t feel real. Even though she was saved and brought to Jujutsu High, she still felt the cold grip of fear in her chest, like she was being watched.

And, of course, she was. She could always feel them, even now—lingering just beyond her sight, in the shadowy corners of her vision. The forms. The things that had followed her since… since forever.

"They’re still there, aren’t they?" a voice broke through the silence, softer than usual. It was Panda, sitting cross-legged beside her on the floor, much smaller than he was now, his black-and-white fur glowing faintly in the dim light.

Kaito didn’t respond. She didn’t need to. Panda always knew when something was wrong, even if she didn’t say a word. She felt his round eyes on her, not prying but patient.

"You don’t have to talk about it," Panda said quietly, leaning back on his paws. "But, you know, I get it."

Kaito’s eyes shifted slightly, her brows furrowing. She doubted that. No one could understand what it was like to always be haunted by… them. The cursed forms that had attached themselves to her. They never left her alone. Not for a second.

But then Panda continued, as if sensing her disbelief. "I’ve got them too, you know."

Kaito’s gaze finally moved toward him, narrowing. 

"What?"

"My siblings," Panda said, tapping his chest lightly with a paw. "They’re not like most people’s brothers and sisters. They’re inside me. I can feel them all the time, just like you can feel…" He trailed off, not pressing further, but Kaito knew what he meant.

"You mean they’re part of you," Kaito muttered, her voice a little sharper than she intended. She didn’t mean to sound rude, but the comparison felt off. Her… whatever they were… didn’t feel like family. They felt like threats. Like she was constantly one bad moment away from losing control.

Panda just shrugged, his easygoing smile never faltering. "Yeah, they are. But they’re still with me, always. It’s not so bad, once you get used to it. I think it’s like that for you too."

Kaito scowled. "It’s not like that." Her fists clenched at her sides, frustration bubbling up. "They’re not… they’re not like siblings."

Panda didn’t flinch at her tone. He just nodded, tilting his head thoughtfully. "Maybe not exactly. But they’re still part of you, right? And that means you’re in charge. No matter how loud they get, you’re the one calling the shots."

Kaito scoffed, but deep down, she wanted to believe him. How could he make it sound so easy? He said it like it was the most natural thing in the world, to live with something inside you that you couldn’t control.

But the way he said it—like it wasn’t a curse, but something normal—made her chest feel a little less tight.

"It’s not about them controlling you," Panda added gently. "It’s about you making them part of your strength. You’re stronger than you think, Kaito."

She didn’t answer, but her fists slowly unclenched, the tension in her body easing just slightly. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was about more than control.

"You don’t have to do it alone," Panda said, his voice soft but steady. "You’ve got me, and Yaga-sensei. And hey, I’m your big brother now, so I’ll help you with whatever’s going on in that head of yours."

The words sunk in slowly, their weight sitting with her as she sat in the quiet. Panda, despite being younger than her in terms of creation, always had a way of making her feel safe, even when she didn’t want to admit it.

Kaito exhaled slowly, the heavy knot in her chest loosening just a little. She wasn’t ready to believe everything he said, but it was the first time in a long while that she didn’t feel completely lost.

---

“Kaito!”

The door to her room slammed open with a loud crash. Kaito groaned, already knowing exactly who was responsible before she even opened her eyes. She threw a hand over her face and mumbled into her pillow, "Is it too much to ask for a normal wake-up call?"

Panda’s heavy footsteps stomped into the room, his towering figure making the space feel smaller as he leaned over her bed, his grin as wide as ever. "I tried knocking last time, remember? You threw a book at me."

"I missed on purpose," Kaito grumbled, rolling over to face the wall, making it clear she wasn’t ready to start the day.

Panda flopped onto the edge of her bed, clearly not getting the hint. "Yaga’s sent me to get you. And you know how he gets when someone doesn’t show up on time."

"Yeah, yeah. What’s the grand lecture about this time? Do I need more ‘self-discipline’? Or maybe it’s about how I ‘lack focus’? Really looking forward to hearing that for the hundredth time." Kaito’s voice dripped with sarcasm, but she sat up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She was used to Yaga’s never-ending lessons about responsibility and discipline—it was practically a tradition by now.

"Actually, no lecture this time," Panda said, leaning in with an exaggerated whisper. "You’ve got a mission."

Kaito’s eyes opened fully, now interested. "A mission? What kind of mission?"

Panda shrugged, still grinning. "Something about cursed objects. Yaga didn’t give me the full details, but he seemed serious about it."

Kaito sighed and dragged herself out of bed, grabbing her jacket off the chair. "Great. If Yaga’s serious about it, then it’s probably not good news."

Panda bounded to the door, waiting for her. "Don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll be fine! I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?"

Kaito gave him a withering look as she pulled on her boots. "You know you’re never supposed to say that, right? You’re just begging for something to go wrong."

Panda chuckled, completely unbothered. "What can I say? I like living dangerously."

"Yeah, well, let’s just hope I don’t regret getting out of bed for this," Kaito muttered, more to herself than to Panda, as they made their way to the main hall.

__

By the time Kaito reached the main hall, Panda had disappeared to do whatever it was Panda did when he wasn’t annoying her. She dragged her feet a little as she approached Yaga, already preparing herself for whatever this "mission" was.

"Finally," Yaga said, arms crossed as he watched her approach. "You’re late."

"Technically, Panda’s late," Kaito said, raising a lazy hand as if to make a point. "I blame him for being a terrible alarm clock."

Yaga’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she could tell he wasn’t in the mood to argue. He waved a hand dismissively. "We don’t have time for your usual excuses, Kaito. This isn’t a lecture. I’m assigning you an important mission."

Kaito raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "No lecture? Are you sure you’re feeling okay? Should I call Gojo to check your temperature?"

Yaga’s expression didn’t waver. "Keep the jokes to a minimum. You’re going to retrieve a cursed object—a finger of Ryomen Sukuna."

Kaito’s sarcastic smirk faded instantly. Sukuna? The King of Curses. She’d heard the stories, knew how dangerous even a piece of him could be. And now Yaga wanted her to go after one of his cursed fingers?

"Wait, wait, wait," Kaito said, holding up both hands in mock surrender. "You’re sending me to get a finger from the King of Curses? Isn’t that like… serious cursed energy business? Don’t you usually send, I don’t know, someone who doesn’t skip morning runs for stuff like that?"

Yaga’s gaze remained steady. "You’ve been training for this, Kaito. You’re more than capable of handling the retrieval. Fushiguro will be accompanying you."

Kaito snorted. "Fushiguro? Great. Can’t wait for him to stare at me with that deadpan face while I’m trying not to die."

"Fushiguro is a capable sorcerer," Yaga said, ignoring her joke. "You’ll work well together."

