#dad!oikawa x reader

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹｡ 5:55 p.m. | oikawa tooru

wc: 709 summary: oikawa comes home missing a step in the ‘oikawa family routine’.  contains: f!reader, papa!oikawa, baby girl oikawa, use of term ‘baby’, baby/child/kid, being parents, food descriptions, oikawa coming home to his lil family of three!, oikawa aged up to pro. a/n: thought of this lil blurb today and had to get it down !! i love papa oikawa my heart is bursting !!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

Oikawa comes home in the late afternoon.

He takes his shoes off by the genkan, and keeps a hop in his step despite a full day of volleyball; being a setter might be what he does best, but bursting into his house, shouting his usual 'baby, i'm home!' might just be what he loves the most.

And he's about to do it, as he steps into the hallway, gym bag on his shoulder and mouth open pre-yell, but he stops, because—

—there peering up at him is his little girl, greeting him with an index finger to her lips as if to say: 'shhh, papa, be quiet ...'.

When he looks further behind her, to the couch, he sees you, fast asleep with your right arm folded to cushion your head, and the other hanging over the edge.

"Mama sleep," she whispers, almost giggling, and he thinks the saying could never be more true; her laugh is infectious (or maybe just to her papa)—he'd never be immune.

Oikawa's eyes widen and he mouths an 'oh' as he lets down his gym bag quietly. He crouches low, coming eye-to-eye with his mini-me, the splitting image of him except for her smile—which is yours, undoubtedly.

He stretches his arms out, welcoming her in, and she rushes to him, giggling, her brown curls bouncing with each step closer to him.

This is the Oikawa family routine: when papa arrives home, he gets 3 kisses, one on each cheek and the last one on his nose. Then, he lifts his little girl up, supports her with one arm while he kisses you and pulls you close.

This time, the routine isn't quite as complete but he still has his little girl on his arm, perched by his hip kissing his cheek. Her little hands grab on to his face to place the final kiss to his nose and he scrunches it, joking with her, a remix of his favorite tune as she giggles some more.

"Did my baby sleep too?" he whispers, feet light as he makes his way to the kitchen, past you.

His little girl nods, "Small only." and he thinks it's so cute, that she's the smartest girl in the world for knowing what to say—even though he knows 'small' isn't exactly the right word to describe it.

He lets her down on the kitchen counter before opening the fridge to check what's available: chicken and a few vegetables. Then, he gathers what he needs and places them on the table.

"Should we make dinner for mama?" he asks, a glint in his eyes that can only mean one thing. 

His little girl perks up, brown eyes widening and gleaming just the same, a perfect reflection of his as she nods and says, "Egg!"

He laughs, volume restrained, but he kisses her forehead and replies, "Okay, egg for mama it is."

By the end of it, there's an empty carton (or two) of eggs he's used (failed attempts to make Omurice until its decent, but still half as good as what you always do). His little girl sprinkles the last few bits of green onion before you round the corner just in time, eyes slightly puffed and his love right there, laced in your sleepy smile.

"Mama!" his (your) little girl shouts, making grabby hands at her papa to let her down.

You shake your head and laugh, smiling just like your little girl as you drag your feet nearer. The food is resting on the counter as Oikawa picks her up, keeping her perched on his hip as he walks towards you.

It’s a warm, fuzzy feeling sitting in his stomach that's been there for a while, even before you two became three, that's reminding him of how good his life is, coming home to you, sleep lines and all running across your cheek.

When you meet in the middle of your kitchen, you don't forget the Oikawa family routine, tiptoeing up to kiss him as he pulls you closer, your little girl squished in-between.

"I'm home, baby." he whispers, nose-to-nose, just as you let his lips go, and you laugh, his favorite tune, the original, before your baby girl made it her own.

"Welcome home."

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[haikyu-mp4]

Stepping up

Your boyfriend Oikawa brings your daughter to work, for my Parenting event<3

requested by @stars-tonight. word count; 518 – f!reader

Perhaps troubled souls are destined to find each other, because you were lucky enough to meet Oikawa while he needed someone who felt like home, and you were in no less of an emotional predicament as the single mother of a toddler.

Oikawa snuck his way into your heart by caring for your daughter, and even though neither of you was in a hurry to get married, he became like a dad to her.

Meaning, you had no trouble accepting when Oikawa offered to bring her to work on a day when her daycare was closed and you urgently had to go to work.

The day got off to a rocky start. He got out of his car at the usual parking spot and headed for the gym, only to hurriedly run back as he realised he had forgotten the baby.

From there, the technicalities went well. There were just a few… comments.

“You’re a dad?”

“Not technically, but-” he said, confidence not faltering as he proudly held up the cute, smiling toddler.

“Oikawa, you can’t just steal a baby!”

“It’s my girlfriend’s daughter!” he protested, holding the girl tighter as if someone would try to steal her away.

“But not yours? You’re quite the man stepping up to that.”

And they were so right, he really was, but he didn’t see it that way. He loved you and this baby is yours, so what if another man had once been involved? He didn’t exactly come to Argentina as a virgin either.

Blanco, his coach and mentor, raised an eyebrow when Oikawa entered the gym with two gym bags instead of one and a baby still in his arms. He came to work in his uniform so he wouldn’t have to use the locker room. “I didn’t know we recruited new players,” Blanco joked.

“She’s a talent like you’ve never seen before,” he joked, playing along until his face turned more sheepish. “Could you, maybe, watch her while we play? My girlfriend had to rush to work this morning and the daycare was closed, and-” Good thing he was interrupted, because he had nothing else planned for the third and.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry, this little angel will be just fine,” Blanco assured the setter, taking the baby in his arms and shushing any instructions Oikawa gave him as if he hadn’t held his own grandchildren before. “Get on with warm-ups, you’re behind.”

Oikawa enjoyed it so much. Every time he would walk past the coach holding your little cutie, she would wave excitedly with what Oikawa could swear were stars in her eyes.

He would always wave back, of course, dedicating all his serves to her as if she had any understanding of said concept. Eventually, the other players started following his lead, and she revelled in the attention.

When the day was over, he bounced her in his arms on his way back to the car, kissing her temple once or twice for good measure. “Good job today, Champ. Now we can go home to mommy!” he cheered.

Yeah, he was destined to find you two.

masterlist

for the requester: thank you for the request, I was hoping for some Oikawa<3

[carleycore]

When they insult you(Kenma and Oikawa)

A/N this blog is so weird- It’s like 400 styles in one.

Genre: Angst (it’s not SUPER bad- I can write a part two as comfort if y’all would like that)

Warnings: Insults obvi, pregnant reader(oikawa)

Part two

(not having a job)

Being with Kenma is wonderful. He never looks at other girls, fights you, and always is there to support and love you, so of course you did the same.

You’ve been dating him since high-school so you were there for him through his volleyball days all the way to his billionaire status. Naturally, you both loved and were there for each other unconditionally, so it was no surprise when he got down on one knee and proposed.

Currently the two of you were in the process of wedding planning which was super fun, but stressful as hell. 

Kenma made enough money from streaming and his business and he loved to stream. So he was still working when he really didn’t need to. 

You’d quit your job to focus on the planning and all had been going well.

Now the week was two months away and all you had left was the finishing touches.

All of the major stuff was done, and now all you had to do was plan the little things. Little things that would’ve been really helpful to have your fiancé's input on, so you opened his door slowly to see if he was streaming, which he was, but he was in the middle of a break.

“Hey baby,” you smiled, walking over to sit on his lap, “are you busy right now?”

You couldn’t tell when you walked in, but he seemed pissed off. 

“I’ve been streaming for four hours. All I want is a break, what do you want?” He responded harshly.  

“Just turn off the stream, I wanna talk about wedding stuff,” you bargained. 

“One of us has to work, Y/N. I know it’s fun to just lounge around on the couch and pick flowers but I have a real job. A job I need to support you and this lavish wedding you want.” 

After hearing this, you simply got up and left the room. If that was truly how he felt, so be it. There didn’t have to be a wedding after all.

Going into a guest room and slamming the door, you instantly started applying for jobs. Kenma knew you were waiting until you finished college to get a job again, and that he’d support you through getting your masters degree. But clearly, that was a lie. 

And you wouldn’t force him to support you any longer.

(Not dressing up)

You were 20 weeks pregnant. Finally at the point where it didn’t just look like you ate a lot. It looked like you were growing a baby. This also meant that it was getting harder to find an outfit that wasn’t just a shirt that was streched out too much, or an ugly maternity dress that made you look even fatter than you felt. Thankfully, Oikawa was there for you ever step of the way. Buying you new things to try on, encouraging you, and telling you how beautiful you looked. But his views changed one day.

Now you and your husband, Oikawa, were walking around the grocery store. Just buying food for the week when one of his old classmates came up to him.

She was pregnant too, and shopping for groceries with her husband. The only difference was she was absolutely glowing. Her bump fit her nicely, and the dress she was wearing looked amazing on her. It gave her a very cheery vibe.

Since you didn’t go to Aoba Johsai, you didn’t know them. So, you just smiled and looked at the food intently, as if you didn’t know what you were going to grab. 

After a while they left and Oikawa’s mood seemed to have worsened.

“What’s wrong babe?” You asked, trying your best to keep up with the speed that he walked to the cash register, “and we’re missing a few things.”

“Why can’t you look more like Nami? She’s 24 weeks and she still dresses nicely,” He complained, gesturing towards your Crocs, T-shirt, and sweatpants.

“I’ve tried, nothing you good on me,” you were about to cry. You didn’t know if it was pregnancy hormones or if it was the fact that your husband was berating you in public. It was a good thing the cashier had her airpods in and the store was fairly empty.

“Well maybe you should stay home then. It’s embarrassing when my friends’ wives look better than my own,” he grumbled, picking up the pancake mix and syrup you put in the basket, “seriously? Are you trying to look like a whale?” 

Instead of explaining how HIS child was craving it, you simply put it back on the shelf and was silent the entire way home.

That night, after putting everything up and showering you rolled on your side of the bed alone. When he wrapped his arms around your bump as he did every night, you pushed him off. Ignoring him when he tried to apologize and reason with you.

The next day when he apologized, bought you new clothes, jewelry, and the food you wanted you still didn’t talk to him.

It’d take a lot more than bribery for you to forgive his actions. 

THIS BELONGS TO CARLEY-CHAN 2023 DO NOT REWORK/REWRITE!!

reblogs and likes appreciated <3

[sassycheesecake]

A/N: Chose the names for the kids completely random, also I was a horrible teenager and I still feel bad what my poor parents had to go through with me. Also, the Spanish translations are from my male best friend whose mother tongue is Spanish, I am sorry if it’s not correct, I’ll kick his ass if something is wrong 😂

TW: period blood

Tōru Oikawa is many things.

King of the court, former national Argentinian Setter, husband of a beautiful successful, confident woman he calls the love of his life and father of three children.

Now as a retired athlete, the former Setter trains all sorts of volleyball clubs in San Juan. From little kids trying out Volleyball for the first time to High Schoolers and even College students trying to go pro.

All these years, you raised the children mostly while your husband played volleyball professionally until he couldn’t do it anymore physically. With coming age, every athlete reaches their breaking point sometime.

Now working your dream job as a novel publisher about a romance novel you recently published, you’re in the United States, traveling and doing interviews about it.

The two of you always wanted a family.

After Tōru did the try outs and made it on Argentinian team, the the two of you celebrated with a lot of alcohol and passionate kisses and just like that, your first child was born 9 months later.

Just by the age of 22, Tōru is a father of a beautiful girl named Sofia, she was born in the bright early morning light in December.

As first time parents, there were ups and downs but you both pulled it through as a team.

During the years, you and Tōru brought two more lives into this world, one girl and one boy. Hikari and Thiago.

Sofia is now 13 years old, which means she is a teenager now. Hikari is 10, while Thiago, the youngest, is 7 years old.

Thiago does not always has it easy with two older sisters, especially since Sofia has had incredibly bad mood swings that she occasionally lets out on her siblings, causing fights to break out that the poor former retired pro Volleyball player has to break up lots of times.

Unfortunately the former Setter’s wife is out of the country for interviews and signing her books, leaving the man to run the household by himself.

During years of intensive training, raising three children, nothing could have prepared the brunette for this.

Puberty.

On Saturday morning, Tōru prepared breakfast for his kids when Sofia came out of her room with an annoyed expression.

No.

Pissed expression.

She sits down at the table without greeting her family and just begins to tear apart the waffles without eating them.

"What’s wrong with you?" Hikari asks in a curious voice.

"What’s wrong with your face." Sofia’s voice is full of venom, like her sister took away her iPod again without asking her first.

"Hey! Ya basta." Tōru scolds her with a frowned expression.

Sofia’s mean demeanor drops a little bit but the anger on her face still remains. She definitely inherited your angry expression that Tōru is still terrified of.

Thiago is just munching on his Lucky Charms cereal, ignoring his sisters’ antics like always.

While both daughters inherited your looks, Thiago looks like a solid copy of his father. The same hair, the same eyes, the same face.

When the Setter cleans up the mess from the cooking, an idea pops up in his head. Something he hasn’t done with his kids in quite a while due to their school activities and homework.

"Hey kids, how about we play some volleyball in the garden later on? We haven’t done that in a while." Tōru suggests.

The two younger Oikawas brighten up with excitement, whereas the oldest one barely reacts.

"Go got ready after breakfast, I'll clean everything up and Thiago, go get the volleyball in mum’s closet." Tōru tells his kids, a huge smile breaking out on his face when his youngest one quickly chows down the rest of his food before running upstairs to get dressed and fetch the volleyball out of his parents’ closet.

Hikari also finishes, setting her plate in the dish washer before going to her room as well, getting ready to play volleyball with her brother and her father.

Tōru looks at his daughter and she pushes her plate away, leaving the table without another word.

