(timeskip, established relationship, domestic chaos, fluff)
Includes Yamaguchi, Hinata, Tanaka, Nishinoya, Kiyoko, Yachi, Daichi, Asahi, Sugawara, Ennoshita, Kinnoshita, Narita
│ you didn’t just build a life together — you built a whole family in secret
(i uh, got a little carried away with this one)
──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────
you don’t mean to be late.
really, the plan was to arrive exactly on time — cheerful, glowing, relaxed, the picture of a couple who absolutely has their life together.
but life with a one-year-old does not care about plans.
so instead of walking into the karasuno reunion fashionably composed, you walk in late because your toddler decided to launch his snack cup across the living room, then melt down about wanting it back, then refuse his shoes, then insist on being held while you were trying to get dressed.
and then, five minutes before you were supposed to leave, you saw yourself in the hallway mirror and burst into tears because your shirt suddenly felt too tight.
tsukishima handled it the only way tsukishima knows how — quietly, gently, awkwardly comforting you while the baby clung to his pant leg babbling “mama, mama,” confused why you were upset.
he kissed your temple, rubbed your back in slow circles, told you it was the hormones, that you looked fine, that you could wear whatever you wanted or nothing at all to the reunion and he wouldn’t care. you sniffed, calmed, changed your top, and then reran around trying to get the diaper bag repacked for the hundredth time.
by the time you reach the banquet hall, your toddler is asleep on tsukishima’s shoulder, his little fist curled in the fabric of his shirt. your hand is tucked in tsukki’s free one, and you take a breath before pushing open the door.
inside, the room is warm. buzzing. familiar voices echoing against polished floors. laughter that reaches deep into your chest with a strange nostalgic ache.
everyone is already here.
that first moment — stepping into the room with your baby — feels like walking into a spotlight.
tanaka sees you first.
he doesn’t react right away, because his brain genuinely cannot compute what he’s seeing. his eyes drop to the baby’s soft cheek resting against tsukki’s shoulder, then back up to tsukki’s face, then down again. then up. then down.
he grips noya’s arm so hard the man yelps.
“bro,” tanaka whispers, voice cracking, “is that— is that— tsukishima is holding a BABY—”
noya doesn’t even look. “okay but whose baby—”
tanaka grabs his chin and physically turns his head.
noya’s eyes bulge.
he shrieks.
loudly.
the entire room falls silent, every face whipping toward the entrance.
and then chaos detonates.
“WHAT— WHAT— YOU HAVE A BABY?!” noya screams, rushing toward you at a speed that should be illegal.
“WHERE DID YOU GET A BABY?!” tanaka yells, following behind.
hinata nearly trips over a table sprinting toward you. “WAIT— IS THAT YOUR BABY?!”
kageyama just stares, slack-jawed, like he’s watching olympic footage of a sport he doesn’t understand. “the baby… looks like tsukishima…” he murmurs.
asahi makes a soft wounded noise. suga gasps dramatically and grabs daichi’s arm.
yachi starts hyperventilating almost instantly. “OH MY GOD— OH MY GOD— I DON’T— I DON’T KNOW HOW TO BE AN AUNT— I CAN’T— KIYOKO WHAT IF IT CRIES— WHAT IF IT EXPLODES— BABIES EXPLODE SOMETIMES RIGHT— KIYOKO I NEED A MANUAL—”
kiyoko puts a calm hand on her shoulder, the embodiment of quiet competence. “babies don’t explode,” she says, then turns to you with the faintest smile. “he’s beautiful.”
tsukishima adjusts the baby in his arms, his expression mostly neutral, but you see the small protective curl of his fingers at the back of your son’s head.
everyone else is losing their minds.
tanaka is pointing frantically. “WHY DO YOU HAVE A BABY— WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN— DID YOU TWO— DID YOU—”
noya smacks tsukishima in the shoulder. “DID YOU KNOCK HER UP AT EIGHTEEN?! IS THAT WHAT HAPPENED?!”
tsukishima narrows his eyes. “stop hitting me.”
“ANSWER THE QUESTION!”
hinata leans in close to you, whispering urgently, “blink twice if he stole the baby.”
yamaguchi finally runs over, bright and cheerful, completely unbothered. he beams at the baby and gently pokes his cheek.
“you got so big since i last saw you,” he coos.
everyone stops. stares at him.
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN SINCE YOU LAST SAW HIM?!” tanaka demands.
yamaguchi blinks. “he’s my godson.”
the room EXPLODES again.
your son wakes up at the noise, blinking with sleepy confusion. you take him from tsukki’s arms, rocking him gently, murmuring soft reassurance against his hair. he curls into your chest with a little sigh, thumb going straight into his mouth.
half the team melts at the sight.
daichi looks like he’s witnessing a miracle. suga wipes a tear. hinata clutches his chest and whispers, “he’s so cute…” like he might actually die.
noya, however, recovers first.
“okay, okay, okay,” he says, pointing aggressively at tsukishima. “i can accept the baby. maybe. eventually. but YOU— TSUKISHIMA KEI— YOU CANNOT JUST SHOW UP WITH A WHOLE-ASS TODDLER WITHOUT EXPLAINING ANYTHING.”
“yeah!” tanaka yells. “YOU GOTTA MARRY HER NOW!”
tsukishima gives him a look so flat it could iron clothes. “tanaka. shut up.”
but the room is already spiraling again, everyone shouting over each other.
“are you two even together?”
“have you been hiding a secret relationship this whole time?”
“tsukishima did you knock her up and then disappear to send postcards?”
“how old is the baby— when were you DOING THESE THINGS—”
“TSUKKI YOU’RE A DAD WHAT IS GOING ON—”
“does he even know how to change a diaper??”
“you made a WHOLE BABY???”
“are you living together— WAIT OH MY GOD ARE YOU—”
yachi is on the verge of tears. “does this mean i have to babysit— i can’t babysit— what if i drop him— i’ve never held a baby— kiyoko what if he turns into dust—”
kiyoko hands you a water bottle like you just ran a marathon. “you look radiant,” she says calmly. “ignore them.”
tsukki stands behind you, one hand resting on your lower back, thumb tracing tiny reassurance circles no one else would ever notice.
he’s quiet.
too quiet.
which is tsukishima’s version of screaming.
tanaka suddenly points again. “WAIT— WHY DOES YOUR STOMACH LOOK—”
his eyes widen.
then noya gasps. suga claps a hand over his mouth. yachi screams. daichi freezes. kageyama squints like he’s doing long division.
“ARE YOU— PREGNANT AGAIN??!” hinata shrieks.
the room detonates for the third time.
you feel tsukishima stiffen behind you. he’s trying so hard to remain composed, but the muscle in his jaw jumps.
noya hits him again. “TSUKISHIMA KEI. YOU HAVE ONE BABY. YOU HAVE ANOTHER ONE COOKING. AND YOU HAVEN’T EVEN MARRIED HER YET?! YOU ABSOLUTE MENACE—”
you and tsukki share a look.
it’s time.
“actually,” you say, raising your voice just enough over the chaos, “we are married.”
silence.
absolute silence.
even the baby stops babbling.
hinata’s eyes are huge. “you’re— what?”
you repeat, calmly:
“we are married.”
tanaka drops to his knees.
noya screams into the void.