"Yeah, if I don’t fall asleep mid-conversation," Kaito muttered under her breath, though the knot in her stomach tightened. Sukuna’s finger wasn’t just some random cursed object—they were talking about one of the most dangerous relics in existence. And she wasn’t sure she was ready for something like that.

"So, let me get this straight," Kaito continued, her sarcasm now a thin veil for her growing anxiety. "You want me, your most undisciplined, least reliable student, to go pick up a piece of the literal King of Curses? Do you really think that’s a good idea?"

Yaga’s expression softened, just a fraction. "You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, Kaito. I wouldn’t send you if I didn’t think you could handle it."

Kaito shifted her weight, rubbing the back of her neck, but Yaga wasn’t finished.

"You’ve come of age," Yaga said, his tone steady but not without a hint of pride. "You’re sixteen now, and that means you’re officially enrolled in Jujutsu Tech. You’re no longer the kid we took in—you’re a sorcerer in training. It’s time for you to start taking on missions like this."

Sixteen. That word hit Kaito harder than expected, but not in the way Yaga probably intended. Sixteen meant officially a part of Jujutsu Tech. Sixteen meant she was supposed to have things figured out—be someone reliable. Instead, all she could think about was how long she’d been stuck here, training, being told she was getting stronger, but never really feeling it.

She thought back to when Yaga and the others took her in, back when she was just a mess of anger, confusion, and too much cursed energy for her own good. She hadn’t wanted their help then. Hell, she didn’t even like them at first. She’d been dragged into Jujutsu Tech like a problem that no one could fix. And, if she was being honest, she still felt like that sometimes—like the chaotic mess they hadn’t managed to iron out yet.

And now Yaga was saying she wasn’t that kid anymore. Like she’d somehow become this competent sorcerer-in-training overnight just because she’d hit a milestone. As if being sixteen made her any less of a wreck.

Kaito crossed her arms, her voice dropping as she glanced away. "I don’t know… it’s been quiet lately. Too quiet." She didn’t say it outright, but Yaga knew exactly what she meant. Her cursed forms—she hadn’t heard from them in months. And the silence was getting to her.

"I haven’t felt anything from them," she muttered. "No sign, no noise. It’s like they’re waiting for something… I don’t know if I’m ready for this."

Yaga stepped closer, his voice calm but firm. "The silence isn’t a warning, Kaito. It’s a sign that you’re gaining control. They aren’t running the show anymore—you are."

Kaito’s throat tightened. She wanted to believe him, but the silence felt too eerie, too unnatural. "Or it means they’re waiting for the perfect moment to throw me under the bus."

Yaga shook his head. "You’re in control. Don’t let your doubts get the better of you."

Kaito glanced at him from the corner of her eye, her arms still crossed tightly. "I don’t know, Yaga… What if they take over at the worst possible moment?"

Yaga’s hand landed on her shoulder, and she reluctantly met his eyes. "They won’t. You’ve trained hard for this. You’re ready."

Kaito let out a slow breath, the sarcasm slipping from her voice. "If you say so…"

Yaga stepped back, his usual serious expression returning. "You leave in an hour. Fushiguro’s already been briefed. This is a retrieval mission—get in, secure the object, and get out. If things escalate, you know what to do."

Kaito nodded, though the weight of the task still sat heavily in her chest. "Got it."

But as she turned to leave, she couldn’t help herself. "I guess I’ll just let Fushiguro do all the talking. If he doesn’t creep everybody away."

Yaga sighed but didn’t comment.

__

Kaito walked across the sun-dappled training grounds of Jujutsu Tech, the early morning chill still lingering in the air. Her hands were buried deep in her jacket pockets, and though the weather was crisp and clear, her mind felt far from it. The weight of the mission Yaga had just dropped on her made each step feel heavier than the last.

Ahead, under the shade of a large tree, sat Megumi Fushiguro. He was leaning back against the trunk, his usual stoic expression fixed in place, a folder of mission notes open in his lap. Even from a distance, Kaito could tell that nothing had changed about him—his sharp, serious gaze, the way he seemed to hold himself as though he carried the world on his shoulders. He’d always been like that, ever since middle school, though he used to have a rougher edge back then. Kaito had seen the transformation firsthand—the delinquent who ditched class for fights now carried the weight of a sorcerer’s responsibility, his once reckless nature now channeled into something far more disciplined.

She approached him slowly, hands still shoved into her pockets, and smirked as she sat down beside him on the grass, kicking her legs out in front of her.

"You look like someone who actually cares about this mission," she said, her tone light but teasing.

Fushiguro didn’t look up from the papers in his hand. "You’re late."

"Huh, why does everyone say that?" Kaito replied, rolling her eyes with a grin. "If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had a personal vendetta against clocks."

"You'd be late even if you were the one setting the time," Fushiguro muttered, still focused on the pages.

"Always so dramatic," Kaito said, lying back on the grass and folding her arms behind her head. "Anyway, you ready for this mission, or should I give you a pep talk?"

Fushiguro finally looked up from the papers, giving her a long, slow glance before turning his attention back to his notes. "I think I’ll survive without your motivational speeches."

Kaito snorted softly, looking up at the blue sky through the leaves above them. "Yeah, you would. You’d probably outlive all of us with that stone-cold attitude of yours."

They fell into a comfortable silence for a few moments, the rustling of leaves in the breeze filling the space between them. Kaito could feel the tension coiled tight in her stomach, but Fushiguro’s calm presence next to her, however serious, was oddly reassuring.

"So," Kaito said, finally breaking the quiet, "Yaga told me we’re dealing with Sukuna’s finger. Gotta say, wasn’t expecting that when I woke up this morning."

Fushiguro’s brows knit together as he closed the folder and rested it on his lap. "It’s not the first time we’ve encountered cursed objects like this, but Sukuna’s fingers are on another level. The cursed energy they radiate has already started to affect the surrounding area."

"Rural, right?" Kaito asked, recalling what little Yaga had mentioned about the mission’s location.

Fushiguro nodded. "It’s been causing disturbances there for days. We need to get in, secure the object, and get out before more curses gather around it."

Kaito exhaled slowly, her breath fogging in the cool air. She sat up, hugging her knees to her chest as she stared at the ground. "Right. Just retrieve one of the most dangerous cursed objects in existence. Simple."

Fushiguro glanced at her sideways, his expression neutral but observant. "You’ve been on missions before."

"Yeah, but not like this," Kaito muttered, her fingers absently picking at the grass beneath her. "This is Sukuna we’re talking about. And to make it worse, I haven’t felt anything from… you know… them."