"Sofia, you know you can talk to me. Qué te preocupa?" The brunette calls out to her.

She doesn’t reply, just keeps on walking and closes the bathroom door with a slight slam.

With a deep sigh, Tōru finishes cleaning up, wishing his wife was here to help him figure his teenage daughter out.

All of sudden, he hears Hikari and Thiago running down the stairs, this time in sports attire instead of their pajamas.

Making a run for it, Hikari trips Thiago to be the first to arrive in the garden of the house.

With his face landing on the hardwood floor, he groans out loudly in pain before getting up and yelling after his sister.

Rubbing his temple in annoyance, Tōru makes his way to the bathroom to try and get his eldest daughter out to join the family fun.

Knocking gently on the door, the father begins to talk.

"Sofia? You okay?"

"Go away, dad!" She yells out behind the door and it sounds like she is scared but also deeply upset.

"Preciosa, what’s wrong? You okay?" He begins to get worried.

"It’s nothing, I just… I-I need mum for this." Sofia sounds embarrassed as she says it out loud.

Tōru pouts a little bit at that, his little girl choosing you over him.

"Maybe I can help you." The father offers.

"No! You can’t! Gosh, this is so embarrassing!" She shouts in reply.

Now Tōru is starting to freak out a little bit.

"Sofia, tell me what’s wrong or I will knock down this door, I am not kidding!"

No reply.

"There’s… there’s blood… in…my…" She stutters.

Pressing his ear against the door, he tries to listen what she is trying to say.

"Blood in your what?!" Tōru asks frantically.

Now both Oikawas are freaking out.

"I GOT MY PERIOD, YOU HAPPY?!" She finally snaps and yells.

It seems like time has stopped for Tōru Oikawa.

Why, why?!

Out of all the times, it happens now?! When you’re gone and he has to deal with it by himself?

'Deep breaths, Tōru. You can do this.'

"Nena, please open the door. I’ll try to help you in any way I can."

"You can’t! I read online that I need something called a pad or a tampon. Do we have any of that here?"

Tōru knows whenever you’re having your period, you keep your feminine products on top of the med cabinet, out of reach from prying eyes.

Hikari and Thiago return inside the house after a while, confused why their father hasn’t come outside to play yet.

"What’s going on with Sofia? Is she sick?" Thiago worriedly asks.

Hikari appears as well, more annoyed than worried like her little brother.

"Sofia, if you die, can I have your laptop?" She teases.

"No! When I get out of here, you’re done for, you little shrimp!" Sofia snaps back.

"Oy! No one is killing anyone! I will be right there, just leave your pa and your sister for a bit okay? I promise I will be there."

Tōru interferes, before Thiago becomes an only child, more likely foster child, since his wife will kill him as well.

Hikari and Thiago make their way outside again, with Thiago jumping on his sister’s back like a warhorse.

They both scream as they head outside again, while Tōru only shakes his head at their silliness.

"Mijita, check the top of the med cabinet."

"What? Why?" Sofia asks perplexed.

"You’ll find what you’re searching for."

After a few minutes of rustling and hearing movement, the father hears the rustling of plastic and the uncertainty in his daughter’s voice as she describes the products.

"You found everything?"

"Yes, thank you, pa…"

"De nada, linda. I’ll explain from the door how to use it."

Tōru does not move from the door, explains to his daughter step by step how to use the different kind of feminine hygiene products, also offering to buy her favorite candies and food tomorrow and even if Tōru can’t see it, Sofia has tears in her eyes, appreciating her father’s supportive nature so much.

When you return from your trip, Tōru is watching a volleyball game between England and France, eyes captivated by the screen.

He is sipping on a beer can, eyes on the tv, switching between cursing and cheering for the teams.

Entering through the entrance door, you spot the love of your life immediately.

"I haven’t seen you drink a beer since high school. Any special occasion?" You grin as you hug your husband from behind, your arms wrapped around his neck.

Pressing a chaste kiss against his temple, your brunette husband chuckles and intertwines one of your hands with his.

"Bienvenido de vuelta, ¿Cómo fue tu viaje?" Tōru asks while briefly looking at you over his shoulder.

"Amazing! The people are very nice and I was busy every single day. How was home?" You ask in return.

"Puro pánico y discusión entre hermanos." Your husband sighs while taking another sip of his beer.

"What do you mean?" You say in a very concerned voice, already bracing for the worst.

"Your daughter had a mental breakdown over her first period today."

"MY daughter?! She’s your daughter too, marido."

"ANYWAY, your amazing marido handled it, amore. They are all asleep, Sofia and I had a long and big talk, you don’t need to worry your pretty little head about anything else."

You smile brightly at him, remembering you have a little souvenir gift for him.

Quietly unzipping your suitcase, you change into the surprise you have for your husband.

"Tōru?" You quietly call out to him, leaning against the entry way of the living room, doing a sexy pose of the new black Victoria’s Secret lingerie you got from the States.

"Hm?" Looking over his shoulder once more, the brunette’s eyes almost pop out of their sockets, choking on the sip of beer he took, while taking your figure in.

"Ven y cógelo, mi capitán." You say in a seductive voice, walking towards the direction of your bed.

Jumping over the couch, the Setter follows you into your shared bedroom, full of excitement and horniness for his precious wife.

Translations:

Ya basta = stop it/cut it out

Qué te preocupa? = What’s wrong?/ What’s going on?

Mijita = my daughter

De nada = no problem

Bienvenido de vuelta, ¿Cómo fue tu viaje? = welcome home, how was your trip?

Puro pánico y discusión entre hermanos = pure panic and siblings fighting

Marido = husband

Ven y cógelo, mi capitán = come and get it, my captain

[natashawritesstuff]

I hope your request are open so if u don't mind this one I was hoping to get like haikyuu boys(kageyama,oikawa,atsumu & kenma(maybe))with reader going to the doctors going to see a ultrasound of the babys?if you don't mind i love reading your stuff!have a good day!

pregnant reader x setters

cw: pregnancy stuff, vomit

2 weeks w/ Oikawa 

Oikawa holds your hair back as you throw up in the bathroom toilet. As you wipe your mouth with the napkin he had gotten for you he jokes, “so you don’t like the new recipe?”

You pant, “no, I don’t.’’

Later in the day as the two of you are cuddling on the couch you sit up quickly clutching your stomach and Oikawa looks at you concerned. 

“Baby, are you okay? Should we go to the doctor?”

“No, no, just period cramps probably.”

He paused, “speaking of when was the last time you had it?”

“What? It was….oh shit.”

***

“Congratulations,” the nurse says nervously, reading the room and seeing how you both didn’t seem to be in a celebratory mood. “I’ll give you a minute.” He excuses himself and then closes the door behind him. 

“Parents, huh?” Oikawa says and you can only nod.

“Parents,” you confirm.

“Think we’re ready?”

“Hell no, but…we’ll work it out.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, walking over to the image of your child, “we will be.”

12 weeks w/ Kageyama

“Water?” he asked. 

“Check,” you confirm. 

“Snack for the car?”

“Check,” you sing, holding up a granola bar. 

“Phone?”

“When do I ever forget my phone?” you wager and he clicks his tongue. 

“Right, you do have a problem,” he mutters. 

“Rude.”

“What’s rude is being late, so let’s get going,” he tells you, lacing your fingers together as he nearly drags you out of the apartment.

Ever since finding out you were pregnant, Kageyama, being Kageyama, has been so particular about everything it nearly causes a headache. The moment you wake up, he’s there with water and morning prenatal vitamins, and breakfast is already ready- in fact, everything you eat is already meal-prepped for you, by him, days in advance. He has notes of your favorite foods in his phone back from when you two were dating and used them to predict your cravings. Everything is taken care of and nothing is unexpected. He is seemingly prepared for anything involving the baby.

When you arrive at the office, you can see a hint of a smile fighting to form on his lips. Today is the 12-week ultrasound- aka-

“D-day,” he says, as he helps you out of the car- not that you needed it. 

Today is the day it is confirmed that you two are having a boy. Not to be confused with the day you find out, because Kageyama already knows. He says it’s a ‘dad gut feeling’ something you wouldn’t understand. He’s already ready to fill the nursery with posters of his old volleyball teams for ‘inspiration’ and has his jersey number on a onesie coming in the mail next Tuesday. Kageyama was prepared for anything. 

“And it’s a girl,” the nurse says with a smile and you feel your heart skip a beat before you look back at your husband who stared at the sonogram unblinking. 

“Really?” you ask for the two of you.

“Yes, congratulations.”

The car ride was silent, dinner was silent, everything for the next 4 hours was silent, and you were sure you broke him. It’s not until your moments before turning out the lights does he finally speak. 

“We’re having a girl,” he whispers, voice hoarse from lack of use. 

You turn your head and nod, agreeing, “yeah, baby, we’re having a girl.”

He smiles at you, and a single tear falls as he confessed, “I wasn’t prepared for that.”

His smile turns wobbly and you pull him in for a hug as he sniffles against your shirt. 

“Can we name her Tobia-”

“Baby that’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking-”

“Oh no, you have to be,” you tell him and he chuckles. 

15 weeks w/ Atsumu

You don’t learn how much of a weirdo Atsumu is until you are pregnant. You should have known something was up when he’s giggling when he serves you dinner one night and the moment you take a bite he tells you, “ya  know yer eating our child.”

You nearly spit the food out as you stare at him shocked. 

“What the hell?”

“Did I word that wrong? Our baby’s the size of a sesame seed,” he explains then gestures to your food, confused why you stopped eating. 

This continues on, for 4 weeks it was sesame, 5 poppy seeds, 6 lentils,  and so on and so on. By fifteen weeks little Miya is an apple and he’s grinning all the way through the beginning of the appointment as she spreads the gel on your stomach, which is now finally starting to show a bump.

“There’s baby,” the sonogram specialist says and Atsumu’s eyes grow wide. 

He’s speechless for a moment staring at the sonogram before he whispers, “the little apple has my nose.

“Yeah, I guess he does,” you agree before you confess, “I hope he’s just like you,” but it’s too quiet for him to hear as he can’t bring himself to tear his eyes away from the baby, already the apple of his eye; your little apple.

40 weeks w/ Kenma

“Hey guys,” Kenma greeted his chat as he logged onto his stream. 

Comments started flooding in and he squinted trying to read them, finally catching one, he replies, “no Y/N hasn’t given birth yet.”

“Wish I did,” you call out from the couch in the back of his room and even more comments flood in. 

Once nearly everyone in the chat is asking questions about you, Kenma sighs, sitting back realizing he’s not going to get to the game and accepts it.

How’s Y/N doing?

whens the due date

congratulations

is the nursery done?

boy or girl???

baby kenma loading!!

“Y/N’s fine, the due date passed, thank you, yes the nursery is done, baby girl,” he answers rapidly. 

Then squints again trying to catch a particular question, “I actually wanted to address this. No, you won’t be seeing baby Kenma until she understands what the internet is and can consent to being on it. I also want to keep that portion of my life private.”

how is he already such a good dad

we understand!!

will you teach her how to game off screen

Understandable, still wish we could see her though :/

Kenma leads the last comment and quickly mutes his mic and turns back to you, asking a question the chat can’t hear. After a few minutes, he unmutes and takes the framed photograph of the latest sonogram. 

“There’s baby Y/N,” he introduces your daughter to the world before he quickly takes the picture out of frame. 

Awww!

so cute 

make sure she gets some rest!!

we love you Y/N!!

baby y/n >>>>>>> baby kenma 

Kenma lightly confessing, “yeah, yeah, I like Y/N better than me too.”

hope you like it!

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[lufvg]

OK, but in honor of the Olympics, is anyone doing any haikyuu Olympic related events?

[thatwasntverycashmoneyofme]

{ 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 — 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝖼𝗈𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗅𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝖻𝗈𝖻𝗌 𝖻𝗎𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌!𝖺𝗎 𝗂𝗌𝗁 𝖼𝗎𝗓 𝖻𝗈𝖻 𝗂𝗆𝗈 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗎𝗌𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽, 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉, 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗄𝗂𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗄𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗈, 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿, 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗎𝗇 𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝖾. }

“hello my youngest what can I do for you this pleasant morning?” you kept your eyes on your phone knowing the footsteps of your three children by heart, your husband grumbles turning over pulling the sheet up over his head.

the slapping of your six year old’s feet against the tile floor as she ran to jump into your lap, being the only thing you hear before it happens. you laugh with your daughter as your phone falls on the bed.

“haytari! you see your daddy tryna sleep.” she laughs teasingly. “i think he should wake up, no amount of sleep would fix that mug.” you burst out laughter as your husband shoots up. “i only look like this caus’a you brats.”

your middle child, eight year old mylo announces his presence, walking into your now wide open bedroom sitting at the edge of your huge bed. “if that’s what you need to tell yourself dad i support you!” kyotani growls out a “lo…” as his son pokes at his feet under the covers.

your eldest, ten year old kyara walks in skittishly, sitting at your feet. “what are we talking about in here guys?” your youngest speaks up. “dad’s ugly face.” you exclaim a ‘heihei!’ stifling your giggles as you husbands eyebrows twitch, a chastising “brat…” leaving his lips.

“it’s okay dad i still think you’re pretty.” kentaro sighs, fingers massaging his forehead, already tired from the day as he responds to kyara. “thanks key.” she smiles as if she’d accomplished something. “you’re welcome dad.” you laugh at the whole interaction, fixing hei’s bonnet.

“alright kids stop messing with your father, now what do y’all want?” hei wraps her arms around your neck, kissing your cheek as she creepily strokes your bonnet. “nothing but your love mother.” you hum unconvinced as you looked into her gleaming eyes then behind her to your other children, finding them staring back.

