help! we're getting married!? — k. tsukishima
cws; gn!reader, swearing, kissing, sleeping in one bed NO SUS possible ooc and not proofread.
wc; 1227
"do you want to get married?"
you blink, thinking you may have misheard.
"do you want to get married?" he repeats. "to me."
what. you stare at the plate in your hands, dumbfounded. in no way are you prepared for this — today's just a normal saturday night. you're bent over the dishwasher, in your PJs and your old frayed slides. your sweaty hair sticks to your damp forehead, and your hands are covered in grease and soap.
tsukishima is at the table, doing taxes. he's not dressed for any particular occasion, in a loose white button-up and dark coloured slacks. neither of you are in any position for a proposal; his lunch is still half-eaten on the table, and you're both tired and sweaty, and neither of you are dressed well enough for this. but most importantly, you arent even dating!
he pushes his glasses up with a finger, staring at you with his usual lack of emotion. "do you have any hearing problems i haven't heard about?"
"no? are you joking?"
'do i look like i'm joking?" he retorts.
"no, but—"
"there you go, got your answer, didn't you?"
"we arent even dating!" you protest
"yeah?" he says, leaning back and stretching his arms out. "we don't need to."
"fuck's that supposed to mean?" you demand. you're washing your hands now, back turned to him. even though his steps were light, unheard over the sound of splashing water, you still noticed his shadow looming over you. you turn around, exasperated. "what?"
"just give it some thought," he says, and he sounds normal, but there's a weird tension in the air. you know he's aware of it, though, because he pushes his glasses up even though they don't need to be, and runs his hands through his hair, rolling his shoulders back.
it's half past one in the morning, and you stare blankly at the television, feet on kei's lap. he's on the other side of the couch, scrolling on his phone with one hand. the other hand rests on your ankle, thumb brushing the skin gently every now and then. the question hangs heavy in the air between the two of you, until—
"yes," you blurt.
"hmm?" he looks up, putting his phone down. "what was that?"
"yes, i'll marry you." it's stupid, you're stupid to be saying yes to something as life-changing as this, just because of a stupid years-long crush-infatuation thing that you've harboured for him until now.
he nods, businesslike, and you swear you can see the slightest trace of a smile on his lips. "okay."
"why, though?" you ask. "is it like a marriage of convenience? i mean, it's not like you're into me or anything, are you?"
he rips his eyes away from yours abruptly, looking away. but the blush that spreads across his face like wildfire gives you the answer you needed — although it's definitely not what you'd expected. and suddenly you realise that kei tsukishima doesn't remember his other friends' coffee orders or let them put their feet on his lap. he doesn't pin their contacts to the top of the list, doesn't carry them to bed, doesn't pack lunch for them like he does for you. he isn't the kind of guy to show physical affection to anyone — yet you still recall the gentle, loving brush of his knuckles against your cheekbone just a few nights ago, when he'd settled you into your bed. speaking of beds, he doesn't let his other friends sleep in his bed, and he definitely doesn't hold them either, the way he holds you. a small spark of hope rises within you; with it, the flame of attraction and want that you've religiously kept suppressed all these years comes back to life.
"wait, do you?" your voice is half-serious, half-teasing as you yank your legs away from his lap, getting up to advance upon him on your knees instead. except, just before you reach him, you stumble and fall.
kei catches you smoothly, transferring you onto his lap with an effortless grace that is befitting of a 6'5" middle blocker. meanwhile, your hands shoot out to clutch at his shoulders.
"careful," he murmurs, steadying you, hands on your hips. his face — as usual — betrays no emotion, but his leg bounces up and down anxiously beneath you, and his thumb works feverish circles into your hipbone. "you'll hurt yourself."
although grateful for his concern, you acknowledge it with barely a nod, focused on the question you'd asked before. "do you?"
his lips press into a thin line, brows furrowing ever so slightly. "and if i do? what then, will you hate me?"
you laugh, a sound filled with euphoria, joy. "of course not, silly!"
realisation dawns upon his face. "then do you...?"
you nod as he trails off. he doesn't have to finish what he's saying got you to understand; the two of you have always been good at this mutual-understanding-nonverbal-communication thing, after all. he readjusts you on his lap, and you daringly let your hands fall off his shoulders in favour of fisting the material of his shirt instead. "what do you propose we do?"
"i think i have an idea," he replies easily, cradling your face with one large hand. the tips of his fingers thread into your hair, and he angles your head upwards. you can see the lightest smattering of pink dusting his cheeks, and he swallows harshly as your eyes meet his. "that is, if you'll let me."
"yeah?" you ask.
"yeah," he replies hoarsely.
you're not sure who initiates, but a second later, you're kissing him fervently — you're kissing kei tsukishima, and he's reciprocating, too. you can smell the mint from the toothpaste he's used for about ten years now — it's oddly nostalgic compared to the unfamiliar territory you're currently treading with him. he lets you take the lead, leaning back lazily, and only pauses to push his fogged up glasses to his forehead. when you pull away, he's grinning down at you lazily.
"yeah," he repeats.
you swat at his chest, flushing, and he catches your wrists, pulling you in so you collapse into his arms, and holy fuck, the two of you fit together perfectly. "so is that a yes?"
"yeah—" you cut yourself off with a huge yawn, covering your mouth with the back of your hand. there's a different kind of affection in his eyes now as he takes in the vision of you melted into him, and he takes a moment to immortalise it in his brain. "sleepy?"
you nod, eyelids heavy, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer. "thank you. go to sleep, i'll take you to bed."
"whose bed?" you snicker. "yours?"
it all backfires when you wake up much later than intended, kei still wrapped around you. all you'd wanted to do was make fun of him — but now he says he can't sleep without you ever again.
"let me go!"
"it's your fuckin' fault, go back to sleep."
BONUS BECAUSE ILYGS
"so what you mean to say is, you were secretly dating?" asks yamaguchi.
"no, the fuck?"
"but you were dating, right?"
"no, we weren't."
"how does that even work?"
"don't know, don't care. we're married and that's all that matters."
maybe he's hallucinating when he sees tsukishima on the phone, a huge, dopey smile on his face as he talks.
fuckin hate my english teacher she dont know what english is so i wrote this in my english class and answered all her questions too without paying attention cuz im cool like that. also i have a general taglist now so send an ask if you want in
also tysm @mitskicain s parents for the inspiration ☝️😎
@akaakeis + @smiithys
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satoru would be so obsessed with kissing you, trying to work on your laptop on the couch is no longer any without you being bombarded with pecks across your cheeks, nose and lips.
“satoru…”you warned, starting to get annoyed at all the typos you were making.
“jus’ give me five minutes baby, only five and I’ll leave you alone forever.”
you know a trap when you spot one.
last time he said that it ended up with him between your thighs with your clothes discarded on the floor, not to mention the amount of unfinished work you had left to catch up on.
you shook your head, muttering under your breath, “I can remember the last time those words came out of your mouth satoru.”
gojo simply smirks, “oh yeah? since you enjoyed it so much last time how about—“
“no satoru. I really need to finish this.”
“can I help you then?”
you let out a sigh, “unless you know some shit about biotechnology, then I don’t see why not.”
satoru streched put his arms, his shirt riding up a little, “don’t underestimate the brains of the stongest.”
“mhmm, remember when you thought people in Australia could predict the future just because they were 20 hours ahead?
“I didn’t know back then!”
“yeah, yeah excuses excuses.”
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