Confessions: Oikawa

Jealousy: Suna (NSFW)

The night had no plans. And that was the plan.

Warm lamplight painted the apartment in soft amber hues, flickering gently across a half-finished bottle of wine, socks abandoned near the doorway, and the lazy sprawl of two bodies tangled beneath a fleece blanket on the couch. Outside, the city murmured in the distance—traffic, wind, someone’s music a few blocks away. But here, the only sounds were the low thrum of a playlist you both forgot to turn off and the occasional clink of glass as you sipped.

Suna Rintarou sat at the opposite end of the couch, half-lidded eyes drifting toward the TV screen though he hadn’t looked at it in twenty minutes. One knee bent, the other foot on the floor, hoodie loose around his shoulders, collarbone peeking out where the fabric hung unevenly. His phone rested facedown on the coffee table—abandoned, for once.

You lay curled into the armrest, sipping your wine, cheek pressed into the pillow, watching him with the slow, foggy fondness of someone three glasses deep and completely content.

He looked relaxed. Comfortable. Maybe a little too smug.

"You ever get bored of being effortlessly cool?" you asked, voice low and amused.

Suna didn't even glance at you. “You ever get bored of talking out your ass?”

You smirked into your glass. “Mm. Nope.”

The silence between you was warm. Familiar. Filled with shared breath and the lazy weight of the night.

After a moment, you tapped the side of your glass with your fingernail and looked over at him, eyes half-lidded. “Wanna play something?”

Suna raised an eyebrow without moving. “Like what?”

You shrugged, smiling. “Truth or dare.”

He blinked slowly. “…What is this, a middle schooler’s basement?”

You laughed and kicked him in the thigh with your socked foot, not even hard. Just enough to say shut up.

Suna grunted on impact, shooting you a narrowed glance as his hand caught your ankle under the blanket.

“You’re ridiculous,” he said.

“You love me,” you shot back easily.

He didn’t answer—just let your leg go and leaned forward to set his glass down on the table with a soft clink.

“Fine,” he said, finally. “You first.”

The couch creaked quietly beneath you as you shifted upright, adjusting the blanket to pool at your waist. Your glass was nearly empty now, fingers curling loosely around the stem while your legs curled underneath you. Suna stayed reclined, eyes on you now with that low-burn stare—quiet, unreadable, like he was already trying to guess what you’d ask.

You toyed with the rim of your glass, lips twitching. “Okay. Truth or dare?”

His answer came without hesitation. “Truth.”

Of course. It was always truth with him. He’d rather be caught dead than do something performative, especially under your watchful, goading eye. Suna Rintarou didn’t dance for anyone—but he’d let you look inside, if only a little.

You hummed, pretending to think, even though you’d already decided. “What was your first impression of me?”

He scoffed softly, dropping his head back against the cushion and staring at the ceiling for a beat before turning his gaze lazily toward you again. “Honestly?”

“Obviously.”

“You were annoying.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Wow.”

“In a cute way,” he added with a lazy grin.

You lifted your leg and nudged his thigh again. “You’re cruising for another kick.”

“Worth it,” he muttered, taking a sip of his drink.

He set the glass aside again, arm draping along the back of the couch behind you, fingers brushing the fabric near your shoulder.

“My turn,” he said.

You met his gaze, chin raised. “Hit me.”

“Truth or dare?”

You grinned. “Truth.”

Suna’s eyes lingered on your face for a beat too long. Then: “Top three best times you’ve ever had in bed.”

You blinked. Hard.

A short laugh escaped you. “Are you—seriously?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “You asked.”

Your cheeks warmed—not from embarrassment, but from the audacity. He was leaning into the cushion now, head tilted slightly, eyes hooded, watching your reaction like he was tracking the slow spread of heat across your skin.

“Okay,” you said finally, placing your glass on the coffee table. “Fine.”

You sat back and raised three fingers.

“Number one…” you began, grinning. “That night you came home after being gone for four days? Didn’t even make it to the bedroom. You dropped your bag and practically tackled me into the wall.”

Suna made a small, satisfied sound in his throat, but didn’t interrupt.

“Number two: the kitchen. I don’t even remember what started the fight, but you shut me up pretty effectively.”

His lips twitched, the barest hint of smugness there now.

You raised your third finger—and then paused. Let the silence stretch.

“And number three,” you said, tone suddenly breezy, “was probably this one time with my ex.”

Suna didn’t react at first.

Didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink.

You waited.

Then he turned his head slightly, slow and measured, like processing a minor glitch in a system. His eyes dragged across your face. He looked calm. Relaxed. His arm still hung behind your shoulders.

“You’re putting someone else on that list?” he asked quietly.

You smiled, feigning innocence. “Didn’t think you’d be the jealous type.”

“I’m not,” he replied.

Then he shifted.

His legs uncrossed, knees spreading slightly as he leaned forward, forearms braced on his thighs, eyes still locked on yours.

“I’m competitive.”

You opened your mouth to respond—something flirty, maybe a little smug—but before you could speak, he was already moving.

One hand slid behind your neck, the other gripping the back of your thigh, and he pulled you forward in one fluid motion. Your knees hit either side of his hips as he dragged you into his lap, not rough, but not exactly gentle either. It was purposeful. Controlled.

You gasped softly, wine-blushed hands flying to his shoulders for balance. The heat of his body met yours in a slow burn as his mouth grazed your jaw, barely touching, the edge of a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

“Third place,” he murmured. “You serious?”

You opened your mouth to tease him—but he cut you off with a kiss.

It wasn’t soft.

It was deep and slow and toeing the line between affection and punishment, his tongue sliding into your mouth like it belonged there, like he was reclaiming territory he thought he already owned. One of his hands found your lower back, pressing you flush against him, your hips cradled perfectly against the slow, rising hardness beneath his sweats.

