Favourite Positions: (Haikyuu! X Reader)

Hii!!

First of all, I wanna say that I really really love your writing, I literally check ur page multiple times daily to see if you posted - your writing is just that good.

I wanted to ask if it was possible to maybe have a "fav positions" w Aone? 👀 He's honestly such a gentle guy, I love him smm

Or if that's not rlly smth for you, maybe smth for the manager duty section? I'd love to see smth w Shiratorizawa !!

Again, I absolutely adore your writing, keep it up!! 💕

Hii!! 🥺💕

First of all—your message seriously made my entire day. I can’t even express how much it means to hear that you check my page like that!! Thank you so, so much for all the love and support, truly. 🫶

Also... your request?? Immaculate taste. Aone is such a soft, gentle giant—he absolutely deserves all the love and intimacy. I actually just posted the fav positions drabble for him, so it’s up now if you’d like to check it out!! 😌💕

As for the Shiratorizawa manager drabble—YES, 1000x yes. I’ve been wanting to write something for them, and your message gave me the perfect excuse to start brainstorming. They’ll definitely be getting their moment in the Manager Duties series soon 💜

Thank you again for being the sweetest ever!! Sending you the biggest hugs—ily 🫶💌

Husbandry: Oikawa

The first thing you register upon waking up is warmth. A steady, lingering heat against your back, an arm draped lazily over your waist, the rhythmic rise and fall of a chest pressed flush against you. The scent of something familiar—clean linen, faded cologne, a hint of salt from the sea breeze slipping through the open window—fills your senses. Oikawa’s grip tightens instinctively as you shift, pulling you impossibly closer, his face buried against the curve of your shoulder.

“Tooru,” you murmur, voice still thick with sleep.

A muffled groan is his only response. His body is heavy against yours, limbs tangled in a way that makes movement difficult. You try once more to shift, but his arms only tighten around your waist.

“Nope,” he grumbles, his voice rough from sleep. “No getting up yet. It’s illegal.”

You huff, already knowing how this is going to go. Sunlight spills in through the sheer curtains, painting the walls of your shared apartment in soft golden hues. The distant sound of life beyond the bedroom—muffled chatter from the streets below, the occasional car passing by, the faint melody of a street performer’s guitar—reminds you that the world is awake, moving. And yet, Oikawa remains completely unfazed, as if time doesn’t exist beyond the warmth of your shared bed.

“I have things to do,” you say, though your voice lacks conviction.

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Lies,” he mutters against your skin. “You have exactly one obligation today, and that’s to stay right here in bed with your incredibly handsome husband.”

You roll your eyes, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Is that so?”

“Mhm,” he hums, pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder. “It’s scientifically proven that getting up too early makes you ten times more cranky.”

“More cranky?” you repeat, raising a brow. “Are you saying I’m cranky now?”

He hesitates.

“…No?”

You elbow him lightly, and he lets out a dramatic wheeze, flopping onto his back as if you’ve mortally wounded him. “Oh my god, the betrayal,” he groans, throwing an arm over his eyes. “I let you into my home, my heart, my bed—and you stab me in the stomach.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you say, but you’re already smiling.

“I’m wounded.”

“You’re fine.”

He peeks at you from under his arm, brown eyes still hazy with sleep but glinting with amusement. “You’re not even going to check?”

“I know you’re fine.”

He lets out another exaggerated groan before reaching for you again, pulling you back into his embrace. This time, you let yourself sink into his warmth, the sound of the city fading into the background. His fingers trace lazy patterns against your arm, absentminded, soothing. The morning breeze flutters through the curtains, carrying with it the scent of freshly baked bread from the bakery down the street, mingling with the salt-tinged air of Barcelona’s coastline.

“You really don’t wanna stay in bed with me?” he asks after a while, voice softer now, more genuine.

You sigh, pressing your cheek against his. “I do, but I also don’t want to waste the whole day.”

Oikawa scoffs, shifting to press a kiss to your temple. “It’s not wasting if we’re spending it together.”

“You always say that when you want me to be lazy with you.”

“Because it’s true,” he argues. “C’mon, just a little longer? Please?” He tilts his head, lips brushing against your jaw as he whispers, “For me?”

You groan, knowing you’re done for. Oikawa is many things—dramatic, annoying, way too smug for his own good—but he’s also incredibly hard to say no to, especially when he’s warm and sleepy and clinging to you like this.

“Fine,” you mumble. “But only for a little longer.”

A victorious grin spreads across his face as he pulls you flush against him, tangling your legs together under the sheets. “See? I always win.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“And you love me.”

You roll your eyes but don’t bother denying it. Instead, you let yourself relax into his arms, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, the hum of the city outside, the quiet comfort of being wrapped up in him. The world can wait a little longer.

Maybe, just maybe, staying in bed with him isn’t the worst way to spend the day.

Hey, can I make nsfw requests?

Yes you very much can!! I have a lot of nsfw content on here lolol

I’d love to hear your ideas!!

Rivals: Kuroo Pt. 3

The crisp morning air hit you the moment you stepped outside, your cheeks still flushed with residual heat from the sheer embarrassment of what had just transpired. You adjusted the strap of your bag over your shoulder, tugged your coat tighter around your body, and walked. Faster than necessary, eyes fixed ahead, ignoring the unmistakable ache in your legs that served as an unrelenting reminder of last night.

What the hell did I do?

The question looped in your mind as you trudged down the sidewalk, each step bringing another humiliating flashback. The way his lips had trailed down your throat, the rasp of his voice murmuring your name like a prayer, the heat of his breath against your ear.

