I’m Being Greedy Here,

Hey I really love the way you write it’s so fun to read and really fits the characters. I wanted to request you making small drabbles or a series on how the haikyu characters would treat you while youre pregnant. If it’s something you don’t want to write no worries. 🩷

OMGG yesss I love that idea 🙈🙈🙈 It goes so well with my other mini-series ehehe, I'm 100% adding it to the roster!! Thank you for your sweet words, they never fail to make my day.

For you! Gorgeous Human!! Enjoy <333 --

Pregnancy: Ushijima

Ushijima has been overprotective since the very beginning.

The second those two lines showed up on the test, it was like a switch flipped in him. He became your personal guard dog, nurse, chauffeur, meal planner, and human forklift all rolled into one stoic package.

It was kind of sweet—at first. The way he’d gently tug your hand away if you tried to carry anything heavier than a spoon. The way he’d Google symptoms with intense focus, like your morning sickness was a tactical challenge he could overcome with enough research. The way he sat through every prenatal appointment like it was the Olympics and he was preparing to win gold in fatherhood.

But by the third trimester?

You’re one more “let me do it” away from committing actual murder.

“I’m gonna change the sheets,” you say, bracing a hand on your lower back as you waddle toward the linen closet.

Before you even touch the doorknob, he’s there. He must have materialized from the floorboards.

“I’ll do it,” he says.

You blink up at him. “Wakatoshi—”

“The mattress is heavy.”

“I’m not flipping it! I’m just changing the sheets.”

Still, he reaches over you and pulls out the linens like it’s already been decided. “Sit down. I’ll take care of it.”

You stare at him, nostrils flaring, lips twitching, but you don’t fight it. Not yet.

Then come the groceries. The laundry. The vacuum you so much as glance at. And every time, he gets to it before you can even try. Every time, he gently insists. Every time, you swallow the urge to scream.

Until now.

You step onto the footstool to reach the top kitchen cabinet—one single bowl, that’s all you want—and he appears in the doorway like a haunted house spirit.

“Don’t,” he says sharply.

That’s it. That’s the moment you snap.

“USHIJIMA,” you explode, flinging your arms wide in a very dramatic but very off-balanced motion. “I am pregnant. Not porcelain. I can do things! I can move and lift and stretch and reach and I would like to do one thing—just ONE THING—by myself without you treating me like I’m going to spontaneously combust!”

He pauses. Blinks. That stoic face giving you absolutely nothing.

“…You were wobbling,” he says.

“I always wobble! I’m basically a giant, sentient bowling pin at this point!”

“I don’t want to take chances,” he says, calm as ever.

“Well I want to do something myself!”

He hesitates. You can practically hear the gears turning in his head. Eventually, he steps back and says simply, “Okay. Do it.”

Oh. Oh he did not just call your bluff.

You puff out your chest, grab the cabinet door for balance, and go for it. Fingers brush the edge of the bowl, victory within reach—

—and then you realize you can’t quite twist back down. You’re halfway off the stool and stuck. Pride flickers. Stomach tightens. Arms flail just a little.

“…Toshi?” you call, voice small. “I, um. I need help.”

He’s there in seconds.

Strong arms wrap around you, lifting you like you weigh nothing. He sets you gently on the floor like a queen being lowered onto her throne.

“You were saying?” he murmurs, hand on the small of your back.

You scowl. “I hate you.”

“You don’t,” he replies smoothly. “You just hate that I’m right.”

You slump against his chest, bowl in hand, your forehead hitting the middle of his sternum. His hand rubs up and down your spine. You sigh dramatically.

“You’re so annoying.”

“And you’re still holding the bowl.”

“…Shut up.”

Rivalry: Tendou

You had mastered the art of keeping your cool.

In school, you were the picture of perfection—organized, ambitious, meticulous in everything you did. You had a system for everything: color-coded planners, perfectly curated study schedules, and a resume that outshined most adults in the workforce. When you took on the role of manager for the Shiratorizawa volleyball team, it wasn’t because you particularly cared about the sport—it was another challenge to conquer, another achievement to stack onto your spotless record.

But then there was Tendou Satori.

A gremlin in human form.

He was your one roadblock to peace, the singular entity determined to ruin your composed demeanor. From the first day, he had made it his mission to push your buttons. Whether it was teasing you during practice, dramatically announcing your arrival every time you walked into the gym, or deliberately causing mild chaos when you were trying to focus—he was always there, getting under your skin.

And today? He was worse than usual.

“Oi, Manager-chan, you look tense~” Tendou’s mocking voice rang through the gym as you diligently took notes on the team’s stats. “Is the weight of perfection getting to ya?”

You exhaled sharply, choosing to ignore him.

Big mistake.

Tendou, sensing weakness, immediately invaded your space, leaning over your shoulder to peer at your clipboard. “Ooooh, look at you, all serious and focused.” His smirk widened as he snatched the clipboard from your grasp before you could react. “Hey, Semi, you see how intense she gets? It’s almost scary.”

Semi barely glanced up from where he was stretching. “Tendou, give it back before she kills you.”

“Oh, but she’d never. She’s too put together for that.” He turned back to you, grinning. “Right, Manager-chan?”

Your eye twitched.

“You’re making her mad again,” Ohira noted from across the gym, shaking his head. “Not a great idea.”

“She’s always mad,” Goshiki mumbled, tying his shoes. “Maybe she should just—”

“Finish that sentence, Goshiki, and I’ll have you running laps,” you snapped, finally lunging for your clipboard.

Tendou yanked it just out of reach, stepping back with a playful glint in his eyes. “I swear to—Tendou, I am not in the mood for this!” you snapped, lunging for it again. He effortlessly dodged, making a show of flipping through your neatly written notes.

