Luxinglan

Art lover, gacha grinder || They/Them || Weak for pretty boys

[luxinglan]

Tokyo ghoul

Ken Kaneki, who's used to bearing burdens on his own and is still cautious about getting closer to his girlfriend in fear of losing you if he gets too attached.

Ken Kaneki, whose favorite thing to do is to take you out on dates. Be it library dates, cafe dates, or movie dates. He's not the biggest fan of restaurant dates, though.

Ken Kaneki, who forces himself to eat whatever you like when you're together, only to throw everything back up the moment he gets home. He texts you to inquire if you got home safe while he's sitting on the cold marble floor of his bathroom, his pale face illuminated by the blue light of his phone screen in the darkness while cold sweat runs down his temples.

Ken Kaneki, whom you've noticed sometimes acts cold. Spending time away from you, going off the grid for painfully long hours, and preventing you from coming over to check up on him or set a date together. And yet, behind all the cold attitude is the strong sense of protection you feel from him, reassured whenever his cold periods come to an end and he's back to his normal, gentle, kindhearted, and understanding self.

Ken Kaneki, whom you can't help but feel disappointed in as to why he's obviously keeping so many secrets from you. Were you not trustworthy enough? Is he just trying not to get too attached to you? Did your relationship mean little to him? Or… are you just overthinking things?

Ken Kaneki, who enjoys making you cups of coffee whenever you come to visit him at his workplace, Anteiku. Having you try out the new flavors and techniques he learns, and noticing his improvement every time, never fails to bring a humble but proud smile to his face.

Ken Kaneki, who likes keeping keepsakes of you whenever you go on dates—tickets, lucky charms, photo cards. Visual, physical reminders of the memories he's building with you.

Ken Kaneki, who takes immense care of the plushie you won for him on your first arcade date. He holds it with him whenever he goes to sleep and sometimes talks to it, sharing the inner thoughts he can't share with you.

Ken Kaneki, who's fascinated with your hair. Patting it, staring at it, brushing it, having you lay your head on his lap while you chat about your day with him and he keeps his hands in your hair.

Ken Kaneki, whose eating disorder has only worsened since he started dating you.

Ken Kaneki, who sincerely believes he doesn't deserve you, hence his obsession with keepsakes of you, hence his guardedness. At any time, you could break things up with him, and he's resolved to let you go whenever you do, no matter how much it would hurt. The days you have spent with him are already more gifts than he deserves.

Ken Kaneki, whose mental state has become more unstable since he started dating you, experiencing good, happy days against long, sad days filled with anxiety and loathing of who he is.

She can't find out...

She absolutely must never find out.

If she does… if she realizes the kind of monster I really am… she's going to be so disgusted. She's going to leave me, and once again… I'll be all alone in the darkness.

Ken Kaneki, who never brings up topics of the current political state or the worsening security of the city, and always stays mostly silent or gives neutral responses if it ever comes up.

Ken Kaneki, who wakes up once in a while from nightmares. The expression of fear and disgust imprinted on your face remains vivid even as he jerks out of bed. He grabs the plushie, hugging it tightly for comfort, feeling suffocated by an invisible weight pressing down on his chest while he reassures himself that—despite you turning your back to him and walking away, despite him chasing hard after you and never being able to reach you no matter how close he gets, and despite the trembling in his hands from knowing how close that dream is to becoming a reality—right now, you're still in the dark. Right now, you still care for him. Right now, he's still your boyfriend and not just a monster that has been deceiving you.

Ken Kaneki, who refuses to go to sleep… or rather can't fall asleep after having those nightmares, and spends the time hugging the plushie to his chest, sitting on his bed until the sun comes up.

Ken Kaneki, who feels his world crashing down on him the day he goes to your house for an indoor date. You had baked a cake—his favorite flavor, too—and gave him a piece to try.

He ate it. Of course he had to. It would be fine, though. He just needed to last a few hours before he could get it out of his system. As much as he hates doing that, wasting the food you give him, he has no choice.

However, it wasn't fine. The repercussions came faster than he expected, due to the fact that he hadn't actually fed himself in a while. He managed to excuse himself, rushing to the bathroom to get rid of it all.

You, on the other hand, were worried. He seemed so pale, and though he assured you that he was fine while he ran off, he seemed far from it—not to mention the loud retching sounds echoing from the bathroom.

Was it the cake? Is he allergic to something in it, or did I use a bad ingredient? I'm worried, I have to check up on him.

You walk over to the bathroom door and knock on it, asking after him, but receiving no response. Your anxiety worsens and you open the door yourself to see if there's anything you can help with.

Ken Kaneki, who looks up at you kneeling on the cold bathroom floor, slightly shaking, saliva staining the edges of his mouth and cold sweat soaking through his shirt, his breathing ragged and his heartbeat spiking even faster, threatening to tear through his chest the moment he sets his eyes on you.

His gaze is completely unsteady as both eyes—one with a clear white sclera and black iris, the other with a pitch black sclera and blood-red iris—stare up at you with a predatory intensity that quickly shifts into a wave of bone chilling horrific fear.

[luxinglan]

Haikyuu

Time skip.

Suna Rintarō X Manager Reader smut

Suna Rintarō doesn't get jealous. Or at least, that's what he claims when he does. Still… there's some truth in the claim.

Suna Rintarō doesn't get jealous… he gets even.

You regularly curse the day you let yourself get caught red-handed stealing an item belonging to the player you have a crush on. It was nothing really bad, and you meant no harm. Really. It was just a measly handkerchief anyway. But of all people to get caught by, it had to be the middle blocker—the one with the blunt, razor tongue and sharp eyes, who already took a photo before he even asked you what you were doing.

You panicked. You could have said something, anything—that you just came across it, or you were keeping it to return it. But you just had to panic under the discerning gaze of those green eyes, and then you came clean about everything, including your stupid little crush, before begging him to keep it a secret. To which he agreed, but on one condition…

“Slower, Suna.”

You hiss sharply, grabbing onto the doorframe as he rams into you from behind, hands digging into the sides of your hips. Your skirt is hitched up to your waist, and your light cotton underwear is rolled down to your thighs, barely hanging on. Your ass is completely exposed while the middle blocker repeatedly drives his thick, long length into you from behind. Over and over again. He maintains a pace that barely leaves your walls any time to clamp onto him before he leaves halfway and buries himself right back in.

He sharply slaps against your ass, forcing your spine to arch downward, leaving you unable to run away from his firm grip on your waist. Leaving you no choice but to feel each thrust, grabbing onto the door in front of you for support while you struggle to keep the moans trapped deep down your throat.

“Slower?” he poses, leaning down your back from behind to chuckle against your ear. The cruelty in his tone sends shivers down your spine through your sensitive ears. Your walls flutter tightly around his cock.

“You weren't slow when you rushed over to check up on our player though, dear manager.” he reminds you, slamming back in right at the official title.

“H-He needed my help. I was just doing my job.”

“Ah yes, doing your job of helping grown men get back up on their feet after falling down to the ground. Using the opportunity to hold hands and lovingly stare into each other's eyes, right?”

Fast. He's going too fast.

“That's not it,” you choke out, feeling your eyes water slightly. Is it because it's too much? Is it because of the false accusations? Or is it because you are literally in the gym closet, where anyone could walk in at any moment to grab something, only to catch you in the act?

An act completely improper for a manager to engage in with one of her players—and yet, one that you've participated in countless times, sometimes driven by mutual lust, but most times driven by the cruel whims of your middle blocker.

“What's not it? You were flirting with him, weren't you?” he whispers beneath your ear, nibbling against the sensitive skin underneath while he slows his pace to long, heavy drags, stimulating every fiber of your soaking walls with intense frictional pressure.

You can't answer. Him going that slow might actually be worse than him going too fast.

Suna Rintarō clicks his tongue in annoyance, his eyebrows narrowing as he takes his left hand off your hip and reaches forward to grab your chin. He forces your head back, your lips already parted, providing him with a smooth ease to kiss you.

His tongue seemingly fucks yours while he quickens his pace from behind.

Your hands clench into fists against the door, your eyes shutting halfway as you express your pleasure in light moans—each greedily swallowed by his mouth and stolen by his tongue before they can even get past your lips.

So greedy, you think internally.

Kissing me from behind while fucking me from behind as well.

As much as he gets on your nerves with his mean jokes and sharp teasing, you have to admit that the wretched player knows exactly how to fuck you to both of your satisfaction.

He finally releases your tongue, lingering with his face close to yours as his cat-like eyes peer straight into yours. “Not gonna answer me?”

“‘Bout what?” you question back, your center of gravity shifting forward from a sharp, sudden snap of his hips.

Ah… I think… I'm gonna cum soon.

“Dear manager, you sure love getting on my nerves, don't you?” Suna remarks with an amused, yet not-so-amused tone of voice. He lets go of your jaw, allowing your head to face forward once more as he leans back fully and resumes his punishing pace from behind.

The sound of his skin slapping against yours grows louder with each thrust.

“Well, that's fair, I guess. Since I like getting on your nerves too.”

Crazy bastard. So he knows.

“Our relationship is pretty nice, don't you agree?”

“Ngh– Ahngh, Ah!”

“That's a yes, isn't it?”

“No wa—Haa! Hngh… Ugh!”

“So stubborn. I can feel you clenching tightly around me. You wanna cum, right?”

You shake your head, unwilling to admit anything to him.

A small smile forms on his lips.

She's annoying yet somehow endearing? At least… I'm the only one who gets to see her like this.

“Okay, manager~ I guess it would be fine then if we keep going until someone comes to find us. I didn't know you enjoyed our special activities this much.”

Your eyes widen slightly as you turn your head back as far as you can to glare at him, only for him to smile right back at you.

“If you want to leave early, then you have to cum… from my cock fucking you right now, in this stuffy old closet, while you abandon your managerial duties.”

He leans in, pressing his clothed, muscled torso flat against your back. “Well? Don't worry, dear manager. Here…” His right hand sneaks off your hip, sliding down to the front to slip through your folds, coating his fingers with your fluids before sliding up to your soaked bud. “I'll give you a hand.”

One stimulation was bad, but two is unbearable. The moans won't stop falling out no matter how much you try to suppress them, and it seems the more he hears them, the harder he works.

“Suna…” you mutter.

You feel his left hand grab your face once more, directing it back to kiss him while his right thumb circles mercilessly all over your clit, his cock still stuffing you with a firm, relentless pace from behind.

Your tongue is helplessly tied with his. His mouth swallows your muffled moans while your orgasm crashes over you, messy squirts spluttering down to the ground, taking most of the strength out of your legs. He doesn't let you pull away from the kiss. Instead, he pulls out of your weakening walls, his right hand leaving your clit to jerk himself off to the finish in-between your thighs.

Only when his cum mixes with yours, staining the ground between your legs, does he finally let go of your mouth. A thin line of saliva connects your tongues while he smirks down at you with his annoyingly handsome face.

His passion from earlier dissolves right back into smug satisfaction from the pleased, almost lucid look in your eyes. A satisfaction that slips into his tone as he mockingly praises you for your performance.

“Good job, Manager~”

[luxinglan]

Haikyuu

Itachiyama

Kiyoomi Sakusa has a secret. One that even Komori doesn't know, and he plans to take it with him to his grave.

Calm and collected, but competitive and proud at the same time—there's nothing he hates more than leaving things unfinished. The only exception to this seems to be his thoughts about you.

At first, he didn't get it. Why did the girl who hung around Komori begin digging her way into his thoughts? Did Komori initially say you two were friends? Well, it didn't matter. You were just another irrelevant, average person. Or, at least, that was what he believed until that day.

The day he randomly came across you hanging in a tree. Earlier that day, while he was walking to school, there was a bird—probably injured—chirping and crying for help. Although he heard the students and adults who walked past that road voice their pity for the bird, he fully expected it to still remain in the tree when he returned from school, because that's just how people are.

They talk and show pity for others, but rarely actually do something about it.

So then why did you go out of your way to rescue that bird from the tree? Even when you look down at him and suddenly lose your balance in surprise, his hands, already reaching out to catch you. You fall right into him, cradling the bird in your palm.

It was annoying. You were just one of those people who act carelessly, completely unprepared. Why save the bird when you couldn't even do it properly?

He only half-listened to your apology when you quickly got off him, luckily leaving the bird safely unharmed from the fall. He also didn't care about what would happen to you or the creature while he dusted himself off, got up to his feet, and quietly walked away.

However, it was unexpected when you came to him the next day, dropping by the gym to hand over a leather zipper pouch filled with cute, styled bandages, antiseptic wipes, and a mini tube of Neosporin. You apologized for the scratch he got on his palm from the crash, and also thanked him for saving you.

Though he corrected you and insisted that he wasn't trying to save you, he took the pouch and made good use of the items. For some reason, since then, you seemed convinced that he wasn't the blunt, germaphobic jerk his reputation proved him to be. You respected his dislike for germs and crowds, always making sure not to intrude on his personal space or casually touch his items with unsanitized hands. Overall, you were just really considerate, and you always had that helpful smile on your face.

When you first entered his thoughts, he always caught himself. Why think about someone random who doesn't concern him in any way? Your consideration is fine, and it would be nice if everyone else in the world had that basic decency. Maybe he underestimated you for being careless and unprepared; from what he observes, you aren't just an irresponsible klutz, and you actually carry yourself with care.

You are someone deserving of his respect overall. Which is all the more reason why he feels immensely ashamed for having such dirty thoughts about you. Thoughts that won't go away. Thoughts that progressively worsen over time, each getting filthier than the last.

It's strange. He just wants to touch your lips with his fingers to see if they are as smooth and soft as they seem when you chirp away like a bird. His eyes helplessly get drawn to them whether he likes it or not. Then, he wants to feel them with his lips, slightly pressed up against yours just for two seconds, maybe three or four… or wouldn't it be better if he parts your lips open with his and gently sucks on them? It would be more efficient to feel their actual texture that way.

And while he's at it, he could check out your tongue as well. How soft is it? How long? How flexible? How thick? How would it react to him diving into your mouth, holding your face in place while his tongue explores every inch until he is satisfied, before twisting and turning with yours? Tugging you forward and back, pressing down against you until he breaks away, chest heaving and face flushed from being breathless.

Okay, he has to stop!

But what about your neck? Where your scent would probably linger for hours. Would it still look so perfect when he kisses it, sucks, and bites on it, leaving red, visible, angry hickey marks all over it? Somehow, the imagery only makes you seem even more attractive.

And if he should go further—your breasts. How would they look exposed to his gaze? Would your nipples harden instantly, or would he have to use his long, lean fingers and his mouth on them to get them all pretty, pink, and perked?

