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hey!! I have a genuine question. Do you, by any chance use Ai to write??

No but I sometimes use it to help me flesh out ideas. Usually I just have a concept but it can be hard to see where it goes. It’s a great tool to really see out your ideas!!

But no the writings all me :D

Would it be interesting to ask for Aran? Even something as simple as him noticing Inarizaki’s manager or their friend, anything is fine.

Done :D Thank you for the request!! <333 --

Aran wasn’t someone who let his mind wander. Not during practice, not during games, and certainly not when it came to things that didn’t concern him. He kept his head clear, his priorities in check, and his focus sharp. That was what made him reliable—one of the only people on Inarizaki’s team who could keep the chaos from completely consuming them.

But lately, there was something—or rather, someone—slipping through the cracks in his usual composure.

You.

It wasn’t anything dramatic. Nothing obvious. But little things started creeping up on him. He started noticing the way you always sat near him whenever the team went out to eat, how you rolled your eyes at Atsumu’s antics but never actually walked away from the conversation, how you seemed to know exactly what someone needed before they even had to ask. He wasn’t sure when it started. He wasn’t sure why it started. But he was noticing you, and now he couldn’t seem to stop.

The realization hit him on a random afternoon practice.

He had just finished a long rally, sweat clinging to his skin as he steadied his breathing. Coach was yelling at Atsumu for something—probably for ignoring his setter duties and trying to go for a ridiculous dump shot—and the rest of the team was either catching their breath or groaning at the delay. Aran wiped his forehead with the back of his hand before reaching for his water bottle, only to feel something tap his arm.

A cold water bottle.

He glanced up, and there you were, holding it out to him without a word. Your expression was neutral, not expecting anything, not waiting for some kind of thanks. Just… handing it to him, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Aran hesitated for a fraction of a second before taking it. “Thanks.”

You only nodded before turning back to your clipboard, jotting something down. No big deal. Except it was a big deal, because now Aran was standing there gripping the water bottle tighter than necessary, feeling something stir in his chest that he didn’t know how to name.

It didn’t stop there.

At first, Aran tried to ignore it. Tried to brush off the way his eyes lingered on you a little too long during breaks, the way he found himself listening for your voice even in the middle of a crowded gym. He told himself it was just habit, just familiarity. You were part of the team, and he was just used to having you around.

But then there were the moments in between—the ones that didn’t happen during practice, the ones that felt like something else entirely.

Like the time he was stretching after a long day and you plopped down next to him with an exhausted sigh.

“Tough day?” he asked, not looking up from his toes as he reached forward.

“You have no idea,” you groaned, flopping onto your back. “I think I have permanent damage from listening to Suna and Atsumu argue about some dumb anime for twenty minutes.”

Aran huffed out a laugh. “Could’ve walked away.”

You turned your head, peering up at him with something amused in your gaze. “Yeah? And leave you to suffer alone?”

Something about the way you said it made him pause. He glanced down at you, the corners of your lips twitching like you were fighting back a grin. He opened his mouth, but whatever he had been about to say got stuck in his throat.

Because that—that right there—was the problem.

You weren’t just the team manager. You weren’t just a familiar presence. You were something else, something more, and Aran was beginning to realize it too late.

It got worse after that.

He wasn’t the type to let distractions get the best of him, but now it was like you were in his periphery all the time. The worst part? You didn’t even know. You just carried on like normal, making sure the team didn’t destroy themselves, shooting sarcastic remarks at Atsumu when he got too unbearable, handing Aran a towel when he looked particularly drained.

And he just kept taking it. Kept letting it happen. Kept letting you happen.

But it was when he started getting annoyed that he knew he was screwed.

Because lately, you’d been spending more time talking to Kita.

It wasn’t like Aran had any reason to care. Kita was Kita. He was good at everything, the kind of person who had an effortless way of drawing people in. And you? You were the kind of person who enjoyed good company.

So why did it bother him so much?

It wasn’t jealousy. It wasn’t. That would be ridiculous. But he couldn’t stop noticing it—the way you stood a little closer, the way your conversations stretched a little longer, the way you laughed at something Kita said and Aran felt something sting in a place he hadn’t even realized existed.

He didn’t plan to say anything about it. But then, one day, he caught you laughing at something Kita said, and before he could stop himself, the words left his mouth.

“Didn’t know you two were so close.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard. “Huh?”

Aran crossed his arms, his expression carefully neutral. “You and Kita.”

Your head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing just a bit like you were trying to figure out where this was coming from. Then, slowly, a smirk tugged at your lips. “Why? You jealous or something?”

Aran scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Please.”

“Uh-huh.” You didn’t sound convinced.

He clicked his tongue, looking away. This was stupid. He wasn’t about to sit here and act like some lovesick idiot. That wasn’t him. He had better things to do. More important things.

… Then why did his chest feel tight?