Fushiguro didn’t need her to explain. He knew what she meant—the cursed forms that lived within her. He’d seen glimpses of their destructive potential before, but hearing that they were dormant was… strange. "You mean they’ve been quiet?"

"Too quiet," Kaito said, frowning. "It’s like they’re lying in wait. I don’t like it. Silence like this makes me paranoid."

Fushiguro was quiet for a moment, processing what she’d said. Then, in his usual matter-of-fact tone, he replied, "It’s probably a good thing. If they’re quiet, it means you’ve been keeping them in check."

Kaito chuckled dryly, shaking her head. "That’s a popular opinion. Tends to be the thing most people choose over the possibility of them waiting for the perfect moment to screw me over."

Fushiguro didn’t respond immediately, his dark eyes scanning her face as if assessing whether she believed what she was saying. "You’ll handle it," he said after a pause, his voice steady. "You always do."

Kaito raised an eyebrow, surprised at the hint of reassurance in his words. She’d known Fushiguro for years—first as the delinquent who never seemed to take anything seriously, and now as the no-nonsense sorcerer who could keep his cool in the worst of situations. It was strange, hearing him say something so… supportive.

"Look at you," she said, smirking as she nudged him with her elbow. "Who would’ve thought the kid who used to skip class to pick fights would turn into this? All grown up and serious now."

Fushiguro barely reacted, though Kaito could see the flicker of something—amusement, maybe—in his expression. "People change."

"Yeah, they do," Kaito replied, tilting her head slightly. "But you were way more fun when you had a rebellious streak. Where’s the guy who used to get into trouble?"

Fushiguro gave her a pointed look. "I don’t miss those days, and neither should you."

Kaito laughed, shaking her head. "Yeah, okay, Mr. Responsible. But admit it, you miss the days when I used to make fun of you for being a troublemaker."

"I don’t," Fushiguro said flatly, but the faintest hint of a blush tugged at the tips of his ears.

Kaito leaned back on her hands, her eyes tracing the outlines of the clouds above them. "Well, either way, I’m glad you’re coming on this mission with me. I’d rather not face Sukuna’s cursed energy alone, and I’m sure you’ll keep me from doing something stupid."

"I’ll do what I can," Fushiguro replied, though his voice was as neutral as ever. "But we should keep the focus on retrieving the object. The longer we’re there, the more dangerous it gets."

"Ironic," Kaito muttered, thinking about the cursed energy buildup Fushiguro had mentioned. "I haven’t been out to the country in ages, but I’m guessing this won’t be a sightseeing trip."

Fushiguro stood, brushing off his pants as he did. "We’ll head out in an hour. The mission should be straightforward if nothing unexpected happens."

"Yeah, because nothing ever goes wrong on these things," Kaito replied sarcastically, standing up beside him. "But sure, let’s keep it simple. In, grab the finger, out. Easy peasy."

Fushiguro gave her a long, steady look. "Just follow the plan."

Kaito smirked, tossing her hands behind her head. "Oh, you know me—I’m great at sticking to plans. You just better keep up."

"Right," Fushiguro said dryly, but he didn’t seem too concerned. He started toward the gate, and Kaito followed, her steps feeling a little lighter now that she had something to focus on.

As they walked toward the exit, she couldn’t resist one more jab. "So, what is the plan? You let your shikigami do all the work while I stand back and look cool?"

Fushiguro glanced at her, his expression unchanging. "Has anyone ever told you you’re not funny?" Kaito’s expression also didn’t change. 

“Yeah.”

Fushiguro said nothing, though Kaito thought she caught the faintest smirk as they headed off toward the dorms. Maybe it wasn’t going to be as bad as she’d thought. Or maybe that was just her convincing herself.

Pregnancy: Atsumu

You’re two months pregnant and absolutely glowing. There’s a nervous excitement in your every breath, your hand constantly drifting over your still-flat belly as if to check that it’s real. That there’s really a little life growing inside you. A little Miya, curled up and getting bigger by the day.

You’re in the passenger seat of the car, heading toward your very first ultrasound appointment. The windows are down, and the soft spring breeze is curling through your hair as the late morning sun streams through the windshield. Everything feels light. Hopeful. Surreal.

Atsumu is driving one-handed, his other resting on your thigh, thumb tracing idle circles against your leggings. He hums quietly to the radio, lips twitching into a smile every time he glances over at you.

“Y’know,” he says after a moment, “I been thinkin’ about what kind of nose they’ll have. Hopefully yours. Mine’s too pointy.”

You let out a soft laugh, the kind that bubbles up without effort. “As long as they don’t have your drama.”

“Hey!” he protests, though he’s still smiling as he squeezes your leg. “They’re allowed a little flair. They are mine, after all.”

You roll your eyes fondly, fingers tangling with his at the next red light. He lifts your joined hands to press a kiss to your knuckles before driving on.

When you pull into the clinic parking lot, your nerves start to set in—low and creeping. It’s your first time seeing the baby. Hearing a heartbeat. It makes everything feel suddenly, painfully real.

The waiting room is quiet, with soft instrumental music playing and the smell of hand sanitizer hanging in the air. You’re seated beside Atsumu, your knees bouncing ever so slightly as your mind races ahead. His hand is still in yours, firm and grounding.

When the nurse finally calls your name, you squeeze his fingers a little tighter.

The exam room is dimly lit, calm, with a monitor beside the table and soft instructions given as you lie back. You wince slightly at the cold gel, heart pounding in your ears as the technician glides the wand over your stomach.

She squints at the screen. Tilts her head.

Then her eyes widen slightly.

“Oh.”

You stiffen. “What? What is it? Is something wrong?”

She’s quick to reassure you. “No, no—everything looks good. It’s just... you’re having twins.”

Silence.

Atsumu leans in closer, eyes squinting at the screen. “Twins?”

“Twins,” the technician repeats, pointing to two distinct little shapes. “You see here? Two sacs. Two heartbeats.”

Your gaze locks onto the screen. Two. Not one. Not the tiny flutter you’d been preparing for, but two.

A sudden wave of panic crashes over you.

“Two?” you echo, your voice a shaky whisper. “Like... two babies? At the same time?”

The technician gently clears her throat. "Well, it’s a little early to know for sure if they’re fraternal or identical, but yes—twins."

You feel your breath hitch, the room growing smaller around you. “That’s two car seats. Two cribs. Two births. Two newborns crying at once—”

Your hand grips Atsumu’s forearm, eyes wide as your mind races. “I don’t—I wasn’t ready for two. I barely wrapped my head around one.”

You’re still staring at the screen when Atsumu shifts closer to the bed, his hand still resting lightly on yours.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Breathe for me, okay?”

You turn toward him with wide, overwhelmed eyes. “Tsumu... that’s two babies. That’s two of everything. What if I can’t—what if I’m not enough for both of them?”