Your stomach to kiss over, your thighs to part, your folds to toy with until you're left soaking, your arousal coating his fingers. The same fingers he would then take to his cock, mixing your moisture with his precum, spreading it all around his length, sufficiently coating himself before lifting your legs up. He would press them together, closing your thighs before making good use of them, each thrust rubbing up and down your swollen clit. An intriguing part of you that he'd play with using his fingers, watching you squirm, toes curling, eyes closing, lips moaning his name while he sloppily fucks himself off between your soft, warm thighs.

Releasing his cum all over your stomach, some of it splattering onto your breasts as well. He'll let your legs go, leaning down to smear everything all the way to the part between your legs, thoroughly fucking you with his fingers while he presses down against your form to kiss you. He would leave you no breathing space until you're shaking, your legs unable to stay still as your orgasm crashes over you and you splurt all over his hands.

The same hand that he'd use to play volleyball the next day—but not before turning you over onto your stomach as he continues his lewd acts until he's had his fill.

Kiyoomi Sakusa lets out a long sigh as he brings his hand out of his pants and up to his face. Staring at his cum-stained palm, his eyes hover over the zoomed-in photo of you on his phone screen. The sight of the smile on your lips reminds him of how long he's had you on his mind now. Spending time jerking off in his bedroom instead of getting his proper eight hours of sleep. It is infuriating, but it still feels so good to return his hand to his pants. Not even bothering to clean it off with a napkin, he begins steadily stroking his third erection, silently groaning your name, black eyes fixed steadily on his phone screen.

It's definitely a secret he'll take to his grave.

[luxinglan]

Bam!

The sound of his hand hitting the locker door leaves you with no choice but to lift your head and stare into his eyes. You are partly unfazed and partly curious as to why the infamous setter decided to corner you so early in the morning. It is something you have been getting quite used to: him showing up out of nowhere, acting silly or cool, his intent clear as day—to get closer to you. Usually, it happens when his brother is close by to watch.

But today is different. Osamu isn’t around. You two didn't walk to school together today, due to the fact that you woke up much later than planned.

So here you are at the shoe lockers, switching your footwear, when the blond-haired twin arrives.

“Morning, Atsumu?” you greet him, with about as much motivation as you generally have for your least favorite subject.

“Quit it. I've told you before, Y/n-chan, it's Sumu~”

“Right,” you answer, rolling your eyes lightly. You briefly catch the gaze of a student changing shoes in the next row. She is obviously peeking at you two, but she immediately shuts her locker door and scurries off when she meets your eyes.

A small frown forms on your brow.

I hope she doesn't decide to go off and share weird rumors. My friends have already been digging for info, asking whether I have something going on with the Miya twins or if I am considering becoming the manager for the volleyball club.

A slightly irritated expression crosses Atsumu's face. The girl he's staring down at, trapped against the lockers, obviously isn't paying him her full attention.

“Hey, Y/n,” he calls. His hand reaches forward to touch your cheek, but before his skin can even make contact, your sharp reflexes swat his hand away like an annoying fly.

Then again, that's probably how she sees me. I wouldn't be surprised.

The frown on your face deepens as you look back up at Atsumu. “I've told you before, I don't like being touched so randomly.”

“But you let my brother do that.” he replies with a smirk that bears no hint of annoyance.

“Well, you're not your brother. Plus, I'm friends with Samu.”

Whom I missed walking with him this morning. I haven't seen his face all weekend. Save for the photos I have of him on my phone, of course, but still. Photos don't beat the real thing. He's much more fun to see in person. Well… I guess I can't really complain, since we spent all weekend texting each other.

“Hey, food lab rat,” Atsumu calls, drawing your full attention with the nickname.

“What?” you snap, your eyes already narrowed in irritation. You can't even really complain when they use that name. You were the one who proudly proclaimed it, and now it has stuck.

“You like my brother, don't you?”

…

…

…

Quite some time passes between you two. It is a locked silence with an unbroken line of eye contact from two people, each unwilling to back down.

“Yeah.”

“You don't need to deny it. I have eyes, you know. I know you're not just friends, but don't worry, I won't snitch on you or anythin—”

Atsumu trails off when something clicks in his head. The smug grin on his face fades, and he takes his hand off the locker wall. He straightens himself to his full height to stare down at you, arms crossed over his chest. “Wait, did you just admit it?”

“Are you deaf? I said yeah. I have a crush on your brother, Osamu. What are you going to do about it?” you declare loud and clear and patiently wait for his response as his expression shifts from confusion to surprise, and then to slight panic.

“I mean, who just admits something like that? You're supposed to deny it! Say something along the lines of, ‘No, that's not true. We… we're just friends.’ Really!”

You raise an eyebrow at the sudden switch in his expression and tone, amused by how perfectly he mimics a tsundere with the almost comical line. A light chuckle escapes your lips.

“What's so funny?” he questions with a slight frown.

“You were… a little bit too good at that. Have you considered a career in voice acting?”

“Don't change the subject, Y/n.”

“I'm not changing the subject. I do have a crush on your brother, but the thing is, that information has nothing to do with you.”

“How sure are you? I could use that information to blackmail you, or… I could just walk over to his class right now and tell him.” Atsumu answers, narrowing his eyes down at you, pure mischief glinting in them.

“You could, but you won't, because you enjoy messing with him using me.” you answer calmly, turning your back to him to properly place your outdoor shoes in your locker.

I could deny it, sure. But one specific search through my phone's photo folders—along with the password—would reveal all there is to know.

“Oh… I guess you're not as naive as I thought.” Atsumu remarks aloud behind you.

You shut your door, locking it in place with the key before turning back to face him. “Yeah. So, bye.” you reply, taking a step forward to head to class before the morning bell rings.

“Wait, you can't just leave like this!”

“Why?” you inquire curiously, with a slight turn of your head.

He pouts back at you. “It's… it's… dull and anticlimactic!”

“So, in other words, you didn't get what you wanted. Poor Sumu. See you at the gym.” you remark, smirking at his expression before turning away and walking down the hall.

“Tch.” Atsumu mutters, staring at your retreating form. “How annoying.”

He was hoping to get a reaction out of you today. He had already planned this ambush when he caught his brother staring down at his phone with a dumb, pitiful look on his face while preparing for school this morning. Which he immediately connected to something involving you. His intuition was further proven when Samu snapped at him over a missing pair of socks that Atsumu had borrowed and never returned. Osamu had been quite lenient with him recently; it was almost peaceful. Plus, it had been a while since they last walked to school together in the morning.

But wait. Now I know Y/n-chan likes Samu, and Samu likes Y/n-chan back… but… do they know they like each other?

Before he can think about it further, the bell rings through the hallway, signifying the beginning of classes.

~~~~. ~~~~. ~~~~. ~~~~. ~~~~. ~~~~. ~~~~. ~~.

Osamu has been feeling off all day. And by all day, he means just the few hours of the morning, since it's barely even noon yet. He had been looking forward to seeing you again after the weekend break, but then he got that text this morning:

Y/n: Samu… Really sorry, but you'll have to head to school without me today. I slept past my alarm 🤧

Samu: That’s okay… I can just wait for you.

Y/n: No, I'm still feeling a little bit groggy. My preparations will be slow. You don't have to be late with me.

Although he wanted to argue, he didn't want to push it any further, so he agreed.

Samu: Okay.

He texted it back, wondering if you could telepathically sense the brooding disappointment behind the simple four letters. And then, to make things worse, he found out his planned pair of socks was missing—courtesy of his twin, of course, at whose head he promptly threw a folded pair of laundry while demanding the missing socks instantly.

He lets out a short sigh. He taps his pen against his notebook as he blankly stares at the board, only partly listening to the teacher explain the Sengoku period of Japan.

Time has just been moving annoyingly slow since last Friday. Lunchtime should just hurry up and arrive already.

~~~~. ~~~~. ~~~~. ~~~~. ~~~~. ~~~~. ~~~~. ~~~~. ~~~~.

You lean back in your seat, listening to your friends share stories of how their weekends went. Some are exciting, some boring, and others somewhere right in between.

“Ta-daaa!!” one of your friends announces, bringing out a box. She presents it on her desk to the shared “Wows~” of the group.

“No way, you really got it?” another friend inquires.

She smiles proudly. “I told you I would, didn't I?”

“I heard the line there is crazy, though.” you chirp in, staring at the box in impressed wonder.

What is so special about a box of chocolates? The popularity of the place, of course. It's a newly opened bakery that has been all the rage lately because of how good their treats are.

She leans over her desk with bright eyes. “It was totally crazy. I felt like I was fighting for my life under the baking hot sun, but… I still got three boxes. I already shared one with my family, saved one to share with my boyfriend, and brought this one to share with you guys.”

You put a hand to your mouth, showing how touched you are. “Aww, just for us? That's so sweet, Yumeko.”

She shakes her head at your words. “I felt bad. You share the snacks your mom makes with us all the time, Y/n, and they're so good. It's the least I could do.”

“Yeah, they're amazing, Y/n!”

“Seriously, is your mom a baker or something?”

“When are you going to share her recipes with us? I'm begging you!”

The rest of them chime in, and you chuckle nervously, feeling a sharp pang of guilt.

Sorry, Samu. You're the one who deserves all this praise, but I don't want to go around sharing your interests without your consent, so I used my mom as a cover.

You apologize to him internally.

You really want to tell the truth, but at the same time, you know how much cooking means to him and don't want to cause any issues. It is obviously something he prefers keeping to himself… for now. Even his confidence in his cooking isn't quite as high as his confidence in volleyball.

“Hmph, my mom's recipes don't come free, you know. It's gourmet-level stuff,” you puff out proudly.

“Gatekeeping is a crime punishable by death!”

“Say no to gatekeeping!”

“Be more generous!”

They chanted back.

“Alright then, I guess you can forget about sharing the snacks I bring from now on.” you counter, receiving an instant 180-degree turn from the group.

“We're sorry, Your Highness.”

“How dare we demand to see the Holy Grail for free?”

“We spoke out of turn. Please don't deny us your blessed generosity, Your Highness.”

“Fine, fine. I get it.” you answer with a wide smile.

You all gather around the box to share the chocolates. Each hand drops down to grab a pretty piece.

“Y/n… here, say ‘Ahhh.’ You get the biggest one,” Yumeko announces, holding a chocolate piece out to you.

You smile and lean in from your seat, closing your eyes in anticipation. “Ahhh.”

Huh? Wait, why isn't it in my mouth yet? Did someone snatch it away? My precious chocolate!

You snap your eyes open, ready to demand your chocolate back, only to find it right in front of you. It is held between Yumeko’s fingers, but her wrist is being gripped by someone else.

Your eyes slowly track up the hand.

The veins on the back look a little familiar, but who…

Your eyes stop when they meet a familiar gray pair staring down at you. His hand, still clamped tightly around Yumeko's wrist.

“S-Samu.”

Wait, why is he here? It's not lunchtime yet. No way. Did that idiot Atsumu really run his big mouth to him?!

You force an awkward smile onto your face. “Samu, why are you here—?” you begin over the heavy silence that has fallen upon your table. The whispering in the background is fully audible, accompanied by curious stares. Though, most of the attention is directed at the spiker standing right in front of you.

“Y/n,” he begins firmly, and you immediately know something troublesome is coming. “You eat too much.”

He remarks bluntly, leaving you to blink up at him in surprise.

Did he really just say that? The person who I am pretty sure has a hidden agenda to fatten me up just to sell my organs?

You question internally, temporarily speechless but immediately feeling defensive.

“No, I don't! I think I just—” You stop halfway when his eyes leave your face to fall on the box sitting on Yumeko's desk. A disapproving scowl appears on his face.

“Chocolates? Didn't you say you're fed up with those?”

“Well, yeah, but not exactly—”

“You said you wanted to go on a diet.”

“Did I?”

“You did. Just yesterday, too.” he reminds you firmly.

Right, right. I did say that over text. Well, that was just because summer is coming up and stuff. I don't actually need to go on a diet; I was just considering it. Why is he making me feel guilty about what I said, anyway? It's all his fault.

“Well… what's one piece of chocolate going to do? Besides, I planned on starting the diet next week.”

“You won't last anyway.”

“Says who?” you snap back.

“Says me.” he declares with the confidence of someone who knows he just needs a single plate of food to make you go back on your word like a pathological liar.

“Besides…”

He takes a step forward, finally letting go of Yumeko’s wrist to place the back of his hand against your forehead, leaning down toward your seat to check your temperature.

“You were complaining of an upset stomach last night. Having chocolates is bad for you in such cases.” he murmurs seriously, focusing entirely on his hand against your skin.

“Is it?” you question blankly, completely locked onto his face, which is now mere inches from yours.

His eyes drop from your forehead to meet yours.

“It is.”

She’s not sweating, at least, and her body temperature doesn't feel hot. I guess she's not down with anything,

Osamu ponders as he holds your gaze. His hand still rests on your forehead.

Still, she should take better care of herself, seriously. After complaining on the phone about indigestion last night, she jumps at snacks first thing in the morning. Regardless of who offers it to her, too. Did she even have breakfast? And on top of that, she was having 'someone else' feed it to her. Seriously.

You keep staring at him, wondering why he is suddenly frowning.

What is he thinking about? He looks so serious, too. It's always attractive when he looks serious like that. I kind of wish I could take a picture...

Your thoughts are interrupted when he opens his mouth to speak.

“You idiot. If you wanted chocolates that bad, you could have just asked me to ma—”

Your heart beats loudly against your chest as you stare up at him, wide-eyed. He stares back, narrow-eyed and confused as to why your hand is suddenly covering his mouth while his is still on your forehead.

Suddenly, you leap to your feet, almost cracking your forehead against his.

“Sorry! I have… a notebook to exchange with him. I'll be right back!” you apologize to your friends, tearing your hand away from his mouth to grab his wrist instead, dragging him swiftly out of the classroom.

Osamu quietly lets you pull him along, but not before glancing back to glare at Yumeko, who stares at the two of you in utter shock, just like the rest of the class.

“I'm not the only one who thinks they're dating, right?”

“Yep. They always hang out together at lunch.”

“I once saw them walking to school together in the morning, too.”

“What a terrible liar. She didn't even take a book with her.”

“I think they look cute. I totally ship them.”

“But what was he about to say that made her stop him like that?”

“I don't know. Maybe something personal.”

“Like confessing his love for her?”

The others sigh at Yumeko's optimistically delusional suggestion, but then they pause to think about it.

“Probably not.”

“Maybe.”

“Who knows?”

“I still think they look cute together, you know.”

“We know.”

Miya Osamu, calmly stares down at you as you pin him against the wall in an empty hallway. Both of your hands are flattened beside his shoulders, trapping him in place while you glare up at him.

For some reason… she seems… pissed. Although…

He shifts his weight from one foot to another, feeling his stomach contract in a nervous heat.

Isn’t she standing too close right now? This position… it's almost like she wants to confess her feelings to me. Like those mangas where the bold, popular girl traps the quiet, nerdy boy and proclaims her love, and he's just too surprised to know what to say. Is this what it feels like? I feel so anxious. My heart is beating really loudly right now. I kind of want to run away—

“Hey!”

