Omgggg You're The Sweetest (T_T)♡

hi i LOVE ur writing sm!! i look forward to pretty much every single one of ur posts, ur super talented :)

do you think you could do an akaashi x insomniac!reader? akaashi is known for overthinking and stuff so tbh i think his anxiety might make him stay awake sometimes, but prob not full blown insomnia. i js think a oneshot of him helping reader or maybe just the two of them hanging out super late one night because neither of them can get any sleep (maybe college!au where he’s stressing about his classes? or could be just volleyball related. whatever works for you!).

maybe it could be pre-relationship too. like they might be friends then reader sees him active on some social media and decides to text him to hang out and they get super close after this night. again, whatever works for u!!

omgg my heart thank you 😩❤️ Your words mean so much to me 🥹

I think I hit all the boxes, I hope you enjoy <333

--

Anon Ask: Akaashi

The clock blinked 2:47AM in soft digital blue, casting a dim glow that painted the walls of your dorm room in slow, pulsing light. You stared at it from where you lay on your back, eyes wide open, blanket pulled up to your chin like it would somehow coax sleep into settling over your body. It didn’t.

It never did.

Insomnia was a loyal companion. Even on nights when your limbs were heavy and your mind felt worn thin, your thoughts refused to settle. They danced along the edge of reason, hyper-fixating on things that didn’t matter: words you said three days ago, the shape of clouds you saw that afternoon, the persistent question of whether you locked the door. A quiet ache had formed behind your eyes from sheer exhaustion, but sleep wouldn’t come.

You turned over, grabbed your phone off the nightstand. No new messages. Just a faint glow from the charging screen illuminating your tired face.

Then, a notification.

akaashi_keiji posted to his story

You tapped it open without thinking. A dim photo of a laptop lit up against a pile of books and a cup of coffee that had long since gone cold. The caption read: 2AM is a perfectly reasonable hour to still be working, right?

You stared at it. Your fingers hovered.

Then you sent a message.

you: you up up?

The reply was almost instant.

akaashi: Unfortunately.

you: Wanna hang? Can’t sleep and you look like you need a break.

A beat passed. The dots wavered, stopped. Then—

akaashi: Give me 5.

--

Akaashi showed up at your door at exactly 3:03AM. Hoodie pulled over his head, dark sweats clinging to the chill of the night, his hair mussed like he’d run his hands through it too many times. His eyes were tired but alert, flickering with that same sharpness he always carried—like he was cataloging everything, even now.

You stepped aside without saying a word. He entered just as quietly, slipping off his shoes and placing his bag beside your desk with a soft thud. He dropped to the floor beside your bed with a sigh that seemed to deflate the weight on his shoulders.

“Rough night?” you asked gently, perching on the edge of your mattress.

“I have a presentation next week, three deadlines, and Bokuto keeps texting me motivational memes like it’s going to fix my GPA.”

You laughed under your breath. “It won’t.”

“Exactly.”

The quiet that followed wasn’t awkward. The hum of your mini fridge and the occasional creak of pipes running through the dorm added to the low ambience of sleeplessness. You looked down at him, his knees pulled up slightly, arms draped over them, like he didn’t know how to get comfortable in his own skin.

“Wanna watch something?”

He shook his head. “Too much noise.”

“Read?”

“Already tried. Can’t focus.”

“Lie on the floor and stare at the ceiling until we disassociate?”

He glanced up at you with deadpan humor. “Honestly, that sounds ideal.”

You grabbed a second pillow and tossed it to the floor beside him. He didn’t hesitate. His body uncurled, long and lean as he stretched out beside your bed, head cradled in the fluff of borrowed comfort.

You joined him moments later, lying back so the ceiling filled your view. Pale shadows danced above you, shapes warped by passing cars and the swaying leaves outside the window. The ceiling fan ticked rhythmically above.

“You get this often?” he asked softly, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice matching his. “Like... more nights than not. It just doesn’t stop. My brain, I mean."

Akaashi sighed, breath feathering the space between you. “Mine too. It’s like it waits until I have to sleep to start racing.”

You turned your head, studying the outline of his profile in the glow from your desk lamp. The slope of his nose, the delicate curve of his lashes, the soft press of his lips.

“So why’d you come?”

He was quiet for a moment. “Because you asked. And I figured... maybe it’d be better to not be alone with it.”

You nodded, the pillow rustling beneath your cheek. “Yeah.”

Minutes passed in silence. He turned to face you, and you mirrored the movement. The two of you laying side by side, not quite touching, breaths moving in rhythm.

“We could do this again,” you whispered. “If you ever can’t sleep. You could just... come over.”

His gaze didn’t waver. “I think I’d like that.”