“You are,” he says instantly, without hesitation. “You will be. We will.”

But your hand flails toward his forearm like it needs something to latch onto. “This is your fault. You and Osamu. You cursed me with twin genes!”

He stares at you, stunned. “What?! How is this my fault?”

“Because you’re a twin! That’s how!”

The technician offers a gentle smile, still watching the monitor. “Actually, twins are likely influenced by the mother’s genetics. So if anyone ‘passed it down,’ it’s likely you.”

You blink slowly. “So... it’s me?”

Atsumu exhales—relieved. “See? I didn’t do this! You doubled down on your own.”

Your head snaps toward the technician, eyes wide and blinking rapidly, a storm of disbelief swirling behind them. You don’t say anything—but your look says plenty.

The technician catches the expression immediately and offers a placating smile, lifting her hands lightly. "I’ll give you two a minute," she says gently, already stepping toward the door, and quietly slips out of the room, pulling it closed behind her with a soft click.

You drop your head back onto the exam pillow with a muffled groan. “I don’t know how to do one baby. Let alone two. That’s double the crying. Double the diapers. Double the college funds.”

Atsumu leans down until his forehead presses softly to yours. His hand finds yours again, grounding you with the warmth of his palm and the way his thumb strokes soothingly across your skin.

“Hey,” he says, voice low and gentle. “Breathe. We’ll figure it out.”

You don’t answer right away, eyes still locked on the monitor where two flickering heartbeats pulse in rhythm.

He kisses your forehead, slow and reassuring. “We’ll go one diaper at a time. One bottle at a time. One late-night rocking session at a time. We’re gonna be okay.”

Your lip trembles. “Are we?”

He smiles, brushing your hair back from your forehead. “I’m not lettin’ you do this alone. You’re stuck with me, baby. Me, and the two little monsters we made.”

You laugh wetly, a mix of shock and affection tangled in your chest. He leans down and kisses you again—cheek, then jaw, then temple—before turning to look back at the screen.

And in the glow of that monitor, with two tiny heartbeats tapping out the rhythm of your future, Atsumu squeezes your hand and whispers:

“They’ve already got the best mom in the world. The rest’ll be easy.”

You sit up slightly and reach for him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a hug, your chin resting against his shoulder. “Thank you,” you whisper, voice thick with emotion. “I needed to hear that.”

Photographs (Tsukishima x Reader Pt. 1)

You had been accepted to do a foreign exchange student program in Japan. For the rest of your high school career, you would be living in a completely different country and culture, filled with people with different mannerisms from you.

And you couldn’t be more thrilled.

From a young age you had been studying the country, its culture, and their language. Reading, writing, and speaking for hours on end ever since you were nine. It simply enthralled you, for no particular reason. While it’ll never be the most useful language, you didn’t care. You found beauty in it, and it made you happy.

So, when you found an opportunity at your local high school to travel to the country you always wanted to, you jumped at the chance. Your parents were a little hesitant at first, not exactly keen to the thought of their child leaving for a huge majority of the year, but, to your honest surprise, you had managed to convince them after few weeks of begging. The easy part was getting accepted; Since you spoke the language at a high level, they couldn’t have found a better candidate. All that was left was the paperwork and the preparations necessary.

Which only took a whole year.

To say you were impatient was a bit of an understatement, but once you had completed your first year at your local high school, they had given you the exciting news that next year you would be attending Karasuno High school in Miyagi. You were so ecstatic that the next couple of weeks flew by and soon you were on the plane heading to your greatest dream true.

When you got off the plane, you were greeted by your host family that you would be staying with for the rest of the program. It was quite a small family, with a single mother and two brothers. Not that you had minded. The mother and the oldest son, Akiteru, his name was, seemed quite nice actually, both exhibiting a friendly and pleasant aura. They were comforting to talk to and had settled any kind of nerves you had mustered on the plane.

You wish you could same about the other one.

The other boy, Kei, who was your age and was going to be going to the same school as you, seemed extremely cold and distant. He hadn’t even said hello, but just looked at you funny. As if you were already somehow an inconvenience to him. He also was extremely intimidating, with not only his lackluster enthusiasm, but his almost 6’3 stature. He seemed to loom over you, eyes screaming distaste and annoyance. When egged on by his brother to ‘loosen up’, he had uttered the most exhausted greeting, not bothering to listen to yours before turning to leave to the baggage area. Flipping his headphones to his ears and leaving any sort of social opportunity to get to know you.

If it weren’t for the physical similarities, you wouldn’t even think he was related to the other two. Definitely a black sheep if you’ve ever seen one.

But nevertheless, you wouldn’t let him ruin your experience. He was a speed bump at most, and it sure as hell wouldn’t stop you.

That was your initial mindset. And while he certainly didn’t stop you, he did manage to make it all kinds of shitty.

During the first month of you living with his family, Kei hadn’t said a single word to you. He was always in his room and acted like he didn’t even know you existed. The only time you’d ever see him, was during dinner. And even then, he acted like he didn’t know you, not saying a single word as he quickly ate everything and marched right back up to his room.

Now, you didn’t mind if someone didn’t like you. You weren’t a child; You knew that not everyone gets along. But it seemed liked he hated you for simply existing; without even giving you a chance. And it frustrated you. Yet, you couldn’t figure out why it bothered you as much as it did.

You didn’t even know him, and still, it was one of the most infuriating things you’ve ever experienced.

Over the course of the days, (That felt more like months) you had reasoned that why it angered you so much was that it almost always was you and him alone together in the house. You had learned later on that Akiteru was a college student, so he rented a small apartment and only visited for the holidays, and that their mother’s job required her to often have full time shifts to support you all securely.

You figured that you were just insulted that you were the only option in this empty, silent house, and Kei still chose to not speak to you; opting to be left in virtual loneliness.

But you wouldn’t dare admit that it hurt you more than it should’ve.

To add on to the list of problems, since school wouldn’t start for another two weeks, you were basically stuck with yourself. Which got boring really quickly, but manageable, nonetheless.

You moved on and acted as though you weren’t bothered; Simply figuring that if Kei was that much of a prick that didn’t want to speak with you it was his loss and your gain. School started, and the first term flew by. Not being cooped up in a house with someone that seemed to hate your guts proved useful to you, making some decent friends by the end of it, and soon the second term had started.

To your surprise, during those months he did start talking to you, but in classic asshole fashion, it was only to annoy you.

(Maybe it was the fact that he saw you thriving, but it’s not like he’ll ever admit it).

Apparently, the man had the frustrating abilities to make fun of anything he put his mind to. To your dismay, this meant your clothes, the way you talked (Heaven forbid you mess something up in Japanese), your looks, your friends, and countless other little things.