“Wow, you even color-code these?” he mused. “You are a perfectionist.”

Your patience snapped.

“Give it back, Tendou, or I swear—”

“Or what?” His smirk widened. “You gonna scold me? Ground me? Maybe write me up in one of your little reports?”

“Manager,” Shirabu called over, “just hit him.”

Your fists clenched, but before you could blow up completely, a voice cut through the tension.

“Tendou,” Ushijima’s calm yet authoritative voice silenced the entire exchange. “You are wasting time.”

Tendou sighed dramatically. “Awww, but Ushi, I’m just having a little fun—”

“Tendou.” Ushijima’s stare was unwavering.

With an exaggerated sigh, Tendou reluctantly handed the clipboard back. “Fine, fine. No need to get all intense about it.”

“You are intense,” Yamagata muttered under his breath, but it was enough to make Tendou chuckle. You snatched the clipboard from his hands, shooting him a murderous glare before stomping back to the bench. The rest of practice continued with you actively ignoring him, though you could feel his smug gaze on you the entire time.

After morning practice, you thought you had finally earned a few moments of peace, but of course, that was never the case with Tendou.

It started when he 'adjusted' the team’s training schedule—doubling the number of drills without any warning, replacing the usual post-practice cooldown with an endurance challenge that he personally designed, and worst of all, swapping your neatly organized equipment labels with absolute nonsense.

The first red flag was Ushijima approaching you, arms crossed. "Manager. Tendou says you approved these changes."

You blinked, gripping your clipboard. "I absolutely did not."

Ushijima simply nodded. "I thought so."

Tendou, leaning against the net with a smug grin, waved lazily at you. "Ohhh, Manager-chan, you wound me. I thought you’d appreciate my initiative."

Your blood boiled.

“Tendou," you said through gritted teeth. "What did you do?"

“Oh, nothing serious~ Just thought the team needed a little extra spice. Gotta keep 'em on their toes, y’know?"

The entire team was now staring.

"Fix it," you snapped, already pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Oh, but it’s too late! I’ve already made some executive decisions. Like renaming the storage bins! Now instead of boring labels like ‘knee pads’ and ‘water bottles,’ we’ve got ‘Mystery Box #1’ and ‘Cursed Liquids.’”

You stared at him, absolutely seething.

Ohira muttered, "...‘Cursed Liquids’?"

Tendou beamed. "Oh yeah! And the balls are labeled ‘Fragile: Handle With Extreme Caution.’ I’m really fostering an atmosphere of uncertainty and excitement."

Yamagata walked over to a cart and squinted. "Why does this one say ‘Definitely Not Volleyballs’—?"

He opened the cart and yelped as half the contents spilled onto the floor.

Tendou laughed. "Oops. Guess I should’ve labeled that one better."

You could actually feel your soul leaving your body.

"TENDOU, YOU ABSOLUTE MENACE!" The words ripped out of you like a volcano finally erupting, and the entire gym fell into silence. You marched up to him, fists clenched so tightly your nails dug into your palms. "You don't just get to—" you sucked in a breath, visibly shaking with rage. "Undo. Everything. Right. Now."

Tendou merely tilted his head, hands still stuffed in his pockets, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Oooh, scary."

That was it.

With a frustrated noise, you threw down your clipboard and turned on your heel, storming out of the gym before you could do something truly regrettable—like chucking a volleyball at his smug face.

The doors slammed shut behind you, leaving behind a heavy silence.

Semi exhaled. "Okay, yeah, that was bad."

"Dude," Yamagata muttered, shaking his head. "That was the loudest she’s ever yelled."

Ushijima, ever direct, simply said, "You should apologize."

Tendou scoffed. "Apologize? For what? I'm fostering team morale!"

Semi arched a brow. "No, you’re fostering a migraine."

"And an aneurysm," Shirabu added dryly.

Ohira sighed. "Tendou, come on. We all know you do this because you like her."

Tendou exhaled through his nose, tilting his head. "Well, yeah. Obviously."

The gym fell into silence.

Goshiki blinked rapidly. "Wait, what?!"

Semi threw his hands up. "Oh, now you admit it?! After months of this? After making our manager nearly combust on a daily basis?"

Tendou shrugged. "What can I say? It’s fun. She’s cute when she’s pissed."

Ohira groaned. "This is so much worse."

"Yeah, no kidding," Yamagata muttered. "Dude, go fix it."

Ushijima nodded. "You should apologize."

Tendou let out a dramatic sigh, already making his way toward the exit. "Fine, fine. But if she throws something at me, just remember—I did this for you guys."

Shirabu scoffed. "No, you’re doing this for you."

"Same difference!" Tendou sang, pushing through the doors.

"Oh, this is gonna be a disaster," Semi muttered.

__

Outside, your footsteps pounded against the pavement as you stormed away from the gym, rage thrumming under your skin like an electrical current. The nerve of that man—! You were going to kill him. No jury would convict you.

Behind you, quick footsteps echoed. You didn’t have to look to know who it was.

"Of course," you seethed under your breath.

"Oi, Manager-chan!" Tendou’s voice rang out, obnoxiously cheerful despite the fact that he had just single-handedly ruined your entire day. "Wait up!"

You didn’t wait. Instead, you walked faster.

"Hey, hey, don’t ignore me! I came to apologize!"

His mock sincerity made something snap inside you.

"Go to hell, Tendou!" you barked over your shoulder, barely slowing down.

Tendou let out a dramatic sigh, then jogged ahead, stepping directly into your path before you could escape.

Your body nearly collided with his. He was too close, all lazy grins and infuriating confidence, like he hadn’t just been the source of your current blood pressure crisis.

"Move, Tendou," you snapped, your voice low and dangerous.