He pulled back just enough to murmur, “You said top three, right?”

Your breath hitched.

He tilted his head slightly. “Let’s make it a clean sweep.”

You never made it to the bedroom.

You didn’t even make it to your feet.

Suna laid you back against the couch with a quiet, measured ease, like he was tucking you into something soft instead of preparing to ruin you. The throw pillows shifted behind your shoulders as he moved over you, the heavy drag of his hands along your thighs lighting every nerve with anticipation.

Your shirt was still on. Your panties, around your knees. Everything else was tossed aside: the rules, the game, the ex you’d mentioned like it wouldn’t cost you everything.

His fingers gripped the backs of your knees, pushing your legs apart until you were open—displayed—for him and only him. You felt the chill of the air hit your slick skin, and then the warm press of his palms smoothing up your inner thighs like he was marking them.

You were already wet. Ridiculously so. The kind of wet that made your skin sticky and your mind hazy. He hadn’t even touched you properly and you were half gone.

Suna didn’t speak. Didn’t ask. Just lowered himself between your legs and settled in like this was his seat.

The first press of his tongue was slow. A long, deliberate drag from your entrance up to your clit, tasting you like he already knew exactly what he was about to do.

You gasped—back arching, fingers twitching against the cushions as his mouth closed around your clit, lips plush and wet, tongue circling until your thighs trembled.

He moaned, low and hungry, like you were a meal he’d waited all day for. And then he began to eat.

It wasn’t messy. It was precise. Calculated. He licked in slow, repeating patterns, pressure building perfectly with every stroke. The couch dipped under his weight as he adjusted, one hand splayed across your stomach to keep you pinned, the other trailing over your thigh with soft, absentminded affection.

Your hips tried to move—tried to chase the friction—but he held you there.

“You taste better when you beg,” he murmured into you, voice deep and quiet like it wasn’t meant to be heard. His lips never left your skin.

You whimpered, hands flying to his hair, gripping the strands like you were trying to ground yourself. You couldn’t.

Your first orgasm crept up before you could stop it—warm and relentless, your stomach tightening as he flicked the tip of his tongue over your clit in tight, practiced circles. You shook beneath him, thighs clamping instinctively, voice cracking as you gasped—

“Rin—oh my god—Rin—”

“That’s one,” he murmured.

He didn’t stop.

He pushed two fingers inside you, slow and deep, curling them up until you let out a sharp, broken moan. You were already pulsing, already drenched, and he was fucking into you with just his fingers and tongue like he had all night to unravel you.

The second orgasm hit harder.

You choked on it, the pleasure sweeping through your body in sharp, dragging waves, so intense your fingers went numb and your vision blurred. You tried to close your legs again. He held them apart, fingertips digging into your thighs like they belonged there.

“I’m not done,” he said simply.

You were crying now—soft, helpless tears slipping down your cheeks, your breath coming in ragged gasps. You didn’t know if you were begging for more or begging him to stop. Your body didn’t care. It wanted everything.

“Rin,” you whimpered. “I can’t—”

“You can.” His tongue flattened against your clit, firm and unrelenting. “I know you can.”

Your third orgasm snapped like a thread pulled taut too long. Your body shook, hips jerking off the couch, mouth open in a soundless cry. Your hands were everywhere—gripping the cushions, his hair, your own thighs—anything.

He finally pulled away, lips and chin slick with you, and looked up through his lashes like he was barely winded. His hand was still working inside you, fingers slow and deep, pressing against that soft spot that had your toes curling.

“Still thinking about him?” he asked softly.

You couldn’t speak.

Suna kissed the inside of your thigh. “Didn’t think so.”

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stood, shoving his sweatpants halfway down before sinking back onto the couch—grabbing your hips and hauling you down the cushions like you weighed nothing.

Your back hit the armrest, legs dangling off the edge, and he was lining himself up in seconds.

You felt the press of him at your entrance—thick, hot, already leaking—and then he pushed in.

You moaned—loudly, mouth falling open as he filled you inch by inch. He didn’t stop until he was buried to the hilt, the stretch so deep it made your whole body arch.

He stilled, breathing hard through his nose, eyes on your face.

“So tight,” he muttered. “So fucking wet. You’re shaking.”

He pulled out halfway—slammed back in.

You cried out, nails dragging down the armrest as he fucked into you, hard and deep, every thrust sending shockwaves up your spine. The couch rocked. Your body bounced. And all you could do was take it.

He found your clit again—this time with his thumb—and rubbed tight, fast circles that had your fourth orgasm snapping violently through you, your cunt clenching so hard around him he cursed under his breath.

“You gonna come again?” he murmured, hips still snapping into yours. “You gonna give me five?”

You sobbed. “Rin—yes—yes, I can’t—”

“Yeah, you can,” he whispered. “You will.”

The final orgasm came like nothing you’d ever felt.

You screamed—loud, raw, pleasure flooding every part of you. Your entire body went stiff before it collapsed, twitching, legs trembling as you came so hard your ears rang.

Suna groaned deep in his chest, fucking you through it until he came too—hips jerking, cock pulsing inside you as he filled you up with every last drop.

When he stilled, you were ruined.

Sweaty, twitching, wrecked.

He leaned over you, pressing kisses to your temple, your jaw, your cheek, as your chest rose and fell in ragged breaths.

The air smelled like sex and sweat and your perfume still clinging to his hoodie.

You didn’t move.

You couldn’t.

He kissed your shoulder once more, nuzzling into the space just below your ear, then whispered—

“So…”

A pause.

“Did I make the leaderboard?”

Your brain was mush. Your limbs were jelly. Your body was still throbbing.

And all you could do… was nod.

Suna smiled.

“Good.”

Favourite Positions: Tsukishima

Kei has always loved your ass.