“yea right! what really you little gremlins?” mylo shouts no longer able to hide his excitement. “when’s our uncle coming mom!?” kentaro scoffs as you answer looking at your phone. “y’all are lucky I was just on the phone with him. he’ll be here in four hours— five if he doesn’t like his outfit probably, just enough time for y’all to get ready. I gotta do y’all hair, so go shower and brush your teeth; you all have dragon breath.”

they all jump out of your bed, rushing to their rooms. “finally damn disrespectful brats.” your husband says leaning over to kiss you. you stop him with a finger to his lips, his eyebrows furrowing as he ‘hmmps’ questioningly. “that goes for you too ken. you can kiss me all you want after.” he nods pulling away from your finger, jumping out the bed to the bathroom.

your family is sat in the living room after eating a full breakfast, watching a movie as you sit on the couch to do the kids hair, setting a pillow down on the floor, starting with mylo who’s the most willing because he likes getting his hair played with by you.

“why don’t one of you girls go to daddy to get this done quicker?” you ask parting your sons hair. your oldest fidgets, keeping her eyes on the movie. “umm no thanks mom.” you were about ask why before your youngest spoke up, her little figure lying on the couch in a relaxed manner.

“no offense mom but dad doesn’t know what he’s doing and he’s had ten years to practice. remember when he tried to do kyara’s hair last week? she looked like no one loved her, no offense kiki.” kyara glanced at her little sister before looking back at the large tv, replying. “oh um none taken i guess.”

your jaw dropped as mylo raised his hand. “i want a no offense too!” your little one complies. “no offense lo.” “none taken!” he grins making you smile at the little interaction before looking at your husband with a teasing look. he shook his head at whatever idea was going through yours, a stressed look on his face.

“heihei, why didn’t you say no offense to your dad?” the brown haired girl declares with assertion, looking to you then her father. “because i wanted him to be offended mommy.” you cackle, slapping your hand against your knee, panting to catch your breath as your husband slinks into the couch, throwing his head back. “i am sick of all of you. none of you are good people.”

after finishing their hair in different styles of braids, the doorbell rings and your husband goes to answer it. he snarls when toru pushes past him to the living room, closing the door and standing by it as he watches you all run up to toru, hugging him screaming his name.

“y/n!! my pups!!” he screams back, your husband scoffs and you roll your eyes, knowing he was going to try to bully the lanky, well dressed male. “when are you getting your own family? an’ where you taking my kids?” toru does the gesture of waving him off, a dashing smile on his face.

“why have a family when i can rent one? it’s more fun being the rich uncle anyways; i’m taking the pups shopping then to the amusement park, they should be good and tired when I bring ‘em back.” you smile thanking toru for the next few hours of quiet that he’s bringing you, he says no problem kissing your cheek as he rushes the kids out of your house, dodging the powerful smack kentaro was finna land on him.

you’re now in your bed lounging with your husband who tsks. “still don’t like that oikawa is their uncle.” you giggle raking your hand up and down his chest. “well maybe you shouldn’t have fallen for and gotten married to his best friend.“ he grumbles as you kiss at his jaw to distract him adding “at least iwa is their uncle too.”

he ‘hmmps’ leaning into your affection “that’s the only upside.” it makes you giggle, your upper half laying on his. “now tell me why you wanted those brats again?” you laugh, hitting him on the chest. “i’m not the one with the breeding kink ken~ or did you forget?” he smirks, flipping you over so he’s on top. “you’re right i did, why don’t you help me remember.” you squeal laughing as he covers you both with the blanket.

𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗆 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗌, 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌. 𝖣𝖮��𝖳 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗅, 𝖼𝗈𝗉𝗒 𝗈𝗋 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾. ©𝖼𝗂𝗍𝗒𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖺𝗅

[talkgirl30]

OIKAWA DADDY!!!!!!

𝗝𝗨𝗝𝗨𝗧𝗦𝗨 𝗞𝗔𝗜𝗦𝗘𝗡 & 𝗛𝗔𝗜𝗞𝗬𝗨𝗨 men with their children.

inspo credit: this

𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 (open): @darkstarlight82

[iwaasfairy]

IWA HARSH PUSSY SLAPPPPSSS OR FINGERINGGGG

a/n. yea I made it dad iwa and also some oc bullshit fucking suE ME but it’s good i like this one yeAAAA I hope you enjoy BBYYYYY I know I liked writing it hahahHAHA

GET IT RIGHT

tw. incest, dad x daughter, single dad iwa, reader’s a brat, obv age gap, size stuff implied, pussy slapping, (hard-ish) dom iwa, brat taming, noncon voyeurism, it’s a family affair, solo masturbation, jealousy wc. 3k

iwaizumi hajime x fem!reader, iwaizumi eiji and hitoshi x fem!reader

Its not his business that you’re a total nympho. Frankly, he could care less. Hitoshi’s eyes flick from under his baseball cap to the older sibling’s smug, almost accomplished smile when he runs a hand through his head of hair, before shaking some of the excess water out. The lighter brunet chuckles. “Our little sister’s laying on a towel with her tits out in the Oikawa’s backyard.”

“Dad’s over there, ain’t he?” Hitoshi responds, already back to scrolling mindlessly through Reddit to cure some of his boredom. Head of the Iwaizumi house said to ‘go outside for a bit’ so here he is, sweating his ass off in the lawn chair. What you’re up to really is none of his concern. Really. Eiji only smiles.

“And what? You think he’s gonna tell her off? Be for real for a second, Tosh.” There’s a look on Eiji’s face. Mixed in under the amusement and the bolstering, there’s something a bit tense. Impatient, and though he’d sooner die than admit it, Hitoshi recognises the glint that sits in the slight scrunch of his nose. He’s jealous. Yeah, you’re the type of little sister who gets away with having your tits out while they’re supposed to pretend not to see it. After sloppily patting himself dry with one of the towels, the oldest sibling slaps his phone out of his hands to grunt. “Get up.”

He responds before he thinks. “Fuck you, bitch.”

But it doesn’t bother his brother, who only tosses the towel back onto the table. “Stop intellectualising it and get up. You wanna get a look too, right? Dad’s over there right now to keep an eye on our little sister, and no one else is home. What do you think’s gonna happen.”

+

The sun’s so nice on your bare skin, glowing heat onto you and making you feel so sleepy and dazed. You’re all housesitting, which means access to the ridiculously nice pool of the Oikawa’s — and a secluded garden where you’re free to do whatever the fuck you want. The low voice is the only thing interrupting the peace. Daddy. “Babe. What do you think you’re doing?”

Your hat’s covering most of your view, but if you crack open one eye you can just about make out the way your dad crosses his arms over his wide chest, wife beater clinging a bit too tight to his muscular form. You push your lips out. “Sunbathing.”

“Put something on.” He sounds a bit tight, like he’s gotta clear his throat. Good.

“Why though?” You lift the hat up with one finger to look up further, see the slightly flushed visage of your father as he eyes you down. He’s a bit sweaty, yard work, and now has all his attention aimed at you. “I can’t get warm evenly all over if I do. Besides, no one’s home, and no one’s gonna look at me. The only people who can see into the yard is us, and Hitoshi nii’s not going to crawl out of his dungeon to spy on me, I promise you.”

It stays quiet for a few seconds as he takes in your words, before he sighs. Frowns just a bit, as he lets his eyes glide down your body just once. Enough to have his jaw clench, though. “I’m working here.” Then, after a bit more thought, he forces out the rest of the words. “You’re distracting.”

“Daddy~ please~” you start though, now pushing off the hat completely and wrapping your arm around yourself in mock-modesty. You have no intention of actually covering up. And looking at the way he’s breathing and already sweaty, he doesn’t actually want you to cover up either. “Nobody’s home. It’s fine. Please?” His olive green eyes flick to the way you’re pushing up your tits with your arms now, and those swimming trunks start feeling a bit tight on him if the way he shifts is anything to go by. The intense look would’ve scared you off before, but… well, it isn’t the first time you’ve gotten away with worse.

It also probably won’t be the last. “Once the sun is gone I’ll cover up to go back into the pool out front, promise.” You smack your lips, and give him those big puppy eyes that he seems to love so much. “Ei nii’s out there and I don’t want him to get an eyeful anyway.” You roll onto your side to send him your best smile. “Only trust you like that, daddy~” You’re audacious, a brat, but only because you know that gets him going. Wouldn’t do it this way if he really didn’t like it. When you go to lay back down with closed eyes, you can already hear him move in the grass.

A slight line works its way between your brows at that, at the idea that he’d walk away from you. But then a warm palm wraps around your arm to pin it beside your head on the towel, and you can feel the heat of him getting onto his heels beside you. Your breathing hitches, but you force yourself to keep your eyes closed. “Trust me to do what, exactly?” He rasps.

His other hand comes to your shoulder to push his thumb in, nice and hard, and works a moan out of you before you can think— working his way down in circles that pull goosebumps out of you. “What’s all this show really for? To make your big brothers jealous? Hm?” He gets close enough for the whispered voice to tickle your neck, hot thigh pressed against your waist before he places the other on your other side, straddling you. “You think that you can ‘daddy’ all your problems away? That if you look at me sweetly enough I’ll give?”

“I- didn’t-” your voice hitches when his mouth drags over your pulse, slight stubble and warm lips leaving kisses all down the length if it. The heat of the sun on your naked chest only makes the almost touch more irritable and itchy, and you have to fight the urge to just curl your body up against him already. “Didn’t want my big brothers to see. Wanted -you to.” When he noses at your collarbone you try to find your voice, and worm your wrist out of his grip to reach for his hair. “Wanted daddy to play with me again. I’ve been waiting since yesterday. Please.”

You can’t help but think back to last weekend, grinding down on his thigh with his fingers down your throat. Panties coated in stickiness and your entire body trembling with exhaustion. He laves soft mouthed kisses onto your throat enough to have you shaking now, too. But Hajime’s nothing if not consistent, as he noses the side of your breast and his hands slide down to squeeze your waist. “You know that I can’t, right?” He always says that.

You can’t help but laugh, humourlessly, and tug softly at the hair trapped between your fingers. “Then why are you?” And he is. As soon as he gets near enough, you arch your back automatically, still clenching your eyes closed. If you look now, the image will haunt you every day for the rest of summer. You’ll need daddy’s hands on you until you can’t go any more. Your tit is pushed against his cheeks because of your motion, and he groans a low, rumbling sound against your body. You can feel the heat of his bulge through his shorts. “Did you get jealous that Eiji might’ve seen me? Even a little?”

A second passes, before he finally grunts. “Fuck, yeah.” His mouth comes to your tits, tongue rubbing over hardened nipples too well, too knowingly. Knowing your daddy’s had other women before could make you green with envy, but he feels so good. His mouth, and hands feel so fucking good. Good enough to cry about it, trapped under his broad, heavy form as he squeezes and sucks your tits. “You’re a headache, you know that? Do you feel what you do to me?”

“Mhm.” You nod, panting, squirming under him. His hardening cock pushes against your thigh as you roll your hips, and he leaves impatient lovebites all over your tits. “Daddy.. d-daddy. Want you.” He’s so big and hot and heavy against you any time you get this close, it’s not your fault. You’re only a headache because he made you one. The clothed grinding against his covered, hard cock leaves your pussy awfully wet and sticky. Your breaths short. “Don’t you wanna- s-show your boys who your daughter belongs to, daddy?”

Your eyes shoot open when a sharp sting jerks your body, spreading through the flesh of your tit before he laves his tongue over the ridges where his teeth dug in. He clicks his tongue while grinding your other nipple between his fingers, making your bottom lip wobble. It feels so good, he always does. It’s not your fault. “Stop tempting me to make you regret your little stunt.” Your teary eyes meet his, dark and predatory before he pushes himself up, and yanks you closer by your thighs. “Legs up on my shoulders.”

“But-“

“Legs.” He says again, lower. You do, let him help your ass up to his mouth and reposition you so he’s level with your cunt. Your pussy clenches around nothing as he blows on your clit through the fabric, and only one hand keeps wrapped like a vice around your thigh to stabalize you. “I don’t wanna hear anything except how good it feels. Understood?”

You nod, before thinking better of it and speaking up. “Yes.” Fuck, it’s hot. He’s hot. You’re about to melt into a puddle with his face between your legs. He pushes your bikini bottoms aside with rough fingertips before pushing in. And you gasp, doing everything not to whine already. As his nose pushes against your sensitive clit, his lips find yours to leave a wet kiss on the opening, and he pushes his tongue against your sloppy lips without another warning. It’s already too much.

“Agh- d-daddy. You feel g- gh-ud.”

The big, hot tongue pushing you open, makes you grind against him while blood rushes both to your cunt and your head. His other hand flicks over your enterance a few times instead, before two thick fingertips push inside you, slow at first. He makes a show out of bottoming them out, and you can feel the way he smiles when it makes your pussy squelch. His tongue flicks over your clit hard and fast, before sucking. “Fuck, you’re so- good- g-good to me. Daddy!”

“Mhm.” The blood makes your ears ring. It makes you so dizzy it’s impossible to see much past daddy’s face and how good he looks, rubbing his tongue in rough motions over your pussy. He’s licking and licking and licking against your clenching muscles so good it’s almost unbelievable. The rough friction of his chin and stubble against your pussy, the way he nibbles just right at your clit, it’s all too much. It’s too much because it’s daddy— because he knows what he’s doing.

“D-daddy!”

You mewl as you curl your body against him and the push to your clit gets even better. Too good. You’re so sweaty his hand slips on your thigh, instead pulling you back by your heel and yanking you back up, right as your toes curl. His face is making a mess between your legs, and your mouth hangs open. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He- he’s already gonna make you cum. Sweat rolls down your back as your juices run down his chin and he buries himself as deep as he can, groaning your name into your pussy. “That’s my pretty girl, there you go.”

Your thighs squeeze around him and your eyes open through your tears, desperately searching for the eye contact you need to get there. But maybe because he knows you, he pulls back and drops you back down by your legs, spreading them by his thighs. “No, no- daddy pleas-uhh~ I wanna cum.”