The way you begged for him.

You groaned out loud and shook your head violently as if you could physically shake the memories loose. This was bad. This was so bad.

By the time you reached your apartment, your heart was still hammering in your chest, the adrenaline of your walk of shame still rushing through your veins. The second your key turned in the lock and you pushed the door open, a familiar weight landed against your legs.

“Hey, buddy,” you murmured, bending down to scoop up your cat, pressing your face into his fur for a moment of comfort. He meowed in response, blinking up at you with wide eyes before batting at the collar of your coat.

At least he wasn’t judging you.

You set him down and made a beeline for the shower, peeling off your clothes as fast as you could. You needed to wash off Kuroo Tetsurou, scrub away any remnants of his touch, his scent, his presence.

But no matter how hot the water was, no matter how much you lathered soap against your skin, it didn’t leave you. The heat of his hands, the press of his body—it was all still there, lingering like an impossible-to-ignore memory.

You groaned, pressing your forehead against the shower tiles, letting the water cascade down your back. Why him? Of all people, why Kuroo?

The man drove you insane. Always teasing, always pushing, always so damn smug. You’d spent years butting heads with him, rolling your eyes at his antics, gritting your teeth at his unrelenting wit.

And yet…

The minute he touched you, something inside you had snapped. You’d met his fire with fire, let yourself get lost in the burn of it.

And worst of all?

You wanted to do it again.

You sucked in a sharp breath and shut the water off, gripping the edge of the shower door for stability. No. No, no, no. This was a mistake. A one-time lapse in judgment.

You would not let yourself fall into this trap.

By the time you were dressed, your cat had curled up on the couch, watching you with half-lidded eyes as you ran a towel through your damp hair. “Don’t look at me like that,” you muttered. “I know I made a bad decision.”

He flicked his tail, unimpressed.

You threw the towel into the laundry hamper and collapsed onto your bed, staring at the ceiling, mind still racing. You had to go back to work on Monday and pretend nothing happened. You had to look Kuroo in the eye and act like you hadn’t had his name spilling from your lips over and over again.

You squeezed your eyes shut, inhaling deeply.

This was going to be hell.

__

The weekend blurred by in a haze of distractions. You tried everything—burying yourself in errands, binge-watching dramas, even deep-cleaning your apartment twice—but nothing worked. The memory of Kuroo was burned into your brain, lingering at the edges of your mind no matter how hard you tried to shove it away.

You could still feel his fingers digging into your hips. The sharp scrape of his teeth against your neck. The husky, teasing laughter in your ear as he dragged you down with him into the mess of tangled sheets and breathless whispers.

You growled at yourself, shaking off the heat pooling in your stomach.

Before you knew it, Monday morning arrived, and the reality of facing him hit you like a freight train.

You stepped into the office, coffee in one hand, your other gripping the strap of your bag tightly, as if that alone would keep you grounded. You could do this.

Thankfully, Kuroo was nowhere in sight. A quiet sigh of relief slipped past your lips as you made your way to your office, eager to lose yourself in work and push all thoughts of him aside.

Settling into your chair, you opened your laptop, sipping your coffee as you began typing out emails, reviewing contracts, and approving documents. The mundane rhythm of work was a welcome distraction, something solid and predictable to keep you from spiraling back into the humiliating thoughts of the weekend.

That relief, however, was short-lived.

Just as you started drafting a compliance report, your office door swung open without a knock. You glanced up, already annoyed, only to find your boss standing there, arms crossed, an expectant expression on his face.

"Good job getting that campaign finalized," he said, nodding as if you had done something worthy of recognition. "There's a shareholder meeting this week to discuss it. You need to be there."

Your stomach dropped.

Shareholder meetings were always a pain, but that wasn’t the real issue. No, the real issue was that Kuroo would be there. You’d have to see him sooner than you thought.

You quickly straightened in your chair, trying to compose yourself. “Sir, I have a full schedule today, a backlog of approvals, and several reports to review—surely someone else from legal can attend?”

Your boss gave you a flat look, clearly unimpressed. “Oh, don’t even start. You’re the one who finalized this campaign, so you’re the one explaining it. Be in the meeting room in half an hour.”

You barely had time to protest before he turned on his heel and left, leaving you staring at the empty doorway, mouth slightly open in disbelief. Half an hour.

Your pulse quickened as you slumped back in your chair, rubbing your temples. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You had been hoping—no, praying—for more time before you had to see him again. But now, in thirty short minutes, you’d have to sit across from him in a professional setting, pretend nothing happened, and endure whatever smug, knowing looks he threw your way.

You inhaled deeply, rolling your shoulders back as you forced yourself to think rationally. Kuroo might have the upper hand in teasing, but that didn’t mean he had the power here. You were damn good at your job, and if he thought he could waltz in and fluster you with a few smirks and carefully placed jabs, he had another thing coming.

Straightening in your chair, you pulled up the campaign documents, reviewing them with meticulous attention. You weren’t just going to walk into that meeting unprepared. No, you were going to walk in with confidence, fully armed with every technicality, every regulation, every damn reason why you knew what you were doing.

You checked the clock. Fifteen minutes left.

With one last steadying breath, you closed your laptop, grabbed your notes, and stood, smoothing out your outfit. He’s just another coworker. Nothing more. If Kuroo wanted to play games, fine. But you weren’t going to lose. Not this time.

Squaring your shoulders, you stood, grabbed your notes, and marched toward the meeting room, determination outweighing the lingering heat in your face. You weren’t going to let him have the satisfaction of seeing you flustered.