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Huh?” he answers, staring down at you.

When did your face suddenly get so close? If he leans his head forward just a fraction more, you guys are going to kiss.

“I… I'm not ready.” he murmurs, dropping his eyes to your neck instead as a burning heat quickly flushes his cheeks.

You stare up at him in sheer confusion, failing to catch his full sentence.

What's not ready? And why is his face red? It's almost like he's having dirty thoughts…

A mirrored heat quickly spreads through you as well, warming up your face. You suddenly take a massive step back, turning your gaze to the side.

Oh my god!!! I was so focused on chiding him about almost exposing the cover story I made up for him in class that I didn't realize I was standing so close. His lips, though… they looked really soft. And that natural shade of pink, too. Should I just have—No, Y/n! It's bad enough that you secretly have a specific folder of pictures dedicated just to him. Now you're going to resort to physical harassment?!!! Where is your dignity!

You loudly clear your throat. “I, um… I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was standing so close. I apologize for making you uncomfortable.” you announce, unable to meet his eyes directly. Though, he's not any better.

“No, it's fine. It's nothing.”

'I wasn't uncomfortable,' he thinks to himself, his hands idly fiddling with the hem of his jacket. Suddenly, he lifts his head to fix his eyes on you and adds firmly, his voice lower than his usual tone but still completely audible,

“I… wasn't uncomfortable. Don't apologize.”

You also look up to stare at him, surprised by his words. Your heart suddenly thumps hard against your ribs while his races in tandem.

“Oh… I see.” you answer awkwardly, barely meeting his gaze.

Ahhh, maybe I shouldn't have said that. No, I definitely shouldn't have said that. Now she probably thinks I'm a creep or something. Should I apologize? Is it too late to say I'm joking? Wouldn't that just make her uncomfortable, though? I wish I could just run away!!!

Huh, why did he say that? While looking at me like that, too. For a second, I could swear my heart skipped a beat. Damn, he's completely unaware of the natural charm he has. How dangerous. I wonder how many other girls he just attacks like that, and so casually, too.

“A-Anyways, back to what I was saying. You can't just say things like that back there! What if they find out? Do you know how hard I worked to keep your cover?” you snap, your seriousness returning as you quickly regain your composure.

“Ahem!” someone coughs.

Neither you nor Osamu expected company. You both spin around to find Aran standing in the hallway, surprise and awkwardness clearly written all over his face.

“I'm sorry. I think I'll take the other way. I apologize for interrupting. Please continue.”

Your eyes widen in shock for the second time this morning.

How long has he been standing there???!!! He saw everything, didn't he? He totally saw everything! He looks so embarrassed. Now I feel embarrassed, too!!

“Ah, no, it's noth—”

“Bye.” Aran interrupts, turning around to leave as silently as he came.

“Aran, no! Please wait! Don't misunderstand! It's totally not what you think!” you cry out, quickly chasing after him. You pause to turn back to Osamu. “Let's skip lunch today. I'll see you later.” you inform him, before running around the corner to pursue the third-year Ace. “Aran, wait! Really, it's not what you think!”

He shakes his head in understanding, not stopping his pace but willing to converse with you. “No, it's on me. I didn't know you had it in you, Y/n. To be so bold with Osamu. In broad daylight, too. Right in the middle of the hallway. Though, I'd advise an empty classroom for privacy next time. That way you wouldn't get people like me suddenly interrupting you. Once again, I apologize.”

What is he saying?!!! Ah, I just want to die. He completely misunderstood. Painfully, it's kind of true and yet kind of not.

“I mean, I know what it looked like, but it's seriously not like that! I was just… telling him something important.”

“Right, I believe you.” he answers back as he heads down the stairs.

“Seriously, Aran! Arannnnnn!!!! Wait a second! I'm serious!”

Damn volleyball aces and their long legs. He's so fast!

You think jealously, taking a mini break before running down the stairs after him, bent on convincing him to clear up the misunderstanding.

Meanwhile, back in the hallway, Miya Osamu slides down, his back still pressed against the wall. His heart thobs wildly in his chest. The body temperature that he was checking on someone else just moments earlier now deserves to be checked on him instead. He squats down to the ground, burying his flushed face in his palms.

My stomach feels tingly. My heart feels like it's about to burst. I'm probably sweating right now, too.

“Y/n...” he murmurs lightly into his hands, feeling his heartbeat quicken at the mere sound of your name as his stomach ties itself up in even more knots. He completes his quiet confession to the ghost of your presence:

“I like you.”

[luxinglan]

"W-Wait!” he stuttered, his back slamming against the pillar of Line 4C.

“Yeah? Toge.” you murmured back, before reconnecting your lips.

She’s going too fast. I have to stop her.

“Slow down, Y/n.” he breathed within the brief pause before your tongues intertwined again.

Your hands flew over his body, the adrenaline from clearing the curses earlier still rushing through your veins.

“Mphm.”

Your left hand wrapped around the back of his neck, pulling his head closer to yours, while your right hand held onto his waist, pressing your body against his as your tongue sought deeper into his mouth.

His hands flew onto your body as well, mirroring your touch. His right hand softly cradled the back of your neck, tilting your head further up, while his left hand held onto the right side of your waist, pulling your body flush against his.

“Haa…” he breathed, his lips slightly parted over yours. Both of your chests heaved lightly as his pretty violet eyes lustfully stared down into yours.

A small smile etched itself onto the corners of your lips as you raised your right leg up his thigh, grinding your hips down against his.

A weak groan escaped the back of his throat when you pressed directly against his growing erection.

“I'm horny,” you whispered against his neck, pulling down the zipper of his high collar to press kisses against his collarbones.

She’s horny? Is that a good thing or a bad thing? I mean… I'm kinda getting horny myself, but still…

“We're currently on a mission. Let's wait until we get back—” He bit down on his lower lip as you ground your knee against his crotch.

“We just finished the mission, though, and we have lots of time to spare.”

“Still, since we finished early, we can—” The rest of his words were cut off when your hand left his neck to jerk his jaw down and merge your lips together again. Your knee ground upward while your tongue danced around with his.

His hands at the back of your neck and waist tightened. His eyes closed shut as he tilted his head, giving you better access to his mouth.

Fuck… I'm getting harder. She likes doing this. I can't keep letting her lead. Things would be so much easier for me if she would just wait when I tell her to wait, and continue when I tell her to. Although… it's not like she forces herself on me if I truly tell her no. Yeah, I'll just clearly tell her to stop.

“Harder.”

Your lips formed a smile against his as you withdrew your head just enough to meet his flickering open gaze. “Harder?”

“No—fuck!” he cursed, his head jerking back against the wall when you pressed even harder against his bulge, which had grown significantly larger than before.

“Fine,” you murmured against his exposed neck, before bringing your knee down and taking your hands off him entirely. “Let's go,” you agreed, adjusting your uniform and turning around to leave.

His left hand quickly clasped yours from behind, stopping you in your tracks.

You shifted your weight, turning around expectantly to face him.

“L-Like this?”

“Like what?” you returned the question, tilting your head at him while playing dumb.

He felt a painful, heavy throb between his legs, the prominent tent in his pants raising further as a bashful heat spread across his face.

“People will stare.”

Your eyes followed his gaze down to the painstakingly obvious erection between his legs.

“Oh, well… can't you just hide it or something?” you replied, your eyes still fixed on it.

“Y/N~” he crooned.

Despite the comfortably loose design of the Jujutsu Tech uniform, it unfortunately didn't come with enough space below the waist to completely hide a sudden erection of that size.

“Fine.” You took two steps back, pressing your chest against his while you stared up into his face, grabbing his cock through his clothes. “Should I just help you jerk off? That should do it, right?”

His breath hitched sharply as you gently squeezed him through the fabric. “R-Right here?”

“I mean, do you want to do it outside instead? I'm game if you are, though I'm a little bit surprised you have that side to you.” you teased playfully, squeezing him harder.

“Hmph!” he muffled the sound, raising his palm to cover the lower half of his face.

Ugh, she always does this. What's so fun about teasing someone like that?

“I-I mean, anyone could come down at any time.”

“No, they won't. It's working hours and this place isn't really used often. Besides…”

A mischievous smile curled your lips, your eyes glinting with a specific form of amusement he had seen a hundred times. You stretched upward, leaning close until your lips hovered right underneath his pink-tipped ear.

“Won't that just make it a bit more fun?” you whispered temptingly, softly nibbling on his earlobe afterward.

~. ~. ~. ~. ~. ~. ~. ~. ~. ~. ~. ~. ~. ~.

Inumaki Toge wasn't exactly surprised by the situation. Sitting against a pillar in the basement parking lot of an old office building, his pants were tucked down just low enough to release his dick. His legs were planted on the ground and spread open while his girlfriend knelt between them, jerking him off.

It wasn't that he possessed the unique ability to foresee the future; rather, it was simply because from the moment you kissed him, he knew there was a high probability you two would end up making out. Although this was obviously way past making out, it was a reality he was still settling into while a nagging voice in his head told him this might have been your goal all along.

“Y/N… F-faster,” he stuttered, his violet eyes tracking the slow, caressing motions of your hand wrapped around his warm, hard length. He was already leaking precum from the tip, which you continuously smeared down his shaft, taking your time to ensure smooth lubrication.

“Faster?” you confirmed without taking your eyes off your present task.

“Mhm.” He moans, shaking his head thrice in affirmation.

“Okay,” you answered, picking up the pace of your hand.

“Urk—! Hah… Ah, ngh—hrk—!!” he responded immediately to the increased friction. His head fell back, his eyes lifting away from your hand between his legs and closing halfway as the pleasure traveled past his swollen cock and balls, past his thighs, up his spine, and through his fingers, leaving a familiar tingling sensation all over.

“But you know… Toge,” you began softly, forcing his eyes fully open again. His dilated pupils filled with worry at the shift in your tone. “What exactly do you mean by faster?”

He stared down at you in blank wonder, feeling your palm return to a painfully slow, dragging pace over his length.

Shouldn't the proper response here be "what the hell are you doing?" She obviously knows what faster means. She was doing it just a few seconds ago.

He felt an impatient throb through his entire length. You were going so slow, yet not too slow—a mediocre pace that just kept him agonizingly hard and nothing else.

“Y/N,” he called, his tone rougher than usual. He wanted to place his hand over yours and show you exactly what faster meant, but then you brought your eyes up to meet his, your pace suddenly increasing past that mediocre level.

“Like this?” you inquired innocently, feeling his shaft twitch excitedly within the wet palm of your hand.

“Y-Yes, ah... Mphm! Yes, just like tha—ah!” he encouraged lowly.

“You like this, Toge?” The sound of his name effortlessly rolling off your tongue excited him even further.

“Mhm… ha… haa… I like it, y/n. Fa-faster.”

It feels so good, but the quicker I cum, the quicker we can get out of here before we get caught.

“Okay.”

His eyes flew wide open as his whole body jerked forward, his head hanging down toward the ground.

“No. Too… Y/N, Y/N, that's too—ahh! That's too fast. Slower.” His cock was dangerously throbbing with need, physically warning him against the sudden, overwhelming overstimulation.

“You want slower?”

“Y-Yeah… urk!” he murmured in response, softly lifting his head to peer up at you with the softest, most pitiful, lust-crazed eyes he could muster.

If I cum right now, I feel like it's going to hurt.

Your hand faltered for a second; that gaze worked on you like catnip to a stray kitten.

Instead of stopping, though, like he obviously hoped, you suddenly leaned in and snuck your tongue into his mouth. Your free hand tilted and held his head in place while your right hand continued jerking him off between his legs.

He closed his eyes, helpless as he kissed you back.

Too much. It's too fucking much. I want to cum, but at the same time, I'm scared of cumming right now. It's just too much.

“Y/N…” he drawled, his hands framing your cheeks as he peered deeply into your eyes. A string of saliva still connected his tongue to yours. His heavy eyelids were partly closed, shielding his wide-pupiled violet gaze as it fixed directly on your face. He whined, painfully moaning with pleasure. “Please…”

For a second, you might have forgotten how to breathe before you brought your face closer, resting your forehead against his while subconsciously reducing the pace of your movements.

“Does it hurt?” you asked softly, and he silently blinked his eyes twice—a non-verbal communication of yes.

“I’ll make it feel better.” Without warning, you leaned back, completely stopping your pace as you lowered your head to his needy cock.

He watched in disbelief as you locked eyes with him, opening your mouth at the base of his shaft and sticking out your tongue to taste his skin.

“Ah…” he faltered the moment the warm, wet tip of your tongue touched his base. His cock twitched sharply.

You retained eye contact as you slowly pressed the flat of your tongue against his skin and dragged it all the way to the tip.

“Ah… ahh! Ahh—ha! Ahhh, haa…”

It was almost a painful form of pleasure, feeling every inch of your tongue wickedly and slowly climb up his shaft. And yet, just when he thought it was over as you reached the top, you suddenly swallowed his tip entirely, firmly pressing your tongue against the head while your fingers, still settled around his base, squeezed him tightly.

You took your tongue off and lowered your mouth back down to the base, repeating the process three more times until he couldn't take it anymore.

“Stop, please Y/N… hic!—hic!— ah! Ahh… ngh—!” His pretty irises rolled all the way to the back of his eyes. His head jerked back, pressing against the concrete. His neck was completely exposed, his adam's apple bobbing relentlessly as the desperate sounds tore themselves out of his throat.

His hips could barely keep themselves on the ground when you squeezed his base one more time while rolling the tip of your tongue around his head.

Tears gathered in his eyes as he squeezed them shut.

“Hic—!”

His breath hitched on nothing while his balls tightly drew up for release. But then you backed off entirely, as if you could feel it coming. Suddenly, his bare cock was left twitching in the open air. The tension in his balls relaxed with no friction to work with, shooting a sharp, agonizing throb up his shaft from the denied orgasm.

“Ah!” he exclaimed loudly, a quiet whimper following right after.

Why? Why is she doing this to me? I want to cum. I just want to cum.

“Y/N,” he begged, saying your name like it was a prayer.

The moment his wide, tear-filled eyes opened to meet yours, a cruel spark of delight ran down your spine.

Was this what he saw and felt whenever he finished eating you out so thoroughly until you shed tears?

He tilted his head down at you, his hands closing into tight fists on the ground beside his legs, refraining from touching his furiously red, twitching length.

“Okay, okay, I'm sorry.”

Shit. I kinda got carried away, you confessed internally as you leaned back in, resting your head underneath his while you wrapped your hand around his cock once more to comfort him.

“Hic—!” he responded with a sudden buck of his hips from the warm contact. “Sl-slowly, please. It's… sensitive,” he whispered in your ear. You could feel him shaking firmly at his core while your own cunt throbbed greedily at the sound of his voice—vulnerably weakened, yet still incredibly sexy.

