Tsukkishima Kei - Blog Posts

made this as a bday request for my friend

the scene from the movie that lives rent free in my head is the little clips of Tsukki and Yamaguchi

the little flashbacks? shit almost had me sobbing

t h i r s t y ; )

Now tell me why I want to dress up THE Tsukkishima Kei in a frilly Lolita dress with a bow and matching heels. Then proceed to fuck him into oblivion until he’s a drooling mess.

But oh no…He stained his dress…Well now I suppose I have to punish him… Gosh I didn’t see this coming🥸

I can't express enough in words how much I love that scene in the match against Shiratorizawa where Tsukki comes back after getting tended to his injuries and gets in Ukai's face about how he is fine and wants to get in and play asap. LIKEEEE??? TSSUKKIII? THE GROWTH? THE ENTHUSIASM? THE PASSION??? All thanks to Bokuto, Kuroo and the entire Karasuno team! My man is now a professional player!

consider this a pride month post.

ARGHHH 😩🤌🙌🙌🙌🙌🤌✨

He’s jealous.

Such an emotion is rare for Tsukishima, and he hates the feeling of it. The “big green monster” that he often hears from those around him has never plagued him—never made him feel the need to crumble into a hole and wallow in self-pity.

However, when he sees you smile from afar, touching the arm of a man unknown, his skin crawls.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust you—Tsukishima knows good and well the amount of love you harbor for him. Butterfly kisses that spread across his skin after a rough day, warm hands clutching his on a warm summer’s day, and eyes always fixed on his as if he knew all the secrets the universe holds.

He knows of your devotion and he’s assured of it.

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no im not stalking this amazing beings page >:0 what an insult :( I'm worshipping it 🧎‍♀️🛐🛐🛐🧎‍♀️

i love the tymps couple so well 😭😭 Tsukki is so cute in it, i love the way you wrote him 🥰 I was wondering, if youre willing to write it, how would tymps tsukki and the reader be during an arguement? I can only imahine how petty tsukki would be 😂

I don’t usually take requests but I had the perfect idea for this n I can’t get my mind off it 😭😭 thank you for this anon… I’m obsessed with them! Really! Truly!!

link to the og “tymps” couple fic!

“I’ll sleep on the couch tonight.”

Tsukishima can’t say that he exactly remembers what this argument is about, all he knows is that you’re pissed, he’s pissed, and he just really wants to let this go. Let the disagreement roll over and just hug you, take you to bed and let you smother him with kisses like you do every night.

But he can’t back down, not when he’s so infuriated by your stubbornness that he can’t think straight. His hand in shaking from anger, and he can see tears tease your waterline. (Tears of anger, not sadness. Do not be mistaken, you like to remind him.)

“Don’t be stupid.”

You offered. You so politely offered to sleep on the couch and let your boyfriend wallow in his bitterness. You offered to leave him alone, and now he’s declining?

“I’ll do what I want. And right now, I want to sleep on the couch.”

You do not want to sleep on the couch. It’s as comfortable as a couch gets, scratches and dents to prove it’s years of usage. You love that leather couch, but it’s far too cold for you rest in.

“I don’t give a shit. I’ll die before ever let you sleep alone. You’re sleeping on the bed with me.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do. You’re not my dad, fuckface.”

He rolls his eyes. You just never listen. You’re far too stubborn for your own good.

“You’ll freeze your ass off on that couch. Don’t make me tell you again.”

He walks off to your shared bedroom, leaving you in the small living alone. You turn your head and find your little kitten on the couch, sleeping soundly despite the storm surrounding her.

You sigh. “I hate him.”

-

You’re out of the shower some twenty minutes later, climbing into your bed angrily. You know Tsukishima is awake—his breathing is a clear sign—but you chose to ignore him. You wrap yourself in the warm sheets, turning your back on your lover.

Two minutes pass. Three. Five.

“Where’s my goodnight kiss, dumbass?”

It sounds silly, coming from the man who just spent the past hour angry at you, but he couldn’t be any more sincere. For every night that you’ve been with him, he gets a goodnight kiss placed on his cheeks, his forehead, and lastly, on his lips. You’ve never failed to do so, and he will not let a petty argument stop this streak.

“You don’t get one, you piece of shit.”

He chooses silence. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move.

Thirty seconds pass. A minute.

The soft feeling of your lips is soon on his left cheek, then his right, the centre of his forehead, and finally, his lips.