He put a hand to his chest, feigning offense. "Oof. I come all this way to make amends, and that’s how you treat me? Harsh."

"If this is another joke, I swear to god—"

"No jokes," he interrupted smoothly, his smirk still present but eyes sharp. "I’m serious—okay, mostly serious. I did kinda push you hard today, huh?"

You scoffed. "Oh, so you do have a functioning brain?"

"I do, in fact. And contrary to popular belief, I also have self-awareness." His smirk deepened, eyes glinting with something unreadable. "I just happen to enjoy making you... expressive."

Your teeth clenched so hard your jaw ached. "I am expressive. You’re just a walking migraine."

Tendou hummed, looking you up and down like you were an interesting puzzle to solve. "Mmm... no, I think you’re a little too put together, actually." His grin sharpened, a slow, deliberate smirk. "All wound up so tight, afraid to let loose."

Your rage flared hotter than ever.

"I AM NOT WOUND UP," you spat, fists curling at your sides.

"Oh, no?" His gaze flickered down—just for a split second—noticing the way your hands shook with restrained anger, the tension in your shoulders, the way your breath came out just a little too fast.

Then, his smirk turned dangerous.

"Prove it."

Your eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"

Tendou tilted his head, mocking thoughtfulness, his voice casual yet edged with something wickedly taunting.

"Go out with me. Saturday."

Your entire brain short-circuited.

"WHAT?!"

His grin only widened. "C’mon, Manager-chan~ What’s one little date?" His tone was syrupy sweet, full of mocking amusement. "You said I was wrong—so show me."

You opened your mouth—ready to refuse, ready to tear him apart—but then you saw it.

Something hidden beneath the teasing.

There was a challenge in his expression, a dare, a glint of something genuine underneath all the bravado.

Your pulse spiked.

You were going to regret this.

You exhaled sharply, glaring daggers at him. "No pranks?"

Tendou raised three fingers, mock solemn. "Scouts honor."

You stared him down, searching his face for any sign of deception. His smirk remained, but there was a flicker of something undeniably serious in his gaze.

Before you could think better of it, before your rationality could kick in, the words slipped past your lips.

"Fine."

Tendou’s grin split into something truly devious.

"That’s my girl."

Your entire body jerked with fury. "Don’t. Say. It like that."

But he was already walking away, laughing as he turned his back on you, hands tucked behind his head like this was just another game he’d won.

"See you Saturday, Manager-chan~"

You stood there, rooted to the ground, your mind replaying everything that had just happened.

And then reality hit you like a truck.

Oh. Oh no.

WHAT DID YOU JUST DO?

Rivalry: Shirabu

"You’re insufferable."

That was the last thing you hissed at Shirabu Kenjirō before the attending physician turned, red-faced and barely breathing through his nose, and barked loud enough to make half the emergency department flinch:

"Both of you—out. Now."

But that wasn’t how the day started.

It started with an argument.

“0.25 milligrams,” you said evenly, eyes flicking from the tablet to the patient. “He’s seventy-two. With a documented history of hepatic impairment. We’re not doing a full dose.”

Shirabu didn’t look up from the vial in his gloved hand. “He’s metabolizing fine, vitals are steady, and the attending’s notes—”

“—don’t override the risk of oversedation,” you cut in, sharper this time. “We need to adjust it. I already cleared it with Pharmacy.”

He glanced at you then, that cool clinical stare that always made your blood boil. “I triple-checked the chart. We’re wasting time.”

“You’re going to put a seventy-two-year-old man into respiratory depression.”

“And you’re going to let him seize while we argue.”

Your mouth opened, ready to fire back—and that’s when it happened.

The patient’s monitor screamed.

A violent shudder rocked through his body, limbs jerking, back arching off the gurney.

“Shit!” you both snapped in unison.

“Code blue!” you shouted into the hallway. “We need Ativan, now!”

The room exploded into motion. Nurses poured in. A crash cart slammed into the doorframe. Someone started chest compressions. And you—helplessly gripping the IV tubing you hadn’t primed—stood frozen beside Shirabu, both of you silent, horror pooling in your throats.

The attending shoved through seconds later, eyes wild. “Get the hell out!”

__

Now.

“You’re done here for today,” the attending had spat, voice blistering. “Go help the nurses. Clean linens, supply runs, sit with waiting patients—I don’t care. You’re both liabilities right now.”

Shame swirled in your gut. Not because you were wrong—no, you were right about the dosage—but because you’d let Shirabu get under your skin. Again. And someone paid for it.

You stormed out of the trauma bay, white coat flaring behind you like a war banner, and Shirabu followed half a step behind, not saying anything yet, which was somehow worse. The moment you passed the threshold into the hallway, you whirled on him.

“You’re unbelievable,” you snapped. “I told you the dose was too high—”

“And I told you I triple-checked the chart,” he said coolly, not even looking at you. “But of course, you think you’re always right.”

“Because I usually am. You never listen to anyone, you just go with your arrogant little gut—”

“My gut?” He turned then, sharply, eyes like frost over steel. “You mean the one that finished top of its class in diagnostics and surgical prep?”

“Oh, congratulations,” you snarled, hands tightening into fists at your sides. “You got a gold star while you ignored the actual patient in front of you.”

"You don't know how to read the room half the time," he snapped. "You’re so busy being morally superior, you forget we’re on a clock. You want to argue philosophy while someone’s bleeding out? Grow up."

You could feel your pulse in your teeth. Heat flooded your face. You weren’t even sure when the two of you had gotten so close—but now he was right in front of you, all sharp lines and cold fire, his jaw tight, breath shallow, his stupidly pretty mouth parted like he had one more insult on the tip of his tongue.

“You’re a condescending prick, you know that?” you hissed. “Always acting like you’re the only one with a functioning brain.”