“You’re coming on my cock.” He snaps back, before pushing you open more and slapping your pussy with a flat palm. “That alright with you, miss princess?” He says it like it’s an insult. For a moment, it does feel like it. Your mouth snaps shut against the cry you wanna let out, as his hand lands again before you can react. You jerk against the sting, clench your legs closed around his hand, but he pushes them back open to do it again. And again, and again, until slick is dripping down to your ass and your clit is tingling and swollen. You could burst out into a sobbing fit any second. “Can I do what I gotta do to get you there now?”

“Yes,” you sniffle back instantly, and open your eyes at him. Thick tears sit on your vision at it, you can’t help it. It’s all his fault you’re this way anyway. Your thighs wobble before your bottom lip does, and it’s this that makes him sigh.

“Aw, babe, shhhh— I’m sorry.” He takes only a moment to pull his shirt over his head, then gets back over you to wipe away the thick tracks. It doesn’t do much against the tears that keep coming, but it’s ok. It’s much better when you can place your hands to his bare chest and feel his heartbeat through your palms, reach up to kiss him. He tastes like you, and you suck on his tongue until he moans into the kiss. When he pulls back, that hot, big palm cups your cheek. “Was that mean?”

“I deserved it.” His dialated eyes search yours for a moment, before he kisses you back another few times. The tingling ache between your legs remains, but there’s a pit in your stomach that becomes more demanding again. “Please keep going?”

“Take me out.” Your hands instantly glide down his body at the order, hooking two fingers around the elastic band before pulling. Pulling down until you reveal the trail of pubic hair that leads down to his thick, flushed cock and down further. Down until the fabric can no longer hold him back from bobbing up against his stomach and he lets out a deep breath. You pull a little more to get a glimpse of his fat, heavy balls too, before daddy grunts and places both elbows by your head again. “Lead my cock inside you like a good girl, hm?”

“Uhuh.” Gladly. Your fingers reach for him, touching the dripping head first. Pre gets all over your fingertips, and you truly can’t stop yourself from putting two fingers inside your mouth with a whimper. Your hands return to squeeze around the head, need both to reach and stroke down a few times. Not that he needs it. He’s hard enough to feel his heartbeat through the skin, thick cock twitching as you shuffle around to line up. “‘s big.”

“It’s big to make you feel good.” He agrees, kisses your temple, and bucks into your palm. “Go on.” You line him up with a deep breath, before blinking your long lashes up at him with your lip between your teeth. The head kisses your hole as he hums, slides your slick around on the puffy mushroom head a few times before pushing in. “Ugh-always forget,” he grunts lowly, biceps bulging as he holds himself above you, “how fucking tight you are. My little baby.”

He starts rocking himself inside you bit by bit, and you can’t help but drag your nails along his flexing back to hang on. “Ah, ah, agh, daddy. You’re- so- big.” You throw your head back, and pant, tears still wobbling. You’re no longer sad though. Your pussy’s being forced open too big, too- fucking wide for you to clench around him properly- but it feels so good. He feels so fucking good, oh God. You want to fuck daddy all summer. You want him to never, ever stop.

+

Hitoshi’s so fucking hot it makes it hard to see straight. Cum’s gotten on his shirt, all over his hand, and he’s got boxers full of cum running down his fucking thigh. While his cock’s still hard and red in his fist as he forces his own hips not to buck. He can just barely hear your whines echo over the field to where they’re hiding— and you sound, predictably, just like how he imagined you do. You look good. Fuck, he’s sure you’d look just as good under him, but instead you’re clinging flushed faced, tits bouncing to your dad with his greying temples and letting yourself get used.

You’re pathetic, honestly. But he’s also not fucking blind. His cock twitches hard in his hand, and his other hand comes to cover the flared head as if that’ll keep a third load in. He’s trying to hold it so hard that he’s panting, balls pulling up to his body.

“Think she’ll let me eat the cum out of her when dad leaves?” Eiji’s pumping his cock without shame like there’s no tomorrow, getting drops of hot, clear liquid everywhere. He’s christened the plants with his cum earlier, too. Hitoshi just grimaces, before looking back at the way your body curls around the fat cock driving in and out of you, your cries about to make him bust again. “Huh?”

“I don’t fucking care, Ei nii.” He then furrows his brows so deep that you’d say he’ll get permanent wrinkles, not bothering to look over. “Why do you wanna eat dad’s cum out of her?”

“So I can fuck my own into her.”

Hitoshi’s too busy watching you and breathing through it to care about what he’s saying, so it takes a minute to filter through his hazy thoughts. “You’re a pig.”

Eiji just rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say, quick shot. Have fun trying not to cum when I go next.”

All Rights Reserved © IWAASFAIRY 2024. Works are exclusive to this Tumblr.

[omitea]

some dad haikyuu maybe 😗🥲

𝐇𝐐! 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐒

char. timeskip! male characters x fem! reader.

tags. fluff, reader referred to as ''mama'', probably bad writing, the second one is long…also not proofread.

note. hii i hope this is what u wanted <3 this probably sucks (i let it sit in my drafts for too long and this is my first time writing dad! au).

☆— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄𝐑

soft snoring was heard as you entered your home, the outro of ‘’the princess and the frog’’ playing in the background. taking off your shoes, you noticed the toys scattered on the floor. sighing, you began picking them up— leading towards the living room. your steps soon came to a halt as you took in the adorable view in front of you. the irritation once building inside of you, disappeared in an instant. there he was, laying on the couch with her on his broad chest. a large hand placed on her back which looked like it could swallow her whole.

a small smile formed on your face. the snort you let out caused him to open his eyes. ''hello, love,'' he yawned. you walked towards him and placed a kiss on his forehead. ''hi,'' you chuckled, ''i'll change then join you,'' was all you said as you walked towards the bedroom, a giant smile plastered on your face.

the way your little one’s fist clung to her father’s shirt, was enough to make you feel all warm inside.

| USHIJIMA, sakusa, daichi, IWAIZUMI, kita, aran, akaashi, matsukawa |

☆— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 “𝐃𝐎𝐍’𝐓 𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐀”

he was slightly panicking at the crying child in front of him-- whining about some mini cookies he saw while passing the aisle. smiling awkwardly at the strangers giving him stares, he mentally cursed himself for tagging him along. ''i got some vegetables, yeah? those are good too, bud," to which the child only deadpanned at his father. ''I WANT COOKIES!'' he could only sigh and turned the cart around and grabbed the cookies on the highest shelf. "listen, -" he sighed for the nth time, ''don't tell your mama, okay? daddy doesn't wanna get yelled at.'' your child only nodded, smiling widely with one missing front-tooth. when the two of them came home with the groceries in hand, you placed it on the counter and started putting them away.

little do you know that your husband placed the half-eaten bag of cookies on the bottom of the plastic bag. taking it out, you glared at him— “who’s cookies are these, mhm?,” he swore he could feel his heart drop to the bottom of his ass. “i-uhm, ITS MINE!” he smiled, reaching out to grab the bag from your hands. you sighed as he walked away, leaving you and your son standing in the kitchen. “daddy is lying, mama. those are mine,” your son pouted, to which you could only let out a chuckle, “oh, i know those are yours,”

how would you know? well the crumbles on your sons’ cheek didn’t go unnoticed.

| OSAMU, bokuto, atsumu, kuroo, SUNA, sugawara, OIKAWA, hanamaki |

©𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐀. please refrain from stealing my works !

[seiwas]

cw: happy tears and tickle fights, birthday celebrations and other things. unedited sawry. ‼️ FIC SPOILERS PAST THIS PORTION OF THE CONTENT WARNING ‼️ pregnancy.

.

hajime’s birthday this year is different.

you don’t celebrate on the day of, contrary to your tradition of keeping it free no matter what. instead, you decide on the weekend, taking time to prepare his gift while he’s out of town.

the sunday morning starts out slow, a late wake to his usual 5:00 a.m. runs. you shift beside him, turning to snuggle deeper into his hold.

you weren’t able to wait for him last night, any hour past midnight simply impossible for you to keep up with these days.

your breath puffs out in a long exhale, tickling his collarbone.

he pulls you closer when you move, tucking his nose into the crown of your head. it’s something you both do, you’ve noticed—breathing each other in the moment you return to one another.

the celebration today is not lost on you, but you take in these few silent moments with him for just a bit longer.

when he stirs, squeezing you tighter as he mumbles a low ‘morning’, you peer up to kiss his chin. he’s ticklish there, you know, especially when your lips catch on the bits of stubble grown a few days after he shaves.

it takes longer for you both to get out of bed because of that, a tickle fight ensuing as hajime sneakily crawls his fingers up your armpits, blowing raspberries at the spot right below your ears.

you slip into the bathroom that way—a little clumsy and a lot giggly. then you crouch low, opening the cabinet under the sink; hidden in it is your gift for him, a flat rectangle wrapped in kraft paper and a green bow.

it’s the first thing in your agenda today, you’ve decided, unable to wait until he receives it at the end of the day, like you’d originally planned.

hajime’s propped up against the headboard when you step back into your bedroom, blanket scrunched at his hip. you’re no fan of the season’s heat, but you thank god it’s summer, because at least, you’re met with the view of his exposed chest every morning.

he holds an arm out to welcome you back in, letting you rest your legs across his lap as he cradles your back.

“your gift,” you whisper, holding out the wrapped rectangle, “open it first. that’s the first thing on our agenda today.”

he chuckles, taking the soft rectangle from your hands while kissing your temple, “thanks, babe. you didn’t have to.”

you watch eagerly, tucking yourself into his side as you wrap an arm around his waist. he tears through the wrapper but sets aside the bow, knowing you like to recycle them when you have the chance.

hajime is a simple man, and at the sight of his favorite brand of socks, he lights up at the addition of one more to his already-full drawer of them.

he turns to you, about to pepper your face with a bunch of kisses but—

“check the hem, i got something done to it.” you giggle.

he looks confused for a moment before he turns them over, plain white save for the dark green letters running around its ankle garters.

there’s another reason you decided to celebrate his birthday this weekend, on the third sunday of june.

he deciphers the word, reading each letter: p-a-p-a, and you can see the cogs turning in his brain before he immediately whips his head to face you.

“you’re—?”

you nod.

there’s something indescribable in his eyes, emotion welling up as they gloss over dark olive green—it makes you want to cry, too.

damn all these hormones.

“happy birthday, papa.” you sniffle, smiling wide, “and happy father’s day.”

(after a whole lot of tears, and even more kissing, you show hajime the tests you took while he was away. he tells you you should have told him, that he would have come home, but you shake your head.

it’s well worth it, seeing his reaction to two things he can celebrate today.)

[whisperofwonder]

Good Cop, Bad Cop

Parenting with various Haikyuu men - sometimes you're the good cop, sometimes you're the bad cop.

Featuring: Ushijima Wakatoshi x reader, Oikawa Tooru x reader, Tsukishima Kei x reader (okay, you're both kind of the bad cop in this one), Hinata Shouyou x reader

(Reader is referred to as Mom in Tsukishima's, the rest are gender neutral)

Ushijima Wakatoshi

You've just gotten home from the grocery store, and are attempting to put the groceries away while simultaneously preventing an all-out fist fight in the middle of the kitchen over the box of applesauce pouches. It's just the kind of day it's been.

Another shriek splits the air, and you massage your aching temples wearily. Normally, your son and daughter get along pretty well, but today is one of those days when neither of them is in a very good mood, and they've been taking it out on each other all day. Refereeing has become exhausting, and the headache pounding in your skull isn't making things any easier. The sound of the door latch has never been more welcome.

"What is all the yelling about?" The sound of your husband's deep voice immediately silences the squabble, your two children suddenly blinking up at him with the box still clutched between them. Oh, you are so jealous of this ability Wakatoshi has. "Applesauce?" He asks incredulously, plucking the box from their fingers and looking down at them with a frown.

"Sorry, Dad," They chorus meekly.

"Why don't you go to your rooms?" He suggests, in a voice that doesn't invite any arguments. "Start thinking about your actions today, because we'll be having a discussion about it later." They glance at each other before silently turning to do as they're told.

You sigh at the sound of their bedroom doors closing. "Tough day?" Wakatoshi asks, voice turning soft in a way that's only ever reserved for you and the kids. He cups your cheek in his hand, and you nod against it, leaning into his touch.

"Just what I said in the text," You murmur, referring to the exasperated message you'd sent him earlier that afternoon. "They've been at each other's throats all day. I wish I could manage them like you do."

"You do just fine," He runs his hand down your arm comfortingly. "I know they respect you and love you very much."

You nod again, though you're struggling to believe it right at the moment. "I just don't have your gift," You shrug, managing a small smile now that he's home and doing this with you.

"That's why we're a team," He says matter of factly, finally drawing you to him and pressing a tender kiss to your lips. "I'll get you some pain pills for that headache. After they kick in, we'll have a talk with them together."

"Thank you," You say softly, leaning in for one more kiss. You truly can't imagine doing this with anyone else.

Oikawa Tooru

You've just finished cutting the second apple and put the slices on the plate when your husband dances into the kitchen, your daughters bobbing behind.

"Okay," He sticks his head in the freezer, rummaging around a bit before pulling something out. "Who wants fudge ripple?" He holds up the carton of ice cream as your daughters bounce on their toes.

"Me! Me!" They wave their hands excitedly.

"Tooru," You say his name quietly, gesturing to the apples you'd just finished plating. "We're having apples for a snack tonight," You announce more loudly, plucking the box from your husband's fingers and tucking it back in the freezer.

"But Daddy said we could have ice cream!" The oldest pouts, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Did he?" You ask lightly, quirking an eyebrow at your husband, who shrugs sheepishly. "Did you happen to tell him that we had ice cream this afternoon after we went to the park?"

Suddenly very interested in her toes, she murmurs, "No."