Even before you were together, he never could stop himself from sneaking a glimpse and hating how good your ass looked in your uniform as you stormed away from him. The shape, the perkiness, everything about it drove him crazy.

Probably why he loved fucking you from behind.

“Kei…!” Your voice is muffled from the bed, but your pleasure could be heard loud and clear as he piled into you. The room filled with the sound of his hips slapping your ass, with Kei reveling in the recoil with each thrust. “Sorry, I can’t hear you. What?” Kei purposefully evens his voice to sound unbothered, even though he himself is fighting the urge to groan. He loved teasing you like this, and he could tell you loved it too, considering the squeezes you keep giving him. “Keep going!” You managed to squeal out, turning your head to the side. Kei then stops abruptly, just long enough to hear your whimpers and whines before he smacks your ass, grabbing it at its fleshiest. “Is that how we ask?” Kei knew his tone was cocky, and even though that’s what made you hate him in the first place, it was also what made you jump into bed with him. “Please! Fuck me!” The desperation in your voice is something Kei would definitely bring back up later, but that didn’t mean he could wait anymore either. With a growl, he watched you writhe under him as he plowed as deep as he could, and with a shout you were cumming. Kei gives you a second to breathe, his hard cock slipping out of you making you flop onto the bed like an exhausted fish. He wastes no more time though, grabbing your ass all the while jerking himself off with other hand. It’s not long before he finishes too, his hot cum spurting all over your ass and back. The room settles, a musk weighing heavy in the air. There’s only breathing before Kei can’t help himself. “Seems like you needed that.” “Fuck off.”

The Saga: Tsukishima x Reader Pt. 3 (Pt. 1)

Being on a level in which you were ‘okay’ with Tsukishima Kei was odd.

You still teased each other sure, but that was simply in both of your natures. There was a lack of venom; a lack of hatred in the jabs you took at each other. It was just simply something that you weren’t used to. Ever since that night where you ‘confessed’ to him, he’s began treating you with a sense of neutrality. The change was small, but it was very much impactful.

Even other people were starting to notice it.

“You two seem to be doing better,” Yamaguchi had commented once, while you were giving him and Kei some advice on an English assignment. It was a sort of abrupt comment, said while Kei was off getting a drink from a nearby vending machine, and one that you didn’t expect. It caused to you look up in slight surprise. Yamaguchi stuttered at your expression.

“N-not that you- you two had an-any trouble in the beginning-“ Your laugh cuts off his rambling, “Please, Yamaguchi-kun, don’t pretend like Kei is the nicest person to be around.” You chuckled, watching Kei from afar waiting for his drinks. You didn’t realize, but you were smiling. “But you’re right. We’ve kind of come to an…” You pause, trying to find the right word for it, “Understanding.”

And you really had. You had asked him to start treating you better, and he did. On the nights that he could, he would walk home with you, join you on dinners, and all in all was just more amicable.

You were happy with this evolvement, but that didn’t mean you were satisfied with it.

Because it seemed to bring up so many questions.

You knew that Kei liked you, and you knew that he knew you liked him, yet nothing ever came of it. You were both in that were place, a kind of limbo between just being friends and being more than that, and you seemed perpetually stuck; unable to decide to come down, or march on forward. And Kei wasn’t helping.

He never brought up that night. In fact, it seemed as though he pretended it never happened, and that bothered you. You knew that you shut it down that night, and you would do it over if given the choice, but you couldn’t tell whether he wanted to put in the actual effort to start it up. And while you never had the guts to bring it up with you two doing so well, you could tell that it lingered in the air between you two. Like an awful smell that grew and grew more potent with every moment you ignored it.

But what could you do?

Nothing. You couldn’t do anything about it. You were never one for emotional confrontation, and you’d avoid for as long as you possibly could. If you had the choice between not knowing and being happy, and knowing then being embarrassed and crushed, you’d take not knowing any day.

Yes, because that seems very healthy.

You’re torn from your thoughts when you feel a soft knock to the top of your head. You look up to a suspicious looking Kei.

“What are you thinking about?” Over the past couple weeks, you’ve grown pretty good at masking your facial expressions; so instead of heating up at the idea of telling him that you were in fact thinking about him, your expression remained light and neutral as you quickly thought of a white lie. “About how your tall ass is blocking my sunlight. Move.” You push at his legs, moving him out of eyeline, knowing that he’s rolling his eyes at you.

“I’m going to be leaving for the weekend. Volleyball finals.” He’s extremely short with his sentences. It’s almost as though if he saves his words for the possibility of insulting someone or something. Still, you’re quite used to his abrupt nature, so you nod.

“Tough competition?”

“Should be.”

“You’ll be fine.” He looks down at you, face still passive and neutral as ever.

And if you were being completely honest, you were getting tired of neutrality.

“I didn’t ask for reassurance.” It’s your turn to roll your eyes. “It’s called being polite, asshole.”

“Insinuating that I’m worried about my skills for the finals, is polite?” Kei has a kind of glint in his eyes, and a sort of upward tilt on his mouth when he tries to start an argument or tease you. Something that used to drive you crazy a couple of months ago, is now something that you realize you yearn for.

You can’t help but smile back at him. A wide teasing one, and it made your stomach flutter.

“If that’s your interpretation of what I said, maybe you’re projecting.” Kei is about to respond, when the bell to signify the next class rings; one of the only classes you two don’t share. You go to pick up your things.

“I’ll be heading home early today. So I’ll see you later, yeah?” Kei only nods, and with that you’re only somewhat charged conversation dries out. You do your best to hide your disappointment and begin to trudge to your next class; slouched and unsatisfied. The whole class is a blur while you try to settle the slush of agitation at the situation and yourself, because you’ve let your emotions block your education once more. The lunch bell rings but you still haven’t settled yourself.