It seemed that misery really did enjoy company, since Kei clearly couldn’t stand the thought of you being happy, for some inexplicable reason.

Each and every comment had started to pile up inside you, and with each new one, your patience grew thinner and thinner for the tall blonde boy.

You had tried to let the little things go, since you could clearly tell that Kei was one of those people who loved getting a reaction out of others. Countless adults from speeches, presentations and logic said that if you showed you didn’t care, he would stop.

But he didn’t. In fact, it made him all the more relentless.

He’d constantly torment you, no matter what you did. You found that whether or not you ignored him was irrelevant. So, if it didn’t matter, you realized that at least you didn’t have to take his shit sitting down.

If he wanted to play mean, you could play mean.

You slowly started fighting back, and that only caused him to fight back harder. He seemed to like a challenge and boy did you hate to lose. It went on like this for some time, your ‘relationship’ only growing more and more tense all the while filling with more annoyance and hatred for the other person. You enjoyed watching him reel back for a second, seeing him process if what you said was correct at first, but it had started to get exhausting extremely quickly.

It got to the point where all you wanted now was for him to stop. Not have anything else to say. Not have the last word in an argument. To say something and have him be silent. To see with your own eyes, him flustered and struggle to form words in anger and embarrassment. Just one time would make you satisfied. To give him a taste of his own medicine, and you would die happy with your life choices.

You were snapped out of your daydreaming when your history teacher stated he had just assigned a partnered task. To create a presentation about an influential moment in Japanese history. You have to stop a groan of pain from escaping your throat. It was just your luck. Although you’ve never loved the concept of group work, with too many bad experiences in group projects, to add on to the shitlist, this was the one class that you had no friends in. So, in torment, you had to watch the excited students go to their chosen partners desk and wait until the teacher had to pick a partner for you from the scraps of the useless souls left behind.

At least until Kei had walked up to your desk.

You blink. You had forgotten he was in this class; you never paid him any mind in school, with him only talking to you to try and annoy you and all. You whistle lowly.

“What a surprise. I don’t remember summoning a minion of the Antichrist.” Your tone is dry, not even having to look to know that Kei is rolling his eyes.

“And I don’t remember asking to have you in my house. Things happen.” You scoff.

“What do you want, Tsukki?” You coo, using a mocking tone. After you found out that Kei had a friend, and accepted the reality that someone out there genuinely wanted to be his friend, used that nickname, you refused to let it go. You were quite happy with the way he reacted to it. He glares at you hard, and you only smile. He lets it go after a moment, and you watch is distaste as his face returns to the calm and indifferent expression that you’ve come to despise.

“Let’s work together.” He said simply. There’s a beat of silence as you process the words.

You.

And Kei.

Working together… On a project that would require a lot of time… Hours, even days…

…

Yeah, that isn’t happening.

You didn’t have to say anything, just with the quirk of a brow, you showed your hesitation. Or more like ‘Even if Hell freezes over, or if pigs fly, I still wouldn’t say yes’. He just tsked, as if you were a toddler not getting a simple concept. You felt your nails dig into your palms.

How did he always manage to get on your nerves so easily?

“We already live in the same house. It would be easier than trying to meet up with others.” Kei spelled it out for you, and you look away. Unfortunately, he did have a point. And even more so, Kei wasn’t an idiot. Sure, he acted like a complete jackass, but he did have good grades. Better than yours at least. And you needed to do well on this assignment too. You sigh, not seeing any real reason to say no.

But you weren’t going down without a fight.

“Guess you really favour convenience over your asshole ways.” You click your tongue as the bell’s rings, signalling that the period is over. His reaction is cut off by that sound. You sigh heavily, before giving in.

“Alright.” He nods and goes back to his seat to collect his stuff. He walks away you feel a pit start to form in your stomach.

Suddenly you don’t want to go home.

~~

The rest of the day had gone by smoothly enough, with you and Kei having different classes, the project had flown out of your mind. It was a Friday, so you had planned to walk home with your friends, and maybe get some food on the way. It would be a nice way to unwind and relax from a stressful week.

Key word *planned. *

Just as school was over you received a text from yours truly.

Are you going straight home?

You raise a brow at your phone. What did it matter to him?

No. I’m hanging out with some friends.

Which ones?

Does it matter?

**Not anymore. Stay until I’m done practice. **

You stop to stare. He’s never asked you to stay before. He’s actually quite quick to push you anyway when it came to his practice. Not that you minded.

Why?

**It’s important. **

Care to explain?

**Just wait until after practice. **

Kei, I have plans.

Kei?

You let out a frustrated grunt, trying to decide what to do. About ninety percent of you wanted to forget that Kei ever existed and go out anyway, but the other ten percent is nagging you with the fact that he said it was important. It could be anything, and it could be serious. Ultimately, you gave into that ten percent, with a curse to your conscience and a grit of your teeth you cancelled your plans with your friends and went to sit in the library.

For the next five hours.

You were pretty sure that your soul had left your body when Kei finally texted you.

Where are you?

Library

You saw outside the doors, so you finally got up and went to him, your mind going insane over what could be so important that you wasted your precious Friday. But he doesn’t say anything, only looking to you and walking to the entrance of the school to begin to walk home. You recoil with an extremely confused expression, having to jog to reach him. He doesn’t say anything as you catch up to him. You clear your throat. He turns to look at you, raising a brow.

“What?” You give him a look of disbelief.

“What do you mean ‘what?’ You made me miss my plans for something ‘important’. I’d like to know what it is.” You finish, hands on your hips. Kei simply looks you up and down, like he’s measuring you. You can feel your blood pressure start to raise.

“We need to work on our project. Let’s work on it after dinner.” If this was a cartoon, your jaw would’ve hit the floor, then maybe there would be steam coming out of your ears.

This bastard just kept surprising you. It’s like he wanted to find new levels of low. You couldn’t even believe he just did that. How could someone be so petty?

“Are you fucking serious?! I had to stay afterschool for five hours so you could tell me something that fucking stupid?!” You could barely think straight, not even having the mental capacity to come up with something witty. Kei rolls his shoulders, causally stretching while you’re about to combust, lazy smirk adorning his face. You’ve never wanted to slap a smile off more…

“You didn’t have to stay.” You almost choke.

“You said-”

“Exactly. ‘Said’. I never forced you to do anything. You could’ve left at anytime.” You let out a lot of strained sounds. What kind of argument was that? Couldn’t he just for once, let go of his pride and accept he was an all-around asshole? You saw red.

“You know what? I’ve seen a lot of shit in my day, but you are the most immature, petty-” Kei cuts you off.