“And you’re a self-righteous control freak who can’t take being challenged.”

“You don’t challenge, Shirabu. You bulldoze.”

“And you let your emotions run the whole goddamn room.”

You stared at him, breathing hard, chest rising and falling as if you’d just sprinted across the hospital. He was infuriating. Arrogant. Cold. The kind of person who drove you absolutely insane. And yet—

His mouth was moving again, eyes still sharp—but all you could think about was how close he was. How flushed his skin had gotten. How your stomach hadn’t stopped twisting since that patient flatlined. The adrenaline still burned in your chest like a furnace. And how long had it been since anyone had touched you, really touched you—looked at you like more than just a coat with a badge and a clipboard?

When was the last time I had sex?

The thought shot through your brain like a live wire. The frustration, the tension, the sheer exhaustion of existing inside a pressure cooker like this day after day—it all exploded behind your eyes.

Sixteen-hour shift. A missed lunch. A mistake that rattled your bones.

Fuck it.

You grabbed the front of his coat, yanked him forward, and shoved him—hard—into the nearest door. It flew open with a groan, revealing the dim, cramped supply closet, the air inside cold and sterile and completely indifferent to what was about to happen.

You shoved him inside.

He barely had time to stumble backward before you stepped in after him, kicked the door shut with a sharp slam, and crashed your lips to his.

It was a mistake. It was impulsive. It was heaven. A desperate, furious kind of salvation.

Shirabu froze for half a second—just long enough for you to think oh god, what have I done—before he growled low in his throat and kissed you back like he’d been waiting for this, like he had been burning too. His hands found your waist, fingers digging into your hips like he wanted to leave bruises, like he needed to anchor himself to something real.

You gasped when he walked you backward, guiding you with rough, hurried steps until your back hit the shelves. The plastic bins and paper-wrapped gauze rattled with the force of it.

“This,” he rasped against your jaw, breath hot and uneven, “is the stupidest idea you’ve ever had.”

“Shut up,” you whispered, clawing his lab coat open. “I don’t want to hear your voice right now.”

“Then stop giving me reasons to use it.”

You dragged him down again.

The kiss deepened, turned frantic, messy. Teeth. Tongue. Hot breath and sharp nails. The smell of antiseptic and the sting of fluorescent lighting faded into nothing. The only thing you could feel was the press of his mouth, the grind of his body against yours, the heat blooming low and hungry in your belly.

He yanked your scrub top up, pushed it out of the way with impatience, and bit down along your collarbone like he meant to leave a mark. You gasped, nails digging into his shoulders. You wanted him closer. You wanted him rougher. You wanted to feel anything but the burn of regret and the echo of the code blue.

And you let him.

Because you’d been burning for too long.

And because, for once, Shirabu Kenjirō had finally shut the hell up.

Helloooo another request because I absolutely love your Favourite position series! Can you write one about Atsumu because you write him so well. Not just him honestly all the characters you write are so accurate and well written. Take your time and thank your for blessing us with your writing!!🩷🩷

Heheh I've had this one cooking for a long time. Thank you for saying I write him well that makes my day since he's like my husband 😩🩷

Enjoy <333

--

Favourite Positions: Atsumu

Atsumu Miya was a performer.

On the court, in front of a camera, with strangers or friends—he knew how to put on a show. He thrived on reaction, on praise, on the high that came from being watched and admired. And in bed, it was no different.

He liked it when you were loud.

When you praised him with gasps and whimpers, when your nails dragged down his back and your voice cracked saying his name. When your legs trembled, when your thighs clenched, when you said—again and again—that no one made you feel like he did.

But one night, in the quiet hush of your shared bedroom, you laughed—soft, teasing—and said something he couldn’t let go.

“You’re good, Tsumu,” you purred, voice sugary sweet, brushing your lips against his ear. “But I don’t think you’ve ever made me scream.”

He went still. Blinked once. And then he smiled.

Not just any smile. That one. The cocky, infuriating, competitive smile he only wore when he took something personally.

“Oh, is that a challenge?” he asked, voice deceptively light.

You shrugged, smirking. “I’m just saying…”

And that was how you found yourself like this.

Laid on your side, one leg lifted and draped over his shoulder, the other pinned beneath his weight. His hand was anchored under your knee, firm and steady, keeping you stretched open for him, keeping you exposed and exactly where he wanted you.

He was already deep inside you, hips grinding in slow, devastating strokes that had your breath stuttering and your mind unraveling. The angle? Perfect. He hit that spot—your spot—over and over, like he had it memorized, like he could find it with his eyes closed.

But what got you most—more than the rhythm, more than the stretch—was the way he watched you.

Eyes locked on your face. Focused. Determined.

He wasn’t teasing. He wasn’t playful. He was proving something.

“Y’re not gonna be able to talk when I’m done,” he muttered, voice thick with effort, lips brushing against your jaw. “Gonna make you scream so loud, the whole fuckin’ neighborhood’s gonna know.”

You gasped, your hand flailing to grip the sheets as his cock hit that spot again, again, again. Every thrust angled perfectly, timed like he was syncing it to the beat of your pulse, to the rhythm of your gasps.

Your voice cracked. “T-Tsumu—”

“Oh, now y’can’t talk?” he chuckled, dark and pleased, hand dragging down to press your belly. “Thought y’had somethin’ smart to say.”

Your leg trembled on his shoulder. Your body jolted, overwhelmed by the way he kept striking that same devastating spot inside you. It was blinding—white-hot heat coiling tighter and tighter, an ache that started deep in your belly and spread like fire under your skin. Every thrust sent sparks shooting through your nerves, your muscles drawn so tight you thought you might snap. You couldn't think. Couldn't breathe.