You walk out of the classroom knowing that you’ll need to teach yourself the lesson once you get home tonight, trying to find a quiet place to sit and relax before your next period. Usually, you’d sit with your group of friends or even Kei if you found him, but you seriously wanted to avoid the possibility of someone asking questions on why your face was on a permanent and unmovable downturn.

And it would’ve gone so well had whatever God not have different plans for you.

“Hey it’s her!” It’s a yell full of excitement and amazement. Like the kind you’d hear at a zoo or festival. It surprises you a little, but the boy’s voice was definitely not directed to you anyways. Probably some girl he’s had eyes on, or something like that. You don’t turn around and keep walking towards the stairwell.

“Hey stop!” The voice again.

Okay, that felt a little directed towards you.

You look around, to find a lot of people staring at you and somewhere behind you.

Shit. Those calls were for you, weren’t they?

You slowly turn around, trying to keep your grimace at a minimum when you spot the source of the voice. A short, ginger-haired boy with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on a person waving at you like a maniac as he jogged towards you, being accompanied by a taller dark-haired boy that seemed to have a permanent look of disdain on his face.

Like night and day.

“Can…Can I help you?” You ask meekly, your eyes shifting to the other students heavy and unyielding stare, extremely confused as to what they wanted. You couldn’t shake the thought that the both of them looked somewhat familiar…

“I’m Hinata Shouyo! And this guy’s name is Kageyama!” The ginger pointed to himself and his friend respectively, and then it clicked. “And we’re—”

“You’re Kei’s teammates, aren’t you? From volleyball?” Hinata smiles wide, nodding enthusiastically, while he goes to open his mouth when Kageyama cuts in. “You really do call that pretentious shit ‘Kei’.”

It wasn’t even a question, moreso a statement of bewilderment as you hear Hinata’s hiss of warning to the taller player. You didn’t know how to respond, only laughing nervously with a hint of strain in your voice. “Force of habit I guess? Listen, I really gotta—”

“Wait, we need your help!” That made you pause. What could they possibly need you for?

Did something happen with Kei again?

You wait for him to continue. Hinata takes a deep breath like he’s been preparing for this. You have to hold back a slight chuckle at the ridiculous amount of effort he seems to be putting in.

“Your first language is English right?” Ah. Immediately you knew where this was headed.

It was quite clear that you were a foreigner. Your Japanese wasn’t perfect, and there was the more obvious hint that you weren’t Japanese. As well, being in the countryside didn’t help you in looking in-place.

Far from it actually.

Most days you stuck out like a sore thumb. But you didn’t mind it as it never really caused you any harm or benefit. What it did cause though, was an increase in people thinking you were some kind of Messiah in English.

Yes you were in an advanced English class, despite being a first-year, but still. The assumption in itself got you a lot of requests for help with test prep, assignments, readings…

Hell, Kei’s asked you to look over something at least once.

Your expression turned tired as you gave a simple nod. They seem to sense your mood shift. “W-well, we both have this huge assignment due, and you probably know we have the nationals this weekend,” You remember Kei mentioning it earlier.

He never said it was the nationals though. Must be pretty damn important.

You’re a little upset he didn’t tell you just how important it was.

“—We don’t want to let the team down, but if we don’t finish it, we can’t go! Will you help us?” Hinata’s pleading places you back in reality, looking into the desperate eyes of the two boys. Kageyama passionately yells out a ‘Please!’ causing you to step back a little in surprise. You hesitate, unable to keep their unyielding gaze. You really want to tell them that you can’t, make up some fake situation you urgently need to attend to.

But Volleyball is really important to Kei, and you don’t know if you could be at the hands of the team’s loss. Even if it is second-hand.

Plus, these two terrors seemed unrelenting.

You let out a heavy sigh, rubbing your eyes a little. “I… Guess I could look them over?” You could’ve sworn you saw stars in their eyes.

The next few moments were a slew of praise, thanks and plans becoming instantly created as to how you were going to your evening.

And your lunch.

Unrequited Love: Oikawa

You’d known Oikawa for as long as you could remember. From messy sandbox battles to after-school practices that went late into the evening, he’d always been there—your first friend, your longest friend. The three of you—Oikawa, Iwaizumi, and you—had always been a unit, bound by years of shared childhood, inside jokes, and more than a few arguments.

But right now? Right now, Oikawa was testing every ounce of your patience.

“Hajime said you’ve been holed up in here for hours,” you said as you shoved open his bedroom door without knocking. “What’s your excuse this time?”

Oikawa groaned from the depths of his bed, a mess of blankets and pillows hiding all but the top of his ruffled hair. His room was a disaster zone: clothes scattered everywhere, an abandoned volleyball rolling lazily near the desk, and the faint smell of coffee from the cup Hajime must’ve left here earlier.

“Go away,” Oikawa muttered, voice muffled by his pillow.

“No,” you said firmly, kicking the door shut behind you. “I’m not letting you sulk forever. What happened?”

He rolled onto his back, his face pale and his eyes a little red. “She broke up with me,” he muttered, his voice cracking just enough to make you wince. “She said I was too focused on volleyball. That I didn’t care enough about her.”

Your heart squeezed. You’d seen the writing on the wall. Oikawa was intense about volleyball—obsessed, really. It was one of the things you admired about him, even when it frustrated you. But it was hard to hear him like this, even harder to know that he’d never think about you the way he thought about her.

You crossed your arms, steeling yourself. “Well, she’s not wrong,” you said, your tone blunt. “You’ve got a one-track mind, Tooru. Volleyball this, volleyball that. What did you think would happen?”

His face scrunched up in annoyance, and he reached out to grab a pillow, lobbing it weakly in your direction. “Gee, thanks for the support.”

You dodged it easily, smiling despite yourself. “I’m serious, Tooru. You’ve got to figure this out, or you’re going to keep pushing people away.”

He groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes. “You sound like Iwa-chan.”

“Maybe that’s because Hajime and I are the only ones stubborn enough to stick around while you throw yourself headfirst into everything,” you shot back, sitting on the edge of his bed. “Do you even realize how much we’ve put up with over the years?”

He peeked at you from under his arm, a reluctant smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You guys are too stubborn to leave me.”

“Damn right we are,” you said, reaching out to flick his forehead. “But don’t push your luck.”

Silence fell between you, the tension lifting slightly. You leaned back, resting on your hands as you studied him. His hair was a mess, his shirt wrinkled, and he looked younger somehow, like the kid you used to climb trees with instead of the volleyball star he was now.

“Come on,” you said eventually, standing up and brushing imaginary dust off your pants. “The team’s going out. You can’t stay in here forever.”

“I don’t feel like it,” he muttered, sitting up slowly.

“Tough.” You grabbed his wrist and tugged, ignoring his protests. “Go shower, change, and join us. I’ll wait in the living room to make sure you don’t crawl back into bed.”

He sighed, dragging his feet as he shuffled toward his dresser. “You’re so bossy.”

“And you’re so whiny,” you shot back, grinning. “Go!”

Just as you turned to leave, his voice stopped you.

“Hey.”

You glanced back, raising an eyebrow. He stood there, clothes in hand, his expression softer than usual.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice quieter now. “You’re a good friend.”

The words hit harder than they should have, settling like a stone in your chest. But you forced a smile, pushing the ache down where it belonged.

“Of course,” you replied, your voice steady.

You closed the door behind you, leaning against it for just a moment.

Being his friend was enough, you told yourself.

It had to be.

Rivals: (Haikyuu! x Reader)

A sharp-edged, slow-burn collection exploring the tension-filled dynamics between Reader and various Haikyuu characters. Fueled by banter, unresolved competition, and the kind of chemistry that crackles under the surface, each drabble blurs the line between hate and something dangerously close to desire.

1. Tsukishima 2. Terushima 3. Atsumu, Part 2 (NSFW), Part 3, Part 4 (NSFW), Part 5, Part 6 (NSFW) 4. Akaashi 5. Kuroo, Part 2, Part 3 (NSFW) 6. Sakusa 7. Oikawa 8. Kyotani/Mad Dog (NSFW) 9. Tendou 10. Iwaizumi, Part 2, Part 3 (NSFW) 11. Shirabu 12. Kita 13. Suna

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hey i wanted to request a fic, but before i request i wanted to say that i really enjoy your fics. there's something about them that makes me read them even when theyre about characters i dont often care much about. also, when i write i often stick to my couple of faves, but your fics have me thinking that maybe it'd do me good to practice writing a variety of different characters.

im not as prolific as you though hahaha

ok and now for my incredibly self-indulgent request because my #1 favorite is Mr. Perfect Kita, can i request a fic about Kita wooing/asking out a Reader who is intimidated by him?? pretty please, and thank you? hehe

i also am curious if there's any character you prefer writing about compared to the rest

have a lovely day! :)

Anon, you are far too kind — thank you so much for your kind words!! it genuinely means the world to me 🥹

Also: you should totally experiment with writing new characters!! it’s legit eye opening (after writing fav positions for Hinata, I can't stop looking at him differently 😭)

Also also, but favourite three characters to write for are Tsukishima (my first love) Iwaizumi and Atsumu for sure. They've stolen my heart ughhh.

ANYWAYS ENJOY <333

--

Anon Ask: Kita

There was something about Kita Shinsuke that made your stomach twist—and not in the butterflies, schoolgirl-crush way you wished it did.

No, it was worse than that. It was the intimidation.

Because Kita was perfect. He was composed, kind, respectful, disciplined. He woke up early, always got top marks, captained the volleyball team with quiet command, and still managed to hold the door open for every single person who walked through it. He was the kind of person who turned in his assignments a week early, whose uniform never had a wrinkle, whose silences were never awkward but intentional.

And you? You were just... there. Always a few steps away. Always too nervous to make eye contact, let alone conversation.

You shared a class with him—sat three rows behind, diagonally to the left—and you could probably count on one hand how many times you'd actually spoken to him. Mostly because every time his steel-gray eyes swept past you, your breath would catch in your throat.

That expression of his—steady, unreadable, unwavering—it made your nerves twist up in knots. It wasn't that he looked mean. It was that he looked like he saw everything.

So when he approached you after school one day, just before he headed off to volleyball practice, your brain completely short-circuited.

He stopped in front of your desk as you were packing up, casting a soft shadow over your notes. When you looked up, he was standing there with perfect posture, his uniform blazer unbuttoned but still crisp, and a small box held gently in both hands.

"Hey," he said, voice quiet but clear. "Can I speak to you a moment?"

You blinked up at him like he’d spoken another language, then scrambled to nod. "Y-Yeah. Of course."

He gestured subtly toward the hallway. You followed him, still clutching your books, your heart thudding in your ears. The corridor was mostly empty now, sunlight from the high windows painting long lines across the floor.

He turned to face you just outside the classroom, gaze even but calm.

Then, gently, he extended the box toward you.

"I put together a few things you might like. I hope that’s alright."

You stared at the box, then at his face, then back again. "Wait... what?"

The box was neat, wrapped in soft brown paper and tied with twine. Inside, you found your favorite snacks, a new set of pens in the exact shade you always used, a mini notebook with the design you'd admired in the campus store weeks ago, and a little envelope with your name on it in his clean handwriting.

You opened it with trembling fingers.

I thought of you, the note read. Simple. Honest.

"I noticed you're always out of ink because you let other people borrow your pens," he said softly, watching your reaction. "And I know you get headaches during long lectures—you press your temples with your thumbs when you're trying not to draw attention to it. So there's some caffeine-free tea in there too."

