Rivalry: Iwaizumi Pt. 3 (NSFW)

HEY! Hii!! How are you? I hope you're doing good!

I have a small question, do you write for Inarizaki characters? Not the Miyas or Suna, I mean like Omimi, Akagi, Ginjima, Kosaku, etc.

That's all I want to know, because I love em (⁠〃ﾟ⁠3ﾟ⁠〃⁠)

I hope you have a good day!!

Heyyy I'm doing fantastically thank you for asking heheh

I'll write anyone if you ask me too! The only difference is with more niche characters I just look up their wiki for ideas on their personalities lolol

I hope you have a good day too!! Thank you lovely <333

Your writing is incredible!! You’re so good at being immersive oh my GOSH! (I can’t count the number of times I’ve re-read Jealousy: Kageyama, you characterize him so well 😭)

And the favorite positions series is getting me into characters I didn’t even like reading about before it’s SO good!

If you’re up for it, I’d love to see a favorite position for Kageyama! But regardless, I always look forward to your posts and I hope you’re doing well 💜

Thank you so, so much for this message—you have no idea how much it means to me 🥹💜

The fact that you’ve reread my work and that the Favorite Positions series has you loving characters you didn’t think you would?? That’s literally the dream 🫠

And of course—Kageyama? I had to do him justice. I’m so happy you asked because this one poured out of me lolol Thank you and Enjoy heheh <333

--

Favourite Positions: Kageyama

Kageyama had always been a little obsessive.

It came with the territory. The long hours spent perfecting tosses, the constant demand for precision, the way his mind clung to rhythm and structure like lifelines. He wasn’t the kind of man who acted on impulse. Every action had intent. Every motion, down to his breathing, felt like it came with weight. Control wasn’t just a habit. It was a necessity.

But when it came to you, all of that discipline started to unravel.

He liked watching you ride him.

More than liked it—he craved it.

Not just because of the view, though that alone could bring him to his knees. Not just because of how warm, how tight, how slick you felt around him. It was because, when you were on top, he could finally let go. Let his body move without thinking. Let his focus shift away from control and into sensation. Into you.

Let go of pressure. Let go of performance. Let go of everything except you.

Tonight, it was slow.

Dim lighting spilled across the room, golden and soft. The sheets were tangled beneath you both, slightly damp from heat and friction. Your knees were on either side of his hips, thighs flushed pink with effort. He lay back against the pillows, hands resting on your waist like he was grounding himself, knuckles white from restraint.

His head was tilted back, jaw slack, brows drawn together, his breath hitching every time you sank down onto him. The soft gasps he tried to bite back made your skin prickle.

“F-fuck,” he whispered, voice already hoarse, fingers digging into your waist. "You feel so good."

You moved slowly, intentionally, savoring every second of the way his cock dragged inside you. You could feel every twitch of his muscles beneath your palms, every exhale he let out between clenched teeth. Kageyama couldn’t tear his eyes away. He was transfixed.

Your hands slid up his chest, finding purchase at his shoulders as you rolled your hips just right—and he let out a low, broken moan, his entire body twitching beneath you.

His fingers flexed like he wanted to grab you tighter. Like he wanted to take over. But he didn’t.

He didn’t ask to change positions. Didn’t flip you beneath him. Didn’t thrust up into you like he had so many times before when desperation overtook his instincts.

He just watched.

Like he was memorizing everything.

The way your body moved in the low light. The soft sheen of sweat on your collarbones. The way your lips parted every time you dropped your hips a little faster. The soft gasp you made when you ground your hips down and caught just the right angle that made your thighs tremble.

It was overwhelming.

He was trying so hard to hold back. You could see it—the tension in his neck, the way his abs flexed with every movement, how his grip on your hips kept faltering between loose and desperate.

And then you leaned in.

You kissed his jaw. Traced your lips down to his throat. Murmured something against his ear. Something soft. Something filthy. Something about how good he felt inside you. How wrecked he looked. How badly you wanted to see him come apart.

His whole body jolted.

His eyes fluttered shut. His hips bucked up into you before he could stop himself. His hands grabbed your hips, pulling you down hard onto him—deep, tight, perfect.

That was it.

He came hard.

Breath caught in his throat, head tipping back into the pillows, brows pinched tight as he groaned your name like it was the only word he knew. His whole body trembled, thighs flexing beneath you, abs tightening, cock twitching inside you as he spilled into you, hot and sudden and overwhelming.

You blinked down at him in surprise, breathless and flushed, still pulsing around him as your own orgasm threatened to catch up to his. The heat between you was dizzying.

His hands softened, moving to cradle your hips gently as he blinked up at you, dazed, skin flushed all the way to his chest.

"Sorry," he muttered, cheeks red, voice thick with apology. “I didn’t mean to—”

You cut him off with a quiet laugh, brushing his damp bangs back from his forehead, fingers gentle. "Don’t apologize."

You leaned down, kissed his cheek, and let your forehead rest against his.

His hands ghosted over your thighs, uncertain, still grounding himself.

And that’s when it hit him.

You hadn’t been trying to overwhelm him.

You were savoring it.

The way he looked beneath you—blushed, breathless, barely holding it together.

The way his hands twitched like he didn’t know what to do with all the sensation.

The way he let you have him.

And for the first time in his life, Kageyama realized he liked being the one who lost focus.

Would it be interesting to ask for Aran? Even something as simple as him noticing Inarizaki’s manager or their friend, anything is fine.

Done :D Thank you for the request!! <333 --

Aran wasn’t someone who let his mind wander. Not during practice, not during games, and certainly not when it came to things that didn’t concern him. He kept his head clear, his priorities in check, and his focus sharp. That was what made him reliable—one of the only people on Inarizaki’s team who could keep the chaos from completely consuming them.

But lately, there was something—or rather, someone—slipping through the cracks in his usual composure.

You.

It wasn’t anything dramatic. Nothing obvious. But little things started creeping up on him. He started noticing the way you always sat near him whenever the team went out to eat, how you rolled your eyes at Atsumu’s antics but never actually walked away from the conversation, how you seemed to know exactly what someone needed before they even had to ask. He wasn’t sure when it started. He wasn’t sure why it started. But he was noticing you, and now he couldn’t seem to stop.

The realization hit him on a random afternoon practice.

He had just finished a long rally, sweat clinging to his skin as he steadied his breathing. Coach was yelling at Atsumu for something—probably for ignoring his setter duties and trying to go for a ridiculous dump shot—and the rest of the team was either catching their breath or groaning at the delay. Aran wiped his forehead with the back of his hand before reaching for his water bottle, only to feel something tap his arm.

A cold water bottle.

He glanced up, and there you were, holding it out to him without a word. Your expression was neutral, not expecting anything, not waiting for some kind of thanks. Just… handing it to him, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Aran hesitated for a fraction of a second before taking it. “Thanks.”

You only nodded before turning back to your clipboard, jotting something down. No big deal. Except it was a big deal, because now Aran was standing there gripping the water bottle tighter than necessary, feeling something stir in his chest that he didn’t know how to name.

It didn’t stop there.

At first, Aran tried to ignore it. Tried to brush off the way his eyes lingered on you a little too long during breaks, the way he found himself listening for your voice even in the middle of a crowded gym. He told himself it was just habit, just familiarity. You were part of the team, and he was just used to having you around.

But then there were the moments in between—the ones that didn’t happen during practice, the ones that felt like something else entirely.

Like the time he was stretching after a long day and you plopped down next to him with an exhausted sigh.

“Tough day?” he asked, not looking up from his toes as he reached forward.

“You have no idea,” you groaned, flopping onto your back. “I think I have permanent damage from listening to Suna and Atsumu argue about some dumb anime for twenty minutes.”

Aran huffed out a laugh. “Could’ve walked away.”

You turned your head, peering up at him with something amused in your gaze. “Yeah? And leave you to suffer alone?”

Something about the way you said it made him pause. He glanced down at you, the corners of your lips twitching like you were fighting back a grin. He opened his mouth, but whatever he had been about to say got stuck in his throat.

Because that—that right there—was the problem.

You weren’t just the team manager. You weren’t just a familiar presence. You were something else, something more, and Aran was beginning to realize it too late.

It got worse after that.

He wasn’t the type to let distractions get the best of him, but now it was like you were in his periphery all the time. The worst part? You didn’t even know. You just carried on like normal, making sure the team didn’t destroy themselves, shooting sarcastic remarks at Atsumu when he got too unbearable, handing Aran a towel when he looked particularly drained.

And he just kept taking it. Kept letting it happen. Kept letting you happen.

But it was when he started getting annoyed that he knew he was screwed.

Because lately, you’d been spending more time talking to Kita.

It wasn’t like Aran had any reason to care. Kita was Kita. He was good at everything, the kind of person who had an effortless way of drawing people in. And you? You were the kind of person who enjoyed good company.

So why did it bother him so much?

It wasn’t jealousy. It wasn’t. That would be ridiculous. But he couldn’t stop noticing it—the way you stood a little closer, the way your conversations stretched a little longer, the way you laughed at something Kita said and Aran felt something sting in a place he hadn’t even realized existed.