“NO YOU AREN’T. STOP LYING—”
you shrug lightly. “for almost three years, actually.”
it is the loudest silence you have ever heard in your life.
and then—
the room explodes so violently you’re surprised the windows stay intact.
tanaka falls backward onto the floor like he’s been shot. noya runs in a circle, screaming. suga cries openly. daichi gives up entirely and sits in a chair like a man who’s seen too much. asahi clasps his hands like he’s praying for strength. hinata makes a noise only dogs can hear. kageyama, overwhelmed, mutters “married… babies… tsukishima…?” like he’s trying to force incompatible puzzle pieces together.
yachi sputters and clutches kiyoko’s arm. “i didn’t— i didn’t get them a wedding present— I DIDN’T GO TO THE WEDDING— KIYOKO I FAILED—”
kiyoko pats her shoulder. “the wedding was years ago. you can give a baby present instead.”
hinata is the first to regain enough brain function to speak actual words. “WAIT— WAIT— WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN? HOW? NO SERIOUSLY HOW. HOW DID YOU TWO GET MARRIED WITHOUT TELLING ANYONE?!”
tanaka suddenly sits up, eyes wild. “DID YOU ELOPE?! DID YOU DO IT AT A CITY HALL?! DID YOU— DID YOU HAVE A SECRET CEREMONY WITHOUT INVITING US?!”
noya clutches his chest dramatically. “I COULD HAVE BEEN A FLOWER GIRL— YOU STOLE THAT FROM ME—”
tsukki rubs his temples. “you are a grown man.”
“SO?!” noya shrieks.
yamaguchi, meanwhile, is staring at tsukki with the most betrayed, heartbroken expression you have ever seen.
“kei…” his voice cracks. “i knew about the baby. i knew about the godfather thing. i thought we told each other everything. but you— but you— YOU LEFT OUT A WHOLE MARRIAGE?! WHEN DID YOU GET MARRIED?!”
tsukishima shifts the diaper bag on his shoulder, avoiding eye contact like a guilty dog. “two years and eight months ago.”
yamaguchi’s jaw drops. “WE WERE STILL TEENAGERS.”
“technically,” tsukki says quietly, “we were nineteen.”
“THAT IS STILL A TEENAGER!” yamaguchi explodes.
the baby wiggles in your arms at the shouting, and tsukki immediately reaches to steady his curls, smoothing a hand over the back of his head. the gesture is so gentle it short-circuits half the room.
hinata stares at tsukki like he’s witnessing the softest creature on earth. “tsukishima is… affectionate? tsukishima… is being gentle?? tsukishima is a DAD???”
kageyama squints hard at the baby, then at your stomach, then at tsukishima. “you reproduced… twice. that doesn’t seem right.”
tsukki shoots him a flat look. “are you saying i’m biologically incapable of mating?”
kageyama sputters so hard you think he might combust.
noya slaps tanaka’s arm. “SEE?! SEE?! I TOLD YOU THEY WERE SECRETLY DATING SINCE HIGH SCHOOL. I TOLD YOU. I HAVE BEEN VINDICATED.”
“HOW WERE WE SUPPOSED TO KNOW?!” tanaka howls. “THEY WERE SO SUBTLE.”
you raise your eyebrows. “subtle? tsukki used to walk me home every day.”
“YEAH,” tanaka says, “BUT HE DIDN’T CALL YOU BABE OR ANYTHING.”
tsukishima shrugs. “i don’t talk like that.”
hinata points furiously. “AND YOU JUST— GOT MARRIED WITHOUT— WITHOUT—”
he gestures violently at the group as if “telling your friends” is a universal law.
tsukki exhales slowly. “we didn’t hide it on purpose.”
“THE LIES,” tanaka mutters dramatically.
“THE BETRAYAL,” noya adds.
“THE DECEIT,” hinata says for good measure.
tsukki’s eyes narrow. “you all just… never asked.”
they freeze.
you bite your lip, fighting a smile.
“WAIT—” noya sputters. “WE HAVE TO ASK IF YOU GOT MARRIED— WHO DOES THAT— WHO— NORMAL FRIENDS WOULD TELL—”
“you’re all idiots,” tsukishima says under his breath.
yamaguchi shakes his head in disbelief. “kei… i can’t believe you did this. i can’t believe you kept THIS from me.” then his voice softens, eyes glistening as he looks at you. “but… i'm also really happy for you. both of you.”
you smile, touched. tsukki does too — barely — but enough that yamaguchi sees it.
and then tsukishima shifts his weight, settling beside you, slipping a hand over the curve of your stomach with a quiet sincerity that hushes the entire room for a moment.
you feel his thumb graze the side of your belly, slow, reverent. like he’s grounding himself. like he’s reminding the world — reminding himself — that this is real.
“we just wanted some peace,” he says softly, meant only for you but loud enough that the nearest few hear it. “before the whole world found out.”
your heart pulls tight.
suga sniffles loudly. “i’m going to ugly-cry, i swear to god.”
tanaka sobs even louder. “TSUKKI LOVES HER. HE REALLY LOVES HER. OH MY GOD.”
noya is slapping hinata’s shoulder repeatedly. “LOOK AT HIM. LOOK AT HIM BEING A HUSBAND AND A DAD. WHO GAVE HIM PERMISSION—”
tsukki rolls his eyes but his cheeks are red.
“don’t make a big deal out of it,” he mutters.
“IT IS A BIG DEAL,” hinata argues. “you… you built a whole family without us knowing!”
tanaka leans close to the baby. “what’s his name??”
you tell them, and half the group melts instantly.
“HE HAS YOUR EYES,” suga cries.
“THE CURLS— LOOK AT HIS CURLS—” hinata squeals.
“TSUKI MADE A CUTE BABY??” noya gasps. “IS HE MAGIC??”
tanaka nods seriously. “i always knew he had good genetics.”
“stop talking,” tsukki says.
but he’s fighting a smile — losing badly.
the room is starting to soften now, laughter replacing shock, warmth pushing out the chaos.
and then yachi squeaks, “WAIT— DOES THE BABY CALL YOU MOM AND DAD—”
everyone stares.
tsukki looks away, ears pink. “yes.”
and the screaming starts all over again.
the screaming reaches a new, untamed height the moment the word “dad” enters the room.
tanaka throws his head back like he’s been struck by lightning.
noya crumples into a crouch, overwhelmed.
hinata clutches his own face.
kageyama mutters “dad… tsukishima…?” like he’s watching the laws of physics collapse.
asahi wipes tears that weren’t even falling.
suga looks like he’s experiencing the most beautiful heartbreak of his life.
daichi has reached a state beyond comprehension — acceptance? dissociation? both?
tsukishima, for his part, looks like he wants the floor to swallow him whole… but the baby makes a soft noise in your arms, reaching toward him, and tsukki instinctively extends his hands.
the shift is immediate.
the moment your son is in his arms again, tsukishima’s whole expression melts. just subtly — softened eyelids, gentler posture, thumb resting under the baby’s tiny hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
and the room goes silent again.
silent because they’re all watching him.
silent because none of them have ever seen tsukishima kei be soft.
hinata whispers, “he’s… cuddling.”
tanaka elbows him. “bro’s got DAD ENERGY.”
noya leans forward. “look at him. petting the kid’s hair. like a cat. tsukishima’s a domestic housewife.”
tsukki flicks a glare at him. “i am literally standing here.”
“AND YOU’RE DOING A GREAT JOB,” noya beams.
tsukki’s eye twitches.
but he keeps rubbing the baby’s back.
yamaguchi, still standing closest to you, finally exhales the tension he’s been holding since the first reveal. he looks between you and tsukki with something soft, grateful, relieved. “i really am happy for you,” he says quietly. “this suits you. both of you.”
you squeeze his arm gently. “thank you, yama”
tsukishima clears his throat, embarrassed, shifting the baby on his hip. “he’s right,” he adds awkwardly. “you’re a good godfather.”
yamaguchi beams so brightly it nearly outshines the overhead lights.
meanwhile, the rest of the team finally regroups — and promptly dives into chaos again.
“SHOW THE WEDDING PHOTOS!” hinata demands, practically vibrating.
“YEAH!” tanaka agrees. “DID TSUKISHIMA SMILE? DID HE CRY? DID HE PASS OUT? WHAT WERE THE VOWS—”
“PLEASE tell me he wore a tie that was too tight,” noya says. “i need to know.”