Fuck him. I have nothing to be ashamed of.

Yet, the moment you stepped inside, you instantly regretted everything.

Kuroo was standing near the far side of the room, engaged in conversation with a few of the shareholders, his usual easygoing charm on full display. His sharp suit was tailored perfectly, the slight smirk on his lips too damn self-assured. And then, as if he could sense you, his golden eyes flicked toward the door, locking onto you instantly.

His knowing smile deepened, and you had to physically fight the urge to turn around and leave.

“Ah, there she is,” Kuroo announced, casually gesturing toward you. “My partner on this campaign.”

Your stomach clenched at the word. Partner?

The older gentleman Kuroo had been speaking to turned, his expression brightening. “Oh, so you’re the legal mind behind all of this! I’ve heard good things. Very impressive work.”

You forced a polite smile, waving a hand dismissively. “It was a team effort.”

But Kuroo, of course, wasn’t about to let you downplay your role.

“Don’t be modest. She kept me in check the whole time,” he added, his tone dripping with amusement.

You clenched your jaw, swallowing down the urge to shove him into the nearest chair. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Before you could formulate a response, he gestured to the seat beside him. “Come on, have a seat.”

You hesitated for the briefest second—just long enough to see the glint of mischief in his gaze—before forcing yourself to step forward and sit down, mentally cursing every decision that led you here. That wasn’t even enough time to mentally prepare yourself for the inevitable disaster that was seeing Kuroo again.

You hesitated for the briefest second—just long enough to see the glint of mischief in his gaze—before forcing yourself to step forward and sit down, mentally cursing every decision that led you here.

More people trickled in, the sound of chatter filling the room as the shareholders settled into their seats. Small conversations broke out, professionals exchanging pleasantries while waiting for the meeting to begin. The air in the room was light, easy, full of smooth laughter and the clinking of pens against notepads.

For everyone except you.

You turned to Kuroo, lowering your voice in a hiss. “Partner?”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair, voice full of teasing amusement. “Would you have preferred I introduce you as my handler?”

Your fingers curled into the fabric of your skirt beneath the table, nails pressing hard enough to leave marks. You were already regretting every single interaction you had with him. Smug bastard.

You narrowed your eyes, about to snap back, but before you could, the meeting was called to order.

Kuroo led the discussion with practiced ease, his voice smooth and effortlessly engaging. He was sharp, confident, weaving through each point with that natural charm of his, drawing in the room like he belonged there. And the worst part? The shareholders loved him.

You mostly kept quiet, answering questions when necessary, keeping your responses measured and precise. You weren’t about to let him run circles around you. Still, you had to admit—grudgingly—that he was good at this. Too good. His ability to present information with just the right balance of authority and ease was frustratingly effective. It made you irrationally angry, watching the way he commanded the room with nothing but a few smirks and a well-placed joke.

And he knew it. Every so often, you caught him glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, as if he could feel your irritation thrumming beneath the surface.

Bastard.

Just as you thought you were in the clear, your boss spoke up. “We were actually discussing another campaign that needs some serious revisions. Given how well this one turned out, we’d like the two of you to work on it—on short notice.”

Your breath caught. No. No, no, no.

Panic shot through you like a live wire, your heartbeat hammering against your ribs. You had barely survived the last time you worked with him—mentally, emotionally, professionally. And now they wanted you to do it again?

This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening. You had told yourself the project was a one-time thing, an unfortunate alignment of responsibilities that you had somehow, miraculously, endured. You had barely made it out of the last collaboration with your sanity intact, and after what happened between you two, the very thought of working with him again made your stomach churn.

It wasn’t just about the way Kuroo existed to push your buttons. No, it was the fact that you had let him get under your skin—too far under, past the point of irritation and into something more reckless, more dangerous.

And now, you were supposed to do it all over again?

Your fingers clenched under the table, nails pressing hard into your palm to stop yourself from blurting out something unprofessional. This isn’t fair. This isn’t my fault. You had done your job perfectly. If Kuroo hadn’t gone out of his way to be Kuroo, none of this would even be an issue. Now, because of his antics, because he couldn’t help himself, you were getting roped into another late-night headache with him.

Your pulse thudded in your ears, drowning out the rest of the boardroom as your mind scrambled for a way out. Any excuse. Any way to get literally anyone else assigned to this instead.

But you knew your boss. He didn’t care. He had made up his mind. And Kuroo—that smug bastard—had probably already figured that out too.

You straightened in your seat, carefully choosing your words. “Of course, but we’d need extended work hours to meet such a tight deadline—”

Kuroo, the bastard, cut you off effortlessly. “No need. We’ll just work on it after hours, like last time.”

The room barely reacted, but you felt the shift like a blade pressed against your skin. The way he said it—so casually, so naturally—it was almost as if the two of you had some kind of established dynamic. Like you were some seamless, perfectly functioning duo.

Which, you absolutely were not.

Your jaw clenched, hands curling into fists beneath the table. And then, just to drive the knife deeper, he added, “In fact, let’s get started tonight. Over dinner.”

Your head snapped toward him, but he didn’t even have the decency to look at you. He was still facing forward, still completely composed, as if he hadn’t just publicly tricked you into agreeing to spend more time with him.

Your teeth ground together as your boss nodded approvingly. You had no choice but to nod along, forcing a tight-lipped smile. “Sounds great.”

You could feel Kuroo’s eyes on you, the weight of his amusement pressing into your skin like an irritating heat you couldn’t shake. Your fingers curled around your notes, grip tightening as you fought the very real urge to smack that insufferable smirk right off his face. This bastard.