He didn’t plan to say anything about it. But then, one day, he caught you laughing at something Kita said, and before he could stop himself, the words left his mouth.

“Didn’t know you two were so close.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard. “Huh?”

Aran crossed his arms, his expression carefully neutral. “You and Kita.”

Your head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing just a bit like you were trying to figure out where this was coming from. Then, slowly, a smirk tugged at your lips. “Why? You jealous or something?”

Aran scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Please.”

“Uh-huh.” You didn’t sound convinced.

He clicked his tongue, looking away. This was stupid. He wasn’t about to sit here and act like some lovesick idiot. That wasn’t him. He had better things to do. More important things.

… Then why did his chest feel tight?

You were still looking at him, clearly entertained by whatever this was. Then, after a pause, you leaned in just slightly, voice dropping into something softer—something unreadable.

“You did notice, though.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a fact.

Aran felt his jaw tighten, but he didn’t say anything.

You let the silence stretch between you before pulling away, grinning like you had figured something out. “Huh. Interesting.”

And just like that, you turned and walked off, leaving Aran standing there with his arms still crossed, his pulse unsteady, and the realization settling deep in his bones.

You were right.

He had noticed.

And that was the problem.

For What It's Worth (Tsukishima x Reader Pt. 2)

It’s been a week since it happened.

A week since you’ve spoken to him.

Seven days since you felt his corrupt lips on you. Since you’ve felt his poisonous yet addictive hands.

The whole situation had been burned into your memory the minute you walked out of his door. Seven days you’ve been in complete emotional turmoil.

You’re nothing short of furious. You’re furious over the fact that all this happened over a stupid photograph, you’re furious that you allowed it to happen for so long, you’re furious that you can’t forget his stupid smirk. His figure leaning over yours, the look in his eyes making you see red. But for the most part, you’re furious over the fact that you can’t bring yourself to truly hate him.

You can’t hate Tsukishima Kei. No matter how hard you try. You can’t stop yourself from feeling your insides heat up when you remember his lips on your neck, your fingers combing through his hair. The tiny sounds he tried to repress when your lips were locked on his. The shivers that rake your body when you pass your fingers on the almost healed hickeys on your neck.

You’d be lying if you said that it hasn’t made you lose sleep.

But he lied. He lied through all of it. Kei didn’t like you. Hell, you doubt he even could even give you the time of day. That bastard only cared for himself. He’d do anything to win, to get what he wants. No matter who he hurts along the way.

He was selfish.

You don’t know why you’re so surprised now. It’s not like you didn’t know this fact. You’ve seen the way he interacts with others. Whether it be his classmates, his volleyball team, Yamaguchi, or even Akiteru. He never once cared for their feelings.

You can’t be around someone who treats other humans like that. You refuse to.

You’ve avoided him like the plague. You pretend like you don’t know who he is during school and lock yourself in your room at home. Tsukishima’s mother had come back a couple of days ago, so you had to say that you weren’t feeling well to avoid having dinner with them. You didn’t even talk to him for the rest of the project. Just sending your part of the work you had completed, and he took care of the rest. You’ll be forever grateful that you didn’t have to present that assignment. You really didn’t know how you would manage that. Of course, there were times when you would cross paths in the corridor, because to your dismay its impossible to avoid someone you live with, but you did your best to see right through him. You refuse to meet his eyes, to give him any sort of chance. He doesn’t deserve it.

Another week passes like this, then another and another. By the time a full month passes, it’s become routine. He doesn’t see you and you don’t see him, just like when you first started living with his family. Your anger has faded significantly over the course of the month, but there’s still some unchecked emotion swirling around in the deepest parts of your self conscious. Whether you want to believe it or not, Kei had become part of your life. A tiny one, but a part nonetheless, and without him, it almost seemed dull. Like something was missing from your day. Empty. You assume it’s because you never got closure from the situation.

Yeah, that’s why.

You’re thrown out of your thoughts when you hear your name called from a distance. You stop your exit from the building, when you see familiar friendly face waving in your direction. You feel a soft smile force it’s way on your face.

“Yamaguchi-kun, what are you doing here? Aren’t you going to be late for practice?” You ask as when he reaches your person. He rubs the back of his neck bashfully. “I told Tsukki to tell the others I was going to be late.” The sound of Tsukishima’s name leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. No matter how sweetly Yamaguchi can say it.

“Oh. Well, did you need something?”

“Yes. Actually, it’s about Tsukki.” You feel yourself tense up slightly. “I just figured you would be the best person to ask considering you’re around him the most.” Is that really how he saw it?

The thought gives you pause. You had to admit that from a distance it did look like you were close to Kei. Closer than others at least. You’ve talked during and between classes, sometimes waited for him to finish practice and walk home with him. If people didn’t witness the insults you used to constantly hurl at each other, and the glares of pure annoyance and hatred, they probably would have thought you two were friends.

Maybe even more.

You shake off the thought as you’re about to tell Yamaguchi that you haven’t spoken to Kei in a month, and that you know nothing about anything that has to do with him but decide last minute to hold your tongue. You were curious to say the least. What could be bothering the unbothered? “Is something wrong with him?” Yamaguchi looks off, thinking for a minute.

“Well, I’m not sure, that’s what I came to talk to you about. Over the past month he’s been acting off.” You tilt your head slightly.

“How so?”

“He’s been acting cold lately. More distant. Picking more fights with the rest of the team. He’s more irritable. He’s letting little things bother him.” Yamaguchi lists off. You snort slightly.

“Yamaguchi-kun, that’s how Kei usually acts. I’d start getting worried when he stops acting like that.” Yamaguchi gives you an uneasy look. “I still feel like somethings wrong. So do the rest of the team. Something is definitely bothering him. His performance in games is also being affected. It’s almost like he can’t focus.”

Could it be about before?

No… He couldn’t possibly be upset about what happened… Could he? You subconsciously shake your head. You can’t bring yourself to believe that he could. Kei was the reason all this shit happened in the first place. But, looking at the boy in front of you, you can feel your heart sink. Yamaguchi really was a good friend. You could see the genuine worry in his eyes as he spoke about Kei. You have no idea how Kei managed to gain a friend like him. One of the worlds greatest mysteries, you muse.

“I just wish he would talk to me.” Yamaguchi says, defeated. You wanted to say something, anything to help him out of his miserable state. You decide on one thing that minute.

You needed to talk to Kei. To tell him to get over himself and stop fucking over everyone around him. That whatever is going on with him needs to be dealt with him and him alone.

Maybe you could get that closure you wanted in the process…

“I’ll talk to him, Yamaguchi-kun.” You see Yamaguchi eyes flicker with something you could only assume was hope. He’s about to thank you when he hears the late bell ring. Yamaguchi turns his head to the school, obviously not expecting the conversation to last this long. “Go, I don’t want to hold you any longer. I’ll talk to him as soon as he gets home.” Yamaguchi flashes you a boyish smile, before shouting a quick thanks and jogging over to the gymnasium. You let out a sigh of relief as he jogs away.

During the walk home, you can’t help but feel a pit in your stomach.

~~

The more you think about it, the more irritated you get as you wait patiently (or impatiently) for Kei to return. Kei’s mother had left once again, leaving just you and Kei in the house, like usual. Over the course of the months you had gotten used to being by yourself, so you really didn’t mind it anymore. However, by being constantly alone, you were left at the mercy of your thoughts.

And all of your thoughts were consumed by Kei.

It felt like all of the emotions you had laid to rest had come back in the few hours you were left alone. But you have self control, and unlike Kei, you’re able to keep your emotions in check.

You hear the sound of the front door opening and closing. Before everything happened, he’d usually announce his arrival, but now that you two aren’t speaking, he just enters and walks straight up to his room. You take a small breath. You can feel your heart thrum nervously as you try to catch up to him.

Well, it’s now or never.

“Oi.” You start, trying to sound unbothered as possible, when you’re anything but. You watch as he stops walking and turns around slowly. Kei gives you a look you can’t decipher, but you can tell that he’s surprised you’ve said anything to him. You don’t want to give him time to think about and get straight to the point. You want to be done as soon as possible and go back to ignoring him. But you hesitate under his stare, giving him an opening. His gaze hardens, as you watch the grip on his bags tighten. You stand your ground. You’ve seen and witnessed his micro aggressions firsthand; it’ll take a lot more than this to intimidate you.

The air around you two is tense. The emotions that were swept under the rug are out in the open, suffocating you.

“Well, this is interesting. Deciding to talk to me now? I’m so grateful you’ve chosen to bless me with your words.” His cold words are laced with so much venom and bitterness that you almost take a step back. You’ve never seen this before. The Kei you knew was always calm and collected, smart with his choices. Knew what to say and to do to play people right where he wanted to. This Kei seemed more… emotional? Unhinged?

You don’t know. But the look he’s giving you isn’t exactly filling you with confidence. Still, you stand strong. You won’t let this asshole make you vulnerable. He’s done it once before; you won’t let it happen a second time.