You slowed down your pace, going as gently as you could. You listened to the sound of your wet skin on his and his heavy, hitched breathing as his head rested against your neck, his hands firmly holding onto your shoulders.

“Toge, don't worry. I'll go slow,” you promised in a low whisper, purposely avoiding sudden contact with his tip while sliding up and down his hypersensitive length in gentle, rhythmic strokes.

I’ll just help him hurry up and cu—

Suddenly, your instincts sharpened as you picked up a sound—one that didn't come from you or from Toge. He heard it too and instantly froze against you.

What was that just now? In case that sound was made by a person, I should probably stop right here and check it out.

He pressed his torso forward, stopping you from taking your hand off him. “D-Don’t stop.”

You gulped dryly at the command whispered into your ear so seductively, and you continued the motion.

“Ah, ngh, mphm… haa… ha!—! Hng.” His hands held onto your shoulders tighter as he freely let the sounds out of his mouth. “Y/N… so good—angh! Haa… haa… hic! Hngh… hik, it feels so good, Y/N.”

Your heart throbbed wildly against your ribs, matching the rapid pulsing of his cock in your hand.

Isn’t he being a little too reckless right now?

“Keep going… ha!”

Moaning like this when there could be someone nearby.

“Mphm, fu-fuck… fuck, so good. More, ahh.”

Is he unaware that we could get caught, or maybe… he wants to get caught?

The feeling of teeth suddenly clamping down on your ear took you by surprise.

“Agh!”

The sound of surprise loudly left your lips. You suddenly forced him back against the pillar, your left hand clamping down over his mouth while you stared at him wide-eyed, listening closely for the sound of any footsteps.

His tongue licking at your fingers, however, split your attention. A frown marred your face as you leaned heavily against him on the pillar.

“You…” you whispered lowly, suddenly increasing the pace of your hand.

His eyes widened and gloss over, moans of delight muffled against your palm while you scanned the area from behind the pillar, trying to listen for any more sounds over your pounding heartbeat and Toge's muffled hiccups.

—Clack—

The sudden sound echoing through the space caught you off guard. On reflex, your hand tightened around his cock, your fingers digging into his skin while your eyes closed shut and you cast a spatial scan.

No major cursed energies around other than Toge and I… that sound was…

Your eyebrows furrowed lightly as you picked up the source of the sound, which was already scurrying away.

Just a damn rat.

Your chest heaved a sigh of relief before you opened your eyes, only to find tears streaking down your boyfriend's face. Surprised, you looked down to where your hand was still jerking him off, despite the warm ropes of cum coating and dripping down your fingers. His cock twitched sensitively in your palm while his thighs trembled lightly.

You gasped quietly and quickly took your left hand off his mouth and your right hand off his cock, watching it slowly go limp while your eyes flew back to his face.

He was sniffing, a hiccup holding him hostage, his heavy, wide eyes barely in focus while the tears freely ran down his cheeks.

“Toge, are you okay? I didn't realize when you came. Sorry, I was scanning the area for any presences.” you asked, clear worry etched on your face at his silence.

It wasn't that he couldn't hear you; he could hear you loud and clear. He just couldn't answer immediately. His brain and nerves felt fried from the experience he had just gone through. He was already on the edge, but then he heard that second sound.

Before he could react, you had suddenly squeezed him tight, your fingers deliciously digging into his skin even more than you usually would. He came immediately, his hips lightly bucking off the ground into your hand. With his hands tightly holding onto your shoulders and your hand over his mouth preventing him from cursing or moaning, all he could do was let the tears fall, especially from what followed. Even after his release, you had kept touching him, driving his cock to complete overstimulation until every drop was milked out of him.

“Toge?” you called again, snapping him out of his daze. The tears had stopped flowing, his hiccups were gone, and his breathing was returning to normal.

Even if we got caught, I could just use my cursed technique to tell them to forget everything they just saw. I didn't know she'd react like that, though.

He leaned forward, heavily resting his head against your shoulder while his body recovered from the aftermath.

“I'm fine… that was just… intense,” he murmured lowly against your shoulder.

“If it was too much, I'm sorry. We won't try it again.”

Try it again?

He pondered silently. It wasn't anything new to him; as amazing as his girlfriend was, she was still quite the freak. But after dating her for this long, what did that say about him?

In that situation, I still came, and it felt that electric. I can't even get up right now. Was it too much for me? Definitely. It was. So, do I hate the experience…?

His hands slowly wrapped themselves around your waist after a long period of silence, pulling you closer to himself.

“Next time… let's just do it indoors, please.”

[luxinglan]

Inumaki Toge, your very much introverted boyfriend.

Inumaki Toge, whom you've been secretly dating for quite a while now. Well, secret to some and well known to others.

Inumaki Toge, whom you've been obsessed with since way before you even started dating.

Inumaki Toge, whom you plan to never tell about the things you did with the secret voice recordings of his voice, back when he was just your senior at Jujutsu Tech whom you got partnered with.

Inumaki Toge, who never forgets how blessed—and cursed—he is to have a girlfriend whose innate ability is “Immunity to Cursed Speech.”

Inumaki Toge, the silently jealous type. The type to brood distantly, yet never able to bring himself to completely ignore you.

Inumaki Toge, your kindhearted, caring, gentlemanly boyfriend whom you know you're way, way, way freakier than.

Inumaki Toge, whom you sometimes feel guilty for corrupting, taking away most of his innocence with your freaky influence.

Inumaki Toge, who initially struggled to keep up with your pace, but has now completely adapted to it. He's learned that it's always better for him to just go with whatever flow you want.

Inumaki Toge, who questions it but doesn't disagree when that flow requires him to put on bunny ears with a matching bunny butler outfit for your viewing pleasure.

Inumaki Toge, who doesn't mind when you get a little assertive with him in bed. He thinks it's incredibly hot. It's something he doesn't verbally express, but his pink-tipped ears and brightly flushed throbbing tip silently beg for your touch.

Inumaki Toge, whose absolute favorite thing to do is to eat you out. Or just use his mouth on you in general. He knows how much you have a thing for his tongue, and he definitely knows how to use it well.

Inumaki Toge, who enjoys leaving deep bite marks on your inner thighs and shoulder blades while having sex. It's his way of marking his possession over you. He doesn't mind it when you leave marks on him either—as long as they are hidden out of sight.

Inumaki Toge, who gets freakier by the day, the more he hangs out with you.

Inumaki Toge, who, just like you have a thing for his tongue, has a distinct thing for your hands and fingers as well.

Inumaki Toge, who has developed a habit of sucking on your soft, lean fingers while he fucks you. He draws them even deeper into his mouth whenever his cock digs deeper into your walls. It always drives you wild—the tighter your walls suck him in and squeeze him, the deeper he sucks in and squeezes your fingers in return.

Inumaki Toge, who isn't a fan of how much you love to tease him, but always returns the favor ten-fold with his tongue. He leaves you gasping, as sinful slurs of his name leave your lips while your back arches off whatever surface he has pinned you to. He's always meaner during those times. Even if you beg him to stop, slow down, or go faster, he just keeps his own agonizing pace, ensuring you're left breathless with your legs shaking over his shoulders. He only comes back up when the tattoos around his mouth are well-coated with your release, leaving you lying there, still floating on whatever cloud he took you to.

Inumaki Toge, who stares down at you afterward, gently holding your tear-streaked face to deeply kiss you. He is always gentle then, passionately grounding you back to reality with him.

Inumaki Toge, who always asks if you liked it when he's done eating you out. He is only satisfied when your answer is the exact one he wants to hear, and he only lets you go once you give it to him, no matter how spent you might be.

Inumaki Toge, whom you desperately wish to return the favor to. You are dying to see tears in his eyes from how good you can make him feel between his legs.

Inumaki Toge, however, who doesn't let you. He's not very into blowjobs, always cautious about you getting hurt or choking. Instead, he prefers handjobs. That way, you leave your fingerprints on him anyway. They take some time to fade, and he enjoys running the pads of his fingers over those exact spots whenever he jerks himself off to thoughts of you in the shower.

Inumaki Toge, for whom you have finally decided the best way to return the favor—and satisfy your secret desire of getting to see him cry.

The perfect opportunity presents itself when you accompany him to clear a horde of curses hiding in the basement of an old office building.

The mission goes smoothly. So smoothly, in fact, that immediately afterward, you decide to make out with him right there in the dark. It's a session that quickly escalates into something much heavier, leaving him hard and aching in his pants. And that is when you kindly offer to get him off, right then and there.

Yes, anyone could come down the stairs at any moment. But it's not like he can just walk out into the streets with such an obvious hard-on, and there isn't exactly time to just wait and let it calm down.

The cons of saying no heavily outweigh the pros in his head. Plus, when is he ever not dying for your touch?

Unfortunately for him, though, this time… you plan to make him literally die for it. Preferably while crying, with the threatening possibility of being caught hanging right over his head.

# I will write the next part. I definitely will 🐙

[luxinglan]

Miya Osamu, who kept thinking about your reaction to his brother's question. “I'm not.” It was so immediate. It was like you were scared of the mere assumption of being in a relationship with him.

Miya Osamu, who denies that he was a little hurt by the reaction.

Miya Osamu, who unfortunately couldn't stop thinking about it—even more now that he sees his brother cunningly try his best to get closer to you.

Miya Osamu, who wonders what your type is in guys. Considering the manner in which you devour his meals and your proud declaration in the hallway, he assumes you at least have an appreciation for guys who can cook. That at least fills him with a secure sense of pride, but what about looks, height, fashion taste, intelligence, background, popularity, and hobbies?

Miya Osamu, who's beginning to hate that he doesn't know everything about you like he should(?).

Miya Osamu, who starts a little food diary initially only based on the dishes he tries, but slowly, entries about you start to seep into it.

She enjoyed the bento box yesterday. She bought me coffee jelly today. That made me really happy.

Sumu just told me she also bought him a soda during recess.

Why is he hanging out with her? Doesn't he have better things to do??!

She wore her hair up today. So cute.

I don't think she likes salty foods; she didn't request seconds for the Umeda Onigiri I made today. Should I try something else?

Atsumu just asked me for her number; there's no way I'm giving it to him. If he can't get it from her then he shouldn't bother… It's not like she's going to ask him for his number like she did for me… right?

She's going to come watch our match tomorrow. I'm already feeling 100%. Should I make her congratulatory snacks? Maybe a Fruit Sando or a Strawberry Mochi?

Would she like a cake even if it's not her birthday? What's her favorite fruit? I wish we had more things in common.

…I saw Atsumu hanging out with her in the hallways again.

Sumu had lunch with us today. Why did he have to bring up that embarrassing middle school incident about me?

Aran hung out with us for lunch today.

Sumu and Aran invited Y/n to come watch us practice in the gym more often. I'd like to see her… but I also don't want them to steal all of her attention.

....Sumu!!!!...

Miya Osamu, who's developed a habit of sometimes feeding you the snacks he makes whenever he feels neglected.

Miya Osamu, whose receiving love language is quality time and words of affirmation, and whose giving love language is quality time and acts of service.

Miya Osamu, who manages an arrangement where you both meet up to walk to school together at your common bus stop.

Miya Osamu, who begins to put more effort into his looks every morning.

Miya Osamu, who frequently searches random stuff at night before going to bed.

What do girls like in boys?

What does it mean when a girl says you're cute?

What does it mean when people keep assuming that you're dating a girl?

How to become funnier than your brother?

How to hide stuff from your brother?

How to prevent people from touching a friend?

What does 'lmkiyna' mean?

What does this emoji [*inserts multiple emojis*] mean from a girl?

Miya Osamu, who vehemently denies his brother's teasing accusations that he likes you.

Miya Osamu, who adds “How to know if you like someone… romantically” quizzes to his nightly repertoire.

Miya Osamu, who summons a lot of courage to ask you for your birth chart during one of your usual morning walks. You give it up so easily—not before teasing him about sounding like an aunt secretly about to set up a blind date. He denies it, but not too much. Because after all, later that night, he did try to check your compatibility with his own birth chart.

Miya Osamu, who's excited to find out it's a highly compatible match, verified by three different tests. The other four were just a fluke, of course.

Miya Osamu, who's suddenly annoyed when he realizes it means you're also compatible with his twin.

Miya Osamu, who switches to personality tests instead. Who trusts birth charts, anyway?

Miya Osamu, who watches you engage in a private conversation with Aran after practice in the gym, with Yuto standing just a little too attentively next to you.

Miya Osamu, who immediately marches right over, suddenly interrupting, water bottle in hand, and silently hands it over for you to open it.

Miya Osamu, who often says he's not cute when you call him that. Because according to his “research,” girls tend to like hot or cool guys better.

Miya Osamu, who suddenly freezes in his tracks on a random Wednesday morning, previously quietly listening to you talk about the team until you just had to mention that…

“Kita-san is kinda cute with his habits if you think about it.”

Kita Shinsuke… cute? Did you even have eyes? What was cute about their captain's almost OCD-level habits? And why the hell were you smiling like that?

Miya Osamu, whom you turn around to face, noticing he stopped behind you. Although his expression is blank, you can immediately tell that something is wrong. You don't need to ask any questions, though; he beats you to it.

“Do you just think every random guy is cute? I heard you say Suna was cute, too. Who else is cute… Sumu? Aran? Everybody with two arms and legs?”

You can't help but break into laughter—a very short one that you muffle with your fingers when he glares at you.

“What's so funny, Y/N? Your apparent lack of taste in people in general?” he pokes, very much unamused by your response to the situation.

You gently shake your head at him, still smiling.

“You're what's funny, Samu. You're being so adorable right now, do you know that?”

He feels a light flush spread at the back of his neck—the same one he gets whenever you look at him that way, your pretty eyes sparkling like that.

“That doesn't mean anything. Isn't everyone cute to you?” He snickers, adjusting his crossbody bag before walking past you.

Miya Osamu, who didn't expect you to suddenly take his right hand from behind, stopping him in his tracks.

Miya Osamu, who turns around to see you brightly smiling up at him.

“I think you're the cutest though, Samu.”

Miya Osamu, whose heart skips a beat. The way you said his name, the warmth of your hand holding on to his, the smile on your face, and the sparkle in your eyes—even your compensatory words.

Miya Osamu, who has no comeback, temporarily left speechless as you let go of his hand and walk past him. “Hurry up, we're going to be late.”

Miya Osamu, whose heart won't stop racing against his chest as he catches up with you, only partly listening to you talk about some incident you heard happened at school.

Miya Osamu, who keeps replaying the sentence in his head all day. “I think you're the cutest, Samu.” Each replay is more exaggerated than the last.

Didn't cherry blossom petals sweep past you in that exact moment?

Miya Osamu, who subconsciously plasters a small smile on his face whenever he thinks about it, entirely unfazed by Suna’s comment about how weird he looks smiling to himself.