The shareholders murmured their satisfaction, the meeting officially winding down as the final notes were made. The conversation naturally shifted to small talk as people began gathering their things, but you were barely listening. Your mind was stuck in a loop, replaying the past minute over and over.

Another project. On short notice. With him.

And worse—

Over dinner.

You inhaled sharply through your nose, schooling your features into something neutral, something capable, because the last thing you needed was for Kuroo to see the way your pulse had spiked at the mere thought of spending another evening alone with him. You could already hear the smugness that would drip from his voice. The lazy, self-satisfied amusement. The way he’d push your buttons just enough to make you snap—because that’s what he did.

You should have argued more. Should have demanded proper work hours. Should have reminded your boss that he had hired you for legal work, not to babysit the marketing team. But instead, you sat there, forcing a strained smile while Kuroo all but preened beside you like a cat that had just caught a canary.

A chair scraped back beside you. He was standing. Stretching. As if he hadn’t just successfully trapped you into another night of torture disguised as collaboration.

“Looking forward to it, partner.”

The way he said partner made you want to throw something. Preferably his overpriced watch right out the nearest window.

He strolled past you, his confidence almost offensive, and you knew—you knew—that he was expecting a reaction. A flustered glare, a sharp retort, anything to fuel his amusement. But you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction.

You took a slow, calming breath and gathered your papers, pressing them together with deliberate patience. Kuroo was still lingering, just at the edge of your vision, but you refused to acknowledge him. If he thought you were going to give him what he wanted, he had another thing coming.

You stood, keeping your expression perfectly schooled, smoothing out your skirt like this was just any other normal meeting, like he hadn’t just completely thrown you off balance. Then, just as you turned to leave, you made the mistake of glancing up.

And there he was. Watching you.

Golden eyes, sharp and waiting. The barest trace of a smirk still pulling at his lips.

Something inside your stomach twisted—not in anger, not in frustration, but something dangerous. Something reckless.

You gritted your teeth, ignoring the traitorous warmth creeping up your spine, and turned sharply on your heel, storming toward the exit without a word.

Kuroo chuckled under his breath behind you, the sound deep and far too amused.

You were never going to survive this.

Jealously: Tsukishima

Tsukishima had never been the jealous type.

Or so he liked to believe.

But as he stood a few feet away from you at the museum’s fundraising gala, swirling the last bit of whiskey in his glass, he couldn’t help the slow simmer of irritation building in his chest.

Some guy—some obnoxiously confident guy—was standing way too close to you.

Tsukishima watched as the man leaned in just slightly, flashing a charming grin, his hand gesturing a little too animatedly for whatever mindless conversation he was trying to impress you with. You were polite, nodding at whatever he was saying, but Tsukishima caught the way your fingers curled slightly against the fabric of your dress—the telltale sign that you were uncomfortable.

His jaw clenched.

Tsukishima was a logical man. He knew you weren’t interested, knew you were his in every way that mattered—but that didn’t stop the irrational flicker of annoyance coursing through him.

So he drained the rest of his drink, set the glass down on the nearest table, and made his way over.

“Excuse me,” his voice came out smooth, a fraction lower than usual as he slid an arm around your waist, pulling you firmly against his side. His hand rested just above your hip, fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress in a silent claim. Mine.

You blinked up at him, momentarily surprised, before a small smile tugged at your lips.

The man, however, didn’t seem to take the hint. “Oh, I was just having a great conversation with—”

“She’s not interested.”

There was no venom in Tsukishima’s tone—just a matter-of-fact finality that left no room for argument.

The man blinked, looking between the two of you before finally stepping back with a sheepish laugh. “Ah… right. My mistake.”

He made some excuse to leave, and as soon as he was out of earshot, you turned to Tsukishima with an amused look. “Jealous, Kei?”

He scoffed, adjusting his glasses. “You’re delusional.”

“Oh, sure,” you teased, poking at his chest. “That wasn’t possessiveness at all.”

Tsukishima exhaled sharply, but his arm around your waist didn’t loosen. If anything, his grip on you tightened.

“…I just didn’t like how he was looking at you,” he muttered.

Your teasing softened. Tilting your head, you leaned up, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I only look at you, you know.”

Tsukishima’s eyes flickered to yours, something unreadable behind his gaze. Then, as if satisfied with your answer, he let out a small “Tch,” and pulled you even closer.

“…Good.”

Photographs (Tsukishima x Reader Pt. 1)

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

And you couldn’t be more thrilled.

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

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

Which only took a whole year.

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

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

You wish you could same about the other one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At least until Kei had walked up to your desk.

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

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

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

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

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

You.

And Kei.

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

…

Yeah, that isn’t happening.

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

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

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

But you weren’t going down without a fight.

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

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

Suddenly you don’t want to go home.

~~

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

Key word *planned. *

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

Are you going straight home?

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

No. I’m hanging out with some friends.

Which ones?

Does it matter?

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

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

Why?

**It’s important. **

Care to explain?

**Just wait until after practice. **

Kei, I have plans.

Kei?

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

For the next five hours.

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

Where are you?

Library

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You said-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~

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

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

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

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

Now what?

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh my God.

That’s Kei!

…

That’s Kei?!

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

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

I wonder what happened…

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

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

You pause at your own thoughts.

Woah okay, that came out of nowhere.

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

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

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

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

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

The satisfaction was almost addicting.

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

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

“Make me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

So you decided to broaden the playing field.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not.

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

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

Your face and heart exploded.

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

“Kei, you’re crushing me- “

“Shut up.”

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

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

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

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

Then it all stops.