“Don’t get too happy. I don’t want to waste my breath talking to you. I’m only doing this because Yamaguchi is worried about you, and unlike you, I actually care about his feelings.” Kei looks away at the mention of his best friend. The tiny action brings you slight satisfaction. “He told me you’ve been acting off lately. Picking fights and acting like an all-around asshole. Now, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you need to get your shit together.” Kei scoffs, gazing down at you. Patronizing. Your fists clench.

“I don’t need you to tell me what to do.” He had said it with such coldness, you actually had to fight a shiver running down your spine.

“I wouldn’t have to if you acted like a decent fucking human.” You snap right back. Kei takes a step toward you. You don’t back away. He leans slightly, making it so you’re at eye level in a way that is so obviously condescending.

“Stop acting like you’re such an angel. It’s pissing me off.” His honesty surprises you, but you don’t let it show. You know Kei wasn’t easy to anger, so you knew you were getting somewhere. But, at the same time, his sentence bothers you.

From the very beginning, you always tried to be nice to people you’ve met here. You wouldn’t call it sucking up to others, but you were slightly nervous people wouldn’t like you. During your program that anxiety had faded, but being that Kei was the first person you met who was your age, he significantly decreased your confidence. So, in turn, when school started you were the kindest you could be, always studied the hardest you could, and so on. You had made a name for yourself, one that Kei didn’t seem to like.

“It’s easy to act like an angel when you’re the devil incarnate. And you have no right to say anything about my behaviour, you prick. I’m not the type of person to use others to get what they want. I’m not the type to bring others down to feel better about my sad sack of a life. And I’m definitely not the type that would take advantage of someone to win. So, I suggest you have a cold hard look in the mirror before you go criticizing me.” You bite, voice filled with anger. It’s like all the emotions you’ve held in the pits of your stomach are now flowing through your veins. Each item you list off is like rocks falling off your tense shoulders. You stand taller, move closer, and refuse your eyes to leave his.

The hall is quiet for a while, but it’s the loudest silence you’ve ever heard. So much tension and emotion hanging around in the air. You and Kei share a staring contest, both breathing slightly heavy. Even if you wanted to break the gaze, you couldn’t. Kei’s hard glare had so much emotion, so much that you couldn’t figure out. You can’t help but bring your mind back to when this moment felt a little too familiar…

You wait for Kei’s reply, knowing that not even demons straight from the pits of hell can stop Kei from saying something, anything, back. But to your utter surprise and disbelief, he backs away. You can’t hide your confusion as he stays silent, lips in a thin line and a look in his eyes you can’t make out, as he turns around and walks away. You stand there, slightly gawking as you watch him retreat up the stairs. Brain frozen until you heard the door to his bedroom close.

…

What the fuck just happened?

Did Tsukishima Kei, THE Tsukishima Kei, just walk away from an argument? Without an insult, or even a sarcastic comment?

Did you just win?

…

It doesn’t feel like you’ve won.

You can’t help but still feel… Off. You had gotten what you wanted. To say something and have him be silent, but it’s definitely not as satisfying as you expected it to be. Not like the hours you used to spend daydreaming about a moment like this. You felt empty. Like you were expecting more.

To have him care enough to respond.

You feel tears start to well up in your eyes.

Never in a million years, would you have expected this.

You were crying over Kei. Over that sick bastard.

Why did you feel like this? Why did you feel so disappointed when you watched him walk away? You shouldn’t need him to care. You don’t.

So why are you so sad?

You put your face in your hands, willing the need to scream out your frustrations to leave.

Even like this, he still wins.

~~

It’s been a couple days since your talk with Kei. You had pushed down all of your newly found feelings right back down into the depths of your soul.

Like that worked so well last time.

You were done with him once more. You didn’t want to have to deal with these new feelings. Or him in general.

Just a fresh start. Without Kei in the picture.

You had expected things would be exactly the same with him. He’d ignore you and you’d ignore him. Like clockwork. But ever since your argument, the atmosphere around you two has changed. Into what, you weren’t sure, but it was definitely off-putting.

And extremely frustrating.

The very next day after your argument, Yamaguchi had told you that whatever you said to Kei must’ve worked, because he’s started to return to his old self, (Whatever that means). And while you were happy to see Yamaguchi smiling, you weren’t able to get the pit in your stomach to leave.

New problems you didn’t expect were starting to arise.

Whenever you and Kei had the displeasure of being in the same area, you’d feel his eyes on you. Staring at you. His eyes locking onto you in a way that left you utterly confused, and completely flushed at the same time. You couldn’t help your heart beat a little faster every time you saw him in the halls of his house, or at school.

You weren’t able to stop the pulse of heat that would rush through your body either.

Either way, to say you were a little displeased with this advancement would be an understatement. But, what could you do? Just march up to him and tell him to stop staring?

Normally you would. But with what happened last time, you were a lot more than hesitant. You’d dig your own grave and bury yourself alive before having the tiniest chance of crying in front of Kei. That was more than your worst nightmare.

So, you decided the only possible solution was to get your mind off him. Just like the previous month, you’d go back to acting like he didn’t exist. If you could do it once, you could do it again.

You were feeling confident about your plan. At least until someone up in the heavens decided to completely fuck you over just for the hell of it.

It was the end of school day, and while most of the students rushing out the doors eagerly, excited that they had the rest of the day to themselves, you were clearing out your entire locker frantically. Each second passing with you getting more and more nervous of the outcome you hoped to any of the Gods that wouldn’t happen.

Oh God, please tell me I didn’t do this…

Yes, you did. You had lost the keys to the house. You almost punch a hole in the nearest wall, but you do slam your head against your locker. What did you do to deserve this?

You take a couple of deep breaths, trying to find any other possible solution then asking Kei for his keys. Maybe… picking the lock? Or popping a window opening? You sigh heavily. Who were you kidding? You could barely open your phone most of the time. You weren’t exactly keen to brandish your breaking and entering skills. To make matters even worse, all of your friends either had clubs or had already went home. You were far too awkward to call them up and ask if you could crash their night, and far too tired to wait for those who had clubs up until eight at night.

You let out an agonized whine, seeing no other option other than to drag yourself to the boy’s gym. As you approach you could hear sounds of boys screaming and laughing. They must still be stretching, as you hear no noises of balls slamming into the ground. You take a deep breath as you stand in front of the doors. Just get in, take what you need and get out. Even though you keep repeating that mantra in your head, you still found yourself on the other side of the doors, too nervous to open them.

“Could you let me through please?” You hear a soft voice from behind you. You whip around to find a rather beautiful looking third year. She must be their manager. You didn’t realize you were staring until seconds later. “Oh, yes. Sorry about that.” You give a nervous chuckle as you move out of the way. She walks up the stairs gracefully and goes to open the doors but stops, turning to you.

“Did you need something?” You tense up slightly at the question, “I need to talk to Kei.” You somehow managed to say evenly. The third year looks at you confused for a second, before her eyes light up in realization. “You mean Tsukishima-kun?” You nod. You usually forgot that most people (Well, everyone apart from his family) called him by his last name. Everyone except you. You pause now, thinking about it.

Why did you call him by his given name?

Why did he let you?

“Follow me then.” You were about to tell her that you really didn’t want to, but she slid the doors open with practiced ease. She walks in, ignoring two particularity rowdy voices yelling ‘Kiyoko-san!’, as she motions you to follow her. You gulp, and not wanting to disrespect a senior, you duck your head to enter the gym in shame. All eyes are suddenly on you, curious. Your heart beats slightly faster under the eyes of the team. You were never good at being in the spotlight. You manage to glance in Kei’s direction.

If looks could kill, you’d probably be six feet under the ground right about now.

He always made it clear that he didn’t want you anywhere near the gym when he was practicing, making sure that if you had to wait for him, he’d make you wait in the library.

You never understood why, but you didn’t question it.

“Tsukishima-kun. Someone’s here to talk to you.” Kiyoko spoke for you, only adding to the embarrassment that was this situation. All eyes that were on you, snapped to Kei’s form. On the outside he appeared unbothered, but his eyes spoke the true annoyance he was feeling. He makes no sound as he briskly walks to you, grabbing your wrist quite tightly, making you wince, letting a hushed hiss escape your mouth as he practically drags you out of the gym. The second you leave everyone’s prying eyes, you whip your hand anyway from him, practically snarling at him. “That hurt, asshole.” He makes no comment at that, only glaring at you.

“Why are you here?” He sounded genuinely frustrated. Join the club pal.

“I lost my keys.” He scoffs. “I’m failing to see how that’s my problem.” You clench your fists. You really didn’t think this through. What were you expecting? For him to be a nice guy and hand you his keys? Willingly? Yeah, right.

Well you aren’t giving up without a fight.

“It’ll be your problem when you find your window smashed in.” Empty threats, and Kei knows it. Kei sighs tiredly, and it only makes you more upset.

“Listen, either wait until my practice is over, or figure it out. Why don’t you go and ask one of your little friends? I’m sure they’d love to have you.” He spits out the last part, and you narrow your eyes at his pettiness.