Miya Osamu, who watches Kita during practice, briefly considering for a second:

'Maybe he is cute, just a little bit. But he doesn't have someone who calls him by a nickname, so he can't be “that” cute.'

Miya Osamu, who wonders if he's beginning to get greedy when he considers the possibility of holding hands with you while walking to school. Ever since that day, when you briefly held his.

[luxinglan]

Inarizaki x Reader

Featuring: Kita Shinsuke, the Miya twins, Suna Rintarō, and Ojiro Aran.

Kita Shinsuke

Academic Rivals.

Kita Shinsuke, the annoyingly perfect guy. Academics, sports, manners, appearance, social etiquette, leadership—he was a top performer in all.

Kita Shinsuke, whom you only met when you transferred to Inarizaki during your second year. A top student from your previous school, you expected to assume the seat at the top here as well; unexpectedly, you met a wall. A very immovable, seemingly flawless wall, that from the moment you saw his name above yours on the results printout for the midterm test, you decided to break.

Kita Shinsuke, whom you began observing from the sidelines. His friend groups, his background, extracurricular activities, relationships with his teachers. You couldn’t seem to find anything off, but that only spurred you to work harder.

Kita Shinsuke, whose name you cursed, screaming into your pillow in your bedroom. A copy of the latest ranking for whatever group competition, crunched into a ball and tossed to a corner of your room’s floor.

Kita Shinsuke, whom you also cursed when the homeroom teacher for your class decided to rearrange your seating arrangements and placed you beside him, at his left.

Kita Shinsuke, whose name is written at the back of a draft notebook of yours, crossed out multiple times, voodoo spells done on ugly, deformed characters that are supposed to represent him. Drawn crudely and given horns and a tail.

Kita Shinsuke, who one day leans over to your table, his finger pointing at a line on your notebook.

"You misspelled that."

He said it like he was just giving the weather report for the day. It was a miracle that you didn’t snap the pencil in your hands into two.

'Not only was he placed next to you, but now he's also correcting the errors you make? Who does he think he is?'

Still, you coldly thanked him and made the correction. He said nothing else before returning to his own notes.

Kita Shinsuke, who came across a hardcover notebook that fell out of his seatmate’s bag while she was packing up after class, eager to leave the classroom—or perhaps just his presence—as quickly as she could. He’s pretty certain she barely even perceives him as anything other than air, but is surprised when he picks up the notebook with the intention of returning it, but then, despite knowing he shouldn't snoop into the private property of a stranger, he couldn't help himself from quickly scanning through the pages. What he didn’t expect to find, however, were two whole pages at the back dedicated solely to him.

Kita Shinsuke, who has been interested in the transfer student from the moment she registered into the school and he accidentally saw her papers while helping a teacher out in the staff room. He thought her performance was incredibly impressive and, if possible, wanted to get to know her better.

Kita Shinsuke, who's used to being the target of envy, admiration, or even hatred, and is also used to ignoring it to keep doing whatever he does best as best as he can. However, for some reason, something about you disturbs him.

Kita Shinsuke, who's decided to get under your nerves even more by purposefully manipulating his performance on every test, exam, and assignment. Leaving just a one-point gap, sometimes two, three if he's feeling generous. Dangling the position of #Number 1 in front of you over and over again, driving you insane. It's only possible for him to achieve such calculated results because he's studied you like a subject he needs to pass. Your writing style, your thought patterns, your learning methods, even the way you take notes. Whether by peeking at your notes in class, or getting hold of them to submit while helping out a teacher. The knowledge that he has you in the palm of his hand—just another thing that he's successfully added to be within his control—fills him with the same delight he gets when he perfectly supports his team to win yet another game.

Kita Shinsuke, who stares at your name in complete disbelief after the results sheet has been passed. You were number one. And it wasn’t something he accounted for.

Kita Shinsuke, who, as much as he admires the smug smile on your face, can't help but notice your eyes... are no longer on him.

Kita Shinsuke, who tops the next text with a 10-point gap over the student ranking number two: you. He feels a little bit secure once more, now that your eyes are fully on him again.

The Miya twins

Childhood friends.

The Miya twins, whom you've been childhood friends with since elementary school. Ever since your grandmother dragged you off to see her longtime friend, their grandmother.

The Miya twins, who ignored you to play between themselves or fight between themselves most of the time.

The Miya twins, whom you're used to just watching bicker, argue, and toss themselves about, but whom you've accepted because it's just their means of showing their relationship as brothers.

The Miya twins, whom you were unable to differentiate. Back then, they hadn't dyed their hair and it was hard to tell one apart from the other. They were quite identical appearance-wise and personality-wise as well.

The Miya twins, who, since they found out that you were unable to tell them apart, decided you'd become their favorite pastime. Playing pranks on you and both denying being the culprit—pointing fingers at each other, leaving you with nothing to work with and no one exactly to blame.

The Miya twins, who decided you're a little bit more fun than they thought, and naturally got closer to you as their friend.

The Miya twins, who decide it's time to have their own clear identities from each other. Now that you can perfectly tell them apart anyway, it was no fun playing the game. Plus, neither of them wants to be mistaken for the other anymore. So Atsumu dyes his hair blond and Osamu dyes his hair gray.

The Miya twins, who have both secretly had a mini-crush on you since they were in middle school. You were the only girl they've gotten that close to, and stayed that close to as well. Who else could tolerate their shenanigans without blowing their top? And you understood their love for volleyball, supporting them through the highs and lows, playing mediator between the boys whenever they fought against each other.

The Miya twins, who have never said it out loud but are both aware that the other twin has a crush on you as well, and have both made an unspoken pact to keep their feelings a secret. In order not to make you uncomfortable, or get in between their brother's feelings for you, just in case... just in case you liked one of them back.

The Miya twins, who keep their protective nature around you, managing to convince your parents to send you to Inarizaki rather than whatever other high school you initially wanted to go to.

The Miya twins, whom you wanted to get away from but failed to. Since middle school, they've been the source of your envy and admiration among your peers. Popular, good-looking, and extremely talented at volleyball, already being watched by major powerhouses.

The Miya twins, whom you've mostly ever considered annoying, from when they enjoyed playing their stupid "Which Miya is responsible?" pranks on you when you were younger, to now, serving as the stars of the Inarizaki high volleyball team.

The Miya twins, whom you're proud of—a tiny bit. Just a very tiny bit. If you let them know, their already inflated egos will get even more inflated and they'd never let you hear the last of it.

The Miya twins, who dragged you to watch their very first official game and made sure you attended every one since then. For every game you miss, you'd owe them a favor.

The Miya twins, who collect taxes on you through favors for the things you've failed to perform as a trusted long-term friend, each using that tax to get something from you. Mostly an activity that only involves you and one of them. Atsumu asks you to help him with volleyball-related activities, and Osamu asks you to help him with cooking-related activities.

The Miya twins, who compare gifts based on whatever you give them—always different things, of course. The last time you gave them the same thing, they called you an idiot who doesn't care about their individuality enough to get unique things. You wondered where they learned the word, but apologized and proceeded since then to always get them something different. Even then, it must still be something equal, lest they cry favoritism over the other. It was exhausting, but they made up for it during your birthdays, always managing to get you the things you like the most, trying to outshine each other for your approval.

The Miya twins, whom you're rumored to either be best friends with, a distant cousin, some kind of relation, or—the most popular one—their girlfriend. Classmates and even teachers always wondered among themselves which of the twins you were actually dating. It's a rumor you're used to and weren't surprised to find at Inarizaki as well, although it's something that has prevented you from finding a boyfriend. Another reason why you were insisting on going to a different school.

The Miya twins, whom whenever you're asked who's more attractive or cool, you always reply: "Both of them." You've just never really stopped to consider it. In your eyes, they’ve always been a headache in different fonts.

The Miya twins, who've been getting tired of sharing your time and attention between themselves. Feeling more selfish and greedy by the day, their competitive spirit against each other grows—although never enough to ruin their bonds as brothers.

The Miya twins, who drag you off to a party they were invited to, but then lose you among the crowd of fans that swarm them.

The Miya twins, who stake their claim on your mind the next morning when you wake up in your bedroom a little bit hungover, but more importantly, extremely anxious. One of the twins secretly met with you last night, one of the twins kissed you, one of the twins confessed their feelings for you. The only problem is, you don't remember which twin.

Rintarō Suna

Unrequited love.

Suna Rintarō, the cynical middle blocker of the Inarizaki volleyball team. The only reason why he’s attending the school is because he was specifically scouted by them.

Suna Rintarō, who knows very well that he’s good at what he does—attractive too, the only problem is his personality, but he hasn't been bothered to fix that. At least not until now.

Suna Rintarō, who spends his days on the volleyball team in peace, well, save for the usual chaos of the twins, though that’s already more of a staple activity at this point. Something that always is.

Suna Rintarō, who was the most unbothered when he heard the team would finally be getting a manager. His only silent request was that it’d be someone who wouldn’t annoy him.

Suna Rintarō, who immediately fell for your smile when you first met and greeted the team—or was it your voice? He couldn’t help but notice your nervousness. It was the first time, after all, that you were playing the role of a manager, and of all teams, it had to be a major powerhouse. Of course you were nervous.

Suna Rintarō, who didn’t comment much while the other guys warmly welcomed you, eager to have you on board. What was so special about having a manager anyway?

Suna Rintarō, who keeps sneaking peeks at you from where you stand by the coach’s side, clipboard in hand, eagerly nodding your head as you watch the court with clear focus.

Suna Rintarō, who’d look away just before your eyes landed on him, keeping his eyes on the net while Riseki made his serves, his heart silently beating hard against his chest.

Suna Rintarō, who still kept his distance, occasionally making his usual snarky remarks to the twins or anyone else, but couldn’t help noticing every little thing about you. The way you looked when you were focused, your fast and insightful observations of the team, your firm authority by the side of the court in the absence and the presence of the coach. Even the way you styled your hair each day.

Suna Rintarō, who’d only be able to keep your gaze for a few seconds while you went around handing each player a bottle of water and a towel after an intense training drill. That annoying smile on your face and your soft fingers as they brushed against his. He’d hide his face partly with the towel over his head and mumble a thank you.

Suna Rintarō, who wonders if you’re aware he no longer slacks off as much like before whenever someone’s not watching or the team has a significant points-lead, because he wants you to notice how much effort he’s putting in.

Suna Rintarō, whom you’re glad is performing well after your addition to the team. Worried about being an unwanted outsider, you really want to win the team's approval, and you’re well aware that he’d probably be the hardest to charm.

Suna Rintarō, who’s always watching you with his cat eyes whenever you interact with the rest of the team privately, sharing jokes and exchanging feedback.

Suna Rintarō, who’s devastated to hear your confession, spurred by Atsumu that day.

"Y/n-chan, do you have a boyfriend? You’re too pretty to be single, right?"

He wanted to tell the idiot off, not to pry into your personal life, but he was also dying to know, so he kept quiet, waiting for your reply.

You shake your head at Atsumu, not taking your eyes off your notepad as you record their performance for today.

"No. I don’t have a boyfriend."

Suna’s heart skipped a hopeful beat—one that was immediately squashed by your next comment.

You lift your head up to face them as you add, "But I do have someone I have a crush on. A senior from middle school."

'A senior? Was that your type? Older boys who are probably mature and capable and dependable and... whatever. What was he like? Why did you like him? Was he good at volleyball? What position did he play? Was he good-looking—half as good-looking as he himself was?' And that smile on your face, that spark in your eyes... it’s something he’s never seen before. You really did like this crush of yours.

Suna Rintarō, who spent the rest of the day silently brooding and fell asleep in his bedroom at night listening to heartbreaking romantic songs about yearning for someone else.

Suna Rintarō, who’s decided to bury his feelings forever, or at least kill them completely—until he stays behind one day after a practice match to help you pack up.

Suna Rintarō, who you’re glad to find out doesn't completely hate you or is unaffected by you. He was actually quite easy to talk with. Mostly a listener, but at least he’s not glaring at you with disgust, so that’s a win.

Suna Rintarō, whom you’re surprised to receive a question from. He asked what his average points per match was, and you immediately give it to him from the top of your head, well familiar with the stats of every single player. You were curious about where he was heading with this, but wasn’t expecting him to make a bet.

"The match we have scheduled next with Mujinazaka. If I surpass my average, you’re going to owe me a favor."

You pause to think about it, while his heart races wildly behind his chest, yelling at him internally.

'What the hell does he think he's doing?!'

To his relief, though, you answer with a smile, "Sure." Good performance from the team is what you’re after, after all. Besides, it’s Suna; whatever his request could possibly be, you’re certain it won’t be anything too insane or out of pocket.

Suna Rintarō, who can't believe you said yes, and decides to walk you home after you're done, already planning how he's going to ask you out on a date when he wins.

Ojiro Aran

Friends to Lovers.

Ojiro Aran, who you thought was pretty ridiculous when you first met. During late middle school, while engaging in your most hated subject, P.E, you fell—not surprising considering your physical stats—and you scratched your knee against the pavement. You didn’t cry though; you just sat there staring at it until a tall boy with grayish-green eyes walked over to you, a volleyball tucked under his arm.

Ojiro Aran, who saw you were hurt but didn’t seem very bothered by it, though he wanted to help. His first priority, was to ensure you didn’t cry; his first thought?... was to make a joke about Sazae-san.

Ojiro Aran, whom you stared at blankly for a full ten seconds before responding, "That wasn’t funny."

Ojiro Aran, whom you expected to walk away from the mean-spirited girl who didn’t laugh at his joke, but was surprised to find him laughing to himself. You were going to ignore him, the seemingly abnormal boy. In the first place, when comparing physical stats, his were completely out of your league.

Ojiro Aran, who surprises you by setting his ball aside and holding out an arm to help you get up. Apologizing for the joke and for your hurt knee. You were going to say something about how it wasn’t his fault with the knee—you should probably have been paying more attention when running—but you change your mind instead and tell him that he should work on his jokes.

'Seriously though... what or who the hell is Sazae-san???'

Ojiro Aran, whom you later learn from, while he took you to the nurse's office, that Sazae-san is an animated TV series from 1969.

1969???!!! What kind of shows did he spend his time watching???

You still let him know, though, that the joke still wasn't funny. He smiled and shrugged, stating that if he found it funny, then that was good enough for him.

Ojiro Aran, who started hanging out with you from that one meeting. Trying to pair up with you during P.E. for mixed-gender games. Thanks to him, you won the one-legged match race for the first time ever. An unexpected physical achievement that you were very proud of.

Ojiro Aran, who finds you during lunch to eat with you. Sharing whatever lunch you both brought while trying and failing to crack new jokes to make you smile. He fails at all attempts but doesn’t stop trying.

Ojiro Aran, who was excited to find you in his class and immediately claimed the seat next to you.

