#haikyuu Drabble

[seakou]

“Sorry.”

A nod, another shove. You’re not sure why you even bother utilizing manners. Under dim strobes and thumping music none of that particularly matters. A bit of your drink sloshes out of your solo cup. It makes your fingers sticky where they’re pressed to flimsy plastic. You sigh.

You’re getting too old for this shit.

Honestly, you never thought yourself to still be indulging in this kind of lifestyle, let alone at your age. Then again, you never thought yourself to be working as manager of one of the most popular volleyball teams in the professional league, either. 

Volleyball has never really been your thing; not directly. The proxy by which it seeped into your life seemed to stain it, though. Sink its claws in and tug you back bit by bit until you found yourself pinned regardless. Rubber soles and sweaty palms, clinging to your shirt tails and sprinting. From girlfriend to planner to manager; proxy doomed you.

You could never seem to escape this–the sport, the circle, the game. Despite your best efforts, here you remain. Manager of a team who chooses to celebrate their victories as if they’re still young, spritely teenagers–knowing full well they’ll wake up far more sore from the rager than the match. Here you are.

Indeed, here you are as more vodka crashes out of your cup when a pair of broad shoulders–a muscled back–bumps into you. 

The smell hits you all at once; vodka cran and versace. It stings your nose and steals your breath. Your gaze snaps up despite your inclination to tuck tail and run.

Iwaizumi Hajime is a consistent man.

You’d even go so far to venture in saying he’s consistent to a fault. He’s ordered the same thing from the local Mom ‘n Pop since he was twelve. Bought the same pair of shoes from grade ten. Sported the same haircut since twenty three. Worn the same cologne since he was nineteen.

Had the same, stupidly charming smile all his life. 

“Hizu.” The college nickname slips from your lips like an exhale of cigarette smoke–smooth, with a bitter aftertaste.

You’re much too quiet, given the setting. But you don’t care, and you can tell by the flickering of Hajime’s eyes down you once, twice, that he doesn’t, either.

“(Y/n),” he returns, implores. What mood are you in tonight? Who did you come with? “Nice party.”

“Yeah,” you don't argue, even though you think it’s childish. And you don’t counter to ask how he knew you planned it even though you’re no longer a glorified manager and an official manager now. The alcohol tries to settle on your stomach. “Who–”

“Ushijima,” Hajime answers before you can even finish, can question who cc’d the invite knowing damn well it wasn’t you.

“Ah.” You nod. He takes a sip from his drink. “You look.. Nice.” 

An admission you probably shouldn’t grant–should know better than to. But it is an admission you do not regret as you take note of Iwaizumi’s gaze drifting once again, past your lips, your neck, your chest. Toes and back, he takes another sip; like he’s drinking up you and the vodka cran all at once. Intense eyes and furrowed brows.

Someone shoves past Iwaizumi, and suddenly vodka cran is no longer sitting pretty in a little red cup.

“Fuck,” he hisses, hand immediately going to your chest then retracting; catching himself. Your already sticky palm reaches up to touch the sopping stickiness that is now the front of your shirt.

Yeah, you’re getting too old for this shit. 

With a roll of your eyes you throw up your free hand. Of course, this would happen, right now, in front of the man who you are so off with–you swear–and make you look like a bumbling idiot. (Not that any of it was your fault, but you know. Tipsy minds and all that).

The beat drops and Hajime is saying something, but you can’t hear. The thumping’s too loud. You’re getting a headache. The Long Island Iced Tea in your cup is not settling well in your stomach. You’re a little over it, to be honest.

“What?” It’s clipped, agitated. But you don’t necessarily intend for it to be.

It doesn’t matter, though, because Iwaizumi doesn’t hold it against you. He would never–has never. Grudges don’t exist between the two of you, wounds don’t go unlicked.

A chest bumps against yours once again–intentionally, this time–and warm breath traces the shell of your ear. You shudder, and pray it goes unnoticed.

“I have an extra shirt in my car.”

An offer, a ploy. You know it’s genuine but you know how fast it can shift. How easy it is for lines to be blurred and crossed and erased and–

“Okay.”

You don’t care.