“Oh, trust me. I wouldn’t have come to you if I had any other choice. But sadly, here I am talking to you. Now, you could do us both a favour if you could just stop being an all-around jackass for once and let me borrow your damn keys.” You try to say without hitting his very punchable face. Succeeding, you add. Kei only rolls his eyes, “Tempting, but I’ll pass. I’ll text you when I’m done. If you’ll excuse me.” He smirks that god-awful smirk, before walking back to the gym, leaving you enraged. You go to attempt to say something but find yourself at a loss for words.

Why even try?

You clicked your tongue in annoyance. Fuck him. Was your only thought as you left the school grounds.

No way in hell were you waiting for him. You doubt you could even look at him without sending him to the emergency room.

This is going to be the death of you if things continue like this.

~~

You took your sweet time walking your way back to the house. Admiring the changing colours of the trees, stopping by the convenience store. After all, you did have a couple hours to kill while you wait for the asshole to come back from practice. You had only wasted two hours by the time you reached the house. The time you had spent trying to get your mind off him only left you more frustrated. He really knew how to piss you off.

Yes, it was your fault that you had lost your keys, and he didn’t necessarily have to give his to you, but what harm could it have done? What did he expect you to do? Lock him out of the house? You pause. Not a bad idea. Your thoughts only continue as you cursed the existence that is Tsukishima Kei, and sat outside the steps of the house, pulling out your phone and start playing around with it, trying to forget about the slight wind chill that comes with the start of Fall. You sat there, trying to cover your legs from the wind blowing past them. Every time you got a strongest burst of wind, you thought back to Kei.

I hope a volleyball smashes him in the face. A smile finds it way onto your face as you think of that. As time passes, boredom fills you as you feel yourself getting slightly drowsy. Being angry really wasn’t helping you conserve your energy. You felt your eyes getting heavier with every passing second. It wouldn’t be a problem if you closed them for a bit, would it?

Apparently, it would.

~~

You don’t even realize that you’ve dozed off, being woken by a buzzing in your pocket, your shivers and a dark night sky. God, how long had it been?

Groggily, you answer your phone, sleep clouding the need to read the caller ID. “Hello?” Your voice was surprisingly hoarse. Probably from lack of use.

“Where are you? You aren’t in the library and I’ve searched everywhere.” You could only pinpoint that aggressive tone to one person.

“K-kei?”

“Where the fuck are you?” Normally, you would’ve come back with something, but you were far too tired to think of anything smart to say. “I’m outside the house.” You hear him curse under his breath. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.” And with that, he hangs up.

You sit there, slightly dazed before shivering. The night sky wasn’t keeping you as safe from the brisk wind like the sun did, and you were still in your school uniform, which consisted of a light sweater and a skirt. You removed your phone from your ear, only to be blinded by the notifications blocking your phone screen.

You had twenty-five missed called from Kei, and more that thirty messages. You scroll through them.

**I’m finished with practice. **

You aren’t in the library, where are you?

**Seriously, answer me. **

where are you?

God damnit answer my calls

I swear if you’re at home

I’m coming home and if you’re not there, you will be sorry

You furrow your brows as you scroll through the rest of them. Was he… Worried about you?

Your thoughts are cut off by severe shaking. Damn it was cold. You take your sweater off, leaving you in short selves, to cover your legs. You figured it was better than nothing, but it did leave your arms to the strong winds. You curse outwardly.

After a couple minutes, you see the asshole himself, jog towards you, face slightly red and panting heavily. Was he running? You don’t think too much about it as you hear the heavenly noises of the keys jingling.

“Idiot. I told you to wait for me.” Kei breathes out, you scoff at him calling you an idiot. “You said w-wait or figure it o-o-out.” You cringe at how vulnerable you sound. The stutter definitely doesn’t help. He huffs out a sarcastic laugh. “And this is figuring it out?”

“S-s-shut up and open th-the damn d-door.” He doesn’t respond as he finally manages to open the door. You let out a breath of relief as you try to get up, only to have your knees buckle; sitting down in the crouch position you were in plus the cold weren’t exactly the best for your joints. You almost fall but feel warm hands grip your waist to prevent it. Your head turns to find Kei’s extremely close, staring down at you. The same expression he wore when you glance at him looking at you. You feel your face slightly flush as you step away and walk through the doors, welcoming the warmth of the house. You hear Kei walk in after you, closing the door behind him.

A few seconds of silence pass before another violent shiver passes through you. Guess it’ll take a little more than the house to warm you up. You hear a sigh, before feeling those warm hands grip your wrist for the second time today. This time was a lot gentler than the last. Your brain freezes as Kei pulls you to the living area and sits you down on the couch before leaving to retrieve something from the other room. “Just when I thought you couldn’t get any stupider. You go and pull shit like this.” You hear his slightly distant voice, and you grit your teeth. This asshole just couldn’t help himself, could he?

You go to defend yourself when you feel something warm and fluffy lay on top of you. Kei had just thrown a blanket on you. All comebacks die in your throat as he turns to you and fixes the blanket to make sure not a single area of skin is exposed. Kei makes sure to not meet your eyes when he’s satisfied with his job.

“Stay here. I’m going to make some tea.” You’re at a loss for words as he turns to the kitchen.

Are you in some sort of parallel universe or something?

Was Kei… Taking care of you? Maybe he just feels bad because he left you in the cold, but still. You had never seen this side of him before.

This boy was just full of surprises. Whenever you thought you had seen it all, he comes back with more.

Confusion swirls your thoughts, but your broken out of it when you see Kei walk back into the room with a tray. It consisted of two cups of tea and two servings of strawberry shortcake. Kei’s favourite food. You remember the day you found out it was his favourite food, you remember the teasing and the laughs, with Kei turning slightly pink and telling you to shut up.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss those days.

“Surprised you’re still here. You usually have trouble following simple instructions.” He jabs, as he sets your tea and cake on a table in front of you. You narrow your eyes at him. “Well I did make a promise to the never follow the Devil.” You find it hard to say your comebacks with your usual venom. He only rolls his eyes in response. Kei sits across the table on the floor, having his portions in front of him. He stares at you. “Eat.”

Usually, you would’ve said no, because you hated listening to him, but you were starving. The snacks from the convenience store could hold you for so long. “How do I know this isn’t poisoned?” You ask, suspicious. He couldn’t be this nice to you for no reason, there has to be a catch. Kei doesn’t even look up at you as he responds, “If I had that, I wouldn’t waste it on you, that’s for sure.” You click your tongue, and with half hearted annoyed look, you go and take a sip from your tea. Surprisingly, Kei did know how to make some good tea. You felt the it go down smoothly, warming you from the inside out. And the strawberry short cake wasn’t at all bad either; a little sweet for your taste, but you’ll take it.

The two of you ate in silence, the tension getting to be too much for you until you decide to break it. You had decided that minute that things needed to change. You couldn’t take this anymore. You needed the truth. “I don’t understand you.” You can’t manage to look at him, poking at the rest of your cake, but you know he’s looking at you.

“You go from not wanting to talk to me, to annoying the hell out of me, to ignoring me again and now this. I just don’t get it. What do you what from me? I need to know, because if things keep going on like this, I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it.” A beat of silence follows your speech.

“I don’t want anything from you.”

The evenness of his voice makes a piece of your heart break. You didn’t know he had the power to destroy you with a simple sentence until he just did. You could tell that you had somewhat of a deranged smile plastered on your face. Something akin to disbelief and pain. You take a deep and shaky breath in. “You know, for someone who ‘doesn’t want anything from me’, you sure do go the extra mile to include yourself a whole lot in my life.” Kei remains silent, and for some reason that sets you off even more.

You’ve come to realize that you despise when he does that. That you’d much rather have him bite back or snarl an insult at you, when just a month ago you would’ve given anything to have him rendered mute.

Maybe its because it gives an easy reason to hate him. But right now, he’s given you more than enough.

“So, if you don’t want anything from me, why do you go so out of your way to bother me? Make me so angry I want to rip your head off? Make fun of anything that has to do with me? Stare at me every time you get a chance?” You’ve stood up now, throwing the blanket off you in the process, voice getting louder with ever question. You were no longer cold; Instead, overheating with frustration. But you weren’t even close to be done. You chuckle humorlessly.

Kei just sits and listens to you, face blank and unable to read. The look causes tears to well in your eyes, but you will them with all your life to not let them drop.

You don’t even have the time to try and stop the next words that come out of your mouth.

“Why did you kiss me, if you don’t want anything from me?” You hear your voice crack at the last question. You were beyond furious at this point, and your rage had caused you the throw out the real reason you were upset. The real reason behind all of it. The reason you had tried to hide so badly from yourself.

When Kei had kissed you, you liked it. And you were devasted that he didn’t.

You liked Tsukishima Kei. You liked that sarcastic asshole. And there was nothing good about it. At the epiphany, you can’t stop the slightly strained laughs that escape you.

What a ridiculous situation you’ve gotten yourself into.