At 3:57AM, you both fell asleep.

Shoulders brushing. Minds quiet. The night finally letting you rest.

Confessions: Kuroo

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

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

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

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

You scoffed. “That obvious?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You ever think you’re just lonely?”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

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

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

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

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

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

Until tonight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He let out a soft snort. “Thanks.”

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

“I like your voice,” you whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you, you know.”

Kuroo froze.

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

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

He stopped breathing.

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…Whoa.”

--

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

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

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

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

That deep, crawling dread.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You stop.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You freeze.

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

You stare at him, mouth parted, utterly lost.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Favourite Positions: Kuroo

Of all the ways Kuroo liked to fuck you, reverse cowgirl had to be his favorite.

Not just because of the way your body looked—though, fuck, he could watch you like this forever. The curve of your spine, the dip of your waist, the way your ass bounced each time you dropped down onto his cock. It was hypnotic, the way you moved, rolling your hips slow and deliberate at first, teasing yourself as much as him.

No, what really did it for him was the control. Or, more accurately, the moment you lost it.

"You always start off so cocky," Kuroo mused, voice dark with amusement. His fingers pressed into the flesh of your thighs, stroking, teasing. "Think you’re in charge just ‘cause you’re on top, huh?"

You shot him a look over your shoulder, lips parted, eyes hazy with pleasure. A challenge.

His smirk sharpened.

"Alright, baby, let’s see how long that lasts."

Before you could brace yourself, Kuroo’s hands slid up, gripping your waist, and slammed you down onto his cock. The sudden force had you gasping, your balance breaking as pleasure shot through you like lightning. His grip tightened, holding you still, making you take him deep, making you feel him.

"You good?" he asked, voice low, teasing.

You nodded, already breathless. Already wrecked.

Kuroo chuckled, slow and satisfied. And then he started thrusting up into you.

Hard.

Your hands scrambled for support, nails digging into his knees, a choked cry falling from your lips as he fucked up into you with purpose. There was no rhythm to it, just rough, fast, needy. The sound of skin meeting skin filled the air, your moans turning high-pitched and desperate.

"Yeah, that’s it," he groaned, eyes locked onto the way you shuddered. "Not so cocky now, huh? Feels too fucking good, doesn’t it?"

You tried to say something—tried to hold onto whatever control you thought you had—but all that came out was a whimper, a broken moan of his name.

Kuroo grinned, loving every second of it. Loving the way you completely fell apart for him.

And when he reached between your legs, fingers finding your clit, rubbing quick, tight circles—

You shattered.

Your whole body tensed, a cry ripping from your throat as you clenched down around him, dragging him right over the edge with you. He groaned, deep and guttural, burying himself inside you, grinding up as he came.

For a moment, all that was left was heavy breathing, the rise and fall of your bodies pressed together, the warmth between you both.

Then, Kuroo let out a breathless chuckle, trailing lazy fingers up your spine before giving your ass a playful slap.

"See? Told you I’d win."

"Shut up."

Rivalry: Akaashi

You had worked your ass off for this promotion.

Late nights, impossible deadlines, last-minute rewrites—you’d done it all. You had sacrificed weekends, spent too many nights hunched over your desk, and powered through mind-numbing meetings, all in the hopes that your work would finally be recognized. And now, with the senior editor position finally up for grabs, it was down to you and Akaashi Keiji.

Akaashi—the picture-perfect editor. Calm, meticulous, frustratingly good at everything. The kind of guy who never looked frazzled, never rushed, never flinched under pressure. It was like stress simply did not affect him.

And somehow, despite working just as hard as you, he always seemed one step ahead.

You wanted to win this. Not just for the raise or the title, but to finally beat him at something. To prove that you were just as good—better, even.

So when your boss called you both into the office, hands folded with a pleased smirk, you thought, Maybe, just maybe, I’ve got this.

Then the words left their mouth.

“Akaashi landed an exclusive with the MSBY Jackals.”

Your stomach dropped.

“What?”

Your boss nodded. “Full-length feature. First-hand accounts. Exclusive team coverage. Bokuto introduced him to the players himself—an incredible opportunity. The kind of coverage that puts our magazine on the map.”

You snapped your head toward Akaashi, who sat calmly beside you, hands folded neatly, expression unreadable.

That smug bastard.

This was his play? Getting his old volleyball captain to pull strings for him?

Your blood boiled.

“Oh, come on,” you said, barely keeping the irritation out of your voice. “That’s not exactly fair.”

Akaashi finally turned to you, blinking in that cool, composed way that made you want to shake him. “How so?”

You scoffed. “You used connections to land the interview. It wasn’t based on merit.”