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

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

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

And with Kei of all people.

Kei…

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

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

What in the fuck just happened?

Favourite Positions: Ushijima

Ushijima Wakatoshi had never paid much attention to positions before.

He had always focused on precision, control, endurance. He knew his own strength, the way his body worked, the way he could move with purpose. Most of the time, he stuck to the same tried-and-true motions, favoring what was familiar and effective. But tonight, you had looked at him with those eyes, voice soft and teasing as you asked, "Wakatoshi, can we try something different?"

He hadn’t expected much of a difference. A position was a position, right? But when he had you pressed against the wall, your legs wrapped around his waist as he lifted you effortlessly—

Everything changed.

The first deep thrust had your breath hitching. The second had you whimpering, nails clawing at his shoulders. And by the third—

You were gone.

Your body tensed up so fast, so hard, that Ushijima nearly stopped, his brow furrowing as he felt you clench down tight around him, your head dropping back against the wall, mouth open in a silent moan.

His grip on your thighs tightened instinctively, muscles flexing as he kept you lifted, held, pinned completely at his mercy.

And then he felt it.

The sharp, desperate way you squeezed him. The way your entire body shuddered, overwhelmed and trembling.

Ushijima’s breath caught.

“Already?” His deep voice was laced with something close to wonder.

You gasped, hands gripping his broad shoulders, nails pressing into his skin. Your thighs quivered around his waist, your body limp from the force of your release. Overstimulated, wrecked—completely unraveled.

A slow, deliberate breath left him as realization settled in.

This position had made you lose control.

His jaw clenched, something dark flickering behind his usually calm expression. He wanted to see it again.

His grip on your thighs adjusted, his large hands spreading your legs wider, securing you against the wall like you weighed nothing. And before you could even recover, before the aftershocks of your first orgasm had fully settled, he started moving again.

Deep. Steady. Unforgiving.

His pace was measured, controlled, devastating. Each thrust pressed you tighter against the cold surface, the contrast of his warmth and the chill of the wall making your senses blur. Your body twitched in response, oversensitive and already on the edge again.

Your breath hitched, your back arching against the wall, and Ushijima watched.

His sharp eyes took in everything—the way your lips parted, the way your hands clawed at his skin, the way you gasped his name between every movement. His grip on you tightened, his fingers digging into your thighs as he picked up the pace just slightly, enough to make you shudder.

“You like this.” His voice was calm, deep, but something about it felt different now. Like he was coming to terms with something new. Something he didn’t know about himself before.

Something dangerous.

The way your body reacted to him, the way you broke apart so quickly in his arms— he liked it.

A lot.

His lips brushed against the shell of your ear, his voice dropping even lower. “I like it too.”

Your head tipped forward, forehead pressing against his shoulder as your nails raked down his back, the pressure inside you tightening so fast it was unbearable.

You whimpered, the sensation of being lifted, stretched, completely at his mercy making your head spin. Ushijima could feel it. The way you clenched down around him again, the way your thighs trembled in his grip.

He exhaled sharply, holding you even tighter.

“Cum,” he ordered, voice like gravel and heat.

Your entire body obeyed.

Pleasure slammed through you like a tidal wave, your moan caught somewhere between a cry and a gasp as you shattered all over again, trembling in his grasp, body locking up completely. The force of it left you whimpering, completely spent, completely undone.

Ushijima groaned at the feeling of you convulsing around him, his pace unwavering as he rode you through it, relishing in how easily he could pull you apart.

When you finally collapsed, head lolling back against the wall, Ushijima didn’t move.

He kept you pinned against him, breathing deeply, grounding himself in the sensation of you still trembling in his arms.

His lips ghosted over your jaw, warm and firm as he pressed a kiss to your temple—but he wasn’t finished.

With a sharp inhale, he pulled back slightly, shifting his grip on your thighs before his hips snapped forward, hard. A strangled cry tore from your throat, your fingers clawing at his back as the sudden force sent pleasure crashing through your system all over again.

“Too much?” His deep voice rumbled against your skin, deceptively calm despite the way his movements turned unrelenting.

You barely managed a response—your mind too fogged, your body too overwhelmed as he pounded into you, each thrust deeper, harder, perfectly precise.

The intensity coiled tight inside you, every nerve on fire as you felt it creeping up again—fast, uncontrollable.

His grip on you tightened as he felt it too. The way your walls fluttered, how your legs trembled around him. He knew.

“You’re going to cum again.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement—a promise.

And he made sure of it.

Another deep thrust, another perfectly timed roll of his hips, and your vision whited out. The pleasure hit like lightning, your entire body jerking, shaking, completely wrecked as you gushed around him, soaking his thighs, the sound obscene in the air.

Ushijima groaned, his jaw clenching as the feeling dragged him over the edge with you. His hips stuttered, his pace faltering as he drove in one last time, spilling deep inside you with a low, guttural moan, his fingers bruising into your skin as he held you against the wall, his.

For a moment, neither of you moved—just the sound of ragged breaths and the faint, aftershocking trembles of your body in his grip.

Then, slowly, his lips brushed your jaw once more, voice deep, steady, satisfied.

“We'll have to do that again.”

Second part has 7,000 words lmfao

Get ready for a show >:)

Photographs (Tsukishima x Reader Pt. 1)

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

And you couldn’t be more thrilled.

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

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

Which only took a whole year.

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

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

You wish you could same about the other one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At least until Kei had walked up to your desk.

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

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

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

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

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

You.

And Kei.

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

…

Yeah, that isn’t happening.