“Anything new to say? I’ve heard it all before, trust me.” You practically growl. You see him smile even wider out of the corner of you eye. This was what he wanted. Remember, all he wants is a reaction. That thought calms you down considerably. You take a huge, tired sigh, all of your previous energy gone. He was like a parasite, you realized. He completely drained your being. Not to mention annoying as fuck.

“What Yamaguchi sees in you; I’ll never know.” Kei shrugs. “Heard that one too.” Kei slips on his headphones, clearly seeing that you’re not going to be entertaining him anytime soon.

One of these days, you’ll get him back. Just be patient.

The rest of your walk was spent daydreaming about that day.

~~

Kei had told you to meet up in his room to start working on the project, so after a silent fuming dinner, you had reasonably calmed down enough and gotten the necessary supplies and knocked on his door. You seriously considered barging in to tell him to fuck himself and the project, but your grade average was at stake, and your schoolwork was something you could never risk over some stupid boy. You decided to bite the bullet, taking a deep breath, and attempt to let all of your previous irritation wash over you as he calls through the door.

“Come in.” You open the door to his room and take a look around. To no one’s shock, you had never actually been in Kei’s room before, not really needing or wanting a reason to do so. It was fairly neat, with huge white desk and matching white walls with his volleyball jersey set cleanly on top. A couple of shelfs with some plushies of dinosaurs that you decided not to comment on but kept stored for future mockery. Boringly enough though, it just looked like a boy’s room, which did give your ‘Kei is the source of all evil on earth’ theory a few heavy hits. You didn’t realise you were staring until Kei pulled you out of it.

“Are we going to do some work? Or are you just going to stand there gawking?” You glared at him slightly.

“Well how often do you get to see the Devil’s lair? This might be the last thing I ever see if I don’t get out here alive…” You mumble the last bit, ignoring his eye roll, before sitting down on his bed, spreading out all your work material on the mattress. Once finished you both just looked at each other.

Now what?

“Uh… So… What do you think we should do our project on?” You ask awkwardly. Kei looks at you like you’re suddenly the biggest inconvenience known to man. You resist the urge to throw your notebook at his very hittable face.

“How should I know?” You snort in annoyance. Someone’s cranky. Is it his time of the month?

“Well sorry I was asking my partner a question about the project we’re both assigned to work on. We must alert the church elders at my audacity.” You can hear him ‘tsk’ loudly, his swivelling chair moving to face away from you, slightly. You can’t help but roll your eyes at his pettiness.

This wasn’t going to lead anywhere, and you really wanted to get this over with. You take another deep breath, attempting to be the bigger person.

“Okay, how about we both start by researching some important events, then choose from there?” Kei takes you suggestion into consideration, before turning away from you.

“Fine.”

And with that he opened his computer and when down to it. You as well opened up your laptop and started your research. Things start to move better than you would’ve thought, because after about twenty minutes of searching, discussing, arguing you both finally decided to go with the Atomic Bomb dropping, with it piquing both Kei’s and your interest.

Well, with it piquing your interest and Kei being indifferent rather than disgusted at the ‘shitty’ choice.

You soon started researching, both going into your own little worlds, writing notes, and finding new sources. In the middle of the session, Kei had randomly got up and left the room. You assumed it was to get a drink or use the washroom.

You didn’t take any notice to him leaving, too focused on the task at hand. You had been taking notes on the event and had gone to set down your pencil to remove a rebellious strand of hair that had been getting in the way of your vision. Truthfully, Kei’s bed wasn’t the sturdiest material to study on, so when you set your pencil to the side, it had obeyed the laws of physics and rolled off, making a sound as it clattered on the wooded floor.

Sighing tiredly, you lean over the edge of the bed to look for the astray pencil, only to find it underneath his nightstand. Reaching your hand into the darkness to grab the pencil, you felt a small piece of folded paper near it. Curious, you picked it up and brushed it slightly. It had been covered in dust, lost, and forgotten.

You unfold the small piece of paper, like any person would, to find a picture. It looked to be an older picture; Maybe couple years at the least, with the colours fading and the edges being tattered, you guess.

Though the colours were fading, you could see the photo just fine. In the photo was a small boy, outside with trees surrounding what looked to be a park. He had a volleyball in his hands, the hugeness of the ball showing just how tiny his hands were. He wore a huge smile, the ones that were contagious, but with light hints of a smug and cheeky attitude; The kind of attitude that only looks cute with kids. With warm blonde hair, rosy cheeks, and huge black glasses sliding down the bridge of his small nose. You couldn’t put off the fact that he looked extremely familiar…

A light switch flicked in your head, putting two and two together.

Oh my God.

That’s Kei!

…

That’s Kei?!

You let out a small laugh of shock as you inspected the picture closer.

He looks so different. Well, not really. Physically speaking, they were basically a shot for shot remake, but just the energy of Kei in and photo and Kei now was astoundingly different. Just looking at the photo made you smile. He seemed like such a happy kid. Not to mention completely and totally adorable.

I wonder what happened…

Well, he grew up, that’s what happened. You thought cynically. But he had to have kept some of that childlike wonder and happiness. The debate continued on in your head. He was only fifteen after all, but it seemed like it had been stripped from him, and pretty early on. Thinking about that made your heart feel heavy, but you had managed to brush it off just as Kei had came back into the room. While you hadn’t noticed his return, he sees you on the bed, not working, holding a small photo, and looking at it with the stupidest smile he had ever seen on you. To say he was a little confused was an understatement.

“What are you doing?” His voice makes you jump, looking up at him. You don’t respond as you look back the old photo, then back at him. Now that you actually think about it, he’s still pretty cute.

You pause at your own thoughts.

Woah okay, that came out of nowhere.

You shake it off as you finally go to respond, the smile still plastered on your face, not able to stop. “Look at what I found.” You sing with small giggles, getting up as you show Kei his photo. His face is priceless. It’s a mix of confusion, realization, then complete and total mortification. You can’t hide your laugh as he tries to snatch the photo, but you pull it to you before he had the chance.

“Where did you find that?!” He shouts, and you laugh harder.

“Your worst nightmares, apparently. Look at how cute you were!” You say between wheezes, laughing so hard your stomach started to hurt. You hold the picture to your chest when he tries again to grab it from you. He covers his face in his hands before giving you the hardest glare you’ve ever seen. And if it were any other situation, you would’ve been scared shitless, but the glare loses all intimidation when you see his cheeks and ears are flushed pink.

He’s blushing. He’s cute when he blushes. You take a mental picture of this moment as your laughter dies back down to small giggles.

“Give. It. Back.” He holds his hand out, expecting you to be completely compliant. You weren’t going to give in that easily. It was thrilling to see him embarrassed. Seeing him so flustered that he couldn’t form words.