You were still looking at him, clearly entertained by whatever this was. Then, after a pause, you leaned in just slightly, voice dropping into something softer—something unreadable.

“You did notice, though.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a fact.

Aran felt his jaw tighten, but he didn’t say anything.

You let the silence stretch between you before pulling away, grinning like you had figured something out. “Huh. Interesting.”

And just like that, you turned and walked off, leaving Aran standing there with his arms still crossed, his pulse unsteady, and the realization settling deep in his bones.

You were right.

He had noticed.

And that was the problem.

helloo!!

I was reading your work at Ao3 and I’m wondering if there’s going to be more chapters for Nosedives

Please write moreee!!! Please please please 🥺😭😭

ughh i'd love to continue that story!!! but honestly im having the hardest writers block :/// i'll take another look and see if I can think of something lolol, but if you have any ideas feel free to let me know :DD My asks and DMs are always open <33 Thank you for reading! every comment makes me want to write even more, truly thank you!

Gurllll

So we're in college and tsuki get dragged into a party, but he ends up chilling in the back just drinking or smoking and listening to music

That's where we first spot him,and like we knew each other from the high-school team but not really know each other y'know?

Then they end up talking and chilling and playing some gamesss like truth or dare or sm

Idk I'm kinda imagining it just chilling and having deep conversations and talk about things in common

Gorl I gotchu ;p ~~

Anon Ask: Tsukishima

Tsukishima had no idea why he was here.

Correction—he knew exactly why. Yamaguchi had guilt-tripped him into coming, saying something about how he needed to "expand his social life" and "stop being a recluse." He hadn't been able to argue much when he was already agreeing just to get his best friend off his back.

Of course, Yamaguchi wasn't even here. Some excuse about having an early morning study session had conveniently surfaced at the last second; Leaving Tsukishima alone at a party he had no interest in attending when a better use of his Friday night would be staying in his dorm with his headphones on, zoning out to some documentary about prehistoric marine life.

All he felt was betrayal.

This was the same useless chatter, the same shallow interactions, the same pointless noise that made him want to walk right back out the door. He leaned against the back wall, drink in hand, half-listening to whatever trash playlist was blaring through the speakers. His gaze occasionally flickered over the room, not because he was interested in anything but because it gave him something to do other than stand there like an idiot.

He didn’t recognize most of the people here. He barely cared to. Drunken laughter rang in his ears, a couple stumbled past him, and someone yelled something incomprehensible from the other side of the room. His patience was already wearing thin. His foot tapped against the ground, a subtle tick of irritation.

Then, through the shifting bodies and dim, flickering lights, his gaze caught on someone who was familiar.

You.

You were weaving through the party, clearly uninterested, your expression giving away just how much you didn't want to be here. There was something oddly reassuring about that—someone else in the same predicament. A memory clicked into place after a few seconds. Second-year. Same class. You'd sat a row over by the window, always making snide remarks under your breath whenever the teacher said something ridiculous. He'd smirked at a few of them but never actually talked to you.

And now, here you were. And you’d seen him too.

Your eyes met across the room, a quiet recognition passing between you. Then, without hesitation, you started making your way over. He briefly considered looking away, pretending he hadn’t noticed, but it was already too late.

"Hey... Tsukishima, right? We had a class together in second year." You stopped beside him, tilting your head slightly. "Never thought I’d see you at a party. Let me guess—you lost a bet?"

He huffed, taking a sip from his drink. "Close. My friend thought I needed to ‘socialize more.’"

You deadpanned. "That’s disgusting. I’m sorry for your loss."

A snort left him before he could stop it. "Yeah, well. He’s not even here."

You raised a brow. "He ditched you?"

"Told me he had ‘studying’ to do." Tsukishima made air quotes with his free hand. "Like that wasn’t his plan all along."

"Brutal." You leaned against the wall beside him, arms crossed. "And yet, here you are. Holding up your end of the deal like a good little soldier."

Tsukishima rolled his eyes. "For now."

You smirked, turning your gaze back to the chaotic mess in front of you. "This place is awful."

"Yeah." His gaze flicked over the crowd, unimpressed. "Not sure what’s worse—the music or the people."

"Tough call," you mused. "The music is bad, but at least it doesn’t try to hold a conversation with you."

Tsukishima let out a quiet, amused exhale. "Fair point."

A beat passed before you sighed, shifting your weight. "You wanna get out of here?"

He glanced at you, gauging if you were serious. He wasn’t usually the type to just leave somewhere with someone he barely knew. But this was unbearable. And you? You at least had a functional brain in your head.

His brows lifted slightly, but he didn’t hesitate. "God, yes."

Neither of you said anything more as you slipped through the party, out the door, and into the cold night air. The shift was immediate—the tension of the party dissipating the moment you stepped onto the sidewalk, the dull hum of the city streets far more tolerable than whatever chaotic mess was happening inside.