Ojiro Aran, whom you realized might not be so out of your league after all. He might be way better at physical activities, but you were also way better at academic subjects, and he made sure you knew that. Always letting you know how smart you are. Encouraging you not to stress about tests or exams, and congratulating you whenever you cleared them, or helping you get your mood back up when you didn't meet your desired results.

Ojiro Aran, who couldn’t believe his eyes when you finally laughed at one of his jokes—and of all times, when you were down after receiving a C-minus test result. You laughed so hard your eyes got watery. Was the joke that funny? He didn’t care; he was just glad to see you in a good mood again. Of course, when you were done laughing, you made sure to let him know that the joke wasn’t funny. He didn’t question why you laughed if it wasn’t funny. That wasn’t his concern; even as you criticized his taste in humor, you still had a smile on your face.

The real reason why you laughed, though, was because you were reminded of how he hadn’t changed. Still trying to keep you from crying with his three-generations-old humor.

Ojiro Aran, who tries his best to keep you from getting dragged into the twins' antics. Well aware that you have no energy nor tolerance for the brothers, he always stands as your shield of defense, keeping them away from you whenever they want to drag you into playing volleyball with them, and telling them off whenever they poke fun at one thing or another. Even if you didn’t care, he always did.

Ojiro Aran, who always makes sure to get you your favorite drink whenever he gets himself some Ritz Crackers.

Ojiro Aran, whom you weren’t surprised to see really get into volleyball. Already setting his eyes on the Ace position, he got it, of course, and was incredibly happy to share his wins with you. You were proud too, serving mostly as a moral support presence. You helped him work hard—studying your notes in the gym while he practiced his drills.

Ojiro Aran, who manages to convince you to go with him to Inarizaki high, because in his words, "It would be fun to have a friend to hang out with other than the twins."

Ojiro Aran, who had unconsciously picked up some habits of yours. Reacting to the nonsensical things his teammates sometimes say with sharp comebacks, often wondering and asking what the things they say even means.

Ojiro Aran, whose favorite time other than playing volleyball is watching you study. Be it at home, school, the library, or whenever. You were always such a hard worker, and just silently sitting in your presence was calming for him.

Ojiro Aran, who still gives you piggyback rides like he did when you were kids whenever you’re tired or just feeling lazy. Sometimes you’d fall asleep quickly on his back; sometimes you’d listen to him talk about his day. He was always worried about Kita’s robotic straight-laced attitude and the twins' idiotic behavior, but it was clear to you that he loved them all the same.

Ojiro Aran, whose therapy whenever he loses a game is to sit next to you, resting his head against your shoulder while he measures his hand against yours and tries to listen to the sound of your heartbeat.

Ojiro Aran, whom the twins corner one day to ask what's going on between you two—they had already cornered you the day before, and it certainly wasn’t the first time that this was happening.

Ojiro Aran, who gives precisely the same answer that you did:

"We’re just friends."

[luxinglan]

Miya Osamu, who opened his mouth to speak, determined to either turn his brother away or hand over the bento box to you for just the two of you to share—only to be caught completely off guard by the sudden question that left the blond blockhead's smirking lips.

"So, when were you going to introduce me to your girlfriend, Samu?”

"Never."

"I'm not."

Atsumu’s eyes drift past his brother and straight to you, taking in the simultaneous responses with a slight raise of his eyebrow.

You feel both of their eyes on you—one just staring, the other inquiring.

"I mean, I'm not his girlfriend. We're just friends," you explain to Atsumu, your body fully turning to the side to face him. It is partly to make your point clear, and partly in a desperate attempt to avoid seeing whatever expression Osamu has on his face. Boredom? Disgust? Insulted? You really don't want to know what he thinks of his twin’s outrageous assumption.

Atsumu's eyes leave your lowered head and flicker over to his brother, whose head is lowered as well, though his jaw is visibly more clenched than before.

The smirk that had briefly left Atsumu's face from your response immediately returns, accompanied by a mischievous glint in his eyes.

'Ohhh… So it's like that, huh?'

Osamu lifts his head, finally releasing the tension in his jaw to break the awkward silence that fills the space.

"Yeah… we're just friends. Got a problem, Sumu?" he deflects to his twin, practically daring him to say something stupid.

"Not at all. In fact…" Atsumu grins, raising his arm as he crosses the distance between the two of you. He stops right by your side, casually dropping his heavy hand across your shoulder. "Any friend of my dear brother is a friend of mine, as well."

You look up at the grinning setter, who is staring down at you with a sharp spark in his eyes. You don't need a fortune teller to put the pieces together.

'Ah… so this is what people mean when they say being caught in between the Miya twins is like throwing yourself into a storm. A chaotic one. Right now… this guy is just using me to mess with his brother.'

Your jaw sets and your eyebrows narrow, but before you can let the words to tell him off leave your mouth, a hand suddenly cuts between you two, roughly smacking the setter's arm off your shoulder.

"No decency as usual, Sumu. Going around touching strangers is rude."

You raise your head to stare at the familiar face in front of you. Osamu's face wears an expression you have only ever seen him wear on the volleyball court—an annoyed, intense focus when things aren't going his way. It feels strange, although this focus obviously isn't directed at you, seeing as his gaze is level with the person still standing right beside you.

"Oh? Strangers? I don't think so. We're friends, aren't we, y/n?"

The sound of your name draws your full attention. You had never given it to him while you were waiting. No… in the first place, he probably already knew exactly who you were before you even met.

'What exactly is his deal?'

Atsumu looks down at the girl beside him, noting the obvious glare on her face.

'Hmm… Is she triggered? I didn't say anything wrong, though.'

"We're not friends," you counter firmly. "And I don't like being touched like that."

"You heard her, Sumu," Osamu remarks to his twin, who instantly feigns a deeply hurt expression.

"Yeah, I heard her, and it breaks my heart. You're friends with my brother but you're not friends with me? Ouch. We're twins. You know we're practically the same person, right?" he croons, stubbornly refusing to step out of your personal space.

You respond by turning your head up to face him.

"Then, can you cook?"

"Huh?" Atsumu blinks at you.

'What is she talking about?'

"Can you cook? Half as well as he does?"

"Cooking? That's boring and stupid. Volleyball is much more interesting than cooking, don't you think?"

You feel a slight twitch at your temple but force your expression into a polite, sweet smile as you raise your head to look at him.

"Then you're not the same person. Even if you're twins. Volleyball is interesting and it's cool, but Osamu is good at both. It sounds like he already has a pretty big advantage over you."

A visible twitch appears at Atsumu's left temple.

'What the—? Is she… rage-baiting me right now?'

He returns your smile, though his is a little forced. "An advantage? I'm better at volleyball, though. Besides, I'm a setter. Do you know how cool setters are? And I'm much more fun than he is."

"Really? Good for you, but..."

Both guys watch as you suddenly raise your right hand, placing it flat against your chest to proudly declare: "As Samu’s designated food lab rat, my loyalty has already been thoroughly bought by him. Volleyball isn't going to feed my stomach, is it?!"

A long, grueling moment of silence passes. You can practically hear crickets chirping in the background. Shame suddenly floods your body in an uncomfortable wave of heat that creeps all the way up to your face as you realize the utter bullshit that you just proudly announced out loud.

Atsumu stares at you, perplexed, looking at you like you were an opposing team's setter he can't seem to figure out.

'What? Did she… just call herself a food lab rat???'

His bewildered thoughts are cut short by the sudden sound of laughter breaking the silence.

Osamu just can't contain it anymore. The sound of his hearty laughter breaks through the awkward atmosphere. His closed fist rises up to his mouth in a failed attempt to stifle it.

'Laughing… He's actually laughing right now. His laughter sounds so warm, like a heated blanket on a cold weekend… No, wait, that's not the important thing here! He's literally laughing at me right now, isn't he? This is so embarrassing!!! I have to fix this.'

"I mean… what I was trying to say is that… the onigiri… I just… we..." You try and utterly fail to offer a solid defense.

"That’s true, Sumu. I already bought her loyalty. I think you'll have to find someone else to fawn over you," Osamu intercepts, his gray eyes still sparkling with lingering amusement.

'Seriously though, "food lab rat?" Where did she even get that idea? Is she an idiot? Well… an adorable idiot, probably.'

Atsumu stares down at the two people in front of him. One is hiding her embarrassment by lowering her head, obviously wishing the ground would open up and swallow her whole, while the other is smugly flaunting his amusement with an annoying, goofy smile. A slow realization visibly creeps onto Atsumu's face.

'These two… are a pair of idiots, aren't they?'

However, before anyone else can add anything, a new voice interrupts the group.

"What are you two idiots doing here? Kita-San’s going to bury you alive."

His catlike green eyes drift toward the blond twin first. "Atsumu, weren't you supposed to find Osamu for the meeting with Coach Kurosu?"

Your eyes fall upon the new interruption, who stands with his arms crossed over his chest, visibly displeased. You recognize him immediately. One of the top scorers of the team, the number 10 middle blocker: Rintarō Suna.

"Kosaku-san and Ginjima-san are already at the gym. Not sure where Riseki-San went, though. Aran, too," Suna states, stopping in front of the three of you. He takes in the scene before him, giving a barely imperceptible tilt of his head as he regards you with slightly narrowed eyes.

'Who’s this? Don't think I've seen her around before. Well… even if I have, I probably forgot about it. She's hanging out with the Miya twins, though, which means she's either stupid enough to get herself involved in their antics—the unfortunate soul—or she's just another fangirl. Either way, I couldn't care less.'

His eyes leave you to fall on Osamu, who, for some reason, seems to be in a spectacularly good mood. That raises a subtle spark of interest in Suna's mind.

'Why is Idiot #1 smiling so much?'

"Ahhh. Right, Kita-san and the meeting. I totally forgot. My bad. Haha." Atsumu chuckles, scratching the back of his head with a thoroughly shallow display of guilt.

"Tsk. Let's go already. I don't want to spend the rest of the afternoon running penalty drills set by the captain," Suna snaps at him. He doesn't immediately turn around to leave, though; he has to make sure they actually follow him this time.

Osamu on the other hand, brings his attention back to the situation.

'Coach Kurosu called a meeting? Do we have a new practice match set up or something that he wants to announce? But this means I won't be able to have lunch with Y/N.'

He immediately turns back to you, the lingering smile on his face completely replaced by a small frown. "Sorry. We can't have lunch together today."

"Ah, no, no! Don't worry about it," you reassure him quickly. "Your coach called, that's way more important. I'll be totally fine!"

He nods at your response before lifting the bag that contained the bento box he has packed, waiting for you to take it.

"Then you'll have to eat this by yourself. I tried something new, so…" He subtly turns his head to the side, suddenly unable to meet your gaze directly as he mumbles out the rest of his message. "It was made carefully, so take your time to eat it. Don't rush and choke or something. I mean, I can't just go find a new food lab rat because I'm busy. And… you have to tell me what you think later."

Suna narrows his eyes, tracking the event displaying before him in real-time.

'Food lab rat? What the hell is that? Also, did he actually make a whole meal for her? Since when? Since when does Osamu ever share his food with other people?!! Is she his girlfriend? No, there's no way either of these idiots would be able to get a girlfriend this pretty to take them seriously.'

You eagerly take the package from his hands, your fingers briefly brushing past his as you do.

"Should I leave some for you?" you ask hopefully.

Osamu shakes his head. "You don't have to. I'm not hungry."

'Liar'

Suna and Atsumu think to themselves in perfect, synchronized unison.

'When are you ever not hungry? You're literally always thinking about food,' Atsumu ponders, watching his twin act like a total stranger.

"Okay, then… Thank you for the meal, and good luck with the volleyball club!"

"Yeah, sure," Osamu answers with as much of an air of nonchalance as he can possibly summon. He takes a step to leave, but then turns back around to add, "See you later."

He doesn't wait for a reply before he continues his exit, quickly walking down the hallway. Eager to leave the sight of the gathering before anyone notices the bright blush rapidly spreading across the back of his neck.

Atsumu quickly follows after him. "Bye-bye, Y/N-chan! I'll see you later!" he waves cheerfully before jogging off to meet up with his brother, immediately bumping into Osamu's shoulder. Osamu aggressively bumps him back, and Atsumu shoves him in return, instantly turning their walk into a petty shoulder-bumping contest.

"Those idiots," Suna mutters to himself, watching them display their typical brain-cell-sharing behavior. Realizing he is still standing there, he turns his head back to you, blankly scanning you from head to toe.

'Why is he staring like that? Does he have something to say to me?'

You question silently, waiting for a statement or a question that never comes.

Suna nods at you briefly—a minor, silent acknowledgment—before he turns around and walks away to follow after the twins.

'There’s no way, right...? There's no way they're actually dating.'

Meanwhile, Osamu strictly refrains from glancing back to look at you again, only relaxing once they finally turn the corner and leave your hallway behind.

'y/n… she's kinda cute… Maybe… I don't know… Who cares.'

...

…

...

'Would she like the bento box I made?... She better! After all… she's the one who told me that everything I make is really good.'

[luxinglan]

When Inumaki Toge first found out that you were a Jujutsu sorcerer, he was curious about your innate technique. However, he was even more speechless to learn that you didn't really have anything flashy. Somewhat like Maki, you were classified as a Grade 3 sorcerer. But if there was one particular thing that stood out about you, it was your unique passive ability:

Immunity to Cursed Speech.

You weren't deaf; your ears worked perfectly fine. There simply existed an invisible barrier around you that repelled any Cursed Speech sent your way—with the exception of commands from higher-grade sorcerers or catastrophic threats like the King of Curses, Ryomen Sukuna.

Hence, it made perfect sense when Gojo-sensei partnered the two of you up, relieving Panda of the heavy lifting that came with being Toge's full-time translator.

You two got along well. He was extremely grateful for your ability, regardless of the grade level you were "stuck" at. As someone who could never form normal bonds with people due to the very technique he was cursed with, you were an unexpected gift. You felt like a compensation for all the loneliness he had endured up until now.

That was the main reason he was so fiercely protective of you. No one dared to make snarky comments about your sorcerer grade—at least not within his presence, lest they wanted to test his creativity in using his Cursed Speech that day.

At first, communication was a bit of a hurdle. He was so used to speaking exclusively in rice ball ingredients that it took some adjusting, but with some assistance from the ever-helpful Yuji and Panda, you managed to pick up his vocabulary in no time.

It took some time, but eventually, he began talking to you. It wasn't much; the weight of his past still pushed him to play it safe. Plus, he was just so used to not talking in the first place.

You, on the other hand, were always glad when he did. You looked up to him as someone incredibly talented—a Semi-Grade 1 sorcerer who found a way to put his dangerous ability to good use, bearing that heavy burden with the pride of a true Jujutsu sorcerer. He was definitely someone admirable.

The problem was, your feelings toward him weren't just admiration. To say you were obsessed with his voice would be an understatement. You held on tightly to his every word, rice ball ingredient or not. And on the rare occasions that he spoke normally—albeit briefly, whenever you two were completely alone—it sent a sudden warmth pooling deep in your stomach.