The satisfaction was almost addicting.

You had always thought Kei needed a taste of his own medicine, to see just how bitter it was. Also, you wanted to keep the photo. It was just so precious, you bet that you could look at it after having the worst day and instantly feel better.

So, dawning his trademark smirk, you boldly utter the words.

“Make me.”

You two hold each others’ eyes for a couple seconds, fighting a power struggle, and you clearly winning. But without any kind of warning, he charges at you, using his long arms to try and reach the photo. You laugh at his attempt and quickly step back from him, going into the centre of the room, and extend your arm behind your back.

“Why do you even want the stupid picture?” He spits, extremely irritated, not to mention embarrassed, and you smirk. Oh, how the roles have reversed. You could see why he enjoyed it so much. It was an absolute riot.

“Are you kidding? This picture can make the usual unbothered Tsukishima Kei act like an embarrassed schoolgirl. This thing is gold. Plus, you’re adorable.” You add, and Kei blushes harder. Your eyes widen at an idea popping in your head.

“I wonder how your volleyball team would react to this picture…” You say excited, and Kei widens his eyes in, dare you say it, fear.

“You wouldn’t dare.” You scoff. He clearly doesn’t know how serious you are. You were fully prepared to give him Hell. You hum.

“To be honest, normally I wouldn’t, but those five hours I spent in the library today have really changed me. You know, as a person.” As soon as you finished that sentence, Kei had had started trying even harder to get that photo away from you. Each time trying to reach your arm with newfound vigor, with you stepping back each time he got close. Eventually, after playing for a little while, he was actually managing to overpower you, which isn’t a surprise. With those arms and legs there was only a matter of seconds until you would be backed into a corner.

So you decided to broaden the playing field.

“C’mon Kei~ Try a little harder, won’t you?” You teased, waving the picture in front of you, like a matador with a very, very angry bull. Once again, he reached for you, long arms trying to reach the photo you held behind your back, not expecting you to also pull his door open and dash out of his room, not even trying to contain your laughs as he stumbled through his doorway, letting out an angry groan.

His misstep gave you enough time to run down the stairs, and all the way down to the dining area. He was right on your tail though, sprinting to you, ending up on the other side of the table. Staring you down with heavy, infuriated eyes.

Neither of you move, the room being filled with only gasps for breath and your small giggles.

“You’re acting like a child.” Kei spits at you, perhaps hoping for a response that wasn’t a simple shrug, with you accepting the insult all the while dawning a lazy grin slapped on your face.

“Probably. But this is most fun I’ve had in this house. And you’re playing along. So, aren’t we both the children here?” He doesn’t respond, taking your moment of contemplation as his chance, running around the table, and attempting to reach the photograph in your hand.

Your reaction wasn’t fast enough, running away from the table but not far enough to keep a safe distance. You were so concerned with where he was that you didn’t see the couch behind you, legs hitting the front of the cushions. The movement way too strong for you to stay balanced.

Out of pure instinct, and with Kei being the closest upright object to you, you grabbed at him.

Apparently, he hadn’t been expecting you to grab him, and with such force too, because when you fell you had taken him down with you, both landing on the couch. Hard. You both make sounds of surprise before falling on top of each other.

You could feel his weight on you, and you struggled to move as he used his arms to push himself up, looking directly at you. His face was still flushed pink, you bet yours was too. You could feel the mood instantly change, from hatefully playful to…

Not.

You two were so close you could feel his breath on your skin, but you didn’t care. Both of you hadn’t said anything, staring at each other still, until ultimately you realized what kind of position you both were in.

Kei was between your legs, his pushing your thighs apart. You had unconsciously hooked your legs around his thin hips. When did that happen? You were so close that your chests were bumping into each other with every breath; His arms had caging your face in, causing you to only be able to look at him.

Your face and heart exploded.

“Uh-uhm… Kei?” You whispered, not being able to say anything louder. He continued staring, not saying a single word. You could tell from his eyes that he was lost in thought, weirdly. You try to snap him out of it.

“Kei, you’re crushing me- “

“Shut up.”

Kei out of nowhere, slams his mouth on yours. You freeze, and so does your mind. Your body stiffens, but Kei doesn’t stop. The kiss is aggressive, on his part at least, pouring out all of his frustrations into that single kiss. Your teeth clack together but you still don’t respond, and Kei starts getting impatient, and bites your lip. Not hard to draw blood, but hard enough to make you gasp. With your mouth open, he pushes his tongue in and that’s when you finally start to react. Feeling the bottom of stomach start to heat up, your mind buzzing, and your body giving you weird sensations, you slowly kiss him back, forgetting all common sense.

You could feel his smugness coming off in waves about that fact that you had started to respond, so put him in his place, you ran your hand up his arm to the back of his head. You comb your fingers through his amazingly soft fluffy hair and tug a little harder than necessary. He groans in slight pain. The sound sends shivers down your spine.

Things begin to get more heated, the kisses becoming longer and sloppier when Kei decides to run his hand up your thigh, leaving you to let out a soft mewl. His hand goes to rest on your hip, when he goes to kiss your cheek, down your jaw all the way to your neck. He gets into a rhythm there, with kissing, licking, sucking, and even biting lightly all down your neck. After some experimenting, he had found out where the most sensitive parts were, and absolutely ravished them. By then you were an absolute mess, hair sticking in all directions, lips swollen, a light sheen of sweat covering your body, and a completely destroyed neck much to Kei’s pleasure. His hands had gone from your hips to your back, pulling you up so he wouldn’t have to crane his neck as much. His mouth reaches where your neck meets your shoulder, and starts leave light butterfly kisses, clearly teasing you. You whine in protest, but he just chuckles.

You tug his hair to indicate that you want him to face you again, once he removes his face from your neck you lock your lips with his. He returns it immediately, taking his hand to go under your shirt and rub your warm and slightly sweaty skin. You let out a light sigh.

Then it all stops.

The warmth, the kisses, his hands, his body, everything. You hadn’t realized that you closed your eyes until you open them, to see Kei looking down on you, smirking as if he just won the lottery. In his hand, was the photo.

“I win.” He declares, as he rips up the photo and throws it in the trash. He goes to sit down in his desk, wiping his lips and sitting on the couch causally, as if nothing even happened. You can’t say anything, your brain too stunned.

You inhale all the air you had lost in those moments, feeling the cogs in your mind turn as you abruptly stand, confused with all the new sensations and feelings that just happened.

And with Kei of all people.

Kei…

“Y-yeah, I guess you did.” You mutter, averting your eyes and refusing to look at him, knowing that his eyes were burning holes in your back.

“Let’s work the project some other time.” You say quickly as you practically run to your room, slamming the door, and sliding down it. Running your fingers on your lips before burying your hand in your arms. Face burning with red hot embarrassment and shame.