“I should’ve left the night it happened right? I should’ve known that since you hate me with your entire existence, of course you’d choose the one thing that would cause me the most emotional turmoil. Well congratulations! I no longer want anything to do with you! You’ve won, okay?! You’ve gotten me to fall for you, and subsequentially ruin me!” You laugh at little more, not even realizing the tears falling down your face.

There’s a long silence between you two, only being filled with your heavy breaths. You wait a couple seconds for a response, an apology (yeah right), simply anything. But he stays silent, not even giving you the courtesy of looking you in the eye.

At the feeling of tears warming your cheeks, you turn and attempt to go to your room, mortified that your literal worst nightmare is occurring.

When you for the umpteenth time today feel a hand grab at your wrist, pulling you with a force. A sense of urgency.

You turn to him to immediately feel his lips on yours. Your eyes widen in surprise. With a sense of Déjà vu, you feel your entire body freeze.

His lips are forceful on yours, like he’s putting every emotion he’s ever felt into that kiss. It was quite literally searing, as if you feel your lips burn. And despite every rational part of your mind screaming at you to slap him, bite him, kick him in the balls or any other action that would result in him backing away from you…

You find yourself kissing him back with an equal amount of ferocity. Even going as far as to forcefully deepen the kiss. On your terms, unlike the last time. You can’t stop the moan that enters his mouth when you feel his tongue rub on yours.

You him groan through the haziness. Whether in satisfaction or surprise, you’re not sure. But all you’re sure of, is that you could never get enough of that sound. Your fingers go to rub his neck, then travelling into the soft curls of his hair, tugging hard whenever you felt he wasn’t close enough. You feel his hands, the hands you’ve thought about for nights on end, going to wrap around your waist and under your shirt, lightly pressing into the small of your back, which causes a heavy shudder to go down the length of your spine. You could feel the pride ebbing of him in waves, to much he earns a rather harsh tug.

When you both pull back for air, a string of saliva following you both, you find his long but strong arms wrapped around your waist, and yours his neck, pulling each other closer. Silence is filled by both of your pants.

“Still want nothing to do with me?” He asks, foreheads still leaning on each other; Still so close you can feel is breath on your cheek. Only amplified by the tear streaks. You continue to close your eyes as you pull away further, cheeks heated and red, knowing full well that he’s got you right where he wanted.

“You… Are such an asshole.” You breathe out, yet still choosing to remain in his arms. He rolls his eyes. “And you’re a bitch.” His tone was so smug, like he had just won the lottery. You couldn’t help but threaten him with attempting to remove his hands from your waist, to which he applies strength to his hold, keeping you in his arms.

You’re almost scared at how your heart flutters at the action. You scoff, ignoring your feelings of dread at how easy he managed to get you back in his hold.

You were certain that this man would be the death of you. The thought brings a sort of clarity to you.

“Where do we go from here?” You ask, still slightly breathless. Kei only gives you an indifferent shrug.

“I know what I want to do.” He mumbles, taking his hands once again and sliding them under your shirt, feeling his calloused fingertips on your back. You immediately grab his wandering hands. He sighs at you stopping him, giving you that look of ‘what an inconvenience’ again.

Even in moments like these, he still manages to irritate you.

“You’ve done way too many things for that to be your choice tonight.” You say, only seriousness in your tone. You’ve acknowledged your feelings sure, but that doesn’t mean you’ll do what he wants when he’s screwed you over like this. You refuse to be used like that.

“You hurt me, Kei. In more ways than one. A simple kiss won’t fix anything. If you want us to be on better terms, you need to start by showing that you’re sorry.” Kei gives you look that you can’t decipher, before letting go of you to fix his glasses that were starting to slide down his face.

“What do you want me to do?” Honestly, you were taken aback by his abruptness. You didn’t expect him to agree so soon. You didn’t even know what to say.

“I’m not sure yet.” You reply honestly, and he gives you an annoyed gaze, to which you narrow your eyes. “That’s something you’ll need to figure out on your own, but you need to start with changing your attitude towards me.” To your surprise he takes in what you were telling him, and nods. Then immediately goes to leave the room. You sputter and jog after him.

“Where are you going?”

“To figure it out. I’ll be doing that for the rest of the night so make sure to tidy up the living room.” You hear his voice distantly, to which you turn to the living room, remembering the plates, cups and blanket that was now your responsibility.

“I can’t believe I like that asshole.” You grit to yourself, beginning the process of cleaning up.

~~ Bonus:

You finally finish cleaning up the living room, and retreat to your bedroom practically flopping on your bed. You realize that you were still in your school uniform, so you groaned as you got up to get dressed into for bed. When you go to your dresser trying to find something to sleep in, you find something that isn’t yours on top of it. It was a large black binder.

Curious, you pick it up and sit back down on your bed. You open it and find a small note at the beginning.

Show this to the team and I’ll kill you.

You flip through the first couple of pages. It was a photo album.

Tens and tens of photos with Kei as a child. The same child that makes your heart swell three sizes bigger. A lot of volleyball related photos, and a lot of ones with him and Akiteru. You flip through more and more, feeling the biggest smile on your face.

You didn’t go to sleep for a while, you wanted to commit each photograph to memory.

For what it’s worth, Tsukishima Kei did have hope. Whether he knows it or not.

Unrequited Love: Kenma

Kenma Kozume had never been good with change.

He liked things predictable. Safe. Video games had taught him that if he kept his strategy consistent, if he memorized the patterns and played smart, he could survive anything. Life was just another game to him—one where he preferred to stay in the background, keep things stable, and avoid unnecessary risks.

But nothing about this felt stable. Nothing about this felt safe.

Because you were leaving.

Kenma sat on the floor of your apartment, legs crossed, a cardboard box in his lap. Around him, the room looked smaller than it used to, packed with boxes stacked high, shelves stripped of their usual clutter. The air smelled like old books, packing tape, and a faint trace of your perfume, and for the first time since he had known you, your space didn’t feel like home anymore.

Maybe because it wasn’t. Not for much longer.

You had been a part of his life for so long that he barely remembered what it was like before you. Since childhood, you had been there—first as a quiet presence at his side in elementary school, then as the only person who could sit with him for hours, gaming in comfortable silence. You never questioned the way he was, never pushed him to be anything other than himself. And as the years passed, you became his constant, his safe place, his person.

And now, you were leaving.

“So, you’re really going, huh?” His voice was quiet, neutral, but even he could hear the strain in it.

You looked up from where you were sorting through a pile of miscellaneous things—old letters, tangled earbuds, random trinkets you had shoved into drawers over the years. You smiled, but it was the kind that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah. It’s happening.”

Kenma’s fingers curled around the edges of the box. He had known about this for weeks now, ever since you told him about the job opportunity in another city. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this. He had told himself it wouldn’t change anything. That you would still text him, call him, visit when you could.

But now, with everything packed up and your walls bare, the reality of it all settled like a weight in his chest.

He had never thought about a life where you weren’t here. Where he couldn’t just send a message and have you show up at his door an hour later with takeout, where you weren’t sitting beside him on his couch, watching him play through whatever new game he was obsessed with that week. Where you weren’t just…

Here.

You sighed and flopped onto your back, staring at the ceiling. “I’m kind of freaking out,” you admitted, voice light, almost playful. “New place, new people, new job. It’s exciting, but also terrifying.”

Kenma swallowed. He should say something. Something encouraging, something that made it sound like he was happy for you, like he wasn’t falling apart inside.

“You’ll be fine.”

You turned your head to look at him, and for a second, he thought you could see right through him. That you could tell he was barely keeping it together. But then you smiled—soft, familiar, warm.

“Thanks, Ken.”

He nodded, looking away. He focused on the box in his lap, on the way his hands clenched the cardboard just a little too tightly.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. He had never needed to say anything before. He thought you just knew—that you had always known. That there was no rush, no deadline, no moment where he would run out of time. Because you were always here.

But now, you weren’t going to be.

And Kenma realized, too late, that he had never even given himself a chance.

The packing took hours, and Kenma stayed through all of it. It wasn’t like he had anywhere else to be, and he didn’t want to be anywhere else, anyway. He helped you sort through things, separate what you were keeping from what you were leaving behind. Every item had a story, a memory attached to it. The hoodie he had lent you once and never got back. The game controller he had bought for you so you could play co-op with him. The tiny cat figurine you had won at a festival and insisted looked just like him.

All these little things that made up you.

All these little things that reminded him of what he was losing.

He wasn’t good with words. He never had been. He wasn’t like Kuroo, who could charm his way through anything, or Bokuto, who could wear his heart on his sleeve without fear. Kenma had always been quiet, reserved, hesitant. But when it came to you, his feelings were loud, screaming inside him, demanding to be acknowledged.

But he had never said anything.

Because what if he did, and you left anyway? What if it changed everything? What if losing you as a friend hurt worse than losing you to distance?

“You should take this,” you said at one point, holding out an old, well-loved game case. “We never finished it together.”

Kenma stared at it, then at you. “Then take it with you.”