“I hope the devil shows up in your dreams tonight.”

He laughs. A genuine laugh—he can’t believe how lucky he is to have you. Amidst all your anger, you still find a way to humour him.

He pulls you into him, and you don’t reject him. Your back to his chest, he places a sweet kiss at the top of your head.

“You too, Princess.”

-

He wakes up the next morning at 6:30 AM.

He finds you tangled in him: your legs on top of his, your arm somehow found its way into his hair, and there may be some drool on his chest (he doesn’t really care enough to confirm).

You look adorable.

But he is still annoyed.

So he swiftly jumps out of bed, careful not to wake you up, and heads to the kitchen. The coffee maker is turned on, just enough for two cups, and he gets breakfast ready.

He has to clock into work by 8:30 AM, giving him just enough time to prep breakfast and rush off for the day. He’s quick with his movements; your coffee is poured in a flask to ensure that it’s still hot by the time you wake up, your breakfast of pancakes is airy and light, and you have a bowl of fruits cut up and ready.

He leaves for work by 8, a sticky note taped to the flask.

It reads,

morning.

Do not skip breakfast. I’ll know. Eat everything I made. Lick the plate clean if you have to.

You’re a piece of shit, but have a good day. I’m still mad at you, but you drooled on my chest and you looked adorable doin it

i love ya (not rlly),

Tsukishima

👀

oh no dont mind me

Tymps

kinda badboy!tsukishima kei x reader

summary: He is strawberries and oranges and cigarettes. A man you will never understand, a man who is forever yours.

2.8k words

So why did I kiss him so hard late last Friday night? And keep on letting him change all my plans?

— Fiona Apple, “Tymps (The Sick in the Head Song)”

The first time you meet Tsukishima Kei, he’s carrying a large speaker in his hands. He struggles to ludge the piece of equipment into his small apartment door, and you can’t help but raise an eyebrow.

“Are you going to be making a lot of noise?” Are the first words you say to him.

He supposes it’s justified, since he’s your new neighbor that moved in two weeks prior. You hadn’t interacted with him at all, and the idea of a new, crazy-loud neighbor didn’t make you all that happy.

“Depends.” Is what he chooses to respond with, and you roll your eyes.

“On?”

“The genre of music I chose to listen to that night.”

He sounds pretentious. He is pretentious, and it looks like he knows it as well.

“I have a kitten next door. Don’t make too much noise or I’ll call the landlord.”

You realize that you’re being a bit harsher than you need to be, considering that he just moved in and has no knowledge of your animal adoption habits. You can’t find it in yourself to care. 

“You have a cat?” You nod your head and he seems to ignore your snarkiness, “what’s its name?”

“Kitty.”

He stares at you for a minute.

“Cute name,” he almost scoffs, the sound a lot raspier than his normal tone.

“I don’t need your sarcasm,” you deadpan, and he rolls his eyes.

“I’m not being sarcastic at all, sweetheart,” he smirks. “I’ll try to be quiet,” he begins to walk back into his apartment, the loudspeaker still struggling against the door frame. “For Kitty’s sake, not yours,” he adds, tilting his head and giving you a smile.

It’s practically an insult, but you let it fly over your head.

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this for you page really likes playing with my feelings fr 🙄

— 1 missed call from [Name] —

Realistically, he knows he shouldn’t call you back. Ignore the missed call, head back to bed, and forgot you forever. Forget the romance you once shared and move on. Forgot all the words of love that ever left his lips. You are not his and he is not yours.

But he can’t. He can’t possibly ignore you when you’re calling him at 2AM, yearning for him in whatever way you do.

So he calls. Like the fool that he is, he calls his ex-girlfriend of one year back.

“Hello?”

“Tsukishima…” you trail, and your voice is distant. So far, so small, so fearful. He hears your hesitance from one word only.

He wishes you could call him your Kei again.

“Why did you call me?” Tsukishima responds with hostility, for that is all he knows. When he lost you, his ways changed and his heart turned to stone. It seems that anger is all he knows these days, a hard tongue made of venom and stone.

“I-I wanted to talk to you.”

You stutter. You stutter and Tsukishima knows that you’re drunk. You have a few habits whenever you’re intoxicated, and a stutter is always accompanied with the alcohol.

“You’re drunk,” is all he says.

“I know.”

“Talk to me when you’re sober,” he goes to cut the call, but a quick wait! is enough to halt his movements.