“he wore a bowtie,” you say without thinking.
the room collectively gasps.
“HE WORE A BOWTIE?!” suga squeals.
tsukishima groans. “stop talking!”
but you can’t help it — remembering the tiny details warms you from the inside. “it was burgundy,” you add, unable to hide the smile tugging at your lips.
noya’s jaw drops. “TSUKISHIMA HAS A FAVORITE COLOR????”
“AND IT’S ROMANTIC??” tanaka screams.
“it is not romantic,” tsukki mutters.
“it’s literally a romantic color,” hinata argues.
“it’s literally just a color,” tsukki fires back.
the baby babbles happily in his father’s arms, patting at the fabric of tsukki’s shirt like he’s trying to calm him down.
everyone melts again.
hinata leans in. “YOU HAVE A LITTLE FAMILY,” he says, voice trembling with soft joy. “you two actually— tsukki you actually—”
he can’t finish the sentence.
the emotion is too much.
tsukki’s face goes pink.
“yeah,” he answers quietly. “we do.”
and it settles over the room — the weight of it. the warmth of it. the sheer surreal joy that one of them has grown into this version of adulthood, unexpected but perfect in its own way.
you feel tsukki’s hand brush your back, stabilizing you. you lean into him, head resting lightly on his arm with the baby between you.
for a moment, everything is soft.
until—
tanaka slaps both palms on the table.
“OKAY BUT REAL QUESTION,” he says loudly. “WHY DID TSUKI get married before any of us?! HOW?! HOW DID THIS GUY BEAT US?!”
tsukishima smirks.
smirks.
full, slow, confidence dripping off him like he’s waited his whole life for this exact accusation.
“simple,” he says, adjusting his glasses with his free hand. “i’m better than all of you.”
you nearly choke laughing.
noya throws himself to the floor. “HE’S GLOATING. OH MY GOD HE’S ACTUALLY GLOATING—”
hinata groans in betrayal. “TSUKKI!!!”
“HEY—” asahi protests weakly. “some of us just aren’t ready—”
daichi crosses his arms. “marriage is a serious decision—”
suga sniffles again. “BUT THEY LOOK SO HAPPY—”
“why didn’t you invite us…” yachi whispers sadly.
tsukki sighs, softening again. “it wasn’t personal. it was… something we wanted for ourselves. something private.”
you nod. “if we had invited all of you, tanaka and noya would’ve set something on fire.”
“she’s not wrong,” kiyoko confirms.
daichi rubs his forehead. “she’s definitely not wrong.”
the group collectively accepts this.
tsukishima shifts again, adjusting the baby who’s now drifting toward sleep on his shoulder, tiny hand clutching his collar. he glances down at him with a look so tender it pulls at your heart.
and when he looks back at the team, he finally says — quietly but confidently:
“i love my family. i don’t need to justify that to anyone.”
silence falls.
a real one.
one filled with warmth this time — the kind that sits soft in your chest.
suga wipes tears. “look at him,” he whispers. “all grown up.”
tanaka shakes his head dramatically. “i hate it here. i hate that tsukishima won.”
noya points at you. “YOU MADE HIM SOFT— THIS IS YOUR FAULT—”
you laugh. “i think fatherhood made him soft.”
“no,” hinata says seriously, pointing at tsukki’s face as he presses a gentle kiss to the top of your sleeping toddler’s hair, “that’s marriage soft.”
tsukki groans. “i regret telling you people anything.”
but his hand finds yours.
his thumb traces slow pressure over your wedding band.
the other hand keeps your son steady against his chest.
and his body curls ever so slightly toward your belly — protective, instinctive.
a soft, instinctive gesture that says:
this is mine.
my family.
my life.
my choice.
and as your friends erupt into another round of chaos — arguing over baby names, demanding wedding photos, fighting over who gets to be “uncle” first — tsukishima stands beside you, tall and steady and quietly proud, like the chaos could never touch you again.
HI HONEYYY!!
I LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE YOU FOR WRITING MY REQ HEHE. Tysm for writing, that healed my soul. >_<
HELLOO IM SO GLAD YOU LOVED IT!!!🥰 so so soooo sorry for the very late reply, I started school a few weeks ago and have been busy since🥴 I hope to come on soon and continue writing fics!! Love you all!!☺️
Can I req my super glorious, handsome, ineffable, pretty, lovely, sweet, baby, boyfriend, husband, soulmate TSUKISHIMA being such a loser? I want em successfully ragebaiting his s/o and then loose his mind if they start to be mad fr
That description of him is so real😚 so sorry this took so long, here is your request of tsukishima ragebaiting his s/o then going crazy when s/o does actually get mad👀
wc: 1.1k
tsukki being a loser and down bad for reader deep down, gender neutral reader
There’s something fundamentally wrong with the smug way Tsukishima grins when he knows he’s gotten under your skin.
It starts innocently. A throwaway comment over breakfast while you scroll on your phone and he rifles through the fridge like it’s personally insulted him.
“You know, I don’t think you could beat me in a game of anything,” he says casually, grabbing the milk like this isn’t the start of war.
You glance up. “What, like volleyball?”
“No. That’s unfair. I mean like mental games. You’re too emotionally driven. Predictable.”
You blink slowly at him. “Predictable?”
He takes a sip of his coffee, then looks at you with a dangerous little smirk. “I bet I could make you mad in two minutes. One, if I didn’t care about consequences.”
You set your phone down.
“What consequences?” you ask coolly.
“You giving me the silent treatment. Maybe pouting. You know, baby tantrums.”
Your eye twitches. He’s lucky you don’t throw the toast at his head.
Still, you decide not to let it get to you. Because that’s exactly what he wants. He thrives off reactions, off watching you squirm and snap. So instead, you look him dead in the eyes and smile sweetly.
“Cute,” you hum. “You think being a walking trivia bot makes you clever.”
His brow twitches.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. You’re the type of guy who reads one Wikipedia article and thinks he’s the second coming of Einstein.”
“You asked me if penguins have knees.”
“It was a joke.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
You throw a napkin at his face. He flicks it off, smirking wider.
This goes on all morning. His favorite hobby—ragebaiting you. Testing your limits. Poking the bear and acting shocked when it growls.
Later, you’re stretched out on the couch, and he’s lounging at the other end, lazy and smug, fingers tapping idly on your leg as you try to focus on Mario Kart.
“You always pout when you’re losing,” he mutters.
“I’m not losing.”
“You are. It’s kind of endearing.”
“Tsukki…”
“Like a baby learning how to walk. So determined. So unaware of how tragic it looks.”
You pause the game. You don’t even look at him.
Then, slowly, you place the controller down and stand up.
He blinks. “What, seriously? Come on. Don’t tell me you’re mad.”
You don’t answer. You walk straight to the bedroom, shut the door quietly, and say nothing.
For a moment, there’s silence.
Then he calls out.
“Babe?”
You say nothing.
“Hey. Don’t be like that.”
Still nothing.
He comes to the door. Knocks once.
“Alright, I’ll admit, I pushed it. But you’ve got to admit I was kinda funny.”
You pull out your phone and scroll.
Ten minutes pass.
Fifteen.
The knock comes again, a little more hesitant this time.
“Are you giving me the silent treatment? Seriously?”
You continue to say nothing. You know him. Tsukishima Kei thinks he’s untouchable. Thinks he can get away with anything as long as he throws in a lazy smirk and an “I love you” when things get dicey.
So this time, you decide to play the long game.
You ice him out. Properly.
No reactions. No biting back. No glares, no playful shoves. Just cool, distant civility.
He’s confused at first. You still sit beside him at dinner, still respond when he asks a direct question, but the warmth is gone.
He tries teasing you again. Pokes at your cheek. Makes a snide little comment about your taste in TV shows.