What in the fuck just happened?

just a keiji doodle

Meian and jealousy‼️‼️‼️ I just love this man so much

oooh good pick hehe... Your wish is my command :p

~~~

Meian walked through the door, casually tossing his bag onto the couch before holding up a glossy calendar with an amused smirk.

“Guess what I brought home?”

You barely looked up from your spot on the couch, lounging in one of his oversized hoodies. “Groceries?”

He huffed a laugh. “Try again.”

When you finally glanced over, your eyes landed on the calendar in his hands—MSBY Jackals 12-Month Exclusive Athlete Calendar. The cover alone was pure chaos: Bokuto flexing dramatically, Hinata grinning mid-spike, Sakusa looking entirely unamused while still managing to look good, and Meian himself, standing dead center with his usual captain’s stance—shirtless.

Your brows shot up.

“Oh, this is amazing.”

Meian chuckled, flipping it open. “Didn’t even know they were makin’ this until they asked me to pose for it.” He turned the pages, showing you a year’s worth of ridiculously chiseled volleyball players. “Thought you might get a kick out of it.”

You grabbed the calendar, flipping through the months with increasing delight.

“Oh my god, look at Bokuto’s arms—wait, they oiled him up for this.” You laughed, tapping the glossy image. “I mean, I get it. If I had muscles like that, I’d want them to shine, too.”

Meian hummed, crossing his arms. “Uh-huh.”

You kept going, completely unaware of the way his jaw was starting to tense.

“Sakusa actually looks incredible here, wow—he must have hated this photoshoot.” You turned another page, eyes widening. “Damn, even Hinata’s looking ripped.”

Meian arched a brow. “...That right?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you grinned. “Seriously, whoever planned this deserves a raise. They captured perfection.”

Meian let out a slow, deliberate exhale through his nose.

“...Captured perfection, huh?”

You nodded, still obliviously flipping pages. “I mean, look at these guys, Shugo. They’re built like—”

You yelped as suddenly, the entire world flipped.

Before you could even react, Meian had hauled you up over his shoulder, calendar completely forgotten as he marched toward the bedroom with zero warning.

“Shugo—what the—PUT ME DOWN.”

“Nope.”

“You are not seriously—”

“Oh, I am.”

His grip was firm, his tone too smug, and you finally realized.

“…You’re jealous.”

He snorted. “Not jealous. Just provin’ a point.”

“A point about what?!”

Meian kicked the bedroom door shut behind him, tossing you onto the mattress effortlessly before climbing over you, his hands braced on either side of your head.

“Since ya like praisin’ the team so much,” he murmured, voice dipping lower, rougher, “I figured I’d remind ya which one of us ya like the most.”

Your breath caught.

For someone who claimed not to be jealous, the heat in his gaze said otherwise.

“Still think they captured perfection?” he asked, his smirk dangerous.

You swallowed, the calendar long forgotten on the floor.

“…I might need a closer look to compare.”

His chuckle was low, pleased.

“Good answer.”

Hello!! I just want to say before I request anything that I absolutely ADORE your writing. You’ve quickly become one of my favorite writers! I’m constantly checking to see if you’ve posted LOL please keep it up! <3

if it’s not too much trouble, could I request us doing face-masks with Tsukishima or Akaashi? Either or both is fine, I have zero preference!

Thank you in advance mwa mwa !!

🌱

This is adorable and I am in LOVE. I literally just spat this out lolol Me being a favourite writer of anybody is a dream 🥹 Thank you for enjoying my work!! I'll make sure to post just for you 🥰 I hope you enjoy <333 --

It started with a panda.

Or rather, it started with you, lounging on the couch with a ridiculous animal-print face mask plastered to your face, scrolling through your phone like nothing was out of the ordinary. You wore it like a second skin—completely unbothered, completely at peace.

And then Tsukishima walked in.

He froze halfway through the doorway of your shared apartment, one brow raised as he took in the sight of you in your oversized hoodie, face glistening with a panda-shaped sheet mask.

“...You good?”

“Thriving,” you said simply, not even bothering to look up.

He didn’t respond right away. Just dropped his bag by the door and walked in with that usual lazy gait, eyeing you like you were some sort of cryptid he wasn’t sure how to handle.

“You look ridiculous,” he said eventually, standing behind the couch now, arms crossed.

You peeked up at him with a smirk. “That’s rich coming from someone who used to wear sport goggles indoors.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. You stuck your tongue out.

“Is this one of those self-care things?” he asked, nose wrinkling slightly as he stared at the mask. “Like cucumbers-on-the-eyes and bath bombs?”

“Exactly that,” you nodded. “Except these ones are more fun. They have animals on them.” You pointed to the half-empty package on the coffee table. “You wanna be a tiger or a polar bear?”

He stared at you.

You stared back.

“Absolutely not,” he said flatly.

“You’re doing it.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

You were already peeling one of the masks from its packaging with careful fingers, holding it up like a peace offering. It was orange-striped with little ears on top. Then you reached behind you and grabbed a matching tiger-print headband, complete with pointy ears.

"And this," you said, holding it up triumphantly. "To keep your hair out of your face."

He looked positively scandalized. "There is no way I—"

"Oh, you are," you cut in, already nudging it toward him. "C'mon, Kei. Don't you want the full experience?"

He looked at the headband, then at you, then back at the headband like it personally offended him. But when you wiggled your brows at him and smiled with full confidence, he muttered something under his breath and snatched it from your hand.

"You owe me so much for this."

"Add it to my tab."

He rolled his eyes but said nothing as you helped him unfold the mask and carefully place it over his face.

“Okay, hold still. It has to line up with your eyes… okay, a little to the left—no, my left… there.”

You leaned back to admire your work. Tsukishima, volleyball star, tall and smug and forever exasperated, now sat beside you wearing a bright orange tiger face mask that made his scowl look ten times funnier.

“...You look adorable.”

“I look like a joke,” he said dryly.

You took a photo.

“Delete it.”

“Never.”

Despite all his complaining, Tsukishima stayed there with you for the full fifteen minutes, arms crossed and huffing dramatically every so often. But he didn’t move. And when you started scrolling through your phone again, his thigh pressed just a little closer to yours.

And when the timer went off and you both peeled the masks off with grossed-out noises, you glanced at him with a grin.

“So?”

“So what?”

“Do you feel refreshed and radiant?”

Tsukishima rolled his eyes. “I feel sticky.”

You laughed and leaned over to kiss his cheek. “You’re glowing, tiger boy.”

He shook his head but didn’t push you away. In fact, a small, reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Maybe face masks weren’t the worst way to spend a lazy evening.