The only thing you could feel was him—Atsumu, filling you completely, dragging you closer to the edge with every roll of his hips. Your walls fluttered around him, desperate and pulsing, your vision starting to blur at the edges. Tears prickled in the corners of your eyes, pleasure cresting into something dizzying, something raw.

And still, he didn’t let up.

His pace quickened, hips snapping forward with more force, each movement sending a shockwave through your body. The pressure was unbearable, unbearable—and yet, you craved more. You needed more. Your hands clawed uselessly at the bedspread, searching for something, anything, to hold onto.

“Say it,” he growled, voice right by your ear now, his breath hot, cock still driving into you at that perfect, devastating angle. “Say who’s makin’ you scream.”

You barely managed it.

“Atsumu—oh my god, Atsumu—”

You shattered.

Your cry echoed off the walls, louder than you’d ever been before. It ripped from your chest, raw and helpless, your entire body locking up. Back arched, fingers clawing at the sheets, thighs quivering violently as your orgasm tore through you like lightning. Raw. Messy. Loud. It didn’t stop—wave after wave crashing through your limbs, pulsing around him with a force that left you sobbing.

Atsumu groaned, curse muffled into your neck as he fucked you through it, hips stuttering before he came hard, hot and deep inside you, his own orgasm pulled from him with a strangled moan. He rode out every last pulse of it, buried deep, clinging to your thigh like his anchor.

He didn’t move right away.

Just stayed there, your leg still draped over his shoulder, chest heaving against the back of your thigh, his hand still gripping you like he didn’t want to let go. His face nuzzled into the curve of your chest, lips ghosting over the swell of your breast as he pressed soft, open-mouthed kisses there—gentle and slow, a quiet contrast to the way he’d just wrecked you.

When he finally leaned back to look at you, his smile was smug, but his eyes were warm—staring down at the wrecked mess he made.

“Still think I can’t make you scream?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. You were too far gone—eyelids fluttering, mouth parted, body twitching with the aftershocks.

And as he looked down at the wrecked mess of you—eyes glassy, hair clinging to your forehead, body limp and trembling—Atsumu realized something.

This position?

Yeah. It was his favorite now.

Favourite Positions: (Haikyuu! x Reader)

A character-based NSFW drabble series exploring the position each Haikyuu boy thrives in—physically, emotionally, and filthily. Every piece dives deep into their unique personalities and the way they unravel you best.

1. Iwaizumi 2. Tsukishima 3. Meian 4. Osamu 5. Kuroo 6. Bokuto 7. Tendou 8. Matsukawa 9. Ushijima 10. Akaashi 11. Suna 12. Sugawara 13. Oikawa 14. Kenma 15. Aone 16. Kita 17. Kageyama 18. Atsumu 19. Sakusa 20. Hinata 21. Asahi

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Husbandry: Bokuto (NSFW)

Koutaro loved being a father. He loved everything about it—the giggles, the tiny hands reaching for his, the way his child clung to his leg like a koala when he tried to leave for practice. He loved the sleepy, drooling cuddles, the way they cheered for him at games even when they barely understood what was going on, the pure adoration in their big, bright eyes.

He loved his family. He loved the life he had built with you.

But damn, he was dying to fuck his wife.

At first, it wasn’t so bad. The newborn stage had been exhausting, but you’d found your moments, stolen kisses between diaper changes and late-night feedings. But now? Now, his kid was everywhere.

Hina wanted to play all the time, wanted to be glued to your side, wanted to co-sleep every damn night. If he so much as kissed you for too long, tiny hands would push between you both, demanding attention. And the worst part? You loved it. You’d always been so patient with her, smiling when she pulled you away from him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek before going to settle her back into bed. Meanwhile, Koutaro was left aching, frustrated, and wound up tighter than a spring.

The longing was getting unbearable. He needed you. Needed to feel your hands on him, your nails digging into his back, the press of your body against his without interruption.

So when he saw his chance—his first real chance in weeks—he pounced.

Hina was absorbed in her favorite cartoon, settled comfortably on the couch, giggling at the screen, completely distracted. And you? You were in the kitchen, slicing up fruit, completely alone.

Koutaro didn’t hesitate.

He moved in fast, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, burying his face against your neck, groaning dramatically. "Baby, I’m starving."

You laughed, not missing the way his hands wandered, sliding under your shirt, fingers tracing slow, teasing circles against your stomach. "I’m literally making you a snack right now."

"Not that kinda hungry," he murmured, lips grazing your ear, pressing his hips firmly against your ass so you could feel exactly what he meant.

You inhaled sharply, the knife in your hand faltering for just a second. "Koutaro—"

"C’mon, babe," he whined, rocking his hips just a little, making you shudder. "We can sneak upstairs. Just real quick. Ten minutes. No—five! I swear, I can be fast."

You snorted. "You’re never fast."

He grinned against your skin, his hands moving higher, palming your breasts, kneading them just the way he knew made you weak. "Fine, twenty minutes. But you have to be quiet."

You let out a soft, breathy moan, pressing back into him just enough to feel the hard, teasing drag of his body against yours. Your breathing picked up, your fingers gripping the counter as you leaned into his touch, heat pooling low in your stomach. "You’re terrible," you murmured, but there was no real bite to your words. Koutaro smirked against your neck, his hands squeezing your waist. He knew he had you.

Then—

"Mama! I want my fruit!"

Koutaro froze.

You quickly smoothed down your shirt, tucking stray strands of hair behind your ear, forcing yourself to look composed.

Tiny feet pattered into the kitchen, and suddenly, Hina was wedging between you and Koutaro, tiny hands tugging at your shirt.

"Mama! I want fruit! And Daddy, come watch my show with me! My favorite episode is on!"