You hum noncommittally and go back to your food.
No smile. No sass. Just ice.
He stares at you, completely thrown.
The next day, he asks if you want to go out for lunch.
“I’m busy,” you say, without looking up.
“Too busy for me?” he tries, like it’s a joke.
“Too busy for games.”
His smile slips.
On day three, he comes home with your favorite snacks and places them silently in front of you.
You glance at them. Say nothing. Pick up one, eat it without reaction.
“I got the chocolate kind,” he says, sounding hopeful.
“Cool.”
He’s unraveling. You can feel it.
By day five, he’s lost it entirely.
“Okay,” he snaps, finally, “this is ridiculous.”
You look up from your book.
“What is?”
“This. You pretending not to be mad while giving me the cold shoulder like I kicked your puppy.”
You tilt your head. “You wanted to get a reaction. Now you’re not getting one, and you’re upset?”
He clenches his jaw. “I was messing around. You always bite back.”
“Maybe I got tired.”
He steps closer. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Act like I’m not standing here trying to fix it. You’re being unfair.”
You close your book.
“You called me emotionally predictable. You made fun of me. And then when I walked away, you treated it like a joke. So yeah, I decided to stop reacting. That’s what you wanted, right?”
Tsukishima’s face falls completely.
His hands twitch at his sides, unsure whether to reach for you.
“I didn’t mean to actually hurt you.”
“I know,” you say. “But that doesn’t mean you didn’t.”
The silence that follows is heavy.
Then, he exhales. Steps forward.
His voice is lower, quiet now.
“I was being a loser,” he says. “A smug, insufferable, annoying loser.”
You stare.
“I miss you,” he adds, more softly. “Even when you’re three feet away, it feels like you’re gone. I hate it.”
That earns a twitch in your expression. Just barely.
He sees it.
“I’ll stop,” he says quickly. “Seriously. The teasing, the comments—whatever you want. I’ll stop being a smartass.”
You finally look up at him fully.
“I don’t want you to stop being you,” you say. “I just want you to respect that I’m not always in the mood to be your chew toy.”
His expression softens. He nods.
Then, in a small voice: “So… you’re not leaving me forever?”
You blink. “You really thought I was breaking up with you?”
“You wouldn’t even touch the gummy bears. That’s how I knew it was bad.”
You try not to smile. You really try.
But it cracks. Just a little.
He sees it, and relief floods his entire body.
You roll your eyes and hold out your arms.
He practically falls into them.
“Still a loser,” you murmur against his chest.
“The biggest,” he mumbles. “But I’m your loser.”
Tyy for the req! Should I make a part 2 where reader ragebaits him back as revenge and he loses it in a different kind of way?
oh definitely. at first he’s all stiff and awkward like “whatever it’s just a kiss” but then you pull away too soon and he’s like. “…that’s it?” and now you’re stuck with a grumpy, clingy, kiss-hungry boyfriend. but once he’s opened up and you guys have been together a long time i’d say as soon as you guys are alone, he’s the clingiest guy ever.
I think pocky challenge with Osamu would be interesting!
Sweet Enough₊˚ෆ
sososoooo sorry for the late replyㅠㅠ I haven't been on for a few days but now I am back!
I love the idea and osamu☺️
wc: 1k words
warnings: none, fluff, grossed out tsumu, established relationship, gender neutral reader
── .✦
You were lounging on the couch in Osamu’s apartment, your legs stretched across his lap as he scrolled through his phone. The TV buzzed in the background, but neither of you were really watching. It was just one of those lazy afternoons where time didn’t really matter. The kind where everything felt warm and easy.
Then you spotted the pink box on the coffee table.
“Osamu,” you said, poking his thigh with your toe. “You’ve been hiding strawberry Pocky from me?”
He glanced down at the box, then at you, feigning innocence. “It’s not hidin’. It’s called savin’.”
“For yourself?”
“Obviously.”
You gasped, dramatically sitting up and snatching the box. “That’s so selfish of you.”
He grinned, leaning back against the couch. “Ya love me for it.”
You tore open the top and held one stick up like a trophy. “Pocky challenge. Right now.”
Osamu blinked, then chuckled. “Aren’t we a little old for that?”
“Excuse you, we’re adorable and in love. There’s no age limit for romantic nonsense.”
“You just wanna kiss me.”
“I always wanna kiss you,” you replied without hesitation.
That shut him up for a second. The way your voice had gone soft, sincere. He bit the inside of his cheek, then looked at you with that gentle, lopsided smile that always made your heart feel like melting ice cream.
“Alright then. Let’s do it.”
You placed the Pocky stick between your lips and scooted closer. Osamu leaned in, his expression unreadable at first, until you noticed the subtle smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He bit down on the other end, and the game was on.
He didn’t rush it. Of course he didn’t. Osamu was methodical, calculated, a slow-burn kind of guy, whether he was cooking, teasing, or falling in love with you. So he took his sweet time, eyes locked on yours, inching closer with every tiny bite.
You could feel the warmth radiating off of him, your heart hammering with each breath as the stick got shorter and shorter.
Halfway through, you tried to pull back and laugh, maybe just to break the tension, but he raised an eyebrow like, don’t even think about it, and kept going.
By the time there was barely any space between you, your cheeks were burning and your lips tingled with anticipation. The last piece of Pocky snapped between you. Before you could even register what happened, Osamu leaned in and kissed you.
Not one of those shy, quick kisses. No, this one was gentle but firm, like he wanted to savor the moment and the strawberry taste on your lips. His hand cradled your cheek as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss just slightly, as if to say, you’re the sweetest thing in the room.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. Neither of you said anything right away. You were too busy catching your breath and grinning like an idiot.
“Well?” he asked quietly, voice rough with amusement. “That sweet enough for ya?”
You laughed, reaching up to brush his bangs from his eyes. “I think I still taste more Pocky than boyfriend.”
“Oh yeah?” He smirked and leaned in again. “Guess I better fix that.”
And fix it he did, with another kiss, slower and even sweeter than the last.
A little bonus ꩜ .ᐟ
When you finally pulled apart, tangled in each other and a little dazed, Osamu reached for the Pocky box again.
“Rematch?” you asked, eyebrows raised.
He held up the box and gave you a wicked grin. “Nah. I just wanted another snack.”
“Rude,” you said, stealing the stick from his hand and biting it yourself.
Osamu leaned back, eyes half-lidded as he watched you chew. “Still not sweeter than you, though.”
You nearly choked on the biscuit. “You’re so corny.”
“And you still love me.”
You couldn’t argue with that.
Right on cue, the front door opened without warning, followed by the unmistakable voice of Atsumu echoing through the hallway.
“Oi, ‘Samu, did ya—” He stopped mid-sentence as he walked into the living room and immediately made a face. “Oh my god. Seriously?”
Osamu didn’t even flinch. “What?”
“You’re makin’ me sick over here,” Atsumu groaned, tossing his keys onto the table. “I walk in and you’re feedin’ each other like a pair of lovesick pigeons. Can’t ya do that in private?”
You snorted and leaned further into Osamu, who just looked smug. “Maybe knock next time, Miya.”
Atsumu gagged dramatically. “Don’t say my last name while bein’ all cuddly. Disgustin’. I’m gonna get takeout instead. Enjoy your... whatever this is.”
He left as quickly as he came, muttering something about "emotional damage" as the door clicked shut behind him.
You and Osamu burst into laughter, still curled up together.
“Wanna traumatize him again next week?” you asked.
Osamu grinned. “Already lookin’ forward to it.”