“I don’t have my console anymore. Sold it.” You grinned sheepishly. “New city, new start.”

His grip tightened on the game. He didn’t like that answer. He didn’t like any of this. He had never been an emotional person, but right now, something bitter sat at the back of his throat, something wrong.

You were leaving. You were letting go of all these things, of this life, of him—and you were acting like it was just something that had to happen.

Kenma had spent years convinced he had all the time in the world. But time was up. And for the first time, he didn’t know what to do about it.

It was late by the time everything was packed. The apartment looked empty now, stripped of everything that made it yours. You stretched, yawning, then turned to him with an expression that was far too casual for what this moment felt like.

“This is it, huh?” You nudged his arm lightly. “One last night before I go.”

Kenma’s stomach twisted. He forced himself to nod. “Yeah.”

“Hey.” You tilted your head, watching him. “Are you okay?”

No. No, he wasn’t. Because this wasn’t fair. Because he should have said something sooner. Because he didn’t know how to deal with the fact that tomorrow, you wouldn’t be here anymore.

“Yeah.”

You frowned, unconvinced, but you let it go. Instead, you stepped closer, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. Kenma stiffened for a moment, caught off guard, before his body reacted on instinct, arms lifting to hold you back just as tightly.

“I’m gonna miss you, Ken.”

The words hit him harder than he expected. He closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing, trying to memorize this—the feel of your arms around him, the warmth of you against his chest, the way your head fit perfectly against his shoulder. Trying to ignore the aching thought that this might be the last time.

He wanted to say don’t go. Wanted to tell you to stay, that you didn’t have to leave, that he—

But he didn’t.

Instead, he whispered, “Me too.”

And he held on for as long as he could.

Favourite Positions: Sugawara

Sugawara Koushi had always been attentive. He had a way of reading you—of knowing exactly what you needed before you even asked. But tonight, you were the one who made the first move.

It started as a simple suggestion, whispered against his lips as you straddled his lap, your fingers curling into his soft, silver-streaked hair. "I want to try something different tonight, Koushi."

He tilted his head, amusement flickering in his brown eyes. "Different how?"

When you told him, his smile widened—slow, intrigued, dangerous.

"Yeah?" His voice dropped, hands squeezing at your waist. "Alright, sweetheart. Let’s try it."

And that was how you ended up here, tangled together, your legs draped over his shoulders, his mouth hot and greedy against you while you did your best to keep up.

It should have been a fair exchange, an even give-and-take. But Koushi wasn’t playing fair.

The second his tongue flicked against you, a slow, precise glide that sent sparks up your spine, you realized you were already at a disadvantage. His grip on your thighs tightened, his fingers pressing into your skin as he held you still, fully at his mercy.

You tried to focus, to keep up, your hands gripping him, stroking in time with the slow rock of your hips. You wanted to take him apart the way he was ruining you. But then—

He moaned.

The deep, reverberating sound vibrated against your core, and your body jolted, betraying you.

Koushi chuckled against your skin, smug and knowing. "Oh? That got to you?"

You whimpered, trying to suppress the way your thighs trembled around his head. But he felt it. Of course he did.

"You’re so sensitive tonight, sweetheart." His voice was teasing, but there was something else beneath it—something hungry. "I wonder how long you’ll last?"

Your breath hitched as his tongue worked you over with slow, devastating precision. Each flick, each swirl, each deliberate pressure against your clit sent you spiraling higher, faster than you wanted to admit. He was taking his time with you, making sure you felt every second of it.

You tried to fight back, to make him feel just as wrecked. You wrapped your lips around him, sinking down slow, letting your tongue drag along his length in a way you knew drove him insane.

It worked—his breath hitched, his hips twitching against your mouth. A sharp, shaky inhale.

But then, as if reminded of the game you were playing, he groaned into you, deep and unrestrained.

The sound wrecked you. Your grip on him stuttered, your rhythm faltering, a high-pitched whimper slipping from your lips. And just like that—

He knew he had you.

His hands squeezed at your thighs, pulling you impossibly closer, his tongue delving deeper, flicking faster, sucking just hard enough to send you spiraling.

You couldn’t focus anymore. Couldn’t even think.

"K-Koushi—" Your voice broke, your body arching against him as he worked you to the edge with ruthless patience.

"That’s it, sweetheart," he murmured against you. His voice was warm, coaxing, wrecking you. "Let go. I’ve got you."

And you did.

Pleasure crashed over you like a tidal wave, your whole body shaking, tensing, completely unraveling. A sharp cry spilled from your lips, your fingers digging into his thighs as your climax washed over you, leaving you trembling in his grasp.

But Koushi—Koushi wasn’t done.

As you gasped for breath, he didn’t let go. Instead, his hands guided you, adjusting you so you could move freely while still hovering over his face.

"There you go," he murmured, voice thick with satisfaction. "Ride it, sweetheart. Don’t be shy."

Your breath hitched as his tongue pressed against you again, your body twitching from overstimulation.

"I—I can’t—"

"You can," he reassured, hands firm on your thighs, keeping you steady as you ground down against him, chasing the pleasure all over again.

The change in position made it even worse— or better, depending on how you looked at it. You had more control now, more leverage, but the more you rocked against his mouth, the deeper the sensations coiled inside you.

Desperate for something to ground yourself, you let your hands trail down his stomach, wrapping your fingers around him from this angle, stroking in slow, teasing motions as you took him deeper into your mouth.

Koushi groaned into you, his grip on your thighs tightening, fingers digging into your skin as his body tensed beneath you.

His breath turned ragged as your hand moved faster, your grip tightening. He was close.

"Koushi—"

Your voice cracked as you came again, pleasure ripping through you, your whole body trembling in his grasp. The feeling of you tensing, shaking, completely wrecked above him— it pushed him over the edge.

A deep, shuddering groan left his lips as his body tensed beneath you, spilling into your hand as he finally let go, undone by the way you lost yourself above him.

You felt the tremor in his thighs, the way his fingers dug in just a little harder as his breath stuttered, his whole body shaking through the aftershocks.

For a long moment, neither of you moved.

Just ragged breaths, aftershocks still rippling through you both, your limbs tangled, your bodies completely spent.

Then—a soft chuckle.

Koushi pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your thigh before murmuring against your skin, "Think that might be my new favorite."

You let out a breathless laugh, still too wrecked to even open your eyes.

Just as you started to relax, his fingers brushed along your skin, soft, teasing, lingering.

"You alright, sweetheart?" His voice was sweet, too sweet.

You nodded weakly, still coming down, not yet realizing the danger.

Then, his lips curved against your thigh, and he murmured—

"Good. Let’s go for three."

Oh. You were in trouble.

Favourite Positions: Hinata

You didn’t usually date short guys.

It wasn’t personal—just a preference. You liked being manhandled. Liked being tossed around, bent over, pinned. You’d always thought height made that easier. You wanted to be overwhelmed, and you never thought someone with a boyish grin and a 174 cm frame would be the one to do it.

But Hinata Shōyō?

Was a beast.

Not just in the way he moved, though that was devastating enough. He had stamina for days, legs like pistons, arms strong enough to lift you like you weighed nothing. But it was the way he looked at you when he was inside you—like he was starved, like he was built for this. Like your pleasure was his mission.

And when you were underneath him? Flat on your back, legs thrown over his shoulders, Hinata kneeling over you with your ankles hooked behind his neck?

There was no going back.

“I wanna see everything,” he’d whispered the first time, flushed and breathless, the tip of his cock nudging at your entrance. “Wanna see your face when I make you lose it.”

And now?

Now he was fucking you like he meant it.

Your thighs trembled where they rested over his shoulders, calves draped down his back as his hips snapped into yours. His hands were braced beside your head, body bent forward so his chest hovered over yours. The position had you folded nearly in half, stretched wide, completely taken.

“So—tight,” he groaned, jaw clenched as he pounded into you with brutal rhythm, curls damp and clinging to his forehead. “God, you feel… fuck… you feel so good.”

Your back arched off the bed, fingers fisting the sheets, eyes fluttering as pleasure crackled through your nerves.

“Shōyō—too deep, it’s too much—”

“No,” he gasped, snapping his hips harder, “It’s perfect. You can take it. Just hold on, I’ve got you.”

You sobbed as his cock hit that devastating spot inside you over and over, your body clenching, quivering. The position had you stretched and pinned, his body grinding into yours with relentless force. You could feel the headboard banging against the wall, the slap of skin-on-skin loud in the air.

Hinata leaned closer, your knees nearly pressed to your chest, and he grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers together as he fucked you harder.

“I wanna see it,” he panted, eyes fixed on your face. “Come for me. Right now. Let me see how pretty you look when you break.”

And you did.

You shattered with a scream, back arching violently, mouth falling open in a ragged cry as your orgasm slammed through you. Your vision went white, your body seizing under the weight of the pleasure, twitching uncontrollably. You couldn’t even breathe—couldn’t think.

It didn’t stop.