Koutaro exhaled sharply through his nose, closing his eyes for a long moment. Defeated.

You sigh, turning and pecking him on the cheek, grinning. "Guess duty calls, Daddy."

With a deep, exaggerated sigh, Koutaro stepped back, ruffling his child’s hair before lifting her into his arms. "Alright, alright. Let’s go watch your show."

As he walked away, he heard your muffled laughter from the kitchen, making his frustration spike. His fingers flexed against Hina’s back as he carried her, already thinking about revenge.

By the time he settled onto the couch with her, she was already chattering excitedly about her favorite episode, eyes glued to the screen. Koutaro, however, was fuming.

He turned back, just before disappearing into the living room, throwing you a desperate, betrayed look.

This wasn’t over.

Not by a long shot.

---

Later that night, he was sure he was getting what he wanted.

Koutaro had planned it perfectly. He'd worn Hina out all day—a long walk, hours at the park, a warm bath, and a bedtime story that left her knocked out cold in her own bed. No way she was waking up tonight.

With a victorious smirk, he made his way to the bedroom, already anticipating the way you’d melt under his touch.

He stepped inside to find you standing by the dresser, slipping into one of his old shirts for bed. Your hair was slightly damp from your shower, skin soft, glowing in the dim light of the bedside lamp.

You turned at the sound of the door clicking shut, raising a brow as he stalked toward you. "Where’s Hina?"

"In her own bed," he murmured, voice low, confident. "Sleeping like a log."

Before you could react, his hands were on your waist, pulling you against him. He kissed you like he hadn’t kissed you in months—deep, needy, filled with everything he’d been holding back.

You gasped softly, but you didn’t hesitate, your arms looping around his neck as you pressed back into him, matching his intensity, his hunger. His hands roamed your body, fingers trailing down your spine, squeezing at your hips, touching you like he was trying to make up for lost time.

His mouth moved to your jaw, then your neck, and he groaned as his fingers slid beneath the hem of your shirt, moving lower, lower—

Knock, knock.

A tiny, tearful voice called from the hallway. "Mama? Daddy?"

You and Koutaro froze.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, still tangled together, his breath heavy against your skin.

Then, he pulled back just enough to stare at you, eyes filled with sheer, soul-crushing defeat.

You smirked, barely able to contain your amusement. "Like a log, huh?"

His expression darkened, and you couldn't help it—you burst into laughter.

Groaning, Koutaro dropped his forehead against your shoulder, completely deflated.

Another knock. "Mamaaa…"

With a deep sigh, you both quickly fixed yourselves up before Koutaro trudged to the door, opening it to reveal Hina standing there, rubbing her sleepy little eyes, sniffling.

"Had a bad dream, baby?" you cooed, crouching down to brush her hair back gently.

She nodded, sniffling again before reaching up toward Koutaro. "Can I sleep with you and Mama?"

He glanced over at you, looking so damn resigned, so utterly defeated.

You grinned, shrugging. "Guess duty calls again, Daddy."

Letting out the most dramatic sigh of his life, Koutaro scooped her up, carrying her to the bed. He flopped onto the mattress, his dream of having you to himself completely shattered as she snuggled between you both.

As you reached over to turn off the light, you caught Koutaro’s stare from across the pillow—his desperate, betrayed look that all but screamed: This isn’t over.

But hours later, it was still keeping him awake.

He laid there in the dark, eyes fixed on the ceiling, his body tense with frustration. Every single attempt at having you to himself had been shut down, and now, with his daughter nestled comfortably between you both, it felt like the final nail in his coffin.

Except—he wasn’t giving up. Not tonight.

Slowly, he turned his head, glancing at Hina. Her breathing was steady, deep, completely out. Koutaro stayed still for a few more moments, just to be sure, before carefully, painstakingly, peeling himself away from the bed.

You stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent, but he was already leaning in, brushing his lips against your ear. "Baby… come with me."

You blinked groggily, barely registering his voice. "Kou…?"

"Shhh," he whispered, his hand warm against your waist. "Come on. Just trust me."

Still half-asleep, you let him pull you up, letting him lead you quietly, carefully out of the bedroom. As soon as you both stepped into the dimly lit living room, you rubbed at your eyes, yawning. "Koutaro… what’s going on?"

But he didn’t answer with words.

Instead, he tilted your chin up, trailing soft kisses down your jaw, your neck, whispering against your skin. "We just need to be quiet."

Your breath hitched, your drowsiness evaporating in an instant as his hands gripped your hips, pulling you flush against him.

You gasped softly, but the second his mouth found that sensitive spot just beneath your ear, you melted into him. "Koutaro, you’re insatiable…"

He grinned, his fingers already slipping beneath the hem of your shirt as he guided you toward the couch. "Missed you too much, baby. Can’t wait anymore."

And as he pressed you down onto the cushions, settling between your legs, he whispered again, "Just keep quiet for me, yeah?"

You barely had a chance to respond before his hand slipped between your legs, fingertips tracing along your inner thigh, teasing, taking his time. You shivered, your legs instinctively parting wider for him, and he let out a quiet, pleased hum.

"That’s it, baby," he murmured against your ear, his fingers brushing over your underwear, pressing against the heat already pooling there. "You’re already so wet for me. Missed this, huh?"

You bit your lip, nodding as you arched into his touch, barely suppressing a gasp when he slid his fingers under the fabric, stroking you slow, deliberate.

"Koutaro—"

"Shhh, baby," he whispered, his other hand coming up to gently cover your mouth. "Gotta stay quiet, remember?"

Your head tipped back against the couch as he slid a finger inside, curling just right, dragging along that spot that had you nearly choking on your moans. When he added a second, his pace deep and unrelenting, your thighs clamped around his hand, body trembling under his touch.