── .✦
tyty for the request! I loved it (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) keep them coming⋆˙⟡
okay anon who requested the Yamamoto and manager reader thing, you write such good stuff so quickly I love it 😭♥️ -☁️ (can I be referred to as cloud anon?😋)
Hi!! Yes ofc! I’ll refer to you as cloud anon from now on and tysm!! I’m glad you liked it ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )
“You two better brace yourselves,” Yamamoto said, arms crossed, eyes shining with smug energy. “I’m about to ruin your entire worldview.”
Tanaka glanced over with a frown. “What’s your damage this time?”
“Is this about Nekoma’s libero?” Nishinoya asked. “Because I’ve already accepted he’s cracked. That’s fine.”
“No, no. It’s not that.” Yamamoto turned, gesturing across the gym. “It’s her.”
You stood at the sidelines, clipboard in hand, scribbling notes with a steady grace that didn’t belong in a noisy, chaotic gym. The sleeves of your red Nekoma jacket were zipped open just enough to show the thin chain of your bracelet glinting under the lights. Your hair swayed gently as you moved, long and effortlessly styled, catching the light in a way that made you look like you’d stepped straight out of a drama.
Tanaka blinked. “Who’s… that?”
“She’s our new manager,” Yamamoto said proudly. “Third year. In Kuroo’s class. He helped get her on the team, but really, she didn’t need the help. She walked in and everyone just listened. No yelling. No chaos. Just…” He gestured vaguely. “Senpai energy.”
You turned at that moment, making eye contact with the three of them briefly. Your eyes were calm, intelligent, and sharp in a way that cut straight through any idiocy. You gave them a soft, polite smile. Not flirty. Not too warm. Just enough to kill them a little.
Tanaka audibly swallowed. “She smiled.”
“She smiled at me,” Nishinoya hissed. “I was slightly more in her line of sight.”
“Are you kidding? She was looking past you.”
“She clearly respects me as a fellow short king.”
“Shut up, Yuu. She doesn’t even know you.”
“She will when I ask her what kind of pen she’s using. It’s called a natural conversation.”
“That’s your plan?”
Yamamoto looked like he was watching a nature documentary about self-destruction. “I warned you.”
“She’s got that cool beauty thing going on,” Tanaka muttered. “Like, lips perfectly lined without trying. You know what I mean?”
“And her hair—” Nishinoya started, breathless.
“Like it floats,” Tanaka finished.
“Like it has better conditioning than my entire soul,” Nishinoya agreed.
You walked past them then, your stride even and composed. There was a soft cherry tint to your lips that made their brains short-circuit. You didn’t say anything, just gave a slight nod as you passed, the edge of your ponytail brushing your shoulder.
Tanaka turned in slow motion. “I think I’m in love.”
“You already are in love—with Kiyoko-san!” Nishinoya barked.
“I can’t help it if I’m emotionally complex!”
“You traitor.”
“She’s just a different kind of angel!”
You didn’t say much as you joined Kiyoko and Yachi by the benches. Kiyoko handed you a bottle of water without a word, her expression calm, unreadable as always. Yachi was nervously adjusting towels on the bench, cheeks pink, eyes flicking back and forth between you two like she couldn’t believe she was standing in the presence of two composed goddesses. (I stand for lesbian yachi)
The three of you stood together for just a second, saying nothing. No wild gestures. No competition. No attention-seeking. Just calm, collected managers radiating unshakable serenity. Three girls in red and black jackets that represent their team, hair neat, eyes focused, a wall of silent strength behind every reckless boy on the court.
And behind you—
Pure chaos.
Tanaka had dropped his water bottle. It bounced off his foot and rolled under a bench, but he didn’t notice. He was staring, slack-jawed.
Nishinoya had one hand over his chest like he’d been shot.
Yamamoto was gripping the railing beside him like he needed support just to keep standing.
The three of them stood frozen, wide-eyed, breathless, staring at you and Kiyoko and Yachi like they’d just seen the final evolution of beauty itself.
“They’re… all together,” Tanaka whispered.
“This is too much,” Nishinoya said, voice breaking.
“It’s like a crossover episode I didn’t know I needed,” Yamamoto whispered reverently.
“They look like they belong on the cover of a shoujo manga,” Tanaka added.
“They look like they’d ignore us in a hallway,” Nishinoya said.
“They already do ignore us,” Yamamoto replied.
Yachi leaned in nervously. “Um, they’re still staring.”
“They’ll stop,” you said quietly.
Kiyoko didn’t even glance back. “Ignore them.”
And you did.
Tanaka sighed.
“I’m never recovering from this.”
── .✦
Omg I really liked that :D I enjoyed writing it, ty for the idea! Keep them coming! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)
How the nekoma boys react to you suddenly kissing them ´꒳`
wc: 0.7k
warnings: none, fluff, established feelings or mutual pining, gender-neutral reader ⟡
kind of (?) inspired by this song/edit ⟡
reader x kuroo, kenma, yaku, kai, lev, yamamoto, fukunaga, inuoka ⟡
── .✦
Kuroo Tetsurou
He freezes. Just for a second. Your lips barely pull away when he grabs your wrist, eyes wide but so incredibly bright.
“You just kissed me,” he says, grinning like he just won nationals.
“Yeah,” you murmur, shy now.
“Again,” he whispers, and he doesn’t wait. He leans in and kisses you back, slower this time, like he’s trying to memorize how it feels. When he finally lets you breathe, his thumb grazes your cheek. “You’re never getting rid of me now. Just saying.”
Kenma Kozume
Your lips brush his cheek so softly it could have been a breeze, but his game pauses and his head turns toward you slowly.
“Did you just…?”
You nod, expecting him to shut down or pull away. Instead, he stares at you for a moment, ears pink, then mumbles, “I didn’t say stop.”
He doesn’t kiss you first, but the way his shoulder nudges yours until you do it again says everything. You’ve just become his favorite part of the day.
Yaku Morisuke
You catch him mid-scold about something minor, and kiss him on the mouth before he can finish his sentence. He stiffens like a statue.
“Did you just kiss me to shut me up?”
You smile, and he flushes from the tips of his ears all the way down his neck.
“I mean… it worked,” he grumbles, trying to hide the fact he’s absolutely glowing.
Later, he drags you aside and kisses you for real, mumbling something about how next time he’s the one going first.
Kai Nobuyuki
You kiss him gently after a team dinner, when the others have gone ahead and it’s just the two of you walking in the quiet. He stops mid-step, brows raised in surprise, then gives you the softest smile you’ve ever seen.
“That was… nice,” he says, voice low and calm. “Really nice.”
He takes your hand and laces your fingers together, walking with you the rest of the way in comfortable silence. Before you part, he tugs you a little closer and kisses your forehead like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Let me know when I can kiss you back properly,” he murmurs, warmth in his eyes. “I’d like to do it right.”
Lev Haiba
He’s in the middle of telling a dramatic story, arms flailing, when you step in and kiss him without warning. He gasps—audibly.
“Oh my god.”
“What?”
“You’re in love with me!” he cries, beaming.
You raise a brow. “You just noticed?”
He lifts you off the ground in a full hug, spinning a little. “Best day ever! I’m telling my sister!”
Yamamoto Taketora
You kiss him on the cheek as he’s ranting about your cuteness to Fukunaga, and the way he nearly combusts could power Tokyo tower.
“Y-YOU JUST—DID YOU—”
Fukunaga claps once and walks away, leaving Yamamoto to short-circuit in your presence. He’s trying not to look smug and failing miserably.
Later that night, he messages you: “Hey. That thing you did. You can do it again. Anytime. Please.”
Fukunaga Shouhei
He blinks at you when you press a kiss to his lips, then gently taps his finger against your chin like a silent question. You nod. He leans in and kisses you again, a little longer this time.
He doesn’t say anything. Just rests his forehead against yours and lets the silence stretch comfortably. You hear him hum happily and feel it all the way down to your toes.
Inuoka Sou
He giggles. That’s his first reaction. You kiss him, and he just bursts out laughing, covering his face with his hands.