Hajime takes your hand like it’s natural, like he’s used to it. (He is). He leads you through the crowd and with each step the thumping in your head and the room gets softer and softer. Finally, cold air is nipping at your cheeks as he flings the front door of the venue open.

A metallic slam cuts it off–the music, the people, the hustle and bustle and suddenly you’re alone. Being led through a dim parking lot to a black convertible parked to the far right. Hajime’s just gotten his monthly haircut, you see. Perfectly trimmed nape peeking out of the back of his collar. You want to reach out and touch it. You’re not sure why you don’t.

Or why you’re suddenly nervous.

Iwaizumi just has this air about him. One that commands respects but exudes chivalry. Like a pitbull faithful to its owner. Soft licks, hard bites.

And oh, the bites.

Your door is opened for you, because of course it is, and you’re sliding into the passenger seat like it’s second nature, “Thanks.”

“‘Course,” he nods.

You pull your feet in and let him shut the door. He opens the rear one behind you and shuffles around for a moment–digging through a duffle bag, no doubt–before that one shuts too. You pick at your wet shirt as you allot him the few seconds to cross around and join you.

When he does, he’s extending a sweatshirt out to you. A peace offering, a dead mouse.

You take it, despite the implication.

You take it and sit it in your lap and, without a pause, strip the sticky mess of a shirt off of you. And now, now is when you find yourself taking a beat, a breath. A second to look across the console of the car to the man who ruined your expensive shirt with his stupidly consistent vodka cran in his totally predictable black v-neck and his earrings are shimmering so prettily in the lamp light and his lids are heavy and his pupils are fighting his irises for residency and, oh.

You’re getting way too fucking old for this shit, but you make the first move anyway.

Searing lips to searing lips and hands grappling at whatever they can find. Flesh and hair and tongues and teeth. The chill of night air seeps out as warm breath and rising body temps spill through the leather interior.

Iwaizumi kisses like a man starved, and you expected that. Craved that. Loved that.

Love that.

Yeah, you’re getting way too old for these on again off again bullshit games and excuses and sneaky touches and kisses when you are so off, but..

But, you are not getting too old for Iwaizumi Hajime, and you don’t think you ever will.

likes & reblogs appreciated !

[yuquinzel]

atsumu who goes above and beyond to impress you, his crush and classmate of four years, in all definitions of “impress.”

honestly how the fuck isn't it obvious to you by now, he might as well be walking around with “i like y/n” tattooed on his forehead.

you mention you like guys that can cook once and holy fuck atsumu who still doesn't know how to use the microwave without quite literally burning the food, who's never chopped onions before without ending up with enough cuts to bandage his whole hand— that atsumu practices for weeks and stays up till 2 am to prepare for the lunch he'll make for himself, because osamu said said no and then because you bring homemade lunch to stay and eat in class with your friends— he'll casually just plop down on the seat next to you, his friends will then very obviously willingly talk loudly about his lunch and he'll just throw in a, “yeah, made it maself, 'm a solid chef, who do ya think taught 'samu?”

okay if that didn't get your attention, no worries, what are his friends there for?

if atsumu gets lucky in a day and catches you chatting away with your friends in the hallway, then he instructs his friends to walk past you, hover in the corner, just within your earshot— “'kay, so when we pass her by, ya gotta speak ma name real loud, loud enough so she can hear it, but don't annoy her”

and so for the time you stand there, trying to hold a conversation with your friends, all your mind can really focus on is the, “atsumu was so fucking good in practice today, if we're gonna win, then it'll be all him”

and then you hear the subject of the conversation speak, “nah, we're a team, every time we win, it's all thanks ta you guys,” because you also mentioned you like modest, humble guys.

god forbid the days you're absent in class.

atsumu who's sulking all day, doesn't know what the fuck is going on in classes, he's half in and half not in every conversation, even his passes are sloppy and weak. to the point osamu and suna are concerned, well, in their own ways, “are ya constipated or something, yer missin’ your spikes and yer passes as clumsy,” osamu says off-handedly.

“i heard y/n didn't come today, i think her friends said she's sick.” suna chips in, and atsumu shrinks in his spot like a grumpy cat.