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

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

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

But you weren’t going down without a fight.

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

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

Suddenly you don’t want to go home.

~~

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

Key word *planned. *

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

Are you going straight home?

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

No. I’m hanging out with some friends.

Which ones?

Does it matter?

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

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

Why?

**It’s important. **

Care to explain?

**Just wait until after practice. **

Kei, I have plans.

Kei?

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

For the next five hours.

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

Where are you?

Library

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You said-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~

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

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

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

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

Now what?

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh my God.

That’s Kei!

…

That’s Kei?!

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

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

I wonder what happened…

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

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

You pause at your own thoughts.

Woah okay, that came out of nowhere.

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

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

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

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

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

The satisfaction was almost addicting.

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

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

“Make me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

So you decided to broaden the playing field.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not.

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

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

Your face and heart exploded.

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

“Kei, you’re crushing me- “

“Shut up.”

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

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

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

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

Then it all stops.

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

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

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

And with Kei of all people.

Kei…

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

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

What in the fuck just happened?

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.

Rivalry: Sakusa

The camera clicks, the flash reflecting off the sheen of sweat on Sakusa Kiyoomi’s face as he stares down at you from behind his mask. Even in victory, there’s a sharpness to him, a quiet tension crackling beneath his cool exterior, and it’s aimed directly at you.

“Your defense wasn’t as sharp as usual tonight. Were you struggling to keep up, or was there another reason for the misreads?” you begin, voice steady as your pen glides across your notepad.

The press conference room is thick with anticipation, the air charged with a static-like tension. Reporters lean forward in their seats, pens poised, some shifting uncomfortably while others exchange intrigued glances. The bright overhead lights cast stark shadows on the players, emphasizing the sharpness of Sakusa’s features as he stares you down. They know what you’re doing. More importantly, he knows what you’re doing.

Sakusa’s gaze narrows slightly. Sakusa’s gaze doesn’t waver. "I adjusted to their offense. If that looked like struggling to you, maybe you should take another look at the final score."

You don’t relent. “I'm aware of your team's victory, Sakusa-san. Are you relying too much on your teammates?”

The silence stretches longer this time. You know you’re poking the bear. Sakusa is known for his perfectionism, for his unshakable self-discipline, and you’re prodding at the cracks just to see if they’re there.

A muscle in his jaw ticks, but his voice stays even. "If trusting my teammates to do their jobs is a problem, then maybe you don’t understand how a team sport works."

The room seemed to inhale at once, a murmur rippling through the crowd. Some reporters exchanged knowing glances, while others scribbled frantically in their notebooks, sensing that this was the kind of soundbite that would be making headlines by morning. Cameras clicked in rapid succession, the bright flashes punctuating the thick tension in the air. A few journalists whispered to each other, gauging the reaction of the MSBY players, but none of them spoke up to break the moment.

Atsumu let out a low whistle, leaning back in his chair. Bokuto, who had been grinning just moments before, straightened slightly, his golden eyes flicking between you and Sakusa like he had just caught wind of something interesting. Even Meian, typically unfazed by media antics, raised an eyebrow at the way Sakusa’s fingers curled slightly against the table, his entire frame wound tight as if forcing himself to stay still.

You? You simply smirked, tapping your pen against your notebook before lifting your chin slightly. "No further questions."

That pisses him off more than anything. Because he knows—he knows—you got exactly what you wanted.

Sakusa clenched his jaw, his nostrils flaring just slightly beneath his mask. It wasn’t just the question that irritated him—it was the way you delivered it, the way you smirked, the way you dismissed him like you had already gotten what you needed and he was no longer worth your time. The fact that you didn’t even look at him again as other reporters jumped in with their far more standard, predictable questions made something coil tight in his chest.

Sakusa forced himself to focus on the next question, but his grip on the microphone was just a little too firm, and the only thing he could hear was the sound of your pen scratching against paper as you took notes from the other players, like he wasn’t even worth your time anymore.

From then he knew who you were.

Knows your name, your face, the way your voice always cuts straight through to him no matter how many journalists crowd these post-match briefings. You’re a nuisance, an irritant, and yet—he never ignores your questions. Never brushes them off with the indifference he grants others.

You challenge him. And deep down, you both know he likes it.

~~

The first time you wrote about Sakusa Kiyoomi, your article had been direct and biting, dissecting his play with ruthless precision. Where others hailed his natural talent, you highlighted the flaws—the inconsistency in his service pressure, the occasional lapse in his blocking reads. Not to degrade him, but because you saw the potential for more. And apparently, so did he.

Since then, every time you covered an MSBY match, there was an unspoken expectation—he knew you'd be watching, and you knew he'd be playing to prove you wrong. But it wasn’t just that.

Sakusa remembers the very first time he noticed you. The first time you called him out in a press conference, your voice cutting through the noise like a blade, sharp and deliberate. He remembers how his fingers clenched under the table, how the irritation simmered low in his chest—not because of what you said, but because it made him feel something. It should’ve been just another question, just another reporter, but it wasn’t.

And it never has been since.—he knew you'd be watching, and you knew he'd be playing to prove you wrong. Over time, the rivalry evolved into something else, lingering in the way his gaze would flicker toward you during games or how his answers in press conferences were always a little sharper when you were the one asking the questions. Something neither of you had acknowledged.

The away game had been intense, but MSBY had emerged victorious. The final set had been a test of endurance, forcing the team to dig deep against an opponent determined to push them to their limits. The last point had come from a perfectly executed block—Sakusa reading the setter and shutting down the cross-court spike with a decisive palm. The crowd erupted, the whistle blew, and the scoreboard solidified their win.

