Kageyama Tobio had a short fuse. Shorter than anyone's. Everyone knows.

Goal-driven, yes. Tenacious? Also yes. Kageyama was a walking landmine. His temper akin to a ticking bomb, ready to explode underneath the slightest touch. But when it came to yours he became so placid—his sensitivity almost tenderizing, not terrifying.

“I had a fight with Kei earlier.” He murmurs into your palm, nuzzling into it like a cat. The both of you were snuggled up together on the futon in his room—the door closed and the overhanging lights casting a soft glow on the edges of his normally sharp features. “Why?” You ask and he shrugs in nonchalance, “I dunno.”

“Probably because I made a mistake.“ He sighs, pulling away before taking up all your personal space the next second—his frame engulfs yours, large fingers interdigitated between the crevices of your nimble ones, creating a sharp contrast.

“You're pressing all your weight onto me,” You repine, he hums. “Good. I like it that way.” You laugh amidst the ache and he takes the opportunity to press your wrists onto the mattress, your palms facing the ceiling as he closes his eyes. “I like you this way.” He whispers, knowing you'll hear the rasp in his voice—the lax in his tone.

“..Do you not like me in any other way?” You ask the question. So fucking silly. He thinks. Yet he answers anyway, his hiccups for laughter dying down in the crook of your neck before replying, “I love you in every way possible. Just like it real good when you're helpless.”

The satisfaction is evident in his body language when he lets your thighs press against his hips. “Lets me do what I want in that case. ”