“i already know that, wouldn't have come today if i knew she wasn't comin’.”

“you'd miss practice then.”

“don't care, don't talk to me, don't wanna do anything, what's the point.”

“down fucking bad,” suna muses, and atsumu glares at him.

atsumu's day is ruined and his disappointment is immeasurable. why did you get sick? how could you get sick? now he's worried and half of himself and his passes are shit and god, he wants to see you. he feels like he could die.

then when you finally show up the next day after what felt like eternity to atsumu, you find on your desk a pile of snacks with a little note— banana milk, everyone knows it's your favourite, the bar of chocolate they only sell down the convenience store near the school, the glazed donuts that you're always eating in class, and a lot of bubblegums that only one person in class knows you like— atsumu's handwriting is rushed and barely comprehensive but you know it by heart because he doesn't know you saw him slip the note you found in your locker this morning, and countless other mornings—

“i hope you smile because of this”

atsumu as a secret admirer is... not so secret because he's still unaware that you see him every morning, and let him giggle to himself as he slips the notes and the strips of bubblegums in your locker— you don't even like that flavor.

but he gave them, so you think they might just be your favourite.

then again, maybe atsumu doesn't want to be a secret admirer.

atsumu has a crush on you and you know that— he's very obvious. but he's also very dense and doesn't realise that everyone besides him can see you like him too. he doesn't know the only reason you bring homemade lunch is because he had started to eat lunch in class with his friends. you stand in the hallways with your friends pretending to talk so that when atsumu's walking past you, his friends will practically yell his name and you'll see him blushing shyly. he still doesn't know you come to his every match, cheering for him and scream with joy at every one of his scores.

atsumu makes it obvious he has a crush on you but is stupidly dense that you reciprocate all the same :'))))

© yuquinzel 2024 [ plagiarism is a violation of moral rights ! ]

POSTING BECAUSE WHY TF NOT HUH HUHHHHHHHHH

@kyoghurts hi bbg

[taones]

tw - flirting, good girl x bad boy, school setting but they are vv much 18+, suggestive, swearing

“How’s my favourite girl today?”

Your best friend tensed up from her seat in front of you. She had chosen to hide out in the stuffy school library to avoid exactly this. She had never been a huge fan of him, but his recent attempts to catch your attention had been grating on her nerves. The boy seemed obsessed with you, following you into the cafeteria and hanging around in the shop you frequented on your way home. Nothing but bad news followed him, and she needed to keep him away from her friend. You were a good student, perfect attendance and good grades - the last thing you needed was someone like him bringing you down. 

“Fuck off, she doesn’t want to talk to you” she huffed at the man, “you’re not her type”

He chuckled, placing a hand on the back of your chair. Goosebumps travelled up your body. The musky scent of his aftershave permeated the air around you, settling in your lungs like a cloud. If you could bask in that scent forever you would. The top three buttons of his shirt were undone, tie loosely hung around it. Thin fabric did little to hide the muscle definition of his chest, slight but still very visible to you. And you couldn’t help but peer through the gap. His tan skin contrasted the crumpled white shirt beautifully. You felt your mouth go dry. 

“Hmm, I’m not too sure about that one” his voice rang out.

“She seems very interested”

You jumped slightly as his face was far closer to you than you realised. If you were to turn your head slightly, your noses would be just touching. A warm flush flooding your body. You gnawed at your fingernail, peering up at the man next to you through your eyelashes. He dropped his eyelid down in a quick wink and set his sights back on your fuming friend. 

“Why won’t you just leave us alone? She’s trying to study”

He tutted.

Next thing you knew the pressure of a wide hand was resting on your shoulder - making you freeze on your seat. The feeling of his warm, calloused palm on your shoulder did nothing to cool your feverish body and you tried desperately not to gasp. In through your nose, out through your mouth, you tried to remind yourself. You couldn’t let him fluster you - then he would be winning. 

A warm chuckle sounded from above you. The palm on your shoulder travelled towards your face, lithe fingers gripping your chin gently. He curled his index finger and dragged the knuckle up the soft skin of your throat. It was like you were frozen in place but your body was squirming under your uniform. His actions left you breathless and you couldn’t help but feel he knew exactly what he was doing to you. If the way his eyes trailed up your legs, thighs clenched together under your skirt, was any indication. Soft lips stretched into a smirk. 