Akaashi tilted his head, looking entirely unbothered. “I leveraged resources available to me. That’s part of the job, isn’t it?”

Your jaw clenched.

The worst part? He wasn’t wrong.

Your boss leaned back in their chair, watching the exchange with thinly veiled amusement before raising a hand to cut off the argument. “Enough. If you both want this promotion, you’re both going to prove you deserve it.”

You blinked. “What?”

Akaashi didn’t react, but you saw the faintest flicker of curiosity in his sharp blue eyes.

“You’re both going to work on the feature together,” the boss continued, tapping a finger against their desk. “I want the best piece possible. If you can’t put aside your rivalry long enough to get this done, neither of you will get the promotion. Understood?”

Your fingers tightened around your notepad. This was not what you wanted. The whole point was to beat him, not work with him.

But you couldn’t back down now. Not when the stakes were this high.

“…Understood,” you muttered through gritted teeth.

Akaashi nodded smoothly. “Understood.”

“Good.” Your boss glanced at the clock. “Get started. I expect a solid first draft by the end of the week. And with the deadline, I imagine you’ll be staying late to work on it together.”

You bit back a sigh, already feeling the impending headache.

The moment the meeting ended, you stormed past Akaashi, but before you could make it out the door, his voice followed, low and amused.

“Try not to let your frustration get in the way of our work,” he said smoothly, adjusting his glasses. “It’d be a shame if I had to carry you through this project.”

You turned on your heel, eyes narrowed. “Oh, don’t worry, Akaashi. If anyone’s carrying this project, it’ll be me.”

His lips twitched, just slightly. “I look forward to seeing that.”

You hated how much fun he was having.

But most of all?