You walked without a real destination, just following the quiet rhythm of the night, side by side under streetlights casting long shadows across pavement. The city wasn’t asleep, but it was quieter now, the occasional car passing by, a few other night-walkers making their way home.

"So, what’d you do to deserve being dragged here?" he asked, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"I thought I could be like everyone else our age." You sighed dramatically. "Clearly, I make poor choices."

Tsukishima huffed. "Yeah, you and me both."

Silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The streets were mostly empty, the occasional passing car throwing streaks of light across the pavement. You kicked a stray pebble down the sidewalk, watching it bounce before speaking again.

"So, are you still doing that volleyball thing?"

Tsukishima looked at you, unimpressed. "Wow. Stalker much?"

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, totally. I spend all my free time keeping tabs on people I barely spoke to in high school."

Tsukishima let out a quiet scoff but found himself smirking despite himself. "Right. Of course."

You nudged him lightly with your elbow before switching topics. "So, what’s your major?"

He glanced at you, wondering if you actually cared or if you were just making conversation. "Geology."

You raised a brow, a knowing look crossing your face. "Dinosaurs, huh?"

Tsukishima tensed. "What? No. Rocks."

You let out a low laugh. "Sure. Totally not related."

He rolled his eyes, but the corner of his lips twitched. "What about you?"

"Oh, I don't really have one. I prefer to just float. You know, jack of all trades and that jazz."

Tsukishima found that slightly funny, though he didn’t show it beyond a slight shake of his head. "So you plan to graduate with nothing, then?"

"That’s the dream."

The back-and-forth was easy, natural. Neither of you felt the need to fill every silence with meaningless words, and yet, the conversation kept flowing. Complaints about professors, stupid classmates, the absurdity of group projects—somehow, it all felt lighter when it was shared.

At some point, your steps slowed, and you both lingered near a street corner, neither of you saying anything for a few beats. A breeze rolled past, cool against the lingering warmth of the night, and you rocked back on your heels before tilting your head slightly to glance at him.

"You know," you started, drawing out the words, "I half-expected you to be a bigger ass."

Tsukishima blinked at you, arching a brow. "And I expected you to be less annoying."

You let out a low laugh, shaking your head. "So we’re both disappointed. Great."

Tsukishima didn’t answer, but he huffed out something close to a laugh, subtle but there. The conversation had been nothing but casual snark and easy complaints, but there was something oddly comfortable about it—like the banter wasn’t just passing time but filling a space that neither of you had realized was empty until now.

Eventually, you stopped at the entrance to the subway station. You looked up at him, hands stuffed in your pockets, shifting slightly on your feet before smirking.

"I like complaining about things with you," you said, voice lighter than before. "Let’s do it again sometime."

And then, just like that, you turned and disappeared down the stairs.

Tsukishima stood there, watching as the train rumbled to life, departing into the tunnels with you on it.

A sigh slipped out of him, and he muttered to himself, "... yeah... me too."

Then, like an idiot, it hit him.

He didn’t ask for your number.

Great.

Can you please do osamu with fav position too? Im on your knees now 🧎🧎🧎

You may rise, fellow simp... I've come 🫡 ------------

Osamu Miya was a man of simple pleasures and needs. So long as had had a roof over his head, some good food to munch on and a bed, he wouldn’t complain.

But for some reason, you were the one thing he could never get enough.

Your legs are wrapped around his hips, Osamu reveling in the way your pussy sucked him whole when he filled you. You were panting in his face, hands clutching at his back for any sort of anchor. He thought you were absolutely delicious like this. Melting at his touch, your eyes drowning in lust, trying to muster up a coherent sentence. Osamu can’t help the groan that rumbles out from his throat, moving his head into the crook of your neck as he leaves kisses and bites all down your neck. “’Samu..!” You squealed at a harsher nip, your pants turning into moans as he licks and suckles at the bite.

“What? I can’t enjoy my meal?” Osamu’s honestly surprised how even his voice sounded, even though he could’ve finished at the way you called his name. He traces his fingers down your chest, circling your nipple before giving it a few flicks. He adored how reactive you were when he did that. You gasp, calling out his name as he continued to fuck you, the room filling with the sound of skin slapping alongside your screams. Your nails claw down his back as you continue to sputter muffled versions of his name. Your orgasm triggers his, and you’re both coming down from a blissful high. You’re both panting, room reeking of sex when you try to get up to get a towel, when you feel Osamu’s hand gripping your arm. Cock still red and hard. “I’m still hungry.”

I’m bored and been wanting to do this for a while so please feel free to have fun(?) in my ask box

I won’t accept anything nsfw, but other than that send whatever y’all want.

I most likely won’t answer right away, but I’ll try my best to answer/reply regardless.

Come on, we all know Barb accepts payment in tea and tea ONLY

They've originally gave him money but he tried to make tea with it 🙏😔

That cup? That's a months worth of salary right there