Post-game adrenaline still ran through Sakusa’s veins as he walked into the media room alongside his teammates, their jerseys still damp with sweat. The moment they sat down at the press table, cameras flashed, and the room filled with a cacophony of voices as reporters fired off questions left and right.

“Your blocks were key in the third set! How did you adjust so quickly?”

“What do you think made the biggest difference against the opposing team’s hitters?”

“Your receives looked more inconsistent compared to last game. Do you think fatigue played a factor?”

Meian, as captain, answered first, offering the usual post-match reflections on team effort and strategy. Bokuto, beaming from ear to ear, leaned into the microphone and laughed about how ‘every game should be that intense!’ Hinata, still buzzing, nodded along, interjecting whenever he got the chance.

Sakusa answered each question he was asked with measured precision, keeping his responses brief but informative. He had done enough press to know how to maneuver through them without revealing much.

Then, a voice cut through the chaos.

“Shinohara was dominating the net in the second set, and you looked like you were scrambling to keep up. Would you say he got the better of you?”

Sakusa’s eyes snapped to the crowd of reporters, and there you were—standing among them, notebook in hand, your expression composed but sharp. The same way it had been earlier, when you had watched him from the sidelines and smirked before scribbling something down.

“Or was it frustration? Because from where I was sitting, it looked like you were second-guessing your reads more than usual. Did he force you to change your approach?”

The room held its breath, the shift in atmosphere nearly tangible. A few reporters traded quick looks, some leaning forward slightly, eager to see how Sakusa would respond. The usual rustling of notepads and scribbling of pens slowed, all eyes trained on the exchange.

His jaw tightened, fingers pressing into the table with restrained force. "Is that what you saw?" His voice was cool, but there was something simmering beneath it, like a rope pulled too tight. The question wasn’t dismissive—it was a challenge. He adjusted his mask, fingers pressing into the fabric before exhaling slowly. “I was focused. Not frustrated.”

You smiled, slow and deliberate, the kind that said you knew exactly what you were doing. That you had dragged him into this, and he had walked right into it. Without another word, you lowered your pen and let the other reporters take over, shifting their questions toward Meian and Bokuto instead.

At the table, Atsumu and Bokuto shared a look.

“Didja see that?” Atsumu muttered under his breath.

Bokuto grinned. “Oh yeah.”

Sakusa ignored them, but he could feel their eyes on him, burning with interest.

The banquet hall is grand, an opulent display of polished marble floors and cascading chandeliers that bathe the room in warm, golden light. The scent of decadent dishes—slow-roasted meats, rich pastas, fresh seafood—intertwines with the subtle notes of fine wine and aged whiskey. Servers weave gracefully through the throngs of athletes, journalists, and executives, their trays balancing crystal goblets and plates laden with gourmet delicacies. The atmosphere is both relaxed and electric, the hum of voices, bursts of laughter, and the occasional clink of silverware against porcelain blending into an effortless symphony of post-match revelry. It was a post-match tradition for away games—a chance for players, staff, and members of the media to unwind.

At the MSBY table, Sakusa swirled his drink lazily in his glass, only half-listening to the conversation between his teammates.

“You got grilled again,” Bokuto laughed, nudging him. “Man, she’s relentless.”

“Pretty sure she enjoys making your life difficult,” Meian added, smirking over the rim of his beer.

Hinata grins. “She really goes for you in those press conferences. Think she’s got a thing for you?”

Sakusa scoffs, setting his drink down. “Doubtful.”

Atsumu, who has been watching the exchange with growing amusement, leans in, eyes glinting with mischief. “Nah, I think you got a thing for her.”

Sakusa tenses, shooting him a glare. “Shut up.”

“Oooh, he didn’t deny it,” Bokuto teases, laughing as he throws an arm around Hinata’s shoulders. “Kiyo, you like the attention, don’t you?”

Meian shakes his head. “I’d believe that if he wasn’t always so pissy after talking to her.”

Sakusa exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “She’s just doing her job.”

Atsumu grins. “So are you, but ya sure get all riled up when she’s around.”

He doesn’t have a response to that. Not one he wants to say out loud, anyway.

His teammates exchange looks, sensing that the teasing has gotten under his skin more than usual. But before any of them can make another comment, Sakusa stands abruptly.

“Where are you going?” Hinata asks, blinking up at him.

Sakusa doesn’t answer. Instead, his gaze flickers across the room—to the bar, where you’re seated, nursing a drink while scrolling through your phone. His fingers tighten around his glass.

Atsumu follows his line of sight and grins. “Ah. Interesting.”

Sakusa ignores him and walks off.

You notice him before he even reaches the bar, that unmistakable presence making your pulse pick up just slightly.

He slides onto the stool beside you, his mask now tucked under his chin. You glance at him, raising an eyebrow. "You’re hovering."

He mirrors your words from earlier, tone dry. "I haven’t said anything yet."

"You’re about to."

Sakusa exhales through his nose, gaze flickering briefly toward the drink in your hand before settling back on you. The air between you is thick, the usual sharpness in his stare now laced with something else—something unreadable.

You tilt your head slightly, letting the silence stretch just a little longer before speaking again. "You seemed irritated earlier."

"I wonder why."

You smirk. "I’d say it’s part of my job, but you already know that."

Sakusa doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leans back against the bar, fingers tapping idly against his glass. "You enjoy it, don’t you? Getting under my skin."

"If it gets me the truth, then yeah."

His jaw tightens slightly at that, and for a second, you think he might say something else. But instead, he just watches you, eyes dark, expression unreadable.