“God, I don’t even know why I even called you,” you whisper, as if speaking to yourself.

He sighs, “where are you?”

“Um, I’m not sure.”

“You went out not knowing where you’re going?” He asks, and it’s that condescending tone you hate. The one that pushed your relationship to its limit.

“It’s not like I wanted to be here,” you whisper yet again, a measly attempt at defending yourself.

Another sigh, another sign of disappointment, and Tsukishima finally speaks up.

“Go to the Maps app.” You mumble a small okay, and do as he tells you. “Now zoom in on your location and send it to me.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

You listen to him and soon after Tsukishima gets a notification. He doesn’t bid you goodbye, simply cuts the call and gets up from his bed. He heads for his closet, grabbing two jackets, and heads out the door.

He’ll see you for the first time in a year.

-

And see you he does.

You’re sat on the curb of the road, your knees pushed against your chest and your head resting on your knees. It seems as if you’re asleep, your eyes closed and body still.

He kneels beside you, whispering your name loud enough to wake you up.

“Huh?” You groan, turning your head to look at the man you can’t seem to let go. “Kei?”

There it is. It’s always sounded so sweet on your tongue, so sultry and intimate. It’s his given name, the one he grows to love each time you say it.

It’s bittersweet hearing it from you.

“Why are you just sleeping in the middle of the road? What if some pervert stopped by?”

“But nobody did,” you say, logic leaving you in your drunken state. You move closer to him, seeking his warmth.

You’ve always loved his touch. When you once called him yours, his body was always somehow attached to yours. Your skin on his, his heart in your palm.

He sighs, “get in the car, [Name].”

He pulls you up from your position, easily holding you as gently as he can.

“You never used to call me by my name,” you stop and lean into his shoulder. “I was always your baby.”

Tsukishima knows it’s the alcohol talking. That you’d never say this sober, and that there’s a possibility that you don’t mean any of those words. But his heart still hurts. It hurts so much that he feels as if he has lost himself. Lost all the progress he made to just get over you.

(But perhaps he never really stopped loving you, if he was so willing to pick up your call.)

He lays you on the passenger seat, buckling your seatbelt for you. He drapes the extra jacket over your shoulders, and you remember it to be one of your favourites. You stare at him the whole time—eyes on his—but he refuses to look back. Not when he knows how easily his resolve could crumble with you around.

The car starts soon after, and you’re already asleep. Your head lays peacefully on the mirror, and Tsukishima wishes he could stay like this forever. In a world where he is yours and you are his.

-

There are not many things that Tsukishima regrets.

He prefers to live in the present and let the past be the past. What has happened is unchanging, so why worry? Why worry about what he should’ve done, when all he has is the now?

There are not many things that Tsukishima regrets. But he will always regret leaving you.

He knows that now, as he is in your bedroom, trying to find a way to change you out of your clothes and into your sleepwear.

You’ve always been a heavy sleeper, unmoving in the midst of all noise. That trait carries on to now, as he struggles to get your top off your body.

You squirm as he touches you. “Kei,” you whisper. “Why’d you pick me up?”

“You called me.”

“But you picked up,” you slur, “you could’ve ignored me. You were good at that when we were together.”

He winces. He knows you don’t mean it. You’ve always been far too kind to respond with such malice, especially towards him. Even when your relationship was walking on a tightrope, you never once yelled at him.

“Why were you so mean, Tsukishima?” It’s a rhetorical question, he knows it, but his heart burns the more you speak.

“I loved you so much, but you didn’t love me at all.”

“Don’t,” he immediately interrupts, “don’t say I never loved you.”

“You never showed me,” your voice is small, and he knows you’re about to cry. (Even after all these months, your habits remain in his mind.)

“I love you. So much more than you’ll ever understand,” he speaks with so much passion, that he forgets his confession.

He loves you. His heart will always belong to you.

“I love you too,” you cry, and a single teardrop grazes your cheek.

“You never deserved me.”

“I get to decide that,” you grab his delicate face with your rough hands. He always fit so perfectly in your palms. “I get to decide who is good for me.”

He pauses, resting in your hands and cherishing every moment he has with you. And it’s in your calloused palms where Tsukishima realises what he misses. He misses your presence, your love, you. Every habit that made him love you so deeply, he misses.

He will be yours again, he decides, as you hold him close. Somehow, someway, he will win you back.