You hated that he always found a way to stay one step ahead.

~~~~

The office was silent, save for the rhythmic tapping of keyboards and the occasional irritated sigh escaping your lips.

You had been here for hours, stuck in the same damn room with Akaashi, going back and forth on revisions, disagreeing on everything.

“That transition is too abrupt,” Akaashi said, his tone calm as he skimmed over your section. “It needs more context.”

“It’s concise,” you shot back, stretching in your chair. “We don’t need extra fluff.”

He exhaled softly, as if reigning in patience. “It’s not fluff. It’s clarity.”

You groaned, leaning back. “You’re impossible.”

Akaashi didn’t look up from his screen. “And yet, you’re still here.”

You wanted to throw something at him.

After another hour of back-and-forth edits, your eyes started to sting from staring at the screen for too long. You rubbed at them, sighing deeply as you slumped in your chair.

“This is ridiculous,” you muttered. “We’re never going to finish at this rate.”

Akaashi glanced at the clock. “Then we should stop arguing and be efficient.”

You shot him a glare. “Oh, so now you’re suddenly a team player?”

His lips quirked. “I always was. You just refuse to acknowledge it.”

You groaned again, running a hand through your hair. This was going to be a long night.

Akaashi sighed, leaning back in his chair as well, adjusting his glasses. “We’re making progress. Whether you want to admit it or not.”

You didn’t want to admit it, but he was right. The article was shaping up, the writing crisp, the interviews well-structured. And despite your deep frustration, working with Akaashi wasn’t as horrible as you wanted it to be.

Still, you weren’t going to let him think he had the upper hand.

“We’ll see,” you muttered, turning back to your screen.

Akaashi hummed, watching you for a moment before returning to his own work.

The night stretched on, both of you determined to outdo the other, neither of you willing to be the first to give in.

And just like that, the rivalry continued.

Until Akaashi broke the silence.

"I have extra tickets to the MSBY game this weekend. You should come."

Your fingers froze over your keyboard. Slowly, you turned your head to look at him, brows furrowed in confusion. "What?"

Akaashi didn’t even glance up, still focused on his screen as if he hadn’t just said something completely out of character. "The game. It would be beneficial to see the team in action if we’re writing about them."

You narrowed your eyes. "You could just send me the game footage."

His fingers tapped lightly against his desk before he finally looked at you, gaze unreadable. "That’s not the same."

You leaned back in your chair, arms crossed. "Why are you being nice to me?"

"I’m not. I’m being practical."

You scoffed. "Uh-huh. Sure."

Akaashi tilted his head slightly, amusement flickering in his eyes. "You don’t have to come. I just thought you’d appreciate an exclusive firsthand look. But if you’d rather rely on secondhand reports, be my guest."

Your jaw tightened. You hated how effortlessly he manipulated situations in his favor.

"Fine. I’ll go."

Akaashi nodded, returning to his work as if nothing had happened. "Good. I’ll send you the details."

You stared at him for a second longer before shaking your head, muttering under your breath.

This was getting too weird.

hello lovely!! I hope ur doing well! I’ve been to gobbling up all your writing recently and I just wanted to say that you’re so talented! Your ability to accurately characterize, well, the characters is so important and it’s just overall fantastic. Please keep up the good work!! <33

I wanted to request Sugawara — possibly taking care of the reader when they’re sick? Or maybe period pains? Either works, I really don’t mind! There’s not a lot of Suga writing on tumblr as a whole (that I’ve been able to find), and I’d like to see you work your magic! Thank youuu!

Hi sweet anon!! 🥹💛 Thank you so much for your kind words — They genuinely mean the world to me. I’m so happy you’re enjoying the writing!! Hopefully this is want you pictured in your head hehe

Enjoy<333

--

Anon Asks: Sugawara

The door creaked open before you could even lift your head from the couch.

"Hey, you should be resting," came Sugawara’s voice—soft, teasing, but edged with concern. The sound of it washed over you like a balm, even as your body rebelled against every small movement.

You grunted in response, curling deeper into the fortress of blankets you'd made for yourself. Every inch of your body ached with a dull, persistent throb. Your head pounded in time with your heartbeat, and your stomach twisted and cramped unpleasantly, making you feel heavy and brittle all at once.

Koushi set the grocery bag down with a soft thud, the rustling of plastic filling the room as he moved around. You cracked one eye open to find him methodically unpacking supplies: herbal teas, a box of your favorite crackers, a heating pad, a fresh bottle of painkillers, and—to your complete and utter dismay—a small bouquet of daisies.

“You didn’t have to,” you croaked, voice hoarse.

He shot you a look over his shoulder, eyebrow arched in a way that immediately made you feel silly for even suggesting it. “You’re right,” he said lightly, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I didn’t have to. I wanted to.”

You huffed, burrowing deeper into the blanket, trying—and failing—to hide the way your face flushed. Whether it was from embarrassment or overwhelming gratitude, you weren’t sure.

Sugawara padded over, kneeling down so you were eye-level. His hand, warm and slightly calloused from years of volleyball, brushed against your forehead. Gentle, steady.

“Still warm,” he murmured, his brows knitting together in a tiny frown. “Poor thing.”

You cracked a weak smile, the motion tugging at the ache in your temples. “I’m fine, really,” you mumbled.

“Mmhmm,” he hummed, clearly not believing a word of it.

Without asking, he cracked open one of the heat packs, giving it a firm shake until it warmed to life. He slipped it under the blanket, pressing it against your lower abdomen with slow, careful movements. A soft, involuntary sigh slipped past your lips as the warmth seeped into your cramping muscles.