"Oops," He says quietly, shrugging and mouthing a sorry over the tops of their heads. You shake your head with a sigh.

"Sounds like we're having apples tonight, my loves," He says quickly, corralling them to the table to have a seat as you set down the plate of apples. "Why don't you tell me about what kind of ice cream you got this afternoon?" They sulk, but by the time they're tucked in bed, the incident seems mostly forgotten.

"Sorry about the ice cream thing," He apologizes after you've tucked yourself on the couch next to him. "They're sneaky!"

"They certainly are," You huff a soft chuckle, "I wonder where they got it from?" You muse, elbowing him gently in the side.

"Hey," He pouts, a mirror of your girls' pouting faces from earlier. "I won't be tricked next time." He slides an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"We'll see about that," You murmur, knowing your daughters too well to be convinced, but too comfortable pressed against Tooru to care.

Tsukishima Kei

"It's just not fair!" Your son huffs, stomping louder than necessary through the kitchen. "You said Kaito could come over this afternoon, but now all of a sudden he can't?" He's glaring at you across the room.

"I said he could come over if you cleaned your room," You correct, "And you obviously haven't."

"What if I clean it now? Really quick?" He begs, "Then I don't have to tell him you lied to me."

You open your mouth, trying to formulate a response to that twisted logic, when Kei's office door opens.

"No," He says firmly, and your son turns to him, but can't get a word in before he continues. "Kaito is not coming over today, especially after the way you just spoke to your mother. I know you're smarter than that."

"But-" He says weakly, snapping his mouth shut when your husband's lips press into a thin line.

"I know you're not talking back to me as well." He says icily. "First, apologize to Mom. Then you can go clean your room from top to bottom. I want to hear the vacuum running."

Your son nods slowly. "Okay." He turns dutifully and looks at you. "I'm sorry, Mom."

"Thank you," You accept his apology with a nod, and that quickly he's off to his room. You close your eyes for a few moments, trying to quiet your exasperation.

"Sorry I butted in," Kei speaks from beside you though you hadn't heard him move across the room. "I just couldn't stop myself after what he said." His hand goes to the back of your neck, gently massaging the tense muscles there.

"It's fine," You sigh, "It was kind of getting away from me," You admit with a wry smile.

"Sometimes I wonder if this some sort of punishment for what an asshole I was as a kid," He says with a smile pulling at his lips, and you can't help the laughter that bubbles out.

"Well, I'm not sure what I did to deserve it, because I was a perfect angel," You reply smugly, pressing in to kiss him before he can argue.

Hinata Shouyou

You've been hearing slightly suspicious sounds for the last few minutes, but a sudden crash is finally enough to make you put down the shirt you're folding and follow the sound, dreading what you'll find.

"It didn't break!" Your daughter is saying, setting one of the lamps back up on the end table. A volleyball rolls to a stop at your feet, and you look from it to your daughter and your husband.

"Please tell me this isn't what it looks like," You say in a measured voice, "Because it looks like you were playing volleyball in my house." It's hard to say which of them looks more frightened.

"We weren't playing volleyball!" She pipes up nervously, "Dad was just showing me how to dig a spike like the one Bokuto-san made in yesterday's match."

"Oh?" You turn to your husband, who looks like he'd willingly jump in a hole if it were to open up in the floor. "Shouyou," Your voice is still even, which seems to make him squirm even more. "Can you tell me why, for even a moment, that seemed like something to do in the living room?"

"I, uh, didn't think about it?" He releases a nervous chuckle. "It wasn't her idea at all, I swear. It was all me." He valiantly takes the blame.

"My darling," You turn your attention to your daughter, "You should know better than to listen to your dad sometimes." You sigh. "Just take this back to the garage, okay?" She grabs the ball and dashes away, glad to be free from your disproving glare.

"I'm really, really sorry, baby!" Your husband immediately gushes, "I know it was stupid! It was, but she asked about it and I was just so excited to show her, I didn't think about it." You're trying hard, but it's almost impossible not to soften at the anguished look on his face.

"Feels like I have two kids sometimes," You can't help a small smile as you step toward him, letting him take your hands.

"I'm really sorry," He repeats, genuinely. "It won't happen again. Volleyballs belong outside," He repeats what has become your mantra.

"Very good," You smile a little wider, unable to resist pressing a small kiss to his lips.

[carleycore]

Things Dad!Oikawa would do

WARNINGS: Mentions of kids and pregnancy/ reader has a uterus cuz yk pregnant

Oikawa who'd wear a disguise to his any and all of his children's sports tryouts.

(Him dropping the fact that he's tooru oikawa has nothing to do with it)

Oikawa is the type of dad who'd stay up all night practicing new hairstyles on his kid's dolls so they could have a cool hairstyle to show their friends the next day.

Oikawa who urges you to take family photos for every holiday and loves having them around the house

Oikawa who shows his kid's pictures of him hugging them while you were pregnant, showing how much he loved them even before the were born

Pt 2 maybe? I kinda wanna make a Lil dad one-shot

[seijorhi]

Oleander

Oikawa Tooru x female reader x Iwaizumi Hajime w.c 8.6k tw: yandere, mentions of child abuse and neglect, references to underage kissing, murder, horror themes, pseudo-cest (foster siblings), blanket dub/non-con vibes for a good portion of this

The patisserie smells of sugar, vanilla and freshly baked croissants. In a word; delicious. 

For several minutes now, your brother’s been standing bent at the waist, studying the display case stacked full of cakes and desserts with an intense kind of focus. Considering. Deliberating. Inadvertently placing himself, and by extension you, as an obstacle for other people trying to do the same. 

“Alright, the crepe cake or the fancy looking chocolate one, the…” Heisuke squints at the display case, trying to decipher the label, “gateaux? Or should we go for the red one with the strawberry mousse thing?”

Bingo. You hold back a smile. 

“Go the strawberry one.” Nobody loves strawberries like your mom loves strawberries. 

“Ok, great. We’ll grab that, a bottle of nice wine, hit the florist and I think that should do it.” He nods to himself, satisfied. “She’ll be over the moon.”

He’s not wrong. The woman you’ve called a mother for the past ten years would fall over herself for something as simple as a birthday card, regardless of the fact that your dad insists on going all out every year. 

“She’s already over the moon; you’re home for the week.” The admission’s soft, hesitant – poking a little too close to an open wound for you to feel entirely comfortable voicing it. Hei gives you an odd look, but it mellows into something more genuine when he realises you’re not taking a stab at him. 

Baby steps. 

Finally, Heisuke steps up to the counter to order. Within minutes the cake’s boxed up, with little ice-packs slipped in to keep it cool, and paid for, and the two of you head out, you holding the door open for Hei to carefully maneuver his way out without jostling the precious, expensive cargo. 

“You’re good at this stuff, y’know,” he says as the two of you fall into step together. 

“At… picking cakes?”

He snorts, “No. I meant the whole… I don’t know. You’re good at remembering stuff, the cakes mom likes, dad’s weird habits. You probably already know what flowers we’re going to pick for her, don’t you?”

This time you don’t bother hiding your smile – peonies, pink ones. 

You go to tell him as much when a loud voice calls out your name. On instinct, you both spin to the source, and when you meet those piercing, olive green eyes, bearing down at you from the other side of the street, your heart leaps into your throat.

A ghost.

You can’t breathe. For a moment you can’t even think. Your hand stretches out, blindly seeking Heisuke, an anchor, anything–

Before your fingers can brush his sleeve, a hard, lean body collides with yours, sweeping you up into a crushing hug. Not Iwaizumi, though. 

Oikawa, taller, broader than the last time you saw him, smelling of citrus, summer and salt lets out a breathy noise, halfway between amazement and disbelief. 

“There you are,” he beams, setting you back on unsteady legs. 

Found you, the glint in his eyes seems to say. 

Rather than let you go, step back and give you some much needed space to breathe, his palm instead slides to rest on your hip, taking your chin between the index finger and thumb of his other hand in order to look at you properly, dark eyes poring over you for signs of anything amiss – bruises, tear-tracks, red eyes, swollen, split lips. 

Your mouth goes dry. 

On one side, there’s your brother, bewildered, arm half outstretched as if he can’t make his mind up whether he should be intervening or not. Iwa’s already jogging across the street, snarling at a driver who lays on his horn. 

The weight of Oikawa’s appraisal is as familiar to you as it is oppressive, and while his touch is delicate, featherlight, it burns to the marrow. Suddenly you’re fourteen again, trying to duck past him before he can notice the state of you.  

‘It’s nothing, Tooru, don’t worry about it!’ 

And just like back then, there’s a knot in your chest that doesn’t loosen until satisfaction melts the too sharp edge to his grin – right as Iwa joins you two. Three, you suppose, because while Heisuke remains in stunned silence, eyes darting between you and Oikawa, he’s still party to this, still a witness, and the thought makes you want to curl up into a ball and disappear forever. 

(You shove down the fleeting rush of warmth at the relief you find there, the voice in your head that coos that he still cares enough to check. You don’t want him to care.)

“Holy fuck,” Iwa laughs, and Oikawa’s shoved aside, both of you ignoring the indignant grumbling as your rigid body’s pulled into his chest, his hand finding its way to the back of your head. He breathes in slow. Deep.

He still smells the same, earthy and masculine, the faintest tinge of his last cigarette still clinging to his jacket. Back then, he used to steal them from your foster father. You imagine that now, he probably has the money to go off and buy his own. 

“I’m sorry, who are you? What– can you let her go, please?” 

If it wasn’t them, the sheer absurdity of the moment might’ve made you giggle. Heisuke’s ears are bright red, a flush that extends down his neck. He doesn’t look angry per se, uncomfortable, absolutely, but from the pinched expression on his face, it’s clear he’s fighting the urge to bite out something far less polite. 

None of this, least of all the way they’re tugging you between them like a rag-doll, feels very polite to begin with.

As it is, Heisuke’s interruption has the intended effect. The fingers wound in your hair twitch, the cage of his arms drawing you closer. You almost expect the baring of teeth, a possessive snarl, yet it’s a small, almost imperceptible thing. He retreats – reluctantly – turning to glance at your brother, Oikawa by his side.

Judging from the stony, almost bored expression he levels at Hei, he’s not impressed.

“Friend of yours, imouto?” Oikawa’s purr skitters down your spine like ice. Unlike Iwa, there’s nothing less than friendly curiosity on the surface. He’s even smiling. 

Tongue darting out to wet your lips, you find your voice. 

“Hei, this is Iwaizumi and Oikawa,” you say, gesturing at each respectively. “We were in the same foster home for a while.” Sparing the two of them half a glance, you continue, “We’re actually right in the middle of something, if you’ll excuse us.”

The explicit dismissal’s bolder than you feel, but you’re proud that your voice doesn’t waver. You can’t say the same for your hand when you reach for Heisuke’s spare one, uttering the words that’ll only damn you further, “C’mon, nii-san. Mom and dad are waiting.”

Heisuke doesn’t blink. His hand slips into yours, the two of you sidestepping the pair and walking off towards the car without a backwards glance. 

Neither one of you speaks until you’re buckled into the passenger seat, Heisuke adjusting the rear-view mirror, the cake safely stashed away in the back. Until you’re pulling out onto the main road and there’s distance between you and them.

If only the gnawing, unsettling feeling in your stomach would go with it.

“Sorry,” you mumble, blankly staring out the window at the passing scenery. At the clouds hanging overhead, dark and threatening. Funny, that. Fitting. The skies were clear when you left home this morning. “About the nii-san thing, and grabbing your hand,” you clarify, because whether it was rude or not, you’ll be damned before you apologise for brushing them off. 

That’s not your relationship with Hei. It’s never been that. 

He eyes you for a beat. “You know, I never understood why mom wanted to adopt so bad. Dad too, but mom was always the one pushing for it. We were happy, the three of us. I wasn’t a screw up, their marriage was solid. I couldn’t understand the need to bring someone else in. Our family was fine, perfect the way it was.”

His thumb taps against the steering wheel, his shoulders loose and relaxed. You can’t quite pin the mood he’s in, where he’s going with this. 

“Oh,” you say, mostly because it feels like he’s waiting for you to acknowledge it. 

None of what he’s saying is news to you. None of it’s anything you haven’t wondered yourself a thousand times over. It’s just that Heisuke… you’ve never talked about this. Your adoption, your relationship with him, none of it. This sort of honesty is brand new territory for you both. 

You’re not so sure you’re loving the development. 

“When they committed to it, I thought they’d bring home a baby, a kid, not some weird, skittish fourteen year old who wanted nothing to do with me.” 

Ah.

Your cheeks heat, and you find yourself wishing you were anywhere but here. If Heisuke notices how you shift in your seat, the small tightening of your expression, he plows on regardless.

“You wouldn’t look at me, would barely talk to me. Hell, you acted like I had the plague most of the time. You didn’t hate me, I don’t think, you just… didn’t want to be anywhere near me, and it bugged the hell out of me. I couldn’t figure it out; who wouldn’t want an older brother to look out for them?” His next words hit you like a sledgehammer, cracking at something vital in your chest. It hurts before he opens his mouth.

“It was them, wasn’t it? The reason you steered clear ‘til I moved out of home.”

“Heis–”

He cuts you off with a look. “I’m right, aren’t I?” he demands. 

“Can we just– it doesn’t matter, alright? Can we move on?”

From the unhappy set of his jaw – the first true sign of discontent he’s expressed since getting in the car with you – it’s obvious there’s more he wants to say. You can’t blame him for that, curiosity’s only human. 

But you’re still too raw. It’s too soon.

You’ve spent too long burying those secrets deep to rip yourself apart to bring them to light. 

“Please, Hei. Let’s focus on mom’s birthday.” You force a smile, tiny and wrong, “The florist is next, yeah?” 