Your chest tightened. Your mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out. He’d noticed all of that?

“I... uh...”

Then he asked it. Calmly, without fanfare, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Would you like to go out with me this Saturday?"

Your brain lagged, your breath stalling in your throat. Your fingers clenched tighter around the box.

"Why?" you blurted. Then quickly, eyes wide, you stammered, "I mean—I didn't even know you were interested in me."

For a beat, he was silent. Then his eyes softened, his posture relaxing just slightly. His thumbs pressed gently along the edge of his sleeves.

"I am," he said. "I have been for a while. You're always thoughtful. You don't speak just to fill space. You listen. You think before you act. I admire that."

The air caught in your chest. You looked down at the box, then back up at him.

He added, voice quieter now, "You don’t have to decide now. I just wanted you to know it wasn’t an accident that I asked. I see you. Even if you don’t always see yourself."

You bit your lip. Your hands were trembling slightly as you clutched the box tighter against your chest. "You're... really good at this," you murmured, your voice barely more than a breath.

"I’m nervous," he admitted, eyes flicking away for just a second. He adjusted the strap of his gym bag over his shoulder. "But I meant what I said. I like you."

Your throat was dry, but your heart was full. Full in a way it hadn't been before.

You nodded slowly, smile shy. "Okay. Yes. I’d like that. Saturday, right?"

A tiny smile curved at the corner of his mouth—small but warm, the kind that made your chest flutter.

"Saturday," he confirmed.

He glanced down the hallway toward the gym, then back at you.

"I have practice now," he said gently, taking a small step back. "But I’ll see you tomorrow?"

You nodded, this time more confidently.

He gave one final lingering look—eyes lingering not on your face but the way you held the box close to you like it meant something—and then turned and walked away, each step measured and light.

You stayed rooted in place.

Blushing, stunned, your arms wrapped tightly around the little box as if it might disappear. You stood there for what felt like ages, listening to the echoes of his footsteps until they faded down the stairwell.

And when you finally looked back at the note in your hand, reading I thought of you one more time, your heart bloomed in your chest.

Maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t so scary after all.

Husbandry: Kenma

Kenma Kozume was a man of few words, but when it came to gaming, his focus was unmatched. His world narrowed down to the flicker of the screen, the subtle click of buttons, and the shifting of his fingers on the controller. You had gotten used to this side of him—the way he would disappear into his own world, immersed in a game for hours on end.

But today? Today, you weren’t in the mood to be ignored.

“Kenny,” you murmured softly, standing by the couch where he was seated, his eyes locked onto the TV screen. He didn’t respond, too caught up in whatever game he was playing, his brows slightly furrowed, lips pressed together in concentration. You knew better than to take it personally—Kenma could get lost in his games, completely tuning out the world around him. But after an entire afternoon of watching him battle it out with faceless opponents, your patience had worn thin.

“Kenma.”

Still nothing.

You sighed, your lips curving into a mischievous smile as you decided to take matters into your own hands. If he wasn’t going to pay attention to you willingly, you’d make sure he had no choice. Without another word, you climbed onto his lap, settling yourself comfortably as you straddled him, your arms loosely draping around his neck.

Kenma stiffened for a moment, his golden eyes briefly flickering toward you before shifting back to the screen.

“Babe,” he mumbled, voice low and distracted, his fingers still moving with practiced ease on the controller.

“What?” you asked innocently, tilting your head and pressing your chest just a little closer to his.

“I’m in the middle of a match.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, leaning in to nuzzle your nose against his neck. “And I’m in the middle of needing attention.”

You felt the slight hitch in his breath, the way his hands tensed around the controller as you placed a soft kiss just below his jaw.

“You’re doing this now?” he murmured, trying to sound unaffected, but the way his voice wavered gave him away.

“I’m bored,” you teased, pressing another kiss—this time right where his pulse fluttered, your lips lingering a little longer.

Kenma’s fingers twitched, and for the first time in a while, he fumbled, his character on the screen taking an unnecessary hit. You heard the faint sound of a death notification and bit your lip to keep from giggling.

“You made me miss that,” he mumbled, but there was no real heat behind his words.

“Did I?” you murmured innocently, your lips brushing against his ear.

“You know you did.”

You giggled softly, but you pulled back just enough to look at him, your fingers playing with the ends of his blonde hair. His gaze finally shifted fully to you, and the sight made your heart flutter. His expression was that familiar mix of mild annoyance and quiet affection, golden eyes softened by the warmth that was always reserved for you.

“You’re impossible,” he murmured, his thumb lazily brushing against the joystick, but his movements were slower now, his focus barely on the game.

“And yet you love me,” you quipped, a playful smirk tugging at your lips.

Kenma’s eyes flickered down to your mouth, and you saw the way his resolve crumbled just a little more.

“Yeah,” he said softly, finally setting the controller aside and wrapping his arms fully around your waist.

You beamed, leaning down to capture his lips in a slow, sweet kiss—one that melted away the distance that had been building over the past few hours. His lips were warm, and he kissed you like he had all the time in the world, his grip on your waist pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

“Missed you,” you murmured against his lips.

“I’ve been right here,” he murmured back, but his hold on you tightened like he was afraid you’d disappear.

“Not the same,” you whispered, brushing your nose against his.

Kenma let out a quiet sigh, resting his forehead against yours.

“I know,” he admitted softly.

The game forgotten, he pulled you closer, his lips trailing soft, lingering kisses down your jaw, across your neck, and back up to your lips. His touch was gentle but insistent, fingers pressing into your sides as he deepened the kiss, his body molding against yours. His hands traced slow circles along your back, each movement pulling you deeper into the moment.

“You’ve been playing all day,” you murmured softly, your fingers threading through his hair, gently tugging as he kissed along your jaw.

“Mm,” he hummed, his lips brushing against your skin.

