𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘 彡 [jjk oneshots]

ミ✮ 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥┆[various characters]

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: fem!reader insert
[no real pairing; platonic]

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4614

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: in which what was supposed to be a fun day off at the beach turns into an all-out war because of a few frail egos

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: strong language, chaotic fun (+ my air sign-esque writing), i'll be honest: this is a crack fic, some basic volleyball terms, reader is a volleyball pro, yuji is a major simp and gojo is a clingy bitch, this took me way too long to write

𝐕. 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐬 — chapter brought to you by all the bloodthirsty volleyball matches i've participated in. i don't mess around when it comes to receiving the ball :-)

｡･:*:･ﾟ★

𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐄.

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 serious outrage coming from the opposing side of the net staked into the warm sand from both ends. An eighteen-year-old young woman clad in a sparkly white bikini stuck her tongue out at her competitors tauntingly while making an 'L' with her fingers. So, apparently, this girl was the supposed epitome of maturity that the first years heard gossip about.

Standing behind third-year sorcerer, [Y/N] [Y/L/N], Megumi facepalmed—utterly embarrassed about his upperclassman's childish antics directed at the sorcerers a year younger than her. And for this mock game of volleyball, this girl...this third year who he'd never met before was his teammate. Wonderful. Nobara held similar sentiments towards the way [Y/N] was acting as she just stood there in her cute aqua-colored one-piece swimsuit, awkwardly smiling at the interaction between [Y/N] and the highly competitive second years.

Honestly, Nobara still couldn't fathom that the third-year girl whom she heard so many insanely cool stories about was the same girl who was behaving so...uniquely. There was just no way that the eighteen-year-old had defeated hundreds of curses and had the ability to completely downplay her talents.

Looking to her left, Nobara became exasperated when she caught Yuji shamelessly ogling at [Y/N] and nearly drooling over the way her bikini hugged her curves. Sure, the eighteen-year-old was admittedly very attractive but now was not the time to be mentally undressing her.

On the other side of the net, the second years were sending glares in [Y/N]'s and the first years' direction. Maki narrowed her eyes at the third year who had been mocking her for about two minutes nonstop, implying that she, Toge, and Panda would lose this match. Had it been any other situation, Maki would have made sure to show her appreciation and respect for the older student standing before her, but now the Zen'in girl was hellbent on defeating [Y/N] and crushing her very inflated ego.

Tearing her eyes away from her schoolmates on the other side of the volleyball net, Maki placed her hands on her hips expectantly and turned her body in the direction of the youthful man responsible for everyone's well-being—the same man who appointed himself as the referee for the upcoming game. There Gojo sat in a folding chair, utterly unbothered and texting away on his phone with a pair of sunglasses shielding his glowing blue orbs out of precaution. The poor recipient he was messaging had already received a plethora of useless texts from him. It was then that his student's commanding voice pierced his ears and made him look up.