You swirl the last of your drink in your glass, tilting your head as you watch him. Then, with a half-smirk, you say it—mostly as a joke. "You know, if you’re that desperate to defend yourself, I could offer you a private interview."

You don’t expect anything to come of it. In fact, you’re already preparing for him to scoff and dismiss the idea entirely.

But instead, Sakusa blinks, his fingers pausing on his glass. "When?"

That one word nearly makes you choke on your own drink. You open your mouth, close it, then recover with a casual shrug. "My recorder’s upstairs."

His gaze sharpens. "You’re still looking for an angle."

You shrug. "I’m looking for an answer."

Sakusa exhales, slow and measured, before finally nodding. "Fine. Let’s go." Neither of you move for a second. Then, as if pulled by an invisible thread, you both stand at the same time. The air between you tightens with something unspoken, something neither of you are willing to name yet.

Across the room, Meian lets out a low whistle. "Well, would you look at that."

Atsumu elbows Bokuto, barely able to contain his excitement. "Oh my god, Kiyoomi is getting some."

You weren’t expecting him to agree so easily, but you mask your surprise, finishing your drink before sliding off the stool. The walk out of the banquet hall is silent, the tension between you threading tighter with every step. You don’t look at him as you press the elevator button, and he doesn’t look at you when the doors slide open.

But the weight of his presence lingers, undeniable and electric.

The two of you walk toward the elevators in silence, but it isn’t awkward. It’s charged, simmering beneath the surface. Neither of you say a word, but every step forward feels deliberate, like a move in a game neither of you are willing to lose. The walk is silent, tension threading between you, thick with something unspoken.

The moment the door to your hotel room clicks shut behind you, the atmosphere shifts—becomes something heavier, charged. The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts elongated shadows along the sleek, modern furnishings, bathing the space in an intimate warmth. The distant murmur of the city beyond the window seems inconsequential compared to the weight of the silence stretching taut between you and Sakusa. Sakusa doesn’t move immediately. He lingers near the entrance, his hand still resting lightly on the door handle, as if debating whether he should turn around and walk away. A flicker of hesitation ghosts across his face—so brief that most wouldn’t catch it, but you do.

Why is he here?

The easy answer is the interview. But deep down, he knows that’s not the truth. It hasn’t been for a while. You get under his skin in ways no one else does, and despite how much it infuriates him, he’s still here, standing in your hotel room, waiting for a reason not to be.

But you don’t give him one. Sakusa doesn’t move immediately, just lingers near the entrance, as if deciding whether he regrets agreeing to this. You, on the other hand, are already setting your recorder on the desk, flipping open your notebook with practiced ease. There’s no hesitation in your movements, no indication that you’d been thinking about the way he reacted back in the press conference.

But he knows you have.

He watches as you click your pen once, twice, before finally meeting his gaze. "Take a seat, Sakusa-san."

His jaw flexes, but he steps further into the room, pulling out the chair across from you with just a little more force than necessary. The scrape of the wood against the floor is sharp, punctuating the air between you. He doesn’t slouch, doesn’t let himself sink into the seat—no, he sits with his back straight, arms crossed, like he’s bracing for impact.

You hit record.

"So, let’s start with the game," you begin, voice even, measured. "Despite your win, Shinohara’s attack percentage was noticeably higher than yours. Do you think his presence on the court pushed you to your limits?"

Sakusa exhales slowly through his nose, jaw tensing. "He’s a strong player, but I wouldn’t say he ‘pushed me to my limits.’ I adjusted accordingly."

"You adjusted, but his success rate didn’t drop. So was the issue with your defense, or was he just the better player tonight?"

A pause. A sharp inhale from Sakusa. The muscle in his jaw twitches again.

"I don’t recall losing."

You tilt your head slightly. "That doesn’t answer my question."

Sakusa’s fingers curl against his arms, his nails pressing into the fabric of his sleeves. His eyes narrow, but there’s something else there too—something almost like intrigue beneath the irritation.

"If you’re looking for a soundbite, you’re not getting one."

You smirk, tapping your pen against your notebook. "Oh, I already got one."

His eyes flicker over your face, scanning, analyzing, before his irritation shifts into something else. Something darker. More intent.

The recorder sits between you, capturing every word, but neither of you are really thinking about the interview anymore. The weight of the tension settles thick in the air, lingering in the space between your crossed arms and his unwavering stare.

Sakusa exhales through his nose. "Next question."

You hesitate.

It’s barely a second—just long enough for your fingers to falter on your notepad, for your breath to catch as you take in the weight of his stare. And he sees it.

That single moment of doubt.

It fuels him more than anything else.

But you both know—this interview isn’t ending the way it was supposed to. He leans against the edge of the bed, arms crossed, watching you like he’s waiting for you to make the first move.

“So,” you start, keeping your voice even. “How do you think the game went?”

He exhales sharply through his nose. “You saw it.”

“I want to hear it from you.”

Sakusa leans forward slightly. “You always want to hear it from me.”

You smile. The room feels smaller now, the air heavier. “That’s my job.”

“Is it?”

You hesitate, fingers tightening slightly around your notepad. There’s something in his tone that makes your pulse jump. “You tell me.”

For the first time, his mask is completely gone—not just the physical one, but the carefully measured distance he keeps between himself and the world. His gaze dips to your lips for half a second before snapping back up, something sharp and intent in his expression.

And then, he’s moving.

That night, nothing else matters. Not the rivalry, not the press, not the game. Just Sakusa Kiyoomi and the way he finally lets go—just for you.