“And I’ve been sitting here, waiting for you to notice me.”

Kenma’s lips paused, his breath fanning against your neck.

“I always notice you,” he murmured, his voice softer now, filled with something that made your heart flutter.

“Then prove it,” you teased, leaning back just enough to meet his gaze, your eyes gleaming with playful challenge.

A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of his lips as his hands slid up your sides, his thumbs brushing lightly over the fabric of your shirt.

“You’re really testing me today, huh?” he murmured, his golden eyes darkening with something deeper—something that made heat pool low in your stomach.

“Maybe,” you whispered, tilting your head slightly.

Kenma’s lips captured yours again, but this time there was more urgency, more hunger. His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you even closer until there was barely any space left between your bodies. His kisses grew more insistent, his lips trailing down the column of your neck, leaving a path of warmth in their wake.

“I’ll prove it,” he murmured softly, his voice a low promise against your skin.

You felt the heat rising between the two of you, your heart pounding in anticipation. And as his hands roamed your body, his touch both familiar and electrifying, you knew that Kenma was more than ready to remind you just how much he noticed you—in every possible way.

“Good,” you whispered, a satisfied smile tugging at your lips as you leaned in to capture his mouth again.

And in that moment, with his arms around you and his focus finally where it belonged, everything felt perfectly, wonderfully right.

Pregnancy: Yaku

It was supposed to be one of your favorites.

Yaku stood proudly in front of the stove, dishing up a steaming plate of oyakodon—fluffy egg, juicy chicken, perfectly seasoned rice. You’d been craving something warm and comforting, and he’d been more than happy to oblige. He even made miso soup on the side, garnished just the way you liked it, with the little tofu cubes floating lazily in the bowl. The apartment smelled like soy sauce and dashi, rich and nostalgic.

You waddled into the kitchen with one hand on your lower back, the other absentmindedly tracing the edge of your growing bump, already smiling at the scent you knew so well.

But then—

It hit you.

The smell.

Hard.

You stopped short. The smile slipped from your face. Your nose crinkled, your eyes went wide, and your stomach lurched.

You gagged once, loud and sudden.

Yaku turned from the stove instantly, eyes narrowing with alarm. “Hey—are you okay?”

You waved him off, trying to speak, trying to play it off like you could power through it.

“Yeah, I just—” You gagged again, louder this time, one hand flying to your mouth. “It’s fine, I think I just need a second—”

Then your stomach gave up entirely.

The rich scent of simmered egg and soy sauce suddenly turned rancid in your senses, and before you could say a word, both hands flew to your mouth. You staggered toward the sink, breathing hard through your nose.

Yaku turned just in time to watch you sprint the rest of the way.

You barely made it. Gripping the edges of the basin, you gagged violently, doubling over as your body heaved with no warning. Your knees buckled slightly from the effort, and tears sprang to your eyes as you fought to keep control.

“Oh—oh my god,” Yaku choked out, dropping the plate onto the counter with a sharp clatter. His hand hovered midair, frozen, like he wasn’t sure if he should run toward you or flee entirely.

He chose you.

“Hey, hey—it’s okay,” he said, voice slightly high-pitched, his mouth tugging awkwardly to one side as he fought against his visible discomfort. His nose wrinkled despite himself, but he pressed a hand to your back, rubbing slow, shaky circles. “It’s okay. Just breathe. You got it.”

You were sobbing before you even lifted your head.

“I loved that dish,” you wailed, tears streaming freely now. “You made it perfectly and I—I threw up in front of you, and I can’t even eat it now, and I’m so sorry—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said quickly, helping you upright and handing you a cool cloth from the fridge. “None of that. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

You wiped your mouth, sniffling. “But I ruined dinner.”

He glanced warily at the plate, now abandoned and beginning to cool. “Yeah, well, it’s not my best memory of oyakodon anymore, but that’s fine. It’ll survive.”

You hiccupped a wet laugh. “You’re grossed out.”

“I’m... challenged,” he admitted with a strained smile. “But I’m not going anywhere. I’ll gag quietly in the corner if I have to.”

You buried your face in his shoulder. “I hate that my body’s doing this. I hate that I wanted something so badly and then just—rejected it like that.”

He stroked your back, gentler now. “It’s not rejection. It’s just... a rebranding.”

You pulled back slightly, puffy-eyed. “What does that even mean?”

“It means,” he said, tipping your chin up, “that we’re finding new favorites now. So tell me what you can stomach, and I’ll make it happen.”

You hesitated.

“…You’re not gonna like it.”

“I just watched you throw up mid-step and I stayed. Try me.”

“…Pickles.”

He nodded. “Alright.”

“With peanut butter.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And crushed ice.”

He blinked. “Separate or…?”

“Side dish.”

“Of course.”

“And I want a plain bagel. But I want to dip it in cream cheese and ketchup.”

He exhaled. “Naturally.”

“And maybe some frozen corn niblets? Not cooked. Just... straight from the freezer.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay. Making a list.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do,” he interrupted, already walking to the counter. “Because you’re growing a whole human, and apparently that human is very specific.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too. Even if I hate this list.”

And with that, he kissed your temple, grabbed his keys, and set off to hunt down every absurd craving you’d dreamed up—with only a faint grimace and a stomach made of steel.

--

It took him two corner stores and a specialty deli, but Yaku returned triumphant, arms full of grocery bags and a look of determination on his face. He laid everything out on the coffee table like it was a five-star buffet: pickles, peanut butter, crushed ice in a big bowl, a plain bagel, cream cheese, ketchup, and a bag of frozen corn.

You were already curled up on the couch in one of his hoodies, and your face lit up like the sun when you saw it all. “Oh my god,” you gasped, reaching for the pickles first and dipping one straight into the peanut butter without hesitation. “This is perfect.”