He kept fucking you through it, hips rolling hard and deep, watching you fall apart beneath him like it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Your hands clawed at his arms, thighs trembling wildly, mouth babbling nonsense—you didn’t even realize what you were saying. You were crying. Moaning. Whimpering please and don’t stop in the same breath.

Hinata groaned, deep and broken, and you felt his rhythm falter just slightly before he buried himself deep, grinding his hips hard into yours as he came with a strangled gasp. The warmth of him flooding you only sent another pulse of aftershock through your body, another twitch of oversensitivity that made your breath catch.

He stayed there, chest heaving, forehead resting against yours.

Your chest was heaving, fingers twitching, mind blank except for the echo of your own voice—broken, desperate, high-pitched and gasping his name like it was the only thing you knew how to say.

Your body was still convulsing in little aftershocks when Hinata leaned over you, his breath warm and uneven, and started pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to your skin.

First to your collarbone. Then lower.

His lips trailed down the curve of your breast, lingering over the swell as his hand spread wide over your stomach—grounding you, holding you, but never still.

You jolted when his mouth dipped lower again, his tongue lapping at the sheen of sweat on your ribs, and then his lips brushed just under your navel.

“Shōyō—” you whimpered, voice rasping from overuse, hips twitching.

He smiled against your skin, kissed lower.

“Too much?” he whispered, but didn’t stop. He was everywhere—on your hips, your thighs, your waist, like he needed to taste every part of what he just ruined.

Every place his mouth touched made you flinch, a fresh wave of oversensitivity crawling across your skin. But you didn’t stop him.

You couldn’t.

And neither could he.

By the time he leaned up again, his hands were back on your waist, thumbs stroking soft, absentminded circles against your flushed skin. His eyes were bright, cheeks still a little pink, and his grin—smug, breathless, a little crooked—stole the last of your breath.

“Wanna go again?”

You blinked. And despite the fact that your legs were jelly, your brain scrambled, your body completely wrecked—you still managed to nod.

A slow, wicked grin spread across his face.

Yeah. You didn’t usually date short guys.

But Hinata wasn’t like anyone else.

Jealousy: Oikawa

Barcelona was always golden in the evening.

Sunlight spilled between buildings like warm syrup, painting the cobblestones in hazy orange light, alive with motion and music and voices raised in too many languages to count. The streets pulsed with energy, and Oikawa moved through it all like he belonged there—because he did.

You walked beside him, fingers laced loosely through his, sunglasses pushed up into your hair as you studied a nearby plaza, smiling at the crowd. You'd only stopped for a quick drink before heading home, but somehow a ten-minute rest turned into lingering.

Which was exactly how it happened.

He came out of nowhere—tall, handsome in that slightly too-smooth way, and a native speaker who clearly wasn’t shy about using his charm. He was friendly, casual, and you—being you—were nothing but warm in return. Oikawa was used to it. You made friends everywhere. Waiters, baristas, strangers on trains. He wasn't usually the jealous type.

Usually.

But today? You were laughing a little too softly. Tilting your head a little too far. And the guy? Oh, he was leaning in like he had a damn chance.

Oikawa didn't say anything right away. He just sipped his drink and watched, sunglasses shielding the slow burn building behind his eyes. Your fingers were still in his, but even that wasn’t grounding him tonight. Not when the guy started complimenting your accent. Not when he gestured toward the nearest bar with an easy smile and said,

"If you're looking for local recommendations, I could show you a few places."

That was when you felt it.

Oikawa's hand tightened slightly around yours, his thumb no longer stroking circles over your skin but now still, firm.

You turned toward him innocently, blinking up at his too-perfect face with a feigned sweetness that you knew drove him insane.

"Tooru," you said, voice syrupy, "he says he can show us some local spots. Isn't that nice?"

Oikawa set his glass down with a clink, but instead of stepping in front of you—he stepped behind. His arms slid smoothly around your waist, his chest pressing flush against your back as he dipped his head low, his lips brushing just below your ear when he spoke.

"You’re playing dangerous games," he whispered, voice like silk and warning all at once. The way his breath fanned across your skin made you shiver, your back unconsciously arching into him. He chuckled against your neck, low and warm, like he knew exactly what he was doing.

The guy took a half-step back, visibly caught off-guard now as his eyes darted between you and the very obviously possessive arms wrapped around your waist.

Oikawa turned his head, resting his chin on your head, and finally spoke aloud—his tone still pleasant, still polite, but tinged with something sharper.

"Oh, you didn’t know?" he said, gaze locking with the man’s. "She’s very much taken. Tragic, I know. Don't worry though, I've lived here for years."

The guy blinked, awkward laugh faltering. "Ah—right. My mistake. Sorry, man. Just being friendly."

"Of course," Oikawa said with a smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. "Happens all the time." The guy took the hint and left, vanishing into the crowd, and you finally let the smile stretch fully across your face.

"You're so dramatic," you hummed, stepping closer, chest brushing his as you leaned into his space.

Oikawa narrowed his eyes, even as his arms slid around your waist.

"Do I really need to wear a sign?" he muttered.

You batted your lashes. "Maybe. Or just keep doing that thing where your voice gets all cold. It's kind of hot."

His brows lifted.

"You're doing it on purpose."

You grinned. "Maybe."

Oikawa sighed, burying his face in your neck, lips brushing the skin there.

"You're going to be the death of me."

"Mmm. But I’ll make it fun."

Thank you!!

Thanks so much for all the follows and likes!!! More posts will be coming soon <333

Tensions (Pt. 1)

The sun had been beating down rays of heat all day, but with it now being noon, the heat was at its strongest.

Being that it was the thick of summer, it was a dry day; with the wind that usually downplayed the rising temperature to be nowhere in sight. The rays hit Fushiguro hard, only amplified by the dark jumper he decided to wear that day. Why he had chosen to wear it now of all days is currently lost on him.

He feels beads of sweat roll down the side of his face. Fushiguro swipes his hair out of his field of view, doing his best to ignore the tiring weather conditions, and keep his eye on his opponent.

Him and Itadori had yet to move. They were in a stare down, waiting to see who would make the first attack. And in the three years they’ve been sparing, they both knew that Itadori would move first; Fushiguro was simply waiting.

The wisps that he swiped away had re-entered his view. Fushiguro quickly moves them away, eyes lasering on focus as Itadori decides to start the spar, making quicks strides to him. Itadori goes for a right hook, Fushiguro blocks it easily. Like clockwork he grabs Itadori’s arm and tries to flip him over. Itadori easily breaks free with an attempted kick to his shin, causing Fushiguro to jump back, putting space between them again. Fushiguro goes to a strike his jaw, for Itadori to dodge and attempt to hit him back.

It goes on for some time, with them going back and forth. To be completely honest, the black- hair sorcerer knew that in hand-to-hand combat, Itadori had the upper hand. However, in the time that had passed going from 15 to now 18 years of age, he could say with some confidence he could hold his ground against him.

After a failed punch, Fushiguro had Itadori in a vulnerable position. He could basically see the victory.

“You boys having fun?”

Her light, playful, teasing voice breaks through the cicadas, the heat and more importantly, Fushiguro’s focus. His head whips to see her causally leaning against one of the many trees, one of her legs bent, using the base as leverage. He drinks in her entire form. Arms crossed pushing up her breasts, extenuating the curves and contours of the rest of her body. His eyes trail to how her skirt had slid up the tiniest bit, legs bare since tights were now a hinderance instead of a benefit.

Then just like that, he’s on the dirt trying to breath in the air that suddenly had escaped him, all the while cursing his unconscious ogling.

He just couldn’t help himself. And that’s what frustrated him.

“Ha! I win!” Itadori’s voice is gleeful, before turning to the absolute bane of Fushiguro’s existence.

Kuramoto Sumiko.

He watches the two exchange greetings, causal conversation flowing as though Fushiguro wasn’t on the floor basically cooking in the sun. He sits up and grits his teeth, his annoyance in himself projecting onto her.

“Could you not interrupt us when we’re sparing? You made me lose focus.” He spits, glaring at her. He watches in agitation as Kuramoto’s smile grows condescending. It causes his blood to boil.

“So cold, Fushiguro-kun,” He knew she only used the honorific to piss him off. And God did it work.

“Just because you’re frustrated that you lost, yet again might I add, doesn’t mean you need to take it out on me.” He tsks, ignoring her words. Itadori ignores Kuramoto’s passive aggressive statement, offering a hand to help Fushiguro up. He begrudgingly takes it, before unwillingly moving his focus back to her.

In the end it always goes back to her. Whether he liked it or not. (Though it was usually not)

“What are you doing here anyways?” Kuramoto pouts, mocking a sad expression. Fushiguro stops himself from looking at her lips. He refocuses when he hears her dramatic huff.

“You make it seem as though you don’t want to be around me.” Kuramoto’s voice is overly babyish, turning her body to the side and looking away as if what he said actually hurt her. Fushiguro knows better than that though.

It’s because I don’t. The sorcerer thinks bitterly.

You drive me insane. With almost everything you do.