“Sorry! Sorry! I’m not laughing at you! I’m just—happy! So happy!”
You kiss his nose this time and he literally squeals. He’s buzzing around you like a golden retriever with a crush, absolutely smitten, hands barely able to stay still.
ᯓ★ Drabble of tsukishima dating kageyama’s older sibling but shocked to find out how kageyama is such an obedient little brother to reader ˙ᵕ˙
wc: 1.2k
°˖➴ expanded version of this fic
Tsukishima never expected to date Kageyama’s older sibling. Mostly because he never imagined Kageyama as someone who had siblings, or really, family in general. Kageyama just seemed like the kind of person who spawned directly from a volleyball-shaped pod and came out yelling about quicks.
But then there you were. Leaning casually against the gym doors one afternoon, earbuds in, sipping a drink while Kageyama finished up practice. You waved at him with this lazy little smile, and Tsukishima blinked, like, Wait. Attractive people talk to Kageyama? Voluntarily?
Kageyama had walked over to you without saying anything, grabbed your bag off your shoulder, and handed you your drink again because apparently, you’d forgotten it on the bench. You’d just nodded in thanks, ruffled his hair, and that was it.
No yelling. No complaints. No headbutting over tiny things. Just… obedience?
It wasn’t until weeks later, when Tsukishima realized he had a full-blown crush on you, that things got weird.
Now he’s dating you, somehow, and that’s already a lot for him to process. You’re gentle and clever and maddeningly good at making him laugh when he’s trying to be sarcastic and aloof. But the strangest part of this whole relationship?
Kageyama.
The Kageyama who listens to everything you say without blinking.
Tsukishima had started keeping track of it in his head, like a science experiment he didn’t want to admit he was invested in. Just small things at first.
“Fix your shirt, Tobio.”
“Don’t forget to take your knee brace today.”
“Drink water, not three milk boxes in a row.”
And every single time, Kageyama obeys without question. Not even a grunt or complaint.
One time, during a group hangout, you casually mentioned being cold while the team sat around after practice. Tsukishima watched with wide eyes as Kageyama stood up, took off his jacket, and tossed it to you like it was second nature. You hadn’t even asked. Just mumbled it, almost to yourself.
Tsukishima turned to you, whispering, “So do you do hypnosis or something?”
You had laughed so casually. “He just listens to me. He always has.”
And that was wild to Tsukishima. Absolutely wild.
At school, Kageyama argues with everyone. With Hinata, with random kids, with stray gusts of wind. But when it comes to you? He is the very picture of quiet compliance. Devoted little brother mode activated.
The three of you are hanging out again today. You insisted on making them lunch after practice, dragging both Tsukishima and Kageyama back to your house. Tsukki had only agreed because you offered to make his favorite kind of curry, and he was weak for food he didn’t have to make himself. Kageyama, meanwhile, didn’t even wait to be asked. The second you said, “Let’s go,” he was putting on his shoes.
Tsukishima watches from the kitchen table as you lean against the counter, scrolling through your phone while Kageyama silently sets the table for three.
“Kags, don’t forget to grab the extra chopsticks from the drawer,” you say without looking up.
He doesn’t respond. Just grabs the chopsticks like it’s part of his soul’s duty.
Tsukishima leans over, elbow on the table, resting his chin in his hand as he watches the interaction unfold with morbid curiosity.
“How did you do that?” he asks slowly. “How did you tame him?”
You glance up, amused. “Tame? He’s not a wild animal.”
Tsukki gestures toward Kageyama dramatically. “He once got into a screaming match with a vending machine because it ate his change.”
You raise an eyebrow. “I mean, that machine was being rude.”
Tsukishima gives you a look.
You just laugh and reach over to tap Kageyama on the shoulder. “Tobio, can you grab the drinks too?”
“Okay,” he says simply, walking off toward the fridge like a loyal butler.
Tsukishima stares. “I can’t believe this.”
Kageyama returns, sets down the drinks, and turns to you. “Do you want me to get the dessert too?”
“You’re a sweetheart, thank you,” you say, patting his shoulder as he disappears again.
Tsukishima sits back in his chair, stunned.
You glance over and grin at him, clearly amused by his speechlessness. “You alright there, Kei?”
He shakes his head. “No. I’m not. I’m living in an alternate universe.”
“Oh? Why’s that?”
“Because Kageyama just offered to do something without being told, and I’m scared.”
You giggle, and it’s so soft, so casual, that Tsukishima forgets what he was even saying for a second.
He doesn’t really mind the dynamic. In fact, he kind of likes it. Watching Kageyama be a normal little brother, a bit awkward, clearly affectionate in his own weird way, is almost… endearing.
And then there’s you. Patient, thoughtful, firm in the way older siblings are when they’ve had years of practice. You don’t boss Kageyama around to be annoying. You’re just used to looking out for him, and he responds like it’s second nature.
Tsukki finds it oddly charming.
Later, when Kageyama volunteered to wash the dishes, you walk Tsukishima out to the gate, your hand brushing his as you stroll quietly beside him.
“You’re still thinking about it,” you say, nudging his side.
He hums. “I just don’t get it.”
“What, that Tobio listens to me?”
“That, and the fact that he didn’t explode even once during dinner. Not even when I took the last tempura.”
You laugh under your breath. “He used to cry when I didn’t let him pick the TV channel.”
Tsukishima gives you a sideways look. “What happened?”
“I let him believe I had the remote password memorised. Which wasn’t real. But he didn’t know that.”
Tsukishima stops walking, blinking slowly. “You lied to him.”
You shrug. “I raised him.”
He stares at you for a second longer, then starts to laugh. Really laugh. Quiet and breathless and uncontrollable.
“You’re evil,” he says, grin tugging at his lips.
You beam. “And yet, you like me anyway.”
“Unfortunately.”
But he’s smiling when he says it, and you’re lacing your fingers with his as you continue down the road, and the image of Kageyama fetching chopsticks without being asked is burned permanently into Tsukishima’s brain.
He doesn’t mind it so much anymore.
── .✦
I hope this is what you were looking for! Ty for request I enjoyed writing it ´ ˘ ` keep them coming!
now...imagine the dynamic of tsukki with an s/o that is kageyama's older sibling
LIKE IMAGINE kags just does whatever the hell s/o asks and believes whatever they say in true little bro fashion, and tsukki is just like wtf
Okay but this dynamic?? Adorably chaotic in the softest way.
expanded/drabble version here
── .✦
Like Tsukishima starts dating Kageyama’s older sibling thinking it’ll be fine, normal even, and then suddenly he’s watching Kageyama wordlessly get up to fetch you water because you casually mentioned being thirsty. Not even a request. Just a thought. And he just does it??
And Tsukki’s sitting there blinking like, “Since when is Kageyama capable of following directions without arguing?”
You don’t even notice it half the time. “Tobio, don’t forget to stretch.” “Tobio, fix your posture.” “Tobio, no yelling during meals.”
And he’s just like “Okay.”
Like?? Okay???
Meanwhile Tsukishima’s mentally rewriting everything he thought he knew about Kageyama.
But the best part? Tsukki slowly starts realizing how gentle you are with Kags. Like yes, older sibling energy, but the kind that ties his scarf for him without asking, sends reminders to eat lunch, and flicks his forehead with the same fondness you’d use on a cat doing something dumb.
And Tsukki’s just. Ugh. He loves you so much.
It’s not even jealousy. He just finds it hilarious and a little mind-blowing that you, this sweet, laid-back person, can get the infamous Kageyama Tobio to fold laundry without protest.
And the first time Kageyama says “yes” to something without fighting it, Tsukishima looks at you and goes, deadpan,
!all characters are over 18! preferably 24. reader is referred as a female
˖── .✦
You were only supposed to be organising his calendar.