Yaku sat on the edge of the couch, watching with a blend of horror and awe as you crunched down on your Frankenstein meal with pure, genuine joy.

You munched happily, cheeks puffed out, eyes dreamy as you chewed. “Oh my god, I love you so much.”

He smiled, soft and full of affection. “I love you too.”

Then, quieter, barely a mumble as he stared at the bagel going into the ketchup-cream cheese dip: “This kid is gonna be weird.”

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.

Broken Telephone Pt. 2

It’s been a couple of days since your chat with Kugisaki, and it was safe to say it was the absolute last thing on your mind. Right now, much more important tasks are taking up your thoughts.

“Oi, Itadori, how big is the difference between oranges and clementines?” The grocery store light flickers slightly above you, but it doesn’t take your focus off the shelf of ingredients. You hear his heavy sigh fill the aisle, breaking the serene music playing through the speakers of the store.

“How should I know?” His voice sounded tired, but maybe it’s because you dragged him grocery shopping at ten PM.

In your defence, you hadn’t realized how barren your mini fridge and shelf were until nine.

You make a sound of agreement. “You’re right, I shouldn’t have expected an answer from someone like you.” Itadori makes an offended noise. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You stand up straight, ignoring his question. “I’ll just get both then.” You say to yourself, taking a small bag of both fruits and putting them in the basket Itadori was holding, full of an assortment of other products. You see him narrow his eyes at you.

“Why did you bring me out here again?” He asks, following you to the checkout counter. “Is it not obvious? I needed someone to hold my stuff.” You start taking stuff out of the basket, handing them to the tired-looking clerk, who was looking at the two of you with eyes of distaste, clearly upset for making them have to work.

“You realize I’m not your butler right?” You don’t answer right away, giving the money to the clerk and taking the bags of your groceries in turn, passing a few to Itadori, which he takes, despite his previous statement. It makes you smile slightly, eyes turning to tease.

“Oh, are you sure? I was going to bake you a cake as thanks later…” While it sounded like a jest, you were being completely truthful. Baking had become somewhat of a hobby lately. It brought a calm to you, and in the life that you’re in, it was definitely a welcomed feeling.

The doors of the grocery store open automatically, making a little noise as you walk past the sensor, and onto the clear street. Moon shining brightly on the street, the night sky clear without a cloud in sight.

“I don’t think I want a cake from someone who doesn’t even know the difference between basic fruits…” You laugh a little, nudging him playfully, and he just gives you a warm smile in return. You both start your somewhat long walk back to the school in silence, with you basking in the serenity of the night, making your chest warm in comfort.

“Hey…” Itadori starts, and you hum.

“Do you really find Fushiguro more attractive than me?”

The nice feeling in your chest you’d felt was gone in an instant. You’ve stopped walking and whipped your head to Itadori, face a little more flushed than you would’ve thought. Itadori’s face is impressively passive for the question he just asked. It makes you all that more flustered.

“W-what?! Where the hell did that come from?”

“Kugisaki told me.” His short reply caused you to grit your teeth and clench your fists, the plastic bags in your grasp stretching from the tension. Now would be a good example of when your shamelessness was a bad thing.

Damn it all.

“I swear to-“

“She meant it as an insult, but I don’t really mind it. You were never my type either.” He cuts you off, “Though I never would’ve thought you’d like someone like Fushiguro…” Your face flushes harder.

“What’s that supposed to-“

“But I really need to know,” Itadori interjects again, looking away and putting his hand on his chin, the groceries in his hand swaying from the movement. “Did you really tell Kugisaki that you wouldn’t mind being fucked seven ways to Sunday by Fushi-“

You knew that Itadori was built like a tank, and even without cursed energy, he was a beast. So realistically, nothing would’ve happened if you whipped him with your boatload of groceries.

Which is why you put a little bit of cursed energy into it.

The result led him to pause and let out a gruntled noise, clutching his stomach in somewhat agony. Had he known it was coming, it probably wouldn’t have done anything.

But the element of surprise is incredibly deadly.

“What sack load of shit are you spewing? I never said any of that!” You couldn’t look at him, far too mortified at the words he’d said. Fucked seven ways to Sunday… Are you kidding me Kugisaki?

You’d never admit that those words sounded somewhat appealing though.

“So you don’t like Fushiguro then?” Itadori appears at your side, fully recovered like ten seconds ago didn’t happen. Damn his resilience…

“I-“ You hesitate, trying to figure a way out of this situation. His observing eyes weren’t helping either. By the time fifteen seconds went by, you realized that you’d taken too long to answer the question, and therefore already giving him the answer he asked for.

But you’ll be damned if you didn’t try to dig yourself out of the hole you’re in.

“I like him a normal amount. And you’re allowed to find people attractive without having feelings for them.” You clear your throat, finally resuming the path to the school. “Come on, we’re already late.” You fail to see the sly smile form on Itadori’s face as he catches up with you, deciding to let the subject rest for now.

Not without one last jest though.

“If it makes you feel any better, Kugisaki and I think you’d be good together. You’d have very antisocial children though.” He didn’t need to see your face to know that you were blushing. You push him away from you, causing him to laugh a little. You huff at his antics.

“Shut up. You’re not allowed to joke with me like this. You lost that privilege after you ‘died’.”

“Huh?! Are you still not over that?” His voice turns whiny. You hold your annoyance firm.

“I hold grudges when it benefits me.” Itadori clicks his tongue.

“You’re mean like Fushiguro too. You’re practically made for each other.” You hear Itadori mutter that last bit, and you keep your face forward to try and make it seem like you’ve already gotten over the extremely embarrassing moment.

“Shut the hell up or you’ll be carrying all my groceries.” He laughs out loud again, cutting into the silence of the streets. During the whole way back you still hear him snicker now and then.

Oh, Kugisaki is going to pay for this.