You get a grunt of acknowledgement and not much more than that, your brother’s attention pulling back to the drive. The silence that settles in the car should bring some relief. It’s what you wanted, and yet, amongst the churning feeling in your guts, the prickling at the back of your neck that hasn’t left you since you first spotted Iwa across the road, there’s a sense of discomfort that has nothing to do with crossing paths with your past life. 

Like a slap in the face, it hits you that you’re floundering for something to say, something – anything – to bridge the sudden, stark divide between you. Something that won’t sound hollow and meaningless. 

This thing you have with Heisuke. It took years, and maybe it’s skin deep and miles from what it should be, but the thought of losing it leaves you feeling oddly panicked.

It’ll… hurt.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, because it’s about all you can give him right now, a tried and true method of soothing egos and hurt. 

Heisuke doesn’t say anything for the remainder of the drive, and you resign yourself to the very real possibility that in the course of a single conversation, you’ve managed to fracture this fragile thing between you two. 

Until you go for the door, and a hand on your wrist stops you. “Hey. I’m glad they did.”

—

When you startle awake a little after midnight, it’s because he’s yelling again. 

Mr. Furukawa had been in fine form at dinner, already three beers deep. You can only begin to imagine what’s set him off now, hours after lights out. His wife, probably. Although it’s equally possible he’s caught the oldest sneaking back in from seeing his girlfriend, or the twins trying to break into the pantry for a midnight snack. Or he tripped and stubbed his toe, or thought someone stole the rest of his beer when in reality he’d already swallowed it down. 

The reasons don’t really matter when he’s been drinking like that, in the same way that the initial target of his ire doesn’t matter. Once his voice reaches that slurred, furious pitch, anyone’s fair game.

There’s a pair of headphones in the top drawer, you have every intention of yanking them out and putting on one of your sleep playlists, drowning out the noise of your foster father’s drunken raging until he wears himself out or you fall back to sleep when you hear the thumping of his feet on the staircase.

“Where’s that fucking bitch?”

Eyes wide in the darkness, clutching at the comforter, your pulse jumps.

Again, it’s possible he’s talking about Mrs. Furukawa, or one of your foster sisters – the older one hunched over in the bed opposite yours, watching you shrewdly.

“Well go on then,” she sneers. “Run to your big brothers.”

You don’t bother to respond, any hesitation you might’ve had over leaving her to fend for herself shrivelling up under the mocking bitterness she’s sending your way. Fine, whatever. You don’t care what she thinks, scrambling from the warmth of your bed and hurrying for the door.

He’s halfway up the staircase when you reach their room. You’d knock – it’s the polite thing to do – except you definitely don’t want to be out in plain view when your foster father hits the landing. 

“Hajime?” you whisper into the darkness, slipping inside and shutting the door behind you, “Tooru?”

“Shit, c’mere.” At Hajime’s voice, the calloused, rough hands that guide you onto his mattress, the vice around your chest loosens. He won’t come in here, not after Hajime socked him in the face after catching sight of the raised, discoloured flesh of your cheek from your last run in. You’ve gotten better at using make-up to conceal the marks since then, but there’s also been less of a need for it.

“Can I stay for a bit?” you ask. Until he calms down and passes out. Until the sun rises and you can sneak back into your room. Until you feel safe again. It’s kind of a pointless question, considering how many times you’ve done this before and how many times they’ve let you. You ask it anyway.

The scoff that sounds moments before the mattress dips on your other side is answer enough. “You should probably just move in at this point. We’ll kick Iwa out, he can go sleep in bitch-face’s room.”

Although you know you shouldn’t, a not-so-nice grin tugs at your lips, nestling into Tooru’s side under the arm he offers, “She’d drive him homicidal in a week.”

“Doesn’t she already?” Hajime mutters. “And fuck off, if anyone’s moving out it’s you.” 

“You’d miss me too much.”

Absentmindedly, he rubs at your arm like it’s second nature. “In your dreams, Shitty-kawa.”

You can still hear Mr. Furukawa stomping around outside, snarling and snapping at no-one and nothing. Your pulse skitters, an inbuilt panic response. But the lights are off, you’re not being too noisy, and he’s wary of the other two.

He won’t come in here. 

“Relax, we’ve got you,” Tooru breathes, his nose nudging at your temple. “Where were you this afternoon?” His voice is so soft, a soothing rumble that it takes you a second to register what he’s said. 

“This afternoon?”

“Mm. You didn’t come home when you were supposed to. We were worried.”

He’s pouting, you can tell. Which– he can’t be genuinely bothered by it, it was only a few hours, and the Furukawas don’t care where you are or what you do so long as you’re back before curfew. You were. 

A distraction then?

“I went out with some friends. We hung out at the arcade for a bit,” your expression brightens, thinking of the lights and the laughter, your feet blurring as you hit the sensors on Dance Dance Revolution… poorly. “It was actually pretty fun!”

Tooru hums again, “Which friends?” at the same time that Hajime says, “You didn’t tell us you were going out.”

“I didn’t realise I had to check in.” And because the slightly bitter and very defensive edge to your tone catches even you by surprise, you sigh, softening. “I’m allowed to have friends, aren’t I? A social life?”

You’ve been in this home for a few months now, and this is the first time any of your classmates have invited you anywhere. 

This time it’s Tooru who sighs. He coaxes your face upwards with a hand on your cheek, peering through the dim light at you, “I’m not saying this to be cruel or hurt you, but… I need you to be more careful, okay?”

You frown, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

His thumb glides across your cheek bone, hesitating on whatever it is he wants to say– at least until Hajime huffs and mutters, “Just tell her, dude. You’re the one that brought it up.”

“Tell me what?”

“You’re a foster kid,” he reminds you, as if this is vital information that’s somehow slipped your mind. “That’s all they see when they look at us, all they’ll ever see. No money, no family, nothing worth wasting their time on. We’re charity cases at best, at worst…” he trails off, the sentence dangling in the air. 

He thinks it’s a trick, you realise. He thinks they’re setting you up in an elaborate joke where you’re the punchline. 

Bright blue eyes and a crooked grin flash in your head. Cheeks dusted pink and the warmth of his hand in yours. 

“That’s not true,” you defend, though the words sound weak even to your ears. 

Now that your eyes have adjusted to the dark, the gentle, pitying expression on his face twists at your insides like a knife. You hardly notice Hajime scooching closer, shifting the blankets so they cover you both, too busy staring at your foster brother with wide eyes and parted lips, a thick lump of emotion lodging itself in your throat. Tears prickle in the corners of your eyes, and you blink them back.

You won’t cry in front of them over this. You refuse.

“No? You’ve been here for months now. If they wanted to be your friend, truly, genuinely wanted that, why haven’t they made an effort before now? I’m not trying to be a dick,” he murmurs when your breathing hitches, “The kids in this town, they’re assholes. I just can’t bear the thought of someone hurting you.”

Hajime nods. “We only wanna protect you, imouto.”

But you don’t need to be protected. Omori isn’t like that. His friends aren’t either. 

—

When the last bell rings for the day, you walk down to the gates to find Hajime there, leaning against the brickwork with a pilfered cigarette dangling between his fingers. 

That in and of itself isn’t a surprise. Lately they’ve taken up the habit of ditching their last period to make the half mile trek to your school in order to walk back home with you. Most days, you don’t mind. Today, however–

“I sent you a message at lunch, you didn’t need to come all the way down here, I’m going to a friend’s place to study. Sorry, I thought you would’ve seen it before you left.”

He drops the cherry red remnants of his cigarette to the ground and grinds the butt under his heel, eyeing you slowly from head to toe. “Which friend?”

“When did you become so nosey?” you laugh, a touch uneasily. “It’s only for an hour or so, I’ll be back before dinner, promise. I’m all yours after that.” The last part’s meant to lighten the mood a little, yet something flashes in his eyes, a twitch in his jaw, and you get the sense that he doesn’t find it all that funny. 

“Which friend? That slimy piece of shit you were hanging out with last weekend?”

Omori? How does he–

You frown, “We went to the movies, Hajime, it’s not illegal. And he’s not slimy or a little shit, he’s my friend.” A friend who sets butterflies loose in your stomach and makes you weak at the knees, but Hajime doesn’t need to know that. 

“Oh, I’m sure he wants to be your friend,” he mutters darkly. 

Your cheeks burn hotly, “Why are you being like this? He’s a nice guy. Besides, it’s not him. I’m going to Masako’s to work on a group presentation we’ve got due in a few days. I didn’t think you’d make such a big deal out of it!”

“Your mistake,” he says, as if you’re the one being unreasonable here, and before you can spit out a retort, his hand is curled around your bicep, tugging you down the road. “C’mon, we’re going home. Tell your little friend you can work on your project tomorrow at lunch.” 

“Ha-Hajime!” His too tight grip on you doesn’t relent, his stride doesn’t falter. Nervously, you dart a glance around, half hoping that someone will intercede, all the while praying that no one’s actually noticed him dragging you off like a misbehaving toddler.

As always, you’re not that lucky. The sight of your classmates pointing your way, giggling behind their hands sends a hot pulse of shame flooding through you. 

“You know you’re not my actual brother, I don’t need your permission!” 

That does stop him, turning back around to throw a scowl at you, “No? Because I don’t see anyone else lining up to stop you from spreading your legs for the first asshole who comes sniffing around. Jesus Christ, weren’t you listening the other day?”

“I’m fourteen!” you shriek, ripping your arm away from him. “Stop being gross and leave me alone, I already told you I’m going to Masako’s. We have a project. For school!”

In an instant, he closes the gap between you. Hajime isn’t as tall as Tooru, but at two years older, he still towers over you, all broad shouldered and intense, and while he’s always cut an intimidating figure, it strikes you that this is the first time you’ve ever looked at him and felt afraid.

A split second later, and he exhales with a mumbled curse, the tension deflating from his body like a pin’s been pulled. In a quieter voice, hooking an arm over your neck to press a fleeting kiss to your hair, he says, “Sometimes it feels like I’m losing my damn mind trying to keep us all safe and sane and fucking together.”

It’s not exactly an apology. Still…you shift on your feet, nibbling at your bottom lip. “I’m sorry for snapping,” you mumble – an olive branch, even if you’re not feeling particularly charitable right now. The problem is, you do understand where he’s coming from. In two years, they’ll both age out, free to go and do whatever the hell they want. There’s a not insignificant part of you that’s terrified that when that time comes, they’re not gonna hang around another two years waiting for you. 

You’re not sure you can hold them to that promise. 

And that’s if nothing happens before then. Foster kids in group homes get shuffled all the time, there’s no guarantee all three of you will still be with the Furukawas come their 18th birthdays. 

Of course he’s over-protective. Of course he’s being a little nuts about it. 

Hajime nods, pats you on the head and gives you a rare smile, “Good. Now get your ass moving, we gotta get home.”

“Wait, but I thought–” you’d apologised, he’d admitted he was overreacting… sort of. Isn’t that enough?

“Social worker’s coming by this afternoon. Furukawa wants us to play happy families ‘til they’re gone. Your friend’s gonna have to wait.”

And that’s that. 

Dejection washes over you, trudging back home with Hajime – trying not to be childish and petty and hold it against him.

The social worker never shows, but there’s a message waiting on your phone when you finally manage to pry yourself away from Hajime and Tooru.

Your brother’s a dick. Raincheck? ;)

Butterflies erupt. 

—

You’ve been biting your lip again.

The raw, chapped evidence stares back at you in the mirror. 

A few days ago, they were a little swollen, rough and reddened. The sight of it sent a giddy sort of thrill through you, a physical – if not sore – reminder of your afternoon spent kissing a cute boy with very pretty blue eyes. 

Now, the state of your lips is the least of your worries. You’ll bite your lips, gnaw on your fingernails right down to the quick, pace and think and pace and think, fingers tap, tap tapping at your side.

“You look tired.” 

The arms that loop around your shoulders, dragging you back into a loose hug don’t bring the sense of comfort they usually do. Things have been weird between you. Off.

Ever since Tooru caught sight of your face that day, saw the messages on your phone. 

‘I never took you for a liar, imouto.’

The resultant argument left you choking on sobs, heart-broken and beaten down in a way that you haven’t felt since you found out your parents died. 

It’s a strange, alienating thing to be cut so viciously by the only people who give a damn about you.

At first, you had Omori there to help pick up the pieces. He wasn’t allowed over, of course, and even if he were, you doubt it’d do anything but throw a whole gallon of kerosene on the fire. Still, being able to message and vent to him felt like a lifeline. 

And then he simply… stopped replying. Your last message sitting there for two days on read.

You tried not to feel hurt. Maybe this whole thing was too intense, too quick. My god, you weren’t even dating officially, he was just, you were–

It was fine. Not everyone’s tied to their phone, and he doesn’t owe you anything. Maybe something came up, maybe his phone died.

But then, come Monday, he wasn’t in school.

On Tuesday morning, sitting in first period maths, a grim-faced man in a dull suit informs your class that Omori’s been missing since Saturday morning. You’re passed a business card with the detective’s name and phone number printed in crisp, black font and encouraged to contact him if there’s anything you can think of that might help them.

Uneasy looks are shared. No one says a word.

Which brings you to today, to the hug Tooru’s drawn you into and his voice murmuring at your ear. 

“Aren’t you still mad at me?”

His laugh rumbles at your back, “Maybe I miss you too much.”

You should tell him to shove it. Whether you’re in the right or the wrong, it’s not fair of him to play hot and cold with you like this. Being at odds with your brothers is painful enough on its own, dealing with that on top of everything with Omori – it’s too much. You’ll drown under the weight of it.

And so you turn, wrapping your arms around his middle and burying yourself against him. “I don’t wanna fight anymore. I’m sorry.”

While he doesn’t say anything back, he does squeeze you that little bit tighter. You’re content with that, soaking up the affection and comfort you’ve sorely been without. It’s an apology, yes. It’s also forgiveness. 