The day had started the same as always. You arrived fifteen minutes early, greeted the receptionist, straightened your skirt before walking into the glass-walled executive suite, and began sifting through appointments and emails. Just like every morning.
But this morning, Kuroo was already in his office.
And he was already watching you.
You didn't notice at first. His floor-to-ceiling window overlooked the Tokyo skyline, but he wasn't looking at it. You caught his reflection in the glass. He wasn't even pretending to look away when you finally turned your head.
Your hair had slipped from behind your ear, falling forward as you leaned slightly over your desk. That was what did it.
He didn't blink.
You straightened. "Can I get you anything, sir?"
Kuroo pushed away from the window, smoothing a hand down his vest. He always looked too good in suits, like they were tailored to remind everyone who was in charge. When he spoke, his voice was low and steady.
"Yeah. Step into my office."
You blinked. "Now?"
He nodded once. "Close the door behind you."
Something in your stomach flipped.
You followed him in, heels soft on the polished floor, and shut the door quietly. He was already moving to sit on the edge of his desk instead of behind it. That alone made your pulse kick up a notch. You stayed by the door, clasping your hands neatly in front of you.
"Something wrong with the schedule?" you asked, tilting your head slightly.
He didn't answer. His gaze dropped-no, zeroed in—on your hair. You had curled it loosely that morning, nothing too dramatic.
But you wore it down, and that always seemed to draw his attention.
He licked his lips.
"Sit," he said, nodding toward the guest chair in front of his desk.
You obeyed, smoothing your skirt again and crossing your legs. You could feel the weight of his stare. Not on your legs. Not on your blouse. Only on the cascade of hair that spilled over your shoulder.
"I'm not trying to make things awkward," he started slowly, "but I'm having a hard time focusing when you're in the room."
You tilted your head. "Because of my work?"
"Your work is perfect," he said immediately.
"It's you. More specifically, your hair."
You blinked. "My hair."
He leaned forward, hands braced on either side of him. "You think I haven't noticed the way it sways when you walk past my door?
The way it pools over your back when you type? Every meeting, every time you lean over my shoulder to point something out, I lose the ability to think straight."
Your thighs pressed together.
"I can't stop picturing what it would look like wrapped around my hand," he continued. "Or spread across my pillow. Or sticking to your back while I fuck you from behind."
You swallowed.
"You don't mind me saying that, do you?"
You should have said something. Anything.
But your body betrayed you-heat building quickly under your skin, thighs tightening under your skirt, your breath catching in your throat.
"I thought not," he said, voice low and pleased.
You looked up at him. "We're in the office."
"I know." He walked behind your chair. His fingers brushed the ends of your hair and he groaned softly. "And I've been patient long enough."
Before you could speak, he leaned down, lips brushing your ear.
"Get up. Desk."
You hesitated for only a second before obeying. You stepped in front of his desk, heart pounding. His hands were on your waist in an instant, spinning you gently so your back was to him, your reflection visible in the dark glass behind the desk.
"Look at you," he said, voice reverent. "You know how many times l've imagined this view?"
His hand slid into your hair, gripping it near the scalp-not hard, just enough to tilt your head back so your spine arched slightly.
"I want it in my fist while I fuck you. Think you can handle that?"
"Yes," you whispered, already breathless.
He smirked. "Then let's start."
He moved quickly. His hands unzipped your skirt and pushed it down over your hips. You gasped when cool air hit your thighs, but then his hands slid up your legs and under the hem of your blouse, fingers tugging at your panties until they dropped around your ankles.
"Stay still," he murmured, dropping to his knees behind you.
You barely had time to process before his mouth was on you-warm, firm, his tongue sliding between your folds as he gripped your thighs to keep you spread. You moaned, legs trembling. His tongue nudging your clit just right, then licking a stripe before he sucked, slow and deliberate.
"Fuck, Tetsurou," you gasped, knuckles white on the edge of the desk as you grinded against his face.
He didn't stop.
He licked and sucked like a man starved, both hands holding your ass in place while your hand reached behind to tug at his black locks, pulling just enough to make him groan against your cunt. You looked at yourself in the window reflection and saw your own dazed expression, hair tangled, shirt hanging open, legs shaking.
You came hard and fast, hips jerking against his mouth, his hands kept your ass spread.
He groaned into you, riding it out with a few more slow licks before pulling back and standing. His lips were wet. His eyes dark.
"Desk. Now."
You bent forward, bracing your arms on the polished wood. Your legs still trembled, but you didn't care. You needed him too badly.
He didn't bother undoing his pants properly.
He just shoved them down far enough to free his cock, already hard and leaking. He ran the tip through your folds, groaning at the slick heat.
"You're dripping."
"Need you," you whispered, arching for him.
He lined himself up and pushed in slowly, dragging a low moan from both of you.
"So tight," he hissed. "God, baby. You feel like heaven."
He started moving, hips rolling in deep, steady thrusts. One hand stayed firm on your waist, the other tangled in your hair, pulling until your head tilted back, exposing the long line of your neck and making your back arch just right.
"I want you to see yourself," he said. "Look."
You opened your eyes. The window reflected everything-your body bent over the desk, his moving behind you, your hair tangled between his fingers as he pulled and pushed, each thrust sending jolts of heat through your belly.
"So fucking pretty," he murmured. "Like this. With your hair in my fist. My perfect little secretary."
You moaned, clenching around him.
"Close?"
You nodded frantically.
"Then come for me."
He reached around and rubbed your clit in tight circles. That was all it took. You broke apart with a cry, clenching around him so hard that he cursed and followed you over the edge, thrusting a few more times before spilling into you.
For a long moment, the only sound in the office was your breathing.
He pulled out slowly, watching his seed flow out of you.. before he tucked himself back into his slacks. Then he gently turned you around, lifting you onto the desk and standing between your knees.
His fingers combed through your hair, slow and reverent.
"Still with me?" he asked, voice gentler now
You nodded, flushed and breathless. "Barely."
He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then your lips. "Good. Because that was only round one."
You blinked up at him.
"I've got you booked for the rest of the afternoon," he said, smirking. "And the only thing on the schedule is letting me ruin you in every chair in this office."
You exhaled a shaky laugh. "Should I cancel your 2pm?”
He smirked, sliding your panties into his pocket. "Already done."
hellooo i really liked your tsukishima moodboard fic, could i request a sunarin one?🥺
Aaa tysm ^^ glad you liked it🤭
Here’s your requested suna moodboard and fic! ⋆.˚
── .✦
Lyrics & Lipstick
guitarist suna x reader
warnings: none, fluff
wc: 454 words
An after school hangout at your boyfriend’s place ᢉ𐭩
(mood board is mine! do not steal!)
You press your finger to the faded lipstick mark on Suna’s guitar, the soft pink print just below the strings.
“That still there?” he calls from the kitchen, his voice casual.
“Yeah,” you reply, settling back onto his couch, “Did you ever wipe it off?”
Suna returns, balancing a tray of sushi and two cans of peach soda. “Nah,” he shrugs, sitting beside you. “Kind of like it.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Kind of gross.”
He smirks, eyes half-lidded like always. “It’s yours.”
You roll your eyes, cheeks warm, and take a piece of sushi off the tray before he can say something else to fluster you. The room is dim, lit by the soft yellow of his desk lamp and the pale glow coming through the blinds. A quiet song plays from his old speakers, one he probably made himself.
After a few bites and comfortable silence, he picks up the guitar, tuning it slowly.
“Wrote something,” he murmurs, testing a chord. “Want to hear?”
“Obviously.”
He starts to play.. soft, raw, the notes a little messy but honest. No lyrics, just a tune that wraps around your chest like a familiar hug. You lean your head on his shoulder, letting yourself get lost in it.
When he finishes, you glance up.
“That was really pretty.”
Suna hums, noncommittal. “It’s about you.”