He smiled at that, eyes crinkling in that boyish, heart-melting way he had.

“There’s my girl,” he said, so quietly you almost didn’t catch it over the gentle thrum of the rain starting outside.

Sugawara busied himself preparing tea—the comforting clatter of the kettle, the soft clink of a spoon stirring honey into a mug—all while stealing glances at you every few moments. Watching. Making sure you didn’t strain yourself.

When he returned, he slid onto the couch beside you, coaxing you upright just enough to press the steaming mug into your hands.

“Easy,” he murmured, one hand steadying the cup with you. “Small sips.”

You obeyed, too tired to argue, the warmth from the tea and his touch making the ache behind your eyes begin to loosen.

Once the tea was safely set aside on the coffee table, he didn’t retreat back to his corner. Instead, he carefully pulled you into his arms, arranging you across his lap with an ease that made your heart ache. His hands found your lower back almost immediately, working slow, tender circles into the tense muscles there.

The world outside faded. The rain against the windows softened into a background hum. Your muscles remained sore, but the sharp edges of your pain dulled—replaced by the steady, grounding beat of Koushi’s heart against your ear, the rise and fall of his breathing, the feeling of being wrapped up in something—someone—solid and sure.

Your hands tightened weakly in the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him like a lifeline.

“Thank you,” you whispered back, voice cracking from the weight of everything you were too tired to say properly.

He only squeezed you tighter, thumb stroking lazy, soothing patterns across your hip.

“Always,” he murmured.

And as your eyes fluttered closed, your body giving in to the exhaustion at last, you realized: with Koushi here, you could finally let yourself rest.

Truly, completely, safely rest.

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: Aone

It always starts slow with Aone.

Not because he’s hesitant—no, he knows what he wants—but because he treats you like you’re something he’s afraid to break. Like you’re porcelain in his calloused hands, delicate and precious. Every movement he makes is calculated, controlled, like he’s memorizing the way your skin feels under his touch.

He looms over you, body heavy and warm, eyes so intensely focused it makes you squirm beneath him. But he doesn’t move until you nod, until you reach up and brush your fingertips along his jaw, silent permission passed between you.

Then he breathes.

Like he’s been holding it in this whole time.

His hands slide under your thighs to pull you closer, gentle but firm, fitting your hips against his like puzzle pieces that only ever made sense when pressed together. And the second he’s sheathed inside you, it’s like the entire world stills.

“You okay?” It’s the first word he’s spoken since his mouth met yours.

His voice is rougher than usual—breathless, already wrecked—and the weight of his body above you is grounding. Comforting. You nod, and he leans down to kiss your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth like he’s trying to calm himself down.

You can feel how tense he is. Not from discomfort, but from restraint. He could take you fast. He could chase his own release and be done in minutes. But he never does. He moves slow. Deep. His strokes drag like honey, hips rolling into yours with deliberate pressure, drawing out your pleasure with an intensity that’s overwhelming in the best way.

And all the while, he never stops looking at you.

“You’re beautiful like this,” he murmurs, so quietly you almost miss it.

It’s not like him to speak, but tonight there’s a flush high on his cheeks, a fire behind his eyes that he can’t hold back. His forehead presses to yours. His nose brushes along your cheek. His fingers find your hand and lace between them, anchoring you to him as if he's afraid you'll disappear.

“Don’t look away,” he says softly, thumb stroking over your wrist.

Like he wants to memorize the way your face twists when you moan, the way your eyes flutter when he hits that spot just right. And when your breath hitches and your legs tremble around his waist, he doesn’t pick up the pace—he slows down. Drags it out. Holds you tighter, kisses you deeper.

It’s not just sex with Aone.

It’s connection. It’s adoration. It’s devotion.

And when you finally come undone, back arching, nails clawing at his shoulders, he doesn’t let you fall apart alone. He follows seconds after, burying his face in the crook of your neck like he needs to hide the sound of his own release.

The silence that follows is warm. Safe.

He doesn’t pull away.

Just rests his weight on you, arms locked around your waist, holding you close like he never wants to let go.

“You’re okay?”

The same question again, but this time it’s softer. Sleepier.

And when you nod, tangled up in his arms, you hear the smallest, faintest exhale.

Like he’s home.

Unrequited Love: Oikawa

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey.”

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

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

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

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

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

Being his friend was enough, you told yourself.

It had to be.

Thank you to everyone who got me to 10000 likes!

Nosedives (Miya Astumu x Reader) Pt. 1

You were startled awake by a sharp knocking at your door. It was persistent, loud, and you instantly knew who it was.

But that didn’t make you any less angry.

You stumble out of bed, eyeing the clock as you read the ungodly time of 2 am, infuriated. You pull on your robe, trying to make yourself look somewhat decent before ultimately deciding that you shouldn’t have to, then marching to your door to whip it open.

“Atsumu, it’s too late for your shit. Someone better be dying.” You look down at your best friend (tentative at the moment) with utter dismay and annoyance.