“Where’s Hajime?” you ask after a little while. They aren’t inseparable by any means, but you don’t think you’ve seen him this afternoon at all. 

Rather than answering you, the brunet pulls back enough to meet your gaze, a twinkle in his eyes, “We’re going out tonight.”

The words bring you up short. “But–”

“Furukawa won’t know a thing. It’ll be fun, pinky promise.” He holds out said pinky, the grin on his face infectious enough that you offer a tiny one of your own, locking your finger around his.

He winks. 

—

“Sweetheart, shall we open the wine?”

She hasn’t stopped beaming all afternoon, delighted at the flowers and the gifts, your dad humming away in the kitchen, cooking enough to feed a small army.  

Heisuke’s already plucking a bottle from the fridge, glasses set out on the counter. He lifts a questioning brow in your direction and you nod with as much of a smile as you can muster. Nothing sounds more appealing to you right now than a drink.

Several of them, actually. You’ll start with one.

“Thanks,” you murmur when he passes it to you. 

Quietly enough that your parents won’t hear, he asks, “You good?”

“I’m good,” you reassure him, lying through your teeth. His knuckles knock against yours, and when you glance up, there’s a wordless promise that the two of you aren’t done with this. 

He’s been watching you ever since you got home. Not in the predatory, possessive way they used to, just… you very reluctantly gave him crumbs – not even that much – yet he’s staring at you like you’re a piece of a puzzle he’s desperate to solve. He’s looking at you like he’s seeing you for the first time, and you don’t know how to deal with it. 

It makes you nervous.

“Did something happen between you two?” The quiet voice at your side startles you – perhaps you’re more on edge than you’d like to admit, because your whole body flinches, the wine in your glass sloshing up over the rim, just barely avoiding your dress and the edge of the couch. 

You hadn’t even noticed your mom had sat down.

Cursing under your breath, you jump up before she can, snatching some paper towels from the kitchen, paying no mind the slight, disapproving tilt to your father’s mein (the one which, to his credit, he does try to hide) to mop up the mess on the floor.

“Sorry,” you throw out, both for the spill and for swearing, because that too is something neither of your parents are fond of, but your mom’s quick to wave it away.

“Nonsense. You’re fine, sweet girl. Come, sit!” She pats the seat you’ve vacated. “Relax.”

Your dad’s in the kitchen, laughing with Hei. Your mom’s still happy – it’s slowly leaching from her eyes the longer she looks at you, the more she sees. Relax. 

Today’s supposed to be a happy day.

Relax. 

You can’t.

They know some of your past. Bits and pieces. 

In ten years, you’ve never uttered a single word about them. Not to anyone. 

The more you shove it down, the more it fights back, bubbling away inside of you like the tempest of a storm. You can feel yourself cracking, unshed tears burning at your eyes. 

You can’t.

“… Mom–”

A knock cuts through the rising tide of emotion battering through you, and all four of you start. 

Your dad moves first, drying his hands and striding on over to answer it. On his way, he glances to where you and your mom are sitting – instinctively. Unthinkingly. He glances her way a thousand times a day – to check in, to see what she’s doing, to catch those little expressions she makes, only this time he isn’t met with the picture of a happy wife and daughter. You see it when it hits him, the tension, your wrought expression, the hand your mom’s slipped you in the seconds since, holding you tight and keeping you tethered.

You see it when he does a double take, sharp surprise quickly overtaken by alarm. 

Another knock at the door. Louder. 

His head snaps back towards the door, glaring at it like it’s personally wronged him. “One sec,” he mutters to no one in particular, and your mom squeezes your hand as he yanks it open with a touch more force than necessary.

“Yes?”

The air punches out of your lungs.

From where you’re sitting, the door cracked ajar, your dad’s frame blocking the gap, you can’t see who’s there. Not until he peeks over your dad’s shoulder, his charming grin widening into something shark-like and predatory when he spots you, delighted. 

An elevator careening out of control, your stomach plummets.

Ignoring your dad – your family as a whole – entirely, Oikawa addresses you. “You dropped this this morning. Clumsy girl.” 

Iwa passes him something, your wallet, you realise when he holds it out to you, waving it like a dog treat. 

Your wallet with your ID, this address, tucked away inside. 

The wallet you absolutely, in no way dropped. 

Primarily on instinct, shaking like a newborn foal, you start to rise, to stumble forward and take it from him, only it’s Heisuke who moves first. Angrier than you think you’ve ever seen him, he plants himself between you, one arm outstretched as if to keep you back, his withering gaze fixed on the duo.

“Thank you for returning it,” he bites out. “You can leave now.”

For your parents, already on edge, suspicious by their familiarity and your reaction to it, it’s enough to set their hackles up. Gone is any semblance of politeness when your father snatches your wallet from Oikawa’s fingers, “Go.”

Up until now, Oikawa’s paid them all the attention one would a gnat, an annoyance maybe, but one hardly worth acknowledging. That changes as his head tilts, dark eyes appraising your father. 

“What’s the rush?” he asks, reaching behind him. You can’t see it, what with your dad and now Heisuke standing between you, but there’s movement, your dad lets out a sudden, choked off gurgle, lurching back inside. 

Your eyes widen, a bone chilling horror taking hold of you as you spy the sleek black handle of a knife sticking out his gut, a slow stain of red seeping out around it. 

“We’ve still got so much catching up to do.”

—

You’ve never been this far into the woods before.

Stars glitter overhead, condensation from your breath puffing out with every exhale. It’s cold out. The path you’re walking isn’t one of the trails they lay for hikers and tourists, and you’ve been walking for a while. 

Still, Tooru’s hand is warm entwined with yours, and there’s that wicked thrill in your belly that comes from breaking the rules, doing secret, exciting things in the dead of night.

“Is Hajime waiting for us?” you ask, when you can hold the question back no longer.

“Always Hajime with you, isn’t it,” he teases. “Y’know, a guy could develop a complex with all this favouritism being thrown around.”

You’re pulled closer into his side even as he says it, and you go happily. You’ve got your brothers back – tonight you’re only thinking good thoughts. 

Tonight he promised you fun.

A giddy bounce in your step, you follow where your big brother leads until you spot a glow in the trees ahead, smell the smoke on the mid-autumn breeze.

Tooru grins in the dark, “Have you ever been to a bonfire?”

You shake your head. 

It takes another few minutes before you can see the fire in all its grandeur, Hajime standing off to the side, warming his hands against the flames. They dance through the clearing, bright and high and hot, hot enough that you briefly consider shedding the jacket Tooru swaddled you up in before you left.

A bonfire? 

They built this for you?

You look incredulously to Tooru, “This is where he’s been all day?”

“More or less.”

“Do you like it, pretty girl?” Hajime calls out when you’re closer. Your hand slips from Tooru’s as you leap forward, allowing him to catch you in his arms and tug you against him, and like earlier with Tooru, it eases some of the hurt weighing you down. He’s here, he’s not angry anymore, you can fight and argue like siblings but they aren’t going anywhere. 

He presses a kiss to your forehead, smoothing down your hair. “It’s pretty cool,” you tell him with a decisive nod, making him chuckle. 

“Maybe we should add more accelerant,” Tooru says, eyeing the flames with a considering look. “I don’t know if it’s hot enough.”

Hajime scoffs, “We don’t need any more accelerant.”

“But–”

“It’s fine, dumbass. Leave it.”

Heaving out a long suffering sigh, Tooru takes the space on your other side. In the Western movies you’ve seen, these bonfire things usually have more of a party-like vibe. There’s music and dancing. Drinking. This is something wholly different.

You don’t mind the quiet, though, sitting between your brothers on the fallen log they dragged over. Listening to the crackle of the fire. Watching red embers spark and fly off into the night. 

You’ve missed this. Them. 

In the hypnosis of the fire, the heat that covers you like a blanket – burning strongly enough, despite what Tooru thinks, that down to a tee-shirt, leaning into Hajime’s side, Tooru playing with your fingers, you feel you could so easily drift off to sleep, sated and content.

“You love us, don’t you?” Tooru says it so quietly, so off-handedly, that for a moment you don’t hear the stinging accusation beneath the words. 

When it does, whatever fleeting contentment you’d managed to wrap yourself up in is ripped away, leaving you cold and exposed. 

A slap in the face might’ve stung less.

You gape at him. At the both of them. “How can you ask me that?”

Tooru shrugs, casual and cruel, “I dunno. You lied to us. Multiple times.”

“Snuck around behind our backs,” Hajime adds.

“Kept things from us. Don’t think we haven’t noticed the new lock on your phone, imouto. Doesn’t sound like love to me.”

“I– I’ve already apologised.” You try to keep your voice calm and level, but with every word that pours out of you, the faster your heart beats and the more distress leaks into your tone. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I lied, I’m sorry I went behind your backs, I’m sorry I kissed him! I don’t know what you want from me, I don’t know how to fix this!” 

Hot tears spring to your eyes, stinging as you ferociously blink them back. 

If you start crying now, they’ll probably just mock you. That, or they’ll claim that you’re trying to manipulate them into feeling bad with crocodile tears and hiccuping sniffles. 

In a tiny voice, you say, “I didn’t do any of it to hurt you. Please,” you beg helplessly. “You can’t keep holding it over my head and punishing me for it.”

“You think we’re punishing you?” Tooru asks, still in that cold, flat tone that makes you want to sob.

Aren’t they? Sure feels like it.

Hajime lets out a heavy exhale, shaking his head and staring up at the night sky. “You still don’t fucking get it.” 

Hands slip under your armpits and without warning you find yourself hoisted onto Tooru’s lap. It’s whiplash, especially when he curls around you, those lithe arms caging you in, and presses a kiss to your burning cheek. “Iwa, brute that he is, is right. You’re not listening to us. This isn’t punishment. You can pretend to hate us, cry, yell, fight. You can try to shut us out if that’s what you feel you need, but this,” his chin juts out at the bonfire crackling merrily a few feet away, “this is love.” He shivers as he says it, voice like honey. “We did it for you, and I’d do so much more.”

Your head’s still spinning, reeling from being yanked from one extreme to another. Hot and cold. Spiteful to affectionate. You stare at the fire, but you don’t understand. 

“Yeah, like you didn’t enjoy the hell out of it,” Hajime snorts, which makes even less sense.

“…You mean the– the bonfire?”

Tooru laughs. His nose skims along the shell of your ear, earning him a shiver of your own. “Hm, almost.”

So you peer at the fire like it’s supposed to give you the answers you need. There’s nothing. It’s a fire, there’s nothing special about…

Oh.

You learn forward – as much as the cage of his embrace will allow, at any rate – squinting a little. Nestled beneath the stacked logs and kindling, there’s an oddly shaped lump, black and gnarled, with ridges and a scooped out hollow that kinda looks like–

Your blood runs cold. 

“What’s the matter, baby?” he croons. “You’ve been so sad all week, wondering where your friend up and disappeared to. Aren’t you glad to see him again?”

“No.” Whisper soft, the noise lost to the crackling of the fire. You shake your head, “This– you’re being cruel. Stop it, it’s not funny.” 

But the tears you’ve so valiantly held back are falling, your breath coming in short, panicky gasps. The skull in the fire doesn’t look fake, and if this is a prank, it’s gone beyond too far.

Your head grows light and all too heavy at the same time, “That isn’t– you didn’t– you… you– you wouldn’t–”

“No?” the voice at your ear questions, low and dangerous. “You think I wouldn’t stab the little fuck after you kissed him?”

“Stop it,” you tearfully beg, squeezing your eyes shut. The skull’s still there, burned into the back of your eyelids. 

No, no, no. Omori isn’t dead. 

Omori isn’t dead.

Your heart slams against your ribs, a violent chorus to the swell of sick dread and fear you’re desperately trying to tamp down. Omori isn’t dead!

“STOP IT!” 

They wouldn’t kill him. 

The crunch of footsteps sounds, and you don’t need your vision to know that Hajime’s now crouching in front of you. When rough fingers seize your jaw, holding you in place, and he leans in close, almost nose to nose, they fly open regardless. 

“You ever try that shit again, and next time we’ll drag you by the fucking hair and do it in front of you,” he promises, calm despite the fury that rages in his eyes. 

Caged between them, Hajime appraises you, taking in your hysteria, the tears dripping down your face, your bottom lip quivering – as though he’s committing the sight to memory. His eyes dart to Tooru’s for a brief second, the latter squeezing your side, before he speaks. “If you’d listened to us in the first place, this wouldn’t have happened. Don’t make us into monsters, sweetheart.”

Your fault is what you hear. 

There’s a loud pop from the fire, and you lose it entirely. 

You explode. Elbows flying, kicking, clawing. A wild, terrified, desperate thing, and it takes them by surprise – enough to catch Tooru in the gut, loosening his grip. Enough to knock Hajime back onto his ass. A gap, however small, for you to scramble to your knees, violently kicking back when a hand snatches at your ankle, and flee through the woods in the dark, away from the furious shouts, the raging footsteps chasing after you. 

You run and your lungs burn, heaving for every breath. 

The light of the bonfire disappears behind you, plunging the forest into an inky black, and the shouts and yells turn into calls of your name, then coaxing pleas, almost sounding worried. Eventually, those grow distant too, and fade away altogether. 

You keep running, uncertain of where you’re going. No, blind to it entirely. All that matters is keeping out of their reach. You’ll run to the ends of the earth if you have to. 

And so you push until your legs scream for a reprieve, until you taste iron on your tongue and when your body can keep the pace no longer, you stumble through the underbrush, tripping over roots and branches instead, pausing every once in a while to lean against a tree and catch your breath. 

As your adrenaline fades and the sweat dampening your clothes cools, the cold night air bites like needles at your skin, you start to shiver, rubbing at your exposed arms in an effort to generate a little warmth. Bitterly, you remember that the jacket that you’d brought, the one Tooru had all but forced on you before you’d left, is back at the bonfire, slung over a nearby log. Useless to you now. 