Leaning forward once again, his eyes met yours under a piercing gaze. He let out a teasing coo in your direction. 

“Oh I'm sorry pretty girl, did I scare you?”

- ATSUMU, tsukki, oikawa, SUNA, tanaka (hear me out), kuroo, gojo, KOJIRO, adam, bakugou, SHINSOU, dabi

[quirrrky]

—•✦ THE BOY IS MINE

OIKAWA, KUROO, BOKUTO showing you that he belongs to you and you to him

≡ NOTES ⋮ I'M BACCKKK! and I'm super excited, can;t wait to fangirl w/ y'all! I'm gonna cri 😭 I miss my boys sm T^T bokuto's made me giddy and kuroo's got me smiling like shit...don't get me started with oikawa!

OIKAWA

You were on the sidelines watching the man you adored so much being adored by so many other girls. No lies, some of them were prettier than you, you’d think. They could be a good match for your boyfriend.  

Still, you didn’t bother. Tooru always assured you of your worth and how perfect you were for him in every sense––the most beautiful in his eyes.  

Tooru delivered an impactful serve, and the crowd cheered including the other girls beside you. Even from afar, he sent you a smile with a matching flirty wink. The girls squealed with so much giddiness, probably thinking it was for them.

He cast another glance at you, which you returned primly.  

You were always his number one fan. You might not be on par with him when it came to Volleyball, but you didn’t mind being his cheerleader, his anchor and the source of his strength whenever he’d feel inadequate.  

You were secured and not moved by how many fangirls he had until now. The reporter pulled Tooru to the side together with a known female Volleyball player who’s around the same age as him.  

The two of them were the top players of their teams–the most competent. The reporter and everybody else simply admired seeing the both of them side by side.  

“Oh! They look so good together!” You heard those around you murmured.  

“Maybe they’re dating...” The others speculated. 

A bitter sting gnawed inside you. The image of Tooru happily playing Volleyball with a partner who could really challenge him head-to-head was making it difficult for you to breathe.  

You were lost in your thoughts when you suddenly felt a hand around your wrist, gently dragging you somewhere.  

T-Tooru?  

He brought you by his side and laced his arm firmly around you. 

“Practice and perseverance are totally the keys in winning but for me it’s not just that,” Tooru responded to the reporter. “We all need a lucky charm, I tell you.” He pulled you closer to him, shifting his gaze to lovingly study your face, saying, “And I got mine right here.”  

You blushed, feeling the heat crawling all over your face. The crowd squealed and hollered yet they didn’t matter in that moment.  

The reporter ended the interview with lighthearted teasing directed at you and Tooru, prompting the start of the last match.  

“How ‘bout a good luck kiss, huh?” He teased.  

“W-What’re y-” You weren’t even able to finish as he already placed a sweet peck on your lips. “Tooru!” You complained when he parted, and he replied by playfully sticking his tongue out.  

Your fingers travelled your lips. Perhaps, you’ve got nothing to worry about after all.  

KUROO

It’s a big day for you and your boyfriend. It would be the first time he’d be giving a welcome remarks to open his institution’s black-tie event. You were even proud to be the one who did his speech.  

As his extra special plus one, he never left your side with both of you just keeping things, hands to yourself, acting as a professional and sober couple. 

However, you were bothered to say the least. You always knew that you had a fine boyfriend. He looked straight out of a novel after all. Tall, handsome and with a good suit to complete the look.  

Tetsurou seemed like every billionaire bad boy in the books you’d encounter in bookstores’ new adult section. It’s no wonder that the girls in his company party all had their eyes on him like he’s a piece of hunky meat they’d jump on at any moment. 

Deep inside, you’d want to be swallowed by the universe below. You were never insecure about your looks, well, maybe sometimes you were like right now! Were you not even pretty enough for them to keep their attraction to themselves? Were you not playing the eye candy part so well?  

Do you even look good beside him? 