He barges pasts you and into your apartment, making way to your kitchen. You sigh deeply, already being able to tell this was going to be a long night. As he rummages through your fridge, you glare at him with narrowed eyes, waiting for an explanation. You watch in disbelief as he opens your fridge and grabs a beer from one of the shelves, opening it and taking a long slug. You watch as Atsumu chugs down the beer, feeling a mix of frustration and slight concern for him.

“Hey, dipshit. We have places to go get drinks, they’re called bars. Go there instead of bothering me at two in the goddamn morning.” You hiss, walking to face him across your kitchen island.

He gives you a long look, and it gives you time to really drink him in. Atsumu was wearing a black leather jacket with a nice, albeit tight sweater (The kind that really showed off his broad shoulders) and some trousers. His smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he takes another swig from the bottle, completely unfazed by your frustration.

You deduce that, most likely, the man in question had a date. Which wasn’t surprising for you; Atsumu had always been somewhat of a ladies man. Even back in high school he had girls begging at his feet to go on dates. You personally never really understood the obsession. Sure, he was good looking, but with his personality…

Eh, you could understand everyone had their preferences.

Though, now as an adult, dates had turned into one night stands, but whatever. You weren’t one to judge, unless they started ransacking your kitchen.

Then you’d judge plenty.

“I’m pissed.” He finally says, slamming back the rest of the beer and searching for more in your fridge.

“Join the club. I got a best friend whose an asshole and is drinking all my well earned booze. What’s your problem?” Atsumu turns back to you, drink in hand.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Atsumu pounds back another beer, and you squint your eyes at him, knowing him too well for this bullshit.

“You came all the way over here, at two in the morning, might I add, just to not talk about it?” You cross your arms. You honestly just wanted to get this over with, so you could go back to sleep and have him crash on your couch like he normally did when he came over. He usually just needed a little coaxing to get his true intentions out. Then he’d spill (more like whine) and you could both move on.

“And for the beer.” He smirks, taking another sip, trying to be funny. You snatch the can away from him.

“Hey! I was drinking that!”

“And for that you owe me 7 bucks. Now what are you doing here? I got work in the morning you know.” He rolls his eyes, as if you were the problem here.

You were finding it difficult to remember why you hung around him so much.

“My date was a bitch.” He grumbled out, not looking at you. You only scoffed, failing to notice the growing redness around his cheeks and ears.

“And that’s what’s got you so wound up? I figured you’d be too mellowed out to care if she was a bitch after the fucking.” You said bluntly, taking a sip of beer you stole from Atsumu.

Well, it was technically yours, so it wasn’t stealing. He let out a long sigh.

“We never really got to that part.” You felt your jaw clench.

“So is she a bitch for not sleeping with you? I’m telling you, I’m finding it really hard to like you right now-“

“No, that’s not it.” He still refused to look at you, and you couldn’t help but become curious. Because not a lot of things flustered Atsumu, hell you could even say the man had no shame, so to find him this shaken…

It was interesting.

“We- We were in the middle of some foreplay, and she said…” Atsumu paused dramatically. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“She said?” You continued, taking another sip.

“That I didn’t know how to finger her.”

You couldn’t help but choke on your drink, not able to stifle your laughter. Atsumu shot you an annoyed glare as you continued to chuckle, gasping for air between fits of laughter and attempting for the alcohol to go down the correct pipe.

“It’s not funny!” Atsumu yelled your name, furious, as you continue to cough and laugh, the two actions intertwining.

“I’m sorr-sorry,” You coughed a couple more times. “I’m sorry its just- You were moping because she hurt your precious ‘wittle’ ego? What are you, 12?” He glared at you.

“It’s more than that!” He says, not even denying it. “This is about pride, and I’m completely justified! To say that is like saying I’ve got no skill, and lord knows I’ve. Got. Skill.” He ranted and you couldn’t wipe the smirk off your face. For as long as you knew him, Atsumu had always strived to be the best. At whatever he set his mind to. Whether it be volleyball, beating his brother, or even fucking, once he decided to be at the top, almost nothing could stop him. So seeing him being infuriated at the idea of not being the greatest at something he actually cared about, however stupid and shallow, made the dark part of you want to tease him a little but more. “I’ve satisfied countless women! You know!” You snorted.

“How would I? I’ve never been finger fucked by you. By all means she could be totally right.” You could tell that by the look on his face you struck a nerve. It gave you a little more satisfaction than it should’ve. You chalk it up to the slight buzz you felt from the alcohol.

“Alright then! I’ll prove it!” The statement gives you pause. Like, serious pause.

“Again, I must ask. How, exactly?” There’s a silence that follows that question, and one that fills your stomach with butterflies.

Suddenly, you see your best friend start walking around the island and towards you, grabbing your arm and dragging you to your couch, and practically shoving you on your back. He’s quick to follow, getting close enough to smell the strong fumes of alcohol on his breath.

Just how much had he drank before he came over?

You see him go for your robe tie, and you stop him there, pushing against a chest that shouldn’t feel that hard. This is where you draw the line. You could deal with a lot of things, but you don;t think your self-worth could handle the major repercussions of what you think is about to happen.

“Atsumu, what are you doing?”

“I said I’d prove it.” You deadpan.