Sometimes, you would even record those rare moments just to play them late at night in the quiet privacy of your bedroom. You'd touch yourself to the vivid imagination of his face, the soft sound of his voice playing over your phone speaker. You imagined it was really him, speaking softly into your ear from behind while his hands parted your thighs, finding you soaking wet and aching for the intrusion of his fingers.

And then the next day, you would meet up at school and act completely normal. You'd greet him with a cheerful "Good morning!" just like you did with the other seniors. He would reply with a quiet nod, or a simple "Sake" if he was in a good mood—completely unaware of the desperate deeds you committed at night.

On the other hand, Inumaki was at odds with himself. As much as he was grateful for the fact that you were immune to Cursed Speech, a part of him was beginning to resent it. It was the part of him that wanted to hold your hand while you two walked. The part that wanted to tuck your hair behind your ear when it fell loose. The part that wanted to buy snacks just for you, without the premise of getting them for everyone else—despite the fact that he had long since noted the ones you always went for. He would routinely get them for you, personally separating them from the general bags just to hand them over, silently grateful for the high collar of his uniform that hid his blush whenever your hand brushed against his.

Then, there was the somewhat twisted part of him that wanted to use his command to tell you to kiss him, just to watch you do it. Yet, he still had no intention of actually forcing a kiss on you if you didn't willingly want it yourself. The sheer thought of stripping away your autonomy—and bypassing your unique immunity—was exactly what stopped him.

That was the dynamic of your relationship, right up until the day you confessed your feelings after a successful mission. With a tentative pace, he lowered his collar to answer softly, completely avoiding your gaze:

"Me too... I... like you too."

The moment made both of you so incredibly happy, yet so beautifully awkward. You just stood there, heads cast to the side and grinning like idiots while your hearts raced from the mutual confession.

And so, you started dating. It was pure bliss, although it was a bliss you two kept as a mutual secret from everyone else. Save for Panda and Nobara, of course—they could tell immediately. They picked up on the subtle signs: both of you staring at your phones and smiling while the group was gathered, the lingering looks whenever one of you left the room, and the quiet, private glances sent each other's way.

You also learned quite a lot of new things now that Inumaki was your boyfriend. Particularly endearing was his jealous side—something he expressed by sounding noticeably more salty with his rice ball ingredients whenever replying to anyone you were physically close with in his presence. He also had a surprisingly sharp sense of smell. The longer you hung out with someone else, the quicker he’d pick up their scent when you returned to him. His typical response would be to sulk in silence until you apologized, or to send an angry, pouting emoji over text and then refuse to open the app for hours just to avoid seeing your reply.

It was during one of those exact bouts of jealousy that the trouble started. You had hung out with Yuji and Megumi for a straightforward mission that you cleared quickly. With time to spare, the three of you decided to just hang out normally—getting drinks, grabbing some snacks, and visiting the arcade together.

When you returned to school and met up with Inumaki, however, he could immediately tell, and thus the avoidance began. He would only interact with you when absolutely necessary. No texts were sent, and his verbal vocabulary retreated strictly back to basic rice ball ingredients.

It had been going on for about four days now; he certainly knew how to hold a grudge. Realizing this, you finally decided to make peace with him. After the day's work was finished, you headed straight over to his dorm.

He let you in after you knocked, and you followed him inside, locking the door securely behind you with a plastic bag filled with canned drinks in hand.

"I'm spending the night here," you announced calmly, receiving only a simple, clipped response.

"Sure."

You smiled at his back as he walked over to open the refrigerator, reaching in to get a bottle of water.

"I brought some drinks, too. Care to join me?"

"I don't know. You could just get Yuji and Megumi to join you instead, since you like hanging out with them so much," he answered back, closing the refrigerator door.

He was being sour. With anyone else, making a statement like that would risk having them do exactly that—leaving to go drink with Yuji and Megumi instead. But not with you. That was both his greatest grace and his biggest annoyance.

Sometimes, he wished he could just hug you tightly, wrapping his hands around your waist and using his Cursed Speech on you:

"Don't hang out with any other man except me."

"Don't smile so much at other people."

"Don't look too much at other men."

"Don't smell like other men."

"Don't leave me anxious. Don't leave me hanging."

"Love me more, and only me."

"Always stay by my side, no matter what."

Was he being ridiculous? Probably, and you likely wouldn't be the biggest fan of that kind of behavior, either. That was exactly why he had to hide that side of himself. You only deserved to see the perfect sides of him—the sides you admired. He couldn't just show off how much resentment he secretly felt toward his juniors sometimes.

He froze up when your arms wrapped around him from behind.

"Hmmm," you hummed against his back. "Are you still jealous?"

He let out a light scoff, his right hand lowering toward yours to pry it off him. You didn't get to touch him that easily when he had been actively avoiding physical contact with you for four days. Although he was utterly touch-starved, he wouldn't dare admit it.

He hadn't even jerked off to the scent of you on the hoodie you wore last. That was just how pissed off he was.

"No."

He lied through his teeth. If only his cursed technique worked on himself as well.

"Liar." You pressed your forehead firmly into his back as you continued, "The goodnight text you sent me last night had zero emojis in it."

You provided the evidence. Right, because even if he was irritated, he would never skip sending you a goodnight text. He just left out the heart emojis whenever he was in a bad mood.

"I was just tired," he defended himself. His hand was now resting over yours, no longer pulling it away like he had initially intended to.

"Hmm... Is that so? Then... let me help you feel better."

You murmured, lifting your head and stretching upward to place soft kisses along the back of his neck.

"Y/N," he whispered the moment he felt your lips against his skin. His head naturally angled to the side, while his hand firmly gripped your wrist where it was resting against his stomach.

If you really thought some cheap kisses would have gotten you off the hook, then you should think again. You two had both been so busy lately that you never found the time to go on a proper date—but you certainly found time to hang out with the guys.

The reminder made him press his lips together, his purple eyes narrowing deeply at the fridge.

But before he could say anything, your left hand slipped underneath his shirt, sliding upward to caress his abs.

His breathing deepened. His left hand reflexively shot up to his neck in an attempt to adjust the zipper at the collar of his specially altered uniform, only to realize he was just in his normal clothes. He had nothing to hide his face from view.

So touch-starved, all he wanted to do was melt into your touch and let you make up for the four days of the semi-cold shoulder. But no, of course not. He might be kind-hearted and easygoing, but he wasn't so easily swayed—

A sharp breath left his throat when he felt your hand move to his pants instead.

With no idea when your hand had abandoned hugging him and slipped out of his grasp, he was too late to stop you from loosening the drawstrings of his sweatpants.

Is he too late to stop you, or does he just have no desire to stop you?

He couldn't tell; he could only lower his head to watch you tug the waistband of his pants down to let his half-hard cock out.

So much for not being easy.

He let out a light hiss as you took him into your palm, your lean fingers wrapping around his length while you pressed a kiss underneath his ear from behind.

"y/n."

He called your name again, softer this time. His tone was breathy as more blood traveled down to his cock, which was now pulsing lightly to a full erection under your familiar touch.

"Yeah? Toge," you purred innocently from behind with a hidden smile as you felt him get rock hard in your hand, his cock rising to its full length and swelling to fill your fingers with his girth.

"Feeling better? Well, good for you. I was given the cold shoulder for four full days. Completely ignored. Do you have any idea how much I missed my boyfriend?"

'That's not fair at all,' Inumaki thought silently to himself as you stroked up and down his shaft in slow, steady movements.

Although he was angry with you, he certainly hadn't ignored you. He never could. He had still walked slow enough to match your pace whenever you were with him, bought your favorite snacks while grabbing food for the rest of the team, left your scarf on your table so you wouldn't catch a cold, and even still sent you goodnight and good morning texts—even if they had no emojis attached.

So what the hell were you talking about?

On the other hand, you were a little bit salty yourself. So what if you had hung out with the guys? Still... how could he deprive you of himself—of his voice, his quiet acts of service, and his comforting presence?

Although you knew you were exaggerating, he wasn’t the only one pouting. You missed him. A... lot. So, it was time to take back what you had missed out on.

"Y/N, Y/n... Haa... Stop," he breathed between growing pants.

"No," you answered, fully flaunting your Cursed Speech immunity right to his face.

"Haa... You... Hic—"

His words were cut off when you tightened your grip around him, causing his hips to buck forward. His eyes were heavy-lidded as he bit his lower lip. He had almost came just now. He could still feel the tight, pulsing ache stirring between his legs.

A sly smile adorned your lips against his back. Your boyfriend, Inumaki Toge, had always had a thing for intensity—a little bit of pain, too—and you knew how to use that to your advantage all too well.

Giving him handjobs was easily one of your favorite things to do. It certainly helped that you got to hear the soft, pretty moans of delight that turned you on so intensely. You ignored the deep throb between your own legs, the wet patch in your panties gradually getting more and more soaked.

You wanted his tongue already. It was another thing about him that you were completely obsessed with—particularly the "Snake Eyes and Fangs" clan seal tattooed onto it.

The sight of it whenever you tugged his tongue out always sent a sharp thrill down your spine and a spark into your eyes. If only you two weren’t on such a rocky path right now; you should be sharing some drinks, later heading to the bed where he’d use that cursed tongue of his to eat you out until your legs went limp like they always did, all while you jerked him off in return.

That tongue of his really was a blessing and a curse, with how much it drove you insane.

But no... he just had to be so difficult. Holding a grudge, taking this long to get over his petty jealousy, and spending his days pouting in silence while you missed everything about him. It was just unforgivable.

"Y/N—y/n—Ah... Hic— Wait... Wait, please."

Why?! Why weren't you listening to him? Why didn't his Cursed Speech work on you like it should?

'What an annoying exception.'

He raised his right hand to clamp it firmly over his mouth while his left hand rested against the refrigerator, holding himself up as the intense pleasure shook his entire body.

He hung his head further down, his violet eyes rolling back before he shut them tight. He desperately refrained from thrusting his hips to rut into your precious hand and force himself to cum—and the things you were murmuring from behind him really weren't helping.

"I like you, Toge. I really like you. So much."

"I—Hic—Ah! Ngh... I really like you too, y/n," he muffled against the palm of his hand.

"I know, and I'm sorry. So forgive me, okay? You'll forgive me, right... Right, Toge?"

Were you saying something? He couldn't tell. It was all much too overwhelming—your scent, your presence, your warmth, all belonging to him right now, at this exact moment, after what felt like a whole month of deprivation.

The sounds of your intimate movements between his legs, the touch of your hands... your soft palm slid up and down his shaft, gently squeezing here and there while he throbbed in response. He anticipated the feeling of your fingers at his tip, smearing and gathering the fresh beads of precum forming between your strokes.

'I want to cum. I want her to make me cum so bad. I can't take it anymore.'

Without warning, he brought his right hand down and held it over yours. The sheer size of his hand covered your own completely, veins visible as he gripped you—not to stop your movements, but rather to establish more physical contact as he went along with your pace.

Or, at least, that was what he planned. Instead, you kept going slower and slower, agonizingly slow. Under normal circumstances, he liked it and welcomed the tease, but right now... right now, he just needed to cum. He needed to relieve himself of the heavy emotions he'd been suppressing, and then take you to his bedroom where he'd eat you out until you were a sobbing mess—completely obsessed with him, just as much as he was with you.

His violet eyes slowly snapped into focus on his cock, his mouth breathing heavily as he guided your hand over his wet, rigid length.

"I... I like you too... So much. So... Mphm!—Haa... Y/n... don't make me feel... feel—Ha!... jealous all the time. I don't... like it, and... I'm..."

He bit his trembling lip, increasing his pace as he felt his climax building up.

"I'm sorry for getting jealous, too. So don't drink with... with anyone else. Just drink with me, and—Ngh!—Ahh!... Let's go on a date to the ar-arcade, just the two of us next time—Hnghn!"

He managed to relay his thoughts as his eyes started shifting out of focus, completely unaware of the profound effect he was having on you.

You pressed your forehead against his back. Heat flooded your face, your thighs pressed tightly together with your underwear completely soaked, while your heart beat wildly against your ribs in a heavy mix of arousal, excitement, and joy.

'What a gentleman. How can he be so cute and so hot at the same time?!!!'

You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out at first—not loud enough against the wet sounds and heavy breathing in front of you.

"O-Okay... Toge," you responded, well aware of how much he loved it when you used his first name with him whenever you two were alone.

Satisfied, you decided it was time to help him cum. Midway under the slipping, tight grip of his hand above yours, you stopped at the base of his length, squeezing tightly—just how he liked it.

"Fu-fuck!!!"

He moaned, his head jerking back and his eyes rolling as his hips jerked forward. Ropes of hot, thick white fluid shot out of his cock, leaving him shaking slightly as the intense wave of pleasure washed over him.

When his eyes and head finally came back down and his chest settled into heavy heaving, the mess of his release dripping down the refrigerator was what greeted him. He made a mental note to properly wipe and disinfect that spot later, but for now...

With a step to the side, he left your arms and reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it off to reveal the well-toned muscles usually hidden underneath his sorcerer’s uniform.

You watched him bend down to use his discarded shirt to wipe his release off the outside surface of the fridge, dropping the stained fabric to the ground before standing back up to face you. His cock was now tucked safely back into his sweatpants.

He took a step forward to hold your face gently in his hands before bringing his lips down to yours for a deep kiss.

You readily welcomed him, letting his tongue fully explore the familiar warmth of your mouth. You felt a brief pang of dismay when he pulled back, breaking the contact, but the feeling was quickly wiped away when you looked up to see him darting his tongue out of his mouth—the clan seal imprinted on it as clearly as ever.

Your soaking clit twitched in anticipatory delight.

"Want me to eat you out? Or wanna share the drinks you brought?"

'Drinks? What drinks?'

Who cared about drinks right now when your boyfriend was offering you the special-grade service of his tongue?

"Mhmn."

You murmured in response, nodding your head as you closed the gap to wrap your arms around his neck and capture his tongue with yours.

He smiled against the kiss, taking that as your definitive answer before suddenly grabbing your waist and lifting you right off the floor. Naturally, you wrapped your legs around his waist, letting him hold you up while you continued the deep kiss.

You felt him start walking. You were completely at ease, only tightening your arms around his shoulders for support, having done this multiple times before.

The walk was shorter than usual.

You stared up at him in surprise as he laid you down on the couch instead and leaned over you, his eyes glazed with lustful hunger. One of his hands left your waist to slide slowly underneath your skirt.

"The bedroom is too far away. I want to eat you out..."

You felt his fingers tug against the waistband of your panties. They were your favorite pair—and the exact color of his hair, platinum blonde.

Without warning, his fingers slid down the front of the waistband, parting your folds to coat his index and middle fingers in your juices. He watched you gasp lightly underneath him at the sudden contact.