But the shivers that wrack your body aren’t solely from the dropping temperature.

Every snapping branch, hoot of an owl, rustle of leaves sends a fresh wave of terror spiking through you. You think of Tooru’s cruel smirk and Hajime’s bruising grip, of Omori’s skull staring back at you from the fire, flesh melted to the bone, black and twisted, and a ragged, distraught sob brings you to your knees.

Hopelessly lost, cold, frightened and alone, you curl into the dirt and cry. 

—

Hikers find you at dawn. 

Emergency services are called – an ambulance to take you to the nearest hospital to be poked and prodded, police to question why a fourteen year old girl was wandering the woods alone at night.

They treat you for dehydration and mild hypothermia, a few small cuts and scrapes, and when a soft spoken nurse pulls the curtain around your bed and gently asks if you’d like them to perform a rape kit, you blanch and shake your head. Eventually, they allow the detective into the room. In his late forties, bespectacled, a smattering of grey dusted throughout his close cropped black hair, he pulls up a chair beside the bed and patiently asks how you’re feeling.

If you were a better person, you’d tell him everything. The Furukawas’ abuse, your foster brothers’ increasingly overprotective behaviour, sneaking behind their back to see Omori and the fight that followed that nearly ripped you apart. 

The bonfire.

Your fault, your fault, your fault.

Omori deserves that much. His parents should know what happened to their son.

Your jacket lying forgotten by his bones. 

“Please don’t take me back there,” you mumble, tears shining in your eyes. 

Back to the woods, or the Furukawas. Back to the boys you’d loved who’d murdered for you.

In the end, it doesn’t really matter that that’s all they can get out of you. A traumatised teenager found miles from home without a single soul raising the alarm would be one thing. When that traumatised teenager’s a girl supposedly under the care of government approved guardians, it raises red flags not even they can ignore.

By lunch, they’ve arranged for you to be placed back in an all-girl orphanage until a more suitable, long term solution can be found.

—

Some nights you dream that you’re back there, in their bedroom at the Furukawas’. It’s dark and cozy, there’s an arm slung over your waist and you find yourself drifting off to the steady beat of the heart behind you, soft snores by your ear.

They’re nice dreams. You feel safe, loved. 

Tucked away in your subconscious, nothing exists but the sanctuary of them, and when you inevitably feel that tug of awareness coaxing you awake, you sink your fingers in and cling to it for dear life. 

Just another minute. Another few seconds. Please.

Right now, you’d give anything to wake up and have this be nothing more than a nightmare you can banish. 

But there’s no escaping this one. Your dad’s on the living room floor by the couch, hunkered over, pale and sweaty, pressing what was once a clean dish towel to the wound in his stomach. The coffee table’s been pushed to the side, Heisuke and your mom sat on the chairs Oikawa dragged into its place, ankles zip-tied to the legs, wrists bound, duct tape slapped across both of their mouths. Between the knife Oikawa idly toys with, still wet with blood, the handgun held loosely in Iwa’s palm and your dad slowly bleeding out on the floor, they’ve been compliant. 

Much like you have, although you’re neither bound nor gagged, sitting in the armchair Iwa ushered you to, arms looped around your knees with the man himself perched against the backrest.

The only one of you making any kind of noise at all is your dad, his voice a slurring mumble, words near intelligible. He’s begging, you can tell that much. Pleading through gritted teeth for them to let you go, not to hurt you, your mom, Hei. 

You desperately wanna tell him to save his breath, but you can’t even look at him – at any of them – without wanting to throw up.

“Do you still love us, imouto?”

Your eyes track Oikawa as he leans over the two chairs, the edge of his knife carelessly poised above Heisuke’s shoulder. From your periphery you see him flinch and stiffen, the sharp uptick of his breath smothered by duct tape, but you don’t dare shift your attention from the brunet smiling genially back at you.

Your heart squeezes, clenched by an invisible fist. Buried deep beneath the guilt and the paralysing dread, a slightly hysterical part of you almost wants to laugh. 

“Do you think I could ever stop?” 

Surprise flashes in his eyes and his grin widens. “You ran,” he accuses.

“You ran again this morning,” Iwa adds, sounding far less amused.

“I was scared.”

“Of us?” Iwa slides off the back of the couch, straightening up. In an instant, his hand’s wrapped around your throat, the broad pad of his thumb forcing your jaw upwards. “You think we’d ever fucking hurt you?” he growls, looking genuinely angry. 

Distantly you register the sound of Heisuke’s muffled indignation, another gasping wheeze from your dad, but all that fades to the background as Iwa’s mouth crashes against yours.

He doesn’t kiss you sweetly. It’s invasive, rough. His hand flexes around your throat, forcing a gasp to drive his tongue between your lips, and you can feel every ounce of possession, of pent up need and frustration as he drags it on despite the awkward angle. 

When he does break away, eyes darkened and simmering, he holds your gaze, ignoring the pointed throat clearing from the other side of the room. “Never,” he swears, waiting for you to nod before finally relaxing his grip. “Good girl.” To Oikawa, watching you both with a barely constrained hunger, he says, “Enough screwing around. Do it and let’s go.”

Oikawa huffs, rolling his eyes, “Fine. Should’ve known you’d get all impatient after you had a taste.”

“Like you’re not?”

There’s not enough air in the room, your heart’s doing somersaults in your chest, your pulse hammering through your veins. Oikawa stares at you, head tilted, the corner of his lip slowly curling up as you start to tremble, shaking your head, tears beading at your lashes, “I guess we could hurry it along.”

“No, please–” 

“Shh, sweet girl. It’s okay.” You try to stand up, but Iwa takes a hold of your shoulder and forces you back down. “Me and Iwa, we were gonna give you a choice. Let you pick. If you could kill one of them, we’d let the other two go.”

A strangled sob rips its way free, your whole body shuddering with the force of it.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright. We’re not gonna make you do that,” he comforts, side-stepping your now thrashing brother to make his way over towards you. “Cause the thing is, they kept you from us. Lied to you. Manipulated you. Whether they meant to or not, they hurt you. I don’t think they deserve that kind of mercy, do you?”

“No, no, no, please! Please don’t, please don’t hurt them–”

Abandoning his knife, he drops to a crouch in front of you, “We’re gonna make it right, and then we’ll go home, okay? We’ll take care of it.”

“Please, Tooru! I’ll do anything!”

There’s a kiss pressed to the crown of your head, the cushion behind your back being tugged free. “You don’t need to do anything,” Iwa says, the cold cocking of his gun echoing like a death knell.

 “We love you. This one’s on us.”

[dira333]

Spin the bottle - Oikawa Tooru x Reader

brother's best friend and kiss - for @arisaturn for the Milestone Event Week 1

“You’re going to be nice, right?” Hajime asks when the doorbell rings. 

You roll your eyes. “No, I’m going to scream bloody murder and run around covered in fake blood. Yes, I’m going to behave.”

“I’m never too sure with you.”

You snort and kick him out of your room for good. 

It’s his party after all. His first-ever secret “Mom and Dad are out of the house” party.

You’ve got all the snacks you could possibly need, a really good book you want to make a dent in and the upstairs bathroom is not to be used by any guests so you doubt you’ll see anyone tonight.

Sure, you could go down and mingle, but being a twin is annoying enough on the daily, you don’t need to add to that tonight as well.

Thirty minutes after the first doorbell has cut through the silence, someone knocks on your door.

Groaning, you push yourself up from your bed and open it, only to find Oikawa Tooru standing on the other side.

“Did you get lost on the way to the bathroom?” You ask. “Party is downstairs.”

“I know that but do you? Why are you not down there with the others?”

“It’s not my party.”

“Nonsense.” He grabs your arm but you lean against it. “Forget it, I’ve got my book and my snacks, I’m not coming down there.”

“But it’s more fun with you.”

“Sure,” you joke. “Go do something with the people that want to spend time with you.”

Something like hurt washes over his face.

“Fine,” he huffs out. “You’re missing a lot.”

“Sure, sure.”

You close the door again.

It’s quiet after that. Well, as quiet as it can be when there’s a house party going on right below your room.

-

On your way back from the bathroom you find the door to your room open when you know full well you’ve closed it. 

Annoyed, you step inside. Oikawa’s lying starfish like on your bed.

“Did no one teach you not to go into other people’s rooms?” You ask, trying to shove him off but failing. He’s heavy.

“Your room is cool,” he mumbles. “The ceiling spins.”

“Are you drunk?”

“No,” he shakes his head but groans right after. “Maybe?”

“What did you drink? I thought Hajime said no alcohol?”

“Mattsun brought something. Or was it Makki? I don’t remember. It didn’t taste bad but now I feel kinda weird.”

“Well, too bad. You’re not going to stay here. Call your sister to pick you up if you need to go home.”

“Please?” He uses his best puppy dog eyes on you and you feel awful that they’re actually working. Curse him and his good looks.

“Fine,” you sigh, wedging yourself between him and the headrest. “But keep quiet. I’m reading.”

And it’s almost nice like that, the warmth of his body so close, no sound but his soft breathing and a sigh here and there.

Eventually, he turns, his face now pressed against your thigh. 

“I’m feeling a little better,” Oikawa tells you and you can feel his lips move through the thin pants you’re wearing, much too close to your skin for comfort.

“Idiot,” you push him to the side. “What are you doing?”

“Talking to you,” he blinks up at you again. “What are you doing?”

“Reading.”

“Isn’t that boring? You could come down and play with us.”

“No thanks,” you pointedly turn the page. “I have no interest in whatever games you guys could come up with.”

Silence.

When Oikawa moves again, he does it so suddenly that you flinch away, having almost forgotten about his presence.

He grabs the bottle of water from your nightstand and sits up, resting it between you on your bed with utter focus.

“Let’s play spin the bottle.”

“Why?”

“Because.” His grin is cheeky as he spins it, though the half-filled bottle won’t properly move.

“Well,” he says, sighing down at it. “It still counts as you since there’s no one else around.”

You laugh. “It doesn’t work that way.”

“Sure it does. That’s why every guy wants to play Spin the Bottle. It’s the only chance to get to kiss the girl you like without everyone knowing.”

You falter. “What?”

“Hmm…” He’s not looking at you, swaying a little left to right. Is he still drunk? 

Oikawa turns the bottle until it points at you. “And if you’re not coming down to play with us, I just have to come up and play with you.”

“You like me, Oikawa?”

His brown eyes are much lighter now when he looks up, as if he’d opened a window behind them that let you look inside of him, into all the vulnerable places he usually keeps hidden.

“I thought you knew?” He pouts. He really really pouts, that asshole, in a moment like this.

“Is that why you keep coming up here to bother me?”

“I’m not bothering you,” he insists. “I’m spending valuable time with you! If you don’t want me to have the first turn, you can turn the bottle instead, but we’re only two people, so it kinda has to land on me-”

His lips taste like soju and something fruity, they’re warm and soft against your own. 

He deflates like a balloon at the touch, sinking into you like a heavy weight dropped into water.

Oikawa’s always been dramatic, but you think you’ve never liked it quite as much as you do now.

When you let go, move back, try to sort your thoughts out, his hands find the bottle again.

“Can I spin it again?” He asks and you snort.

“You don’t have to spin it, Tooru. You can just ask for another kiss.”

And you’re pretty sure it’s not the first time you’ve called him by his first name. 

But the way his head shoots up, eyes sparkling with wonder, you think you might be mistaken. 

Or maybe it’s just the first time he’s heard it.

“Well, can I? Kiss you again, I mean?”

“I changed my mind, spin the bottle instead.”

[gladiatorcunt]

# KINKTOBER 2024 - ♱ ♱ ♱

“You know, outside the circus, most people were afraid of me.”

I. father charlie mayhew / flogging

✟ - a rotten tree bears rotten fruit

II. merman!john b / teratophilia

✟ - belly of the beast

III. sunday / boot worship

✟ - icebreaker

IV. genshin multi (zhongli, capitano, childe, baizhu) / creampie

✟ - molten lava cake

V. aotc!anakin x fellow padawan!reader / scent & food play

✟ - apollo reaches for the sea

VI. rafe, barry, ward / incest

✟ - knock once for the father

VII. cherik / spit roasting

✟ - easter egg basket

VIII. secret agent toji / daddy kink

✟ - joyride

IX. frat boy!gojo satoru / non con

✟ - life of the party

X. eric draven / feet

✟ - dirt in chains

XI. vampire!aemond / blood

✟ - a black ram and a black ewe

XII. best friends!master anakin x newly knighted reader / sex toys

✟ - bedrock

XIII. yoga trainer!oikawa tooru / ass worship

✟ - guess

XIV. ghostface!spencer reid / roleplay

✟ - fears to fathom

XV. paul atreides / dub con

XVI. atton rand / kidnapping

XVII. luke castellan / cheating

XVIII. tyler, xenomorph / painal + baby trapping

XIX. bsf!john b / costumes

XX. dick grayson, bruce wayne, jason todd (separate) / sex pollen

XXI. killers!tyler and boone / scars

XXII. messmer / oviposition

XXIII. bradley bradshaw / shaving

XXIV. messmer / body modification

XXV. tattoo artist single dad!geto / tattoos

XXVI. coaches!art and patrick / teacher-student (loosely)

XXVII. ferrari driver!gojo / rimming + public

XXVIII. dick grayson / somnophilia

XXIX. connor / whipping

XXX. sakusa kiyoomi / piss

XXXI. fandom multi (coryo, rafe, anakin, homelander, logan) / abo

+ ? ????? ???? ::

I. jacaerys targaryen / aliens made them do it

↪️ do leviathans dream of aliens?

II. ???

III. ???

IV. ???

V. ???

VI. ???

VII. ???

VIII. ???

IX. ???

gladiatorcunt 2024