“Yeah, that’s not happening. You’re drunk and I’m not interested.” He raises a brow at you, and you have to force your face to stay passive and unimpressed. He smirks, leaning in closer, ignoring your resistance and determined to prove his point.

“Oh come on. Everyone’s interested in me.” It’s your turn to raise a brow.

“This is bringing out a lovely colour on you.” He clicks his tongue.

“Think of this as an experiment.” Your answer is immediate. Maybe because you don’t want to actually consider it.

“Nope.” You push further, but he doesn’t budge. You’re now very aware of just how close he is. You can feel the warmth ebbing off him in waves.

“A bet?” That question catches your interest. You’re almost ashamed of how you’re beginning to fall for it.

“… How much?” You can’t believe the words that come out of your mouth, but you watch as Atsumu’s face brightens. You’re not sure if it’s because of the approval, or the challenge.

“500?” You honestly think about it. Weighing your morals and values about whether this would be ethical. Whether you really wanted to show your best friend of almost a decade that level of intimacy…

But then again, 500 bucks is 500 bucks.

“Deal.”

That’s all the conformation Atsumu needs, going to untie the knot of robe, when you go to stop him again. He actually whines. You squint at his impatience.

“What now?”

“It’s my body you’re groping here. I call the shots. We need to establish some ground rules.” He sighs heavily, but removes his hand, showing that he’s willing to listen.

“Nothing else but your hands, that means no kissing or anything close to that.” You wait for approval and he nods. “You’ll have ten minutes?”

“Five. I’ve never needed any more than that.” He smirks, and you stick your tongue out at his arrogance.

“Pretty cocky for someone who gave himself blueballs.”

“Not funny.”

“Humor is subjective.” You shrug, smirking at his distaste. “Oh yeah, go wash your hands before we start.” With that he goes to your bathroom and does what you ask. In those few minutes you had half the nerve to call it all off, with something in your gut telling you this was probably a bad idea, but you couldn’t make the decision fast enough before he came back, look in his eyes similar to when he was playing a game.

For some reason you felt a little out of your element.

“Alright. All washed. Ready to lose?” You roll your eyes, all the while trying to control your breathing.

“Please.” You couldn’t think of a proper comeback, which should’ve already told you you were in over your head, but you couldn’t even consider it as he finally removed your robe, showing your very ugly sleep attire. Which consisted of an extremely large, beaten up t-shirt.

And nothing else.

You felt your skin turn to fire as Atsumu trailed his leg up your thigh, gentle, precise.

Like a lion scoping out a gazette to kill.

“Start the clock.” He doesn’t ask, but demands, and you can’t even think to say anything as you start a five minute timer on your phone; Within the same breath he parts your thighs, just as soft and gentle. Like you were made of glass that he wouldn’t dare break. You almost get lost in the feeling, but jerk back to reality when he rubs against your lips with a light, feather like touch. You notice his eyes widen a fraction, but quickly return to half lidded as a smile begins to grow.

You can’t control your flinch, which causes him to smile deeper.

“No panties to bed? Didn’t think you were the type.” His voice is quiet, but powerful. The baritones cause your soul to shake in ways you never thought it could. It was unlike any tone you’ve ever heard him speak in. You have to stop yourself from covering yourself in embarrassment, but can’t stop the red that spreads across your cheeks.

“Shut up.” It’s said in the meekest voice you’ve ever heard. To be honest, if it wasn’t you, you’d have a hard time believing it was.

“None of the rules included no talking. So no, I don’t think I will.” You stay quiet, trying to avoid eye contact as he continues rubbing, tracing the lips of your cunt. It stays like that for a couple seconds, and you swear you begin to feel fuzzy.

The touch was like nothing, yet it felt like everything. You choose to look at the ceiling, trying to ignore the growing pulse in your lower belly, and the sudden lump in your throat.

“You’ve wasted about thirty seconds now… Do you need a picture of the woman anatomy? I don’t mind you using a cheat sheet…” You cringe at the slight shake in your voice, but Atsumu doesn’t seem to notice it.

“You fail to realize that the start of anything half decent is the anticipation of it.”

You stiffen at sentence. Not because of the words, but because of the sheer determination in his voice.

This fucker was serious about this.

Shit, you were so screwed.

“Which is why…” His thumb suddenly parts you, and you lightly hiss at the attack of cold air rushing against you, feeling exponentially stronger than you would have ever assumed.

“You’re absolutely soaked right now.” You hated how right he was, how you could hear your lips parting, but you couldn’t say anything as he wasted no more time, going directly for your clit, using the rough, calloused pad of his thumb to draw a large, slow circle. You jump at the direct contact, the juxtaposition from the light touch to the heavy rub, and you can’t stop the squeak that escapes you. You can feel his smugness ebb off him, poor deflated ego slowing have air be pumped back in.

You felt warm. Too warm.

“You’re pretty sensitive. Am I actually doing you a favour with this bet?” You realize just how close he is to you, his voice tingling the canal of your ear, and you squirm at it. He doesn’t stop his movements, still opting for slow full circles, and you try to focus on the walls of your apartment, all the while stopping yourself from moving your hips.

You’ve gone way too deep to stop this obvious bad idea. If you wanted to save face, you needed to beat him.

“I’ve had much hotter men do much better, so I wouldn’t be so sure.” You purr, only a little breathless, trying not think of the obvious lie you just told in favour of watching Atsumu’s jaw clench. But if you were being honest, Atsumu had always been attractive to you, and he wasn’t doing that bad a job.