"Feel good?" he asked, watching you with dark, hungry eyes. "Bet you’ve been needing this just as bad as I have."

You could barely nod, barely breathe, your chest rising and falling in uneven gasps as he worked you open, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Wanna come for me, baby?" His voice was low, coaxing, filthy. "I can feel you squeezing me—go ahead, let go. Just be quiet."

You whined against his palm, your whole body tensing as pleasure crashed over you, your walls pulsing around his fingers as you came, thighs shaking.

Koutaro groaned, pressing soft kisses along your jaw, your cheeks, his fingers slowing but not stopping as he helped you ride it out.

"Good girl," he whispered, nuzzling against your temple. "That’s my girl."

Before you could fully come down, he was shifting, gripping your hips, lining himself up.

"K-Koutaro—"

He pushed in, slow, deep, deliberate, and you nearly sobbed at the overwhelming pleasure. Your walls clenched around him, so tight, so warm, making his breath stutter against your skin.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, your back arching as he bottomed out, his size stretching you perfectly. The sensation was too much, so intense it sent tears flooding your eyes.

Koutaro kissed them away, murmuring against your skin, "Needed this, baby. Needed you. So bad."

His thrusts were slow, deep, each roll of his hips pressing right where you needed him most. You were drowning in the feeling, in the weight of him, in the way he moved inside you like he was savoring every second.

You wanted to cry out, to let him know just how good he was making you feel, but his hand was quick to cover your mouth again, muffling your desperate whimpers.

"Shhh, baby," he whispered, voice strained, nearly breaking from how good you felt around him. "Can’t have Hina hearing, right? Just be good for me, just take it—"

And you did. You took all of him, his slow, aching thrusts sending you spiraling, pulling you under, dragging out every bit of pleasure until you couldn’t hold it anymore.

"Koutaro—oh god—"

"I got you," he whispered, gripping your waist tighter, his hips stuttering as he felt you clamp down around him. "Come with me, baby. Let go."

The second your body tensed, walls pulsing around him, he followed, groaning as he spilled deep inside you, burying his face against your neck as he let go completely.

For a long moment, neither of you moved.

Just the sound of ragged breathing, the quiet hum of the house, the lingering warmth of each other.

Then—

A soft shuffling noise. A tiny, sleepy voice.

"Mama? Daddy?"

Your entire body locked up, heart stopping, breath catching in your throat.

Koutaro went completely still, eyes widening in horror.

Another rustling noise. "Mamaaa… where’d you go?"

You whipped your head around, eyes darting to the hallway, panic surging through you. Koutaro’s mind raced, searching for an escape, an excuse, anything.

Then—quick as lightning—he peeked his head up over the couch, calling out in the most casual voice he could muster—

"Just helping Mommy look for something, sweetheart! We’ll be back in bed soon!"

Your face burned.

Hina yawned, rubbing her sleepy little eyes, looking far too tired to question anything. "Okay… hurry up, ‘kay?"

"We will, baby," you managed to choke out. "Go back to bed, we’ll be right there."

She sniffled, nodded, and padded back down the hall.

The second she was gone, you collapsed against Koutaro’s chest, smacking his shoulder. "You absolute menace."

He groaned dramatically, throwing an arm over his eyes. "I can’t live like this."

You chuckled, running your fingers through his hair. "That’s why I asked my parents to take her for the weekend."

Koutaro froze.

Then, slowly, he lifted his head, staring at you like you’d just given him the greatest gift of his life.

Without another word, he nuzzled into you, wrapping you up in his arms like he never wanted to let go. "I love you so much."

You smiled, cuddling into his warmth, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. "I love you too."

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

It’s been a week since it happened.

A week since you’ve spoken to him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was selfish.

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

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

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

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

Yeah, that’s why.

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

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

“Oh. Well, did you need something?”

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

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

Maybe even more.

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

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

“How so?”

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

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

Could it be about before?

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~

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

And all of your thoughts were consumed by Kei.

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

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

Well, it’s now or never.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

What the fuck just happened?

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

Did you just win?

…

It doesn’t feel like you’ve won.

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

To have him care enough to respond.

You feel tears start to well up in your eyes.

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

You were crying over Kei. Over that sick bastard.

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

So why are you so sad?

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

Even like this, he still wins.

~~

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

Like that worked so well last time.

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

Just a fresh start. Without Kei in the picture.

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

And extremely frustrating.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why did you call him by his given name?

Why did he let you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well you aren’t giving up without a fight.

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

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

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

Why even try?

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

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

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

~~

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

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

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

Apparently, it would.

~~

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

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

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

“K-kei?”

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

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

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

**I’m finished with practice. **

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

**Seriously, answer me. **

where are you?

God damnit answer my calls

I swear if you’re at home

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Are you in some sort of parallel universe or something?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t want anything from you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What a ridiculous situation you’ve gotten yourself into.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where are you going?”

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

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

~~ Bonus:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hello, i love your writing sm, u my fave writer atm! ❤️

With that said: car sex with Sakusa? 👀

Ahhh thank you so much!! You have immaculate taste because Sakusa + car sex? Yeah, you’re onto something 😩

Enjoy my lovely <333

--

Anon Ask: Sakusa (NSFW)

The silence in the car wasn’t how the night started.

In fact, the ride began with fire.

“You’re unbelievable,” you seethed, gripping the edge of the seat with white-knuckled hands. Your body was turned halfway toward him, even as you stared furiously at the dashboard, shoulders tight and chest rising with sharp, shallow breaths. “Dragging me to that stupid event just to pretend we’re some picture-perfect couple? You barely even looked at me!”