With your eyes locked together, he brought his fingers back up to his mouth, tucking his tongue between them to give them a slow, good lick. A teasing taste of what was to come.

"...Right now,"

he completed, watching you gulp dryly, your eyes wide and pupils blown out to mirror his own—already hungry for more.

# I feel Inumaki doesn't curse much, but it slips out when he's consumed by pleasure while getting intimate.

# He might be a semi grade 1 sorcerer, but that tongue is definitely a special grade artifact.

# I don't see a lot of inumaki fics so i had to write this🥹🤞

[luxinglan]

Miya Osamu, whom you were waiting for as usual in the hallway to have lunch together.

Miya Osamu, whom you were eagerly looking forward to seeing, just to discover what he had made for today. You had to admit at this point that he had completely ruined your food palette and spoiled you for good. The school's cafeteria food was no longer even manageable, let alone appetizing.

Miya Osamu, whom you kept as a tightly guarded secret whenever your friends inquired about the person behind the delicious snacks you shared in class. They knew very well that it simply couldn't have been you who made something that good. So for now, you had to use your mom as a convenient cover story.

Miya Osamu, whom you’ve been feeling more and more giddy over. Pondering the idea over and over in your head: the lunches you two share at least three times a week are basically dates, aren't they? Although, you didn't want to get ahead of yourself.

Dating the wing spiker of the Inarizaki volleyball team—and one half of the famous Miya twins—felt like a far-fetched dream. But was it really too far-stretched to deny the butterflies you felt when he suddenly reached out to brush the Tonkatsu crumbs off the edge of your lips during lunch three days ago? You had been too busy digging in until you felt his thumb on your skin. It wasn't just the sudden contact that caught you off guard; it was the sheer ease with which he did it.

Miya Osamu, whom you wished would stop treating you so nicely, and at the same time, never stop treating you so nicely. Making you lunch, baking you snacks, cutting up fruits into the shapes of animals. So casually brushing crumbs, rice, cream, or sauce off the corners of your mouth with a napkin in hand whenever you had lunch. His gray eyes would be deeply fixated on you, yet always hard to read.

You liked to assume he was just watching his "food lab rat" react to his latest experiments and taking mental observation notes. But then, how did you explain the fact that he hadn't even mentioned how you hadn't been putting his cooking lessons into practice? Not since the last onigiri you made with half-burned, salty rice, anyway. You hadn't really wanted to bring it for his review, but at the same time, you didn't want to seem like you hadn't given it a try either. He had only taken two bites out of it before setting it aside—mumbling something about it being a "death trap"—only to share the tempura he brought instead. It was leagues beyond the crap you made, and you were just grateful he was willing to share. Being a food lab rat definitely had its perks. Lots of them. Including the money you've been saving on food lately.

Miya Osamu, whom you really wanted to make something for. Perhaps not anything you’d cook, though; he’d probably verbally trash that. Maybe just something you bought instead. He’d like that, wouldn’t he? He seemed to like anything edible that was actually good.

Miya Osamu, whom you couldn't seem to completely understand whenever he criticized his own meals. Talking about heat levels, spice, and seasoning balance. You didn't get it, but maybe that was just because you were too far out of the culinary circle to understand. Everything he made tasted amazing to you. And although he scoffed lightly whenever you proudly stated that fact—muttering something about you having burned off your taste buds a long time ago—you never missed the tiny smile he hid by lowering his head, right before pushing more plates at you to devour.

Miya Osamu, whom you had to admit you definitely had a crush on. Or maybe... it was too early to admit that. Maybe you just really enjoyed spending time with him as a friend, or you've been brainwashed by the meals. He did seem to enjoy listening to you drone on about your hobbies and latest fixations when you had late-night calls and texts. He was an even better listener than you thought—maybe too good, because you were terrified that one day you might just blurt out something stupid that would ruin the relationship.

Miya Osamu, whom you didn't find waiting in the hallway as usual; instead, you ran into his twin brother, Atsumu, with a gym bag slung over his shoulder, leaning against the wall. His eyes immediately locked onto you the moment you entered his line of sight.

Miya Atsumu, whom you thought was just looking for his brother or waiting for someone else from the team, perhaps Ojiro or Rintarō, but who turned out to actually be looking for you.

Miya Atsumu, whom you were initially guarded against. You weren't exactly close with him, and he did have a reputation for being... intense. But somehow, in under eight minutes, he managed to charm you using funny anecdotes about his brother to share.

Miya Atsumu, who was unwilling to admit that the person his brother had been obsessed with lately was actually far more interesting than he thought. Maybe it wouldn't do any harm to get a little bit closer. As long as he could annoy his brother like usual and get front-row seats to his developing relationship, he'd do all the charming he possibly could.

Miya Atsumu, who was surprised to suddenly hear his name called from behind him, right while his arm—which he had sneakily wrapped around you—was still draped over your shoulders.

"Atsumu."

With how authoritative and rigid the voice sounded, he instantly thought it was their captain, Kita, and was already preparing an excuse about trying to recruit the lovely student beside him as the team's new manager.

However, he turns around to find his twin staring at him with the exact same look he got in his eyes whenever he found out Atsumu had "borrowed" another one of his items and lost it somewhere.

Miya Osamu, who couldn't help his eyes drifting over to his brother’s hand draped across your shoulder. Why were you hanging out with this blockhead? Why were you letting him touch you so easily? What exactly did he say to you to make you laugh? The smile on your face was still lingering despite his sudden appearance.

Miya Osamu, whom you were genuinely happy to see, the smile on your face brightening up at the mere sight of him.

"Samu!" you and Atsumu called out together, glancing at each other at the unintentional unison of the nickname you were both so used to using. You were completely unaware of the person in front of you who was currently clenching his jaw, looking significantly more annoyed than before.

‘Now they're syncing already?’

He had never even synced with you before, but you were already doing that with Sumu?!

"We were just waiting for you." Atsumu turned, announcing calmly to his brother while finally taking his arm off your shoulder after you subtly shifted to the side.

Osamu raised a single eyebrow.

‘We?’

His eyes turned to you first. A questioning thought running through his head.

Did you invite his brother to join you two for lunch today?’

An uncomfortable feeling settled in his chest. Disappointment, perhaps? He had sincerely thought this was a 'two of you' thing—something personal and private that you both shared. It was something he went quite far out of his way to keep away from the rest of the team, to somewhat protect. After all, people didn't just share homemade meals with strangers or people irrelevant to them, right?

Miya Osamu, who opened his mouth to speak, determined to either turn his brother away or hand over the bento box to you for just the two of you to share—only to be caught completely off guard by the sudden question that left the blond blockhead's smirking lips.

"So, when were you going to introduce me to your girlfriend, Samu?"

[luxinglan]

Miya Osamu, whom you've been thinking about more lately. At school, at home, before going to bed and upon waking up. It's always about the little things you notice.

Miya Osamu, whom you've realized is actually quite good at cooking. His cooking skills, you've decided, are on par with his volleyball skills.

Miya Osamu, the reason why you've begun memorizing Inarizaki's volleyball games schedule. Making sure to show up whenever you can and cheer them up from the stands. With time, you've come to realize why your school is considered a powerhouse, and the realization is something that has filled you with pride and appreciation for the team. According to the Intel you've gotten from Osamu, given how much intensity their coach puts into their training—and the supervision from their captain as well—they're well-deserving of their position as the best Volleyball team in the Hyōgo prefecture.

Miya Osamu, whom you've begun sending a goodluck text before his major games. Looking forward to his later simple texts of:

"Thanks. We won."

Miya Osamu, whom you've slowly shifted from your position as his onigiri student to just his taste tester. He says it's to train your taste buds to aid your cooking, but you're beginning to suspect he just wants to fatten you up. Although you have no qualms with how good each dish is. More importantly, the spark in his eyes when he watches you wolf it all down in delight and then thank him later for the meal.

Miya Osamu, who found it a bit awkward the first time you called him Samu. You noticed and never used the name again, until one day he just randomly gives you permission over text:

It's fine. Calling me Samu. I'm just not used to outsiders using it. I mostly hear it from my blockhead brother, but it's fine... If you use it too.

Miya Osamu, who immediately bid you goodnight and went straight to bed—or rather, buried himself underneath his sheets, wondering why he had to send something so cringy.

Why does it matter whether you call him samu or not? It's just a name he and his brother made up when they were younger to sound cool after meeting Aran.

Miya Osamu, who couldn't hide his five-second smile when you met the next day at school for lunch and you used the name "Samu" while waving and running up to him.

Miya Osamu, who's finding it harder to hide from the rest of the team who he texts during practice, immediately after games, and spends his lunch with these days. Although, he's pretty sure Atsumu has caught up and is just waiting for the right time to strike.

Miya Osamu, who plays just a little bit harder and flashier—taking more risks and syncing perfectly with his brother—whenever he knows you're somewhere in the stands watching the game. It's not like he's trying to show off or anything; he just feels more motivated to win, that's all.

Miya Osamu, who's convinced himself that the only reason he thinks about you so much is because you've become his taste tester. Naturally, since he thinks of food often, you somehow manage to make your way into his thoughts as well.

Miya Osamu, who freezes completely in the hallway when, after the bell rang for lunch, he makes his way towards your class. In his hands is the bento box he specifically prepared this morning—he tried a new recipe and is excited to see what you think. He even cut the sausages into cute octopuses 🐙🍱.

You're at the hallway alright, just like usual. However, you're not alone. The blockhead blond setter of Inarizaki high is standing right beside you with his arm thrown over your shoulder, leaning in to whisper something into your ear that, to Osamu's horror, makes you break out into that same laughter he's become so familiar with.

[luxinglan]

Miya Osamu, whom you worry might not really like you because he rarely hangs out with you in front of the team.

Miya Osamu, whom you really want to get close to by any means—starting with learning how to make Onigiri from him.

Miya Osamu, whom you convince to give you his number so he can share recipes with you over text.

Miya Osamu, whom you successfully bait into longer chats on weekends on topics that have nothing to do with food.

Miya Osamu, who while discussing his childhood and how he got into volleyball, sends you some pictures of himself, when he was younger—most of them showing him with food or a snack, which you thought were really cute.

Miya Osamu, who has no idea that you took those pictures very seriously and already have them saved in a private folder.

Miya Osamu, whose recent photo of his last summer break you really want to make your wallpaper, but decide not to because you're not that close... Yet.

Miya Osamu, who slowly begins to look forward to your messages, though of course he never says it out loud.

Miya Osamu, who still thinks you're terrible at making onigiri and is pretty sure you'll always be terrible at it, but still wants to keep spending time with you, hence he isn't too mean with his criticisms so you won't drop the idea.

Miya Osamu, who's reluctant to interact with you along with the rest of the team because he's worried they'll steal all your attention from him and poke their noses into your business—save for Kita of course.

Miya Osamu, who catches himself smiling when you randomly hand your phone over to him to hold while you return to your class to grab the books you forgot, and he hesitantly decides to call you to see what his name was stored as.

Miya Osamu, who ignores his brother's inquiries about whom he has stored as "Onigiri Butcher" on his phone.

Miya Osamu, who makes you onigiri regularly—at first just as an example of what ACTUALLY EDIBLE onigiri is supposed to be, but now it's just so he can see that wide smile of bliss on your face whenever you take the first bite of his meal.

[luxinglan]

Miya Osamu, the first time you saw him, like everyone else you immediately compared him to his twin brother Atsumu. They were similar and yet quite different.

Miya Osamu, the next time you saw him you couldn't help but notice how eagerly he devoured his onigiri lunch. 'A foodie', you noted mentally, filling the information into some personal part of your brain. Not even realizing it until you also noted how he almost lets the 10 second timer pass before he makes his serve in order to apply more pressure to the opposing team.

Miya Osamu, who you think is just as annoying as his twin, but now you're not so sure. 'I mean... He's a little bit cute? Or at least more tolerable?' When he's sleeping, eating, just blankly thinking and still attractive when he becomes intense on the court. Syncing perfectly with his twin brother.

Miya Osamu, who thinks the reason why you're always staring towards his direction and coming to see his matches is because you're one of many who's interested in his dumb brother. The impressive setter of the team.

Miya Osamu, Who's surprised when you privately offer him an onigiri, a homemade one too. When he's done eating it, you ask him how it tastes and he blankly tells you that it's completely horrible. A few seconds pass between you two before he adds, or rather makes an offer. If you're up to it, he could teach you how to make them properly... Onigiris.

[luxinglan]

Ken Kaneki the kind of guy you've always had a subtle crush on.

Ken kaneki the kind of guy you'd arrange to be your tutor. You're not too bad at the subject, but you want to be better. Plus you get to see him regularly. Randomly taking subtle peeks at his face when he's focused on his work. Coming early only to find him already waiting there every single time. You wonder if it's just because of the money or if he's also looking forward to the lessons as much as you are.

Ken kaneki the kind of guy who makes you like him even more by how cute he is, but at the same time drives you insane by how oblivious he seems to be. 'Or is he just immune?'. Brushing your hand against his on purpose when reaching for the eraser, and he apologies for the sudden contact, requesting for more coffee so you could stay together for longer. Keeping strong eye contact with him while he explains a topic until he turns his head away, the tips of his ears turning red.

Kan kaneki who likes older women. An information you bribed out of the loud mouth of his best friend, Hideyoshi Nagachika, over a simple meal of burger and fries. You're grateful about the extra information you got but still annoyed about how easy he was.

Kan kaneki who isn't sure whether you actually like him or whether he's being too hopeful and delusional at the same time, because anything that seems perfect for him has often been too good to be true.

Ken kaneki who really wants to kiss you, when you're putting what he just explained into practice and you completely zone out of your surroundings, hiding part of his face behind a book while secretly staring at you. Noting every single bit of your features, wishing he could touch it badly.

Ken kaneki who you finally get frustrated with and confess your feelings to, making a move to kiss him at the end of a tutoring session. While he walks you back home by dusk.

Ken kaneki who gets really confused and flustered when you confess, wondering if he's dreaming. Refusing to acknowledge the reality until he feels your lips on his and he finds himself wrapping his arms around your waist as he pours out his feelings as well through the physical contact.

Ken kaneki who seriously can't believe he's your boyfriend, and struggles to hide how excited he is while still trying to maintain his seriousness during your tutoring sessions. He's determined to make your grades go even higher.

Ken Kaneki your quiet boyfriend with many secrets that you plan to uncover. One by one, until there's nothing left to hide.

[luxinglan]

oh btw babes my main acc is @torusbabe

find my other fics/masterlist there if you'd like to read more from me, love you! and thanks for reading mwahh <33

Yes!!! Thank you for that

[luxinglan]

Sherliam fangirl.😙

Just finished watching Moriarty the Patriot, for the third time🥰🥰. A masterpiece will always remain a masterpiece. Now I understand what daizai from bsd meant when he said "a good book is always good. No matter how many times you've read it"

I need a slice of life S3.....badly!😖🤧🤧