Plus, you hadn’t had a date in months, let only a boyfriend. But there’s no way you’d let him know.

Though, you should’ve thought twice about riling him up. He was the more than determined now to make you eat those words.

He doesn’t say anything, opting for harsher treatment. He switches to smaller, tighter circles, and every once in a while a figure eight is drawn on your clit, rubbing that little pearl all the right ways. You don’t have time to think when you put your hand to your mouth, attempting to stop the whines that are desperately begging to come out. You fight against yourself to stop your eyes from rolling to back of your head, but you’re fighting an uphill battle.

You don’t even realize you’re rolling your hips until you feel the warmth of his hand on you, trying to keep you steady. If you weren’t floating on metaphoric nirvana right now, you’d be mortified.

“Would you like it if I did this?” He basically whispers, all too sensually, you add, pinching your clit right at its most sensitive. You jerk.

“Shit.” You hiss, automatically grabbing for his deltoid, digging your nails into his skin hard enough to mold half crescents into his muscles. You start to audibly hear your breathing. And Atsumu’s.

“I think that’s a yes.” He chuckles, but there’s no longer a smug tone to his voice, more like curiosity or… enamour.

“Let’s take it up a notch, yeah?” Your eyes widen when you feel his fingers leave your clit, embarrassingly puffed and engorged, to your even more embarrassing twitching hole. He circles it, and you squeeze your eyes shut.

You couldn’t watch your unraveling.

Your breath hitches when he enters a single digit, it practically glides in with the teasing he had done.

“God damn.” Atsumu mutters, but there’s no hint of a teasing or smug tone, seemingly way too focused with how you gripped his finger, sucking him in when he tried to pull back.

He starts slow, but the pace increases with every thrust of his finger. Though he wasn’t doing anything special persay, the girth of Atsumu’s fingers compared to yours was one you were not accustomed to, and one you definitely couldn’t handle silently. When he added a second, the stretch was so welcomed you couldn’t stop the sounds that broke through your mouth.

“F-fuck.” You strain, arching your back unconsciously. You were too far gone to notice just how intensely Atsumu is watching you. Or the very obvious tent forming in his pants.

The timer was long gone at this point, with both of you being more interested in the tempo at which his fingers moved. At some point you realized that with every thrust he would curl his fingers, and you immediately realized what he was trying to do.

You knew for sure you wouldn’t last if he kept that up. Your hand went from his deltoid to his wrist in an attempt to stop him.

“Wai-wait! Don’t-Don’t press-!”

Then he found it. That spongey flesh that made you see stars. His first press was hard, and you swear you almost came from that one move. Your mouth fell open in a silent scream, unable to think of anything else.

Your visions too blurred with sudden tears to see the look on Atsumu’s face whether it was filled to brim with smug satisfaction or not.

Either way, he had found what he was looking for.

With his palm to your clit, he moved even faster than before, fingers slamming into you, curling his fingers with more and more accuracy each time. You no longer tried to contain your moans, focusing on the strange sensation of a growing pressure deep in your abdomen.

Something was telling you that it wasn’t a good sign for you.

You tried to formulate a sentence, words even, but all you could make out was a garbled version of his name, that he would most likely never let you forget.

The pressure was growing, and you started to panic. It was like a rubber band growing taught, and it was going to snap any second.

“You’re pretty close aren’t you? You’re twitching like crazy.” The murmur in your ear, along with the heat of his breath along the side of your neck, becomes way too much.

You whined in response, trying to let it be known that you were about to burst.

“Cum for me.”

And that was it. The band snapped and it snapped hard.

You saw literal white, a pressure being released that felt so great you almost ascended. It lasted a long while, and you still felt the aftershocks when he removed his fingers.

You felt boneless, not even caring about the point of whatever you two were doing. But what surprised you is the fact that Atsumu was quiet.

He was never quiet. Never.

Your eyes flutter open to a have lidded position not having the energy to open it any further. You get a look at him, but he isn’t looking at you, he’s looking down at his hand.

You blush, feeling only a little dose of reality come to smack you.

“Hey… Don’t be a perv and just gloat already-“

“You squirted.”

You freeze at his words, face feeling all that much brighter, as you go to check out the damage you hadn’t even realized you caused. You bend over to see, low and behold, a puddle of wetness sitting on your couch along with your best friends hand dripping in the essence of you.

It was… a lot. And had never happened to you before.

You both continue to stare, silence pretty much deafening, both of you unsure what to say. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

When the timer rang. Three prongs of sound filling the room, and slapping you into high gear.

This was too much for you.

You stood upright, a little too fast for your head or legs, feeling the shake in your muscles from the prolonged strain of tension.

“I-I should-… Clean the couch. You can sleep on the other one for now.” You refuse to make eye contact with the still quiet Atsumu, tying your robe as fast you could, heading for your nearest towel and wipes. You do the cleanup rather quickly, still not mentioning the extremely awkward situation. Once finished you try to tie up any loose ends.

“You know where the blanket and pillows are, help yourself. And I’ll uh… send you the money in the morning.” You mumble before rushing to your bedroom, slamming the door and clutching your heart in a panicked manner.

What. The. Fuck.