Sakusa’s hands tightened around the steering wheel, knuckles pale against the black leather. His jaw flexed, a slow grind beneath smooth skin, eyes locked on the road but burning with restraint. “You said you wanted to be part of things. That was me including you.”

You scoffed and whipped your head toward him, brows pinched in disbelief. “Don’t act like you were doing me a favor. You stood across the room for an hour and didn’t say a word to me. Not even one.”

“I didn’t think I had to babysit you,” he snapped, his voice cold, cutting through the tension like a scalpel. His hands didn’t leave the wheel, but his fingers drummed once—sharp and anxious—before stilling.

Your mouth dropped open. You turned your whole body toward him now, arms crossed so tightly over your chest it looked like you were holding yourself back. “That’s not what I wanted, Kiyoomi. I just wanted to feel like I was actually with you, not standing on the outside of your perfect little world.”

His nostrils flared. “Oh, right,” he bit out, eyes still locked forward. “Because you’re the victim here. Because I’m the one who constantly pushes people away, right?”

You opened your mouth, then stopped yourself, your expression twisted in a mix of anger and disbelief. Your knee bounced—restless, fidgety—as you turned to glare out the passenger side window.

“Say it,” he growled after a beat. His voice dropped low, quiet and seething. “Say what you’re thinking.”

“I’m fucking thinking I should’ve stayed home,” you spat, voice tight with unshed tears and heat.

The car swerved slightly as Sakusa’s grip on the wheel tightened. His breathing came faster, more shallow. Then, without a word, he flicked the turn signal with a decisive snap and veered off onto a side road. Gravel crunched beneath the tires as he pulled into an empty lot with the aggressive stillness of someone holding back a scream.

He slammed the gear into park, the jolt throwing your body forward slightly in your seat. Then the engine cut. Complete silence fell.

He turned to face you slowly. His posture was rigid, tie loosened just enough to reveal the strong line of his throat. His chest heaved beneath his dress shirt. When he met your eyes, they burned.

“Backseat. Now.”

You blinked, breath caught in your throat. “What?”

His voice was low and unshaking. “You want honesty? You want attention? Get in the backseat and I’ll show you exactly how much I’ve been holding back.”

You stared at him for a moment, heart pounding so hard you could feel it in your fingertips. And then, without another word, you unbuckled and climbed over the console, limbs shaky, breath quick and tight.

He was right behind you.

The doors clicked locked as he slid in after you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you back into him, lips crashing into yours with none of the finesse he usually carried. This wasn’t slow. This wasn’t soft. This was everything you’d been stewing in for the last hour coming to a boil.

You yanked at his suit jacket, fingers curling into the sleek fabric as he shrugged it off with a growl, leaving him in his dress shirt and loosened tie. Your nails dug into the starched cotton at his back as he pushed you down against the seat, slotting himself between your legs.

“You think I don’t want you there?” he growled, mouth hot against your neck. “You think I wasn’t losing my mind every time someone else looked at you tonight?”

You gasped, back arching. “You didn’t show it.”

“No,” he muttered, dragging his teeth along your jaw, “because if I did, I wouldn’t have made it through the damn dinner without taking you apart under the table.”

Clothes were shoved aside, breaths lost in the fogging windows. Your moans tangled with the storm still raging between you, every movement fueled by frustration and desire, until it was all the same heat.

His tie was the first thing he reached for after his shirt was undone, tugging it free from his collar with one hand while his other stayed braced beneath your thigh. He looped it behind your neck, tugging you forward by the silk until your lips collided again, the fabric tightening slightly as he pulled. The pressure was intoxicating.

“You want my attention?” he rasped, panting against your lips, “You have all of it now. Every last fucking bit.”

You whimpered as his hands pushed your underwear to the side, fingers brushing over your soaked heat with maddening slowness. His eyes flicked up to meet yours as he slid two fingers inside, curling just enough to make your spine arch.

“I should’ve done this the second you started running your mouth in the car,” he muttered, voice low and ragged. “Should’ve bent you over the hood and fucked that attitude right out of you.”

Your hips rocked down against his hand, breath hitching with every motion. “Then stop talking,” you whispered, “and do it.”

Something cracked.

He pulled his fingers out, slick and slow, only to unbuckle his belt with one hand and tug you forward by the tie with the other. He kissed you like he was trying to erase the fight from your memory—teeth and tongue, bruising and desperate.

You barely had time to brace yourself before he lined up and pushed in with one slow, devastating thrust. Your back arched off the seat, a moan torn from your throat as he filled you completely.

His forehead dropped to yours.

“Keep looking at me,” he ordered. “You wanted to feel it? Feel this.”

He started to move, hard and deep, each thrust grinding your hips against the cushion, the car rocking gently with each snap of his body into yours. The windows fogged, your moans echoing off the leather and glass, drowned out only by the rain hammering the roof above you.

Sakusa’s hand slid up your stomach, under your shirt, pushing the fabric up until your bra was bunched against your ribs. His mouth found your chest, biting, licking, marking with open-mouth kisses that burned.

Every snap of his hips was frustration, every groan was something he hadn’t said earlier, and every time he gripped your thighs tighter was a reminder: you belonged to him.

Your orgasm hit fast—unforgiving, white-hot. Your vision blurred as your body tightened, clutching at him with everything you had.

He didn’t stop.

He kept moving through it, chasing his own release, one hand holding your hip, the other still gripping that tie like a leash.

When he came, it was with a low, wrecked groan into the crook of your neck, his body pressed so tightly against yours you could barely breathe.

Later, when you lay tangled together in the backseat, breathless and wrecked, Sakusa pulled you against his chest, still panting.

“Next time,” he murmured into your hair, “you stay by my side.”

You let out a breathless laugh. “Only if you actually look at me.”

He kissed your temple, lips finally soft. “Deal.”

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."

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.