He cuts off his thoughts, almost shaking his head in real time as he watches with pure distaste when her mock sadness turns extremely dramatic with the flip of a switch. Kuramotos’ slightly manic behaviour wasn’t surprising to neither Fushiguro nor Itadori. She’d always been like this; in fact, he’d predicted her personality in the beginning moments of meeting her. Prideful, selfish, loud and a little bit crazy. All perfect traits for a life in sorcery.

Everything Fushiguro wasn’t.

He could say with full confidence that they two were total foils of each other. Like water and oil, the two just didn’t mix.

He thought about it more then he cared to admit.

She places her hand on her heart, making a pained expression. “Oh, how you wound me.” Kuramoto’s closed eyes peek open to view the two boys who were clearly not amused. Well, Itadori was a little; He had always found her antics a little funny.

The had two always got along better than her and Fushiguro for sure. He would be lying if he said he’s never gotten slightly jealous.

Fushiguro sighs tiredly, waiting for the real reason she had come and interrupted their spar. One look at his expression and she smiles.

“Tough crowd.” He only rolls his eyes. “Gojo sent me to get Yuuji. Something about a mission, I think.” Itadori makes a noise of recollection, then one of stress. Kuramoto and Fushiguro, well her more openly, watch in amusement as Itadori’s face shifts through the levels of stress.

“Ah, I completely forgot! ‘Kay, I gotta go! I’ll you see guys later!” He runs off instantly, not even waiting for goodbyes, and she laughs a little. There’s a beat of silence as they watch Itadori become smaller and smaller. It goes once, twice, until they both reach the same thought.

They were left alone with each other.

It doesn’t take long before Kuramoto gets that teasing look in her eye. The look he absolutely despised.

“And then there were two.” He raised his brow, ignoring the feeling of his blood pressure rising and incoming headache.

If he had any say about it, he wouldn’t be staying too long.

“I have to train, so I can’t stay. Excuse me.” Fushiguro starts to walk away when her laugh stops him.

“Can’t? Or won’t?”

The question makes him pause. Mostly because he already knew the answer.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He came off more aggressive and irritated then he wanted to, but to be fair, it was her.

He just couldn’t control himself.

Kuramoto hums, walking towards him, her steps light and bouncy as she circles around him. Fushiguro’s eyes never leave hers; Just like hers never leave his.

“Well, its just that you’d think after three years, you’d tolerate being around me more.” Fushiguro knew what she were referring to. Over the years he could count the times he’d been alone with her on one hand, and even then, it wasn’t very long.

He didn’t know what’d he’d do if he was given the chance.

Fushiguro doesn’t respond, trying to ignore the growing tension that came from his silence.

The tension that they both knew were there but refused to acknowledge.

Kuramoto laughs lowly, cutting the silence in half as she begin to walk away. His eyes trail her form. “Just some food for thought, Megumi-kun.” His name rolls off her tongue so smoothly, it sends shivers down his spine. He glares at her hard, keeping silent.

“Also, maybe a haircut would improve your chances at sparing. But don’t expect any miracles, okay?” She yells over her shoulder as she exits, and Fushiguro clenches his fists. He doesn’t respond; Then again, he never does.

Because he’s too busy willing his body to not chase after her.

~~~

“She drives me insane.” Fushiguro rants, pacing back and forth the floors of Itadori’s dorm, while the aforementioned watches in concealed amusement.

“C’mon man, she’s not that bad,” Itadori reasons. Fushiguro stops to look at him. “Of course, you would say that; She doesn’t put all her energy into tormenting you.” The pink-haired sorcerer sighs a little.

“Or maybe, you just give her too much to play off of.” Itadori mumbles, and Fushiguro stops.

“What?”

“I’m just saying, you do act a little strongly with her. Downplay it, and she might lay off.” Fushiguro scoffs. As if he hasn’t thought of that before.

He didn’t have the nerve to say he had no control of his emotions around her.

“What part of ‘she drives me insane’ do you not understand?” He watches Itadori sigh again, rubbing the back of his neck as he sets his drink down on the floor.

“Look dude I get it; Having that kind of tension with someone would drive anyone nuts-” Fushiguro almost chokes, effectively cutting off his best friend. That struck a nerve.

“I’m sorry, ‘that kind of tension’? What’s that supposed to mean?” Fushiguro asks, immediately on the offensive. Itadori looks at his best friend blankly. “Uh… The sexual tension you guys have? It’s so thick you could cut it with a knife.” The simple manner in which he says it, causes Fushiguro to spiral even more.

“What?! That’s not even close to what’s going on! She drives me insane because she’s rash, selfish, crazy, annoyingly-”

“Fuckable?” The boys both turn to the source of the crass comment. Kugisaki leaning against the doorframe, her face completely serious. Fushiguro grits his teeth, his ears burning in embarrassment and anger knowing that there was no escape from the subject now.

“Couldn’t help but overhear. Honestly, Fushiguro, you want to screw her so bad it makes you look stupid.” He watches his other best friend, debatable at the moment however, walk into the room and open the mini fridge to get herself a drink. Fushiguro tsks at the comment, looking away from his friends prying eyes.

“Again, the concept of me and her is ridiculous. Never once have I ever thought of her that way.” He hears Kugisaki snort loudly.

“Please. There’s a thin line between love and hate, and you’ve been ready fuck over it since the day you met. You guys should just get it over with. Three years is long enough.” He watches his two friends, clearly amused with his suffering, infuriated. He can’t stop the irritated sound that comes from his throat. Itadori, perhaps feeling pity, gives Fushiguro a sympathetic smile.

“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? Get your mind off things?” Itadori suggests. Fushiguro sighs, but doesn’t disagree. He had been working hard enough as it is, and a day off didn’t sound too bad…

“And there’s my entrance.” The three third years freeze to sound of Kuramoto’s voice. Fushiguro’s heart suddenly began to pound so hard he could feel it in his ears. If she had heard anything, he would never hear the end of it. And if that happened, he truly believed he would snap.

“Kuramoto! Were you outside long?” Itadori asks, standing up to greet you, clearly trying to gage how much you heard the previous conversation. The three anxiously awaited your answer.

“Just got here. I overheard that Megumi-kun,” She makes a point of using his first name in an overly smug but light voice to irritate him. Fushiguro glares but doesn’t say anything.

“Was thinking of a day off?” Itadori and Kugisaki go silent as they watch Fushiguro’s face form a deeper frown then once thought imaginable.

“I fail to see how that involves you in any way.” He says sharply. She only gives a light shrug, smile still plastered on her face. “It’s just that it really messes up my schedule.” Fushiguro’s eyebrows burrow deeper in confusion.

“What?”

“With the mission Gojo-sensei gave us. We leave tonight.” The information bounces around Fushiguro’s head and he still doesn’t process it completely.

“Huh? Gojo never said anything about a mission, though.” Kugisaki finally speaks, and Itadori agrees with a couple nods of his head. Kuramotos’ smile widens.

“It was assigned to just me and Megumi-kun. Something about our styles aligning.” She hums in thought, and all words dry up in Fushiguro’s mouth.

A solo mission… with her…

“Anyways! Make sure to pack the essentials Megumi-kun! It’s supposed to be a few days at the least!” Kuramoto laughs before saying a childish* ‘bye-bye’ *and leaving. It took several minutes and hand waving to get Fushiguro up to speed.

This. This was his own worst nightmare.

~~~

“Do you want to explain yourself?” Fushiguro barges into his office, catching Gojo mid tea sip. He could see his teacher’s smile widening, as he continues drinking his tea, purposefully not sensing Fushiguro’s tone of urgency and anger.

“About what, Megumi? I do a lot of things that need explaining. Depending on what it is, I might give you an answer.” Gojo sets his tea down gently, looking at his student with a grin so wide it was extremely difficult for Fushiguro to not punch him.

Still, he remained calm. Well, enough at least.

“The mission you apparently assigned me and Kuramoto. Why the two of us? You have lots of different sorcerers at your disposal.” Gojo made a sound of surprise.

“Am I hearing tones of resentment? I never thought I’d see the day where the team player doesn’t want to cooperate with someone. Scary.” Fushiguro grits his teeth.

“I- We just don’t work well together.”

“You guys do well enough in group settings. What’s the difference?” The answer dies in Fushiguro’s throat.

The difference is less time actually spent alone. He couldn’t imagine the possibilities of what could happen if there were alone for long periods of time. It was practically unheard of.

And Fushiguro wasn’t keen on experimenting.

“Plus, your techniques compliment each other. You guys theoretically would make a great team, so I put you together. Now you can drop out if you’d like, but I’ve already told the higher ups and the principal you guys were going. That’s not gonna look good for you.” Fushiguro rubs the bridge of his nose.

Why did you tell them I’d go without asking me first? Is the only question on his mind before holding his head up, swallowing his pent-up frustrations with an easy breath. Just like so many times before in his life.

“Where are we going?”

“A small town on the outskirts of Tokyo bordering Kanagawa.” He nods, before taking his leave and going to his dorm to pack his stuff. He fails to see Gojo’s mischievous grin as he takes another sip of his tea.