Your breath catches. You wait for the teasing smile, the sarcasm- but it doesn’t come. He just sets the guitar down, hand brushing against yours.
“I like this,” he says, thumb grazing your knuckles. “You. Here.”
You look at him. Really look. The way his eyes don’t quite meet yours unless it’s important. The way he’s always quieter around you — not cold, just soft. Safe.
“I like this too,” you whisper.
He leans in, slow and deliberate, pressing a kiss to your cheek. Then another to your lips. His hand cradles your face, thumb brushing your jaw as if you’re something delicate, precious.
You smile against his mouth. “You’re getting lipstick on your guitar again.”
Suna grins, forehead resting against yours. “Good.”
── .✦
Again tysmm for the request (ᵔᗜᵔ) feel free to ask for anything!
Tsukishima accidentally sending a ball to s/o's way? LOL that would be so funny if they're in a secret relationship or something, he's all worried and everyone is just so confused to his sudden demeanor
I love a good secret relationship fic with tsukishima☺️
tsukishima x manager!reader
wc: 0.8k
warnings: none, little fluff, worried tsukki :>, crack-ish
Where his usual cold demeanour changes when seeing his girlfriend almost get hit by his block, which the team get suspicious..
Tsukishima wasn’t usually careless during practice.
Which is exactly why everyone stared in stunned confusion when a rogue volleyball came flying off his block and slammed into the gym wall- right next to where you were sitting.
Your eyes widened. You hadn’t even noticed the ball until it hit the wall with a loud THUNK.
The team collectively winced.
And then, like a glitch in the matrix, Tsukishima dropped everything and made a beeline for you.
“Are you okay?” he asked, sharp but weirdly tense.
You blinked. “Yeah? It didn’t even hit me—”
But he was already reaching out, brushing your hair back from your face as if expecting bruises. His usual bored expression was replaced by something between panic and guilt. You weren’t used to seeing any emotion from him at school, let alone in front of people.
Back on the court, Hinata gawked. “Did he just—wait. He’s worried?!”
Noya practically fell over. “Is this the same Tsukishima that told me to ‘walk it off’ when I sprained my ankle??”
Yamaguchi nervously laughed but said nothing. Because, yeah—he already knew.
“Kei,” you whispered, gently nudging him, “You’re staring. They’re staring. Maybe dial it back a bit?”
He inhaled through his nose, pulled away like he hadn’t just completely broken his no-public-affection streak, and muttered something about “freak accidents” before walking back to practice with the stiffest posture anyone had ever seen.
Daichi raised a brow. “Everything alright, Tsukishima?”
“…Fine.”
“As in, you’re not having a secret breakdown over someone in the stands?”
“No.”
“…Right.”
Needless to say, the rest of practice was a chaotic mess of whispered theories, wild accusations, and Sugawara repeatedly asking “Since WHEN?” while Tsukishima silently considered moving to another school.
Afterward, as you waited for him outside the gym, he stomped out, visibly annoyed. “They’re insufferable.”
You grinned. “You kind of gave yourself away, you know.”
“You almost got hit in the face with a volleyball.”
“But I didn’t,” you teased. “And now they know you’re soft for me. Scandalous.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets, cheeks faintly pink. “Shut up.”
You leaned in and pecked his cheek before anyone else could see. “Thanks for worrying, though.”
“…Tch.”
(He definitely walked closer to you after that. Not holding your hand. But not not holding it either.)
A quiet and peaceful walk home with your beloved boyfriend tsukki after practice (´ ˘ `)♡ a weekly routine you guys do on fridays˖°
tsukishima being an actual teenage boy with feelings unlike those toxic, controlling, yandere, psychopath stereotypes he gets (◞‸◟)
(moodboard is mine! dont steal!!)
Practice had run late, like always. The sun was dipping low behind the rooftops, streaking the sky in soft oranges and purples as the team dispersed.
You waved goodbye to Yamaguchi, who gave you a subtle smile before jogging to catch his train. Now it was just you and Tsukishima, walking quietly side by side toward the convenience store. The streets were quieter now, the cool breeze tugging at your scarf as you stepped into the warm glow of the shop. Tsukishima didn’t ask what you wanted, he already knew. He bought your favourite warm drink along with his favourite- strawberry shortcake; without a word, handed the drink to you as you left the store, fingers brushing lightly. You said thanks. He just hummed. A few blocks later, you felt it: the smallest pressure against your hand. Tsukishima’s pinky linking gently with yours.
“…No one’s around,” he murmured, eyes fixed ahead, ears slightly pink. You didn’t need to say anything. You simply hooked your pinky back, and neither of you let go. The conversation stayed easy.. quiet comments about class, an offhand insult about Hinata and Kageyama’s brain cells (you laughed), and small silences that didn’t feel awkward. You weren’t loud. You didn’t press. You let him just be, and Tsukishima liked that more than he’d ever say out loud. As the wind picked up, he stopped walking.
"Your scarf’s loose." Before you could react, he adjusted it for you, careful and focused. His fingers were cold. His expression wasn’t. When he looked at you again, there was a softness.. real, open, and reserved only for you.
“We should walk slower,” he said, voice low.
“I don’t really want this to end yet.” You stayed close the rest of the way home. And when his hand finally slid fully into yours, warm and steady, neither of you said a word.
You didn’t have to.
The silence returned, but it felt different now; fuller, more connected. The air between you both was charged with something tender and unspoken. Tsukishima’s thumb moved slightly, brushing the side of your hand once, almost like he was making sure you were still there.
The two of you walked slowly, the kind of pace that lingered just long enough to stretch out time. You passed the usual landmarks; the bakery with the cat that sat in the window, the old bus stop with faded stickers, the little park you both cut through when it wasn’t too muddy. Everything looked softer now in the sunset light. Even him.
Tsukishima stole glances when he thought you weren’t looking. You caught one of them.
“What?” you asked with a soft smile, sipping your drink.
He looked away immediately, ears tinting red again. “Nothing.”
You nudged his shoulder. “Liar.”
He huffed, but it wasn’t annoyed. It sounded almost… fond.
“…You’re just,” he muttered, “not like anyone else. That’s all.”
You blinked, caught off guard. “In a good way, I hope?”
“In the only way I’d put up with,” he replied, but his voice was far too gentle to make it sound like an insult.
There was a small moment of stillness between you two, your joined hands warm between the fabric of his coat pocket, the chill in the air forgotten.
Then, quietly, he added, “I like being with you like this. Just us.”
Your heart swelled at that.. not because of the words themselves, but because it was him. Tsukishima Kei, who rarely let anyone in, who rolled his eyes more than he smiled, who had built walls taller than most could climb. And here he was, letting you see behind them, if only for these quiet walks home.
As your house came into view, his hand squeezed yours gently — hesitant.
You turned to him, taking in the way his glasses caught the last of the sunlight, the softness in his gaze despite how hard he tried to keep his face neutral.
“…You’ll walk with me again next week?” you asked.
He blinked once. Then twice.
“…Obviously,” he mumbled.
But then he looked at you, really looked.. the kind of look he’d never give anyone else. His voice dropped lower, almost shy.
“I’d walk you home every day if I could.”
Your breath caught. And for once, you were the one who looked away.
“I’d like that,” you said quietly, the warmth between you two radiating stronger than ever.
He lingered at your gate, not moving even after you said goodbye. Like he didn’t want to go just yet.
“…Text me when you’re inside,” he said. “And… wear your scarf properly next time.”
You smiled, tugging it tighter for show. “Yes, Kei."
His ears turned pink again at the sound of his first name, but he didn’t correct you.
“Goodnight,” you said.
He gave you a small nod. “’Night.”
You stepped inside, and only once you closed the door did you hear his footsteps slowly fade away into the quiet street. Your scarf warm, your heart warmer.