Black dress, pretty face and hypnotic smile all amplified by the sweet scent of honey—you’re Kuroo’s most prized possession, not that he treats you as an object. Well, yes, to put it simply you’re the object of his desires, adoration and affection.  

Wasn’t it obvious that you were with him? Yeah right, call him petty, but he couldn’t bear the eyes of these bastards on you.  

Hell, pretty was even an understatement when it came to you. As much as he wanted you to be revered for being the goddess that you are, he still couldn't accept all the gawking you’re receiving and him being disregarded like he wasn’t even there when he’s the boyfriend, the future husband and the forever person.  

He promised he’d behave himself and keep the PDA on low since today’s a formal event, but it looked like he won’t be keeping up with that anymore. 

Jolted, your shoulders rose as Tetsu slithered his arm around your waist. He tugged you closer to him so you were both attached to the hip. You just froze in surprise when he leaned, placed a kiss on your forearm and dropped another one on your shoulder.  

You felt the heat rushing to your face. Your eyes held his as they met. “What...what are you doing?” you whispered and he propped his chin on your shoulder.  

“Showing them who you belong to.” 

Internally, you’re partying. You’d be lying to say that you didn’t want that because you definitely want to show all these girls that Tetsu would only have his eyes on you. “Okay, just don’t overdo it.” 

A lopsided grin appeared on his face. “Not very sure about that.” 

BOKUTO

At last, your fiancé, superstar athlete Bokuto Koutaro, will be arriving home tonight. It has been several months since he’s been away to train and to participate in the Olympics. Now, he’ll be coming home after playing with his utmost best.  

You were standing, waiting for him in anticipation at the airport. This was the moment you’d been waiting for and your face immediately lit up after seeing him walk from the arrivals. His eyes were still sleepy with his pillow still latched around his neck.  

In anticipation, you took a step forward approaching him, but the reporters and his fans beat you to it. Now, he’s swarmed with the crowd taking pictures and asking him questions. Some of them were even bumping into you and all you could do was watch. You were just a mere ordinary citizen, lurking in the shadows of those who admire him.  

You clutch on your chest. You were truly happy for him. Genuinely happy for the recognition he’s receiving. He deserved every bit of it, but...How you’d wish to be closer to him. Be the home he goes back to where he could be just Koutarou, the loving and silly boy you came to love. You just missed him so much. 

A bitter smile appeared on your face, surrendering to your fate until his eyes met yours across the sea of people. He glowed radiantly, beaming at the sight of you. Without hesitation and despite everybody else around, he made a way for himself towards you. 

With so much excitement, you yelped as he hugged you tight and carried you that your legs hooked around him in reflex. Koutarou peppered kisses over your face cooing so lovely that he finally got to see and be with his most adorable Y/N. You giggled, getting a little ticklish with his kisses.  

“Babe, babe! Not here!” You protest in middle of chuckling. “There are people around.” 

Koutarou pouted. “But I miss you so much.” 

“Me too,” you said in a wide grin and he giggled like a school kid finally getting his favorite toy as present.  

He rubbed his nose against yours. “Let’s go home!” 

@pixelcafe-network

[sandwhitches]

thinking about being osamu miya’s favorite regular rn…🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

technically, onigiri miya closes at 8 PM sharp, but osamu would rather die than tell you that. how could he? not when you shuffle in looking so pretty in your cute little pencil skirt and the button up you wore at the office job you just left for the day. so what if it’s 30 minutes past closing? he doesn’t care. the sight of you all frazzled and happy to see him has slowly become the highlight of his day.

“the usual?” he’ll ask, and you nod with an impressive amount of vigor for someone who has just clocked out of such a strenuous job. osamu will never tell you this, but he already starts on your order before you even come, too anxious to see you to start on his closing duties.

sometimes, if he’s lucky, you’ll tell him all about your day and he’ll nod with a hum, really only interested in listening to the sound of your voice. once he’s finished packaging your food, he feels a tug of disappointment at his heartstrings, knowing this the part where you say goodbye.

he wonders how many extra rice balls he has to slip in there before you get the point. maybe putting a happy face on the to-go bag was too much? perhaps he was too generous with the mayo when you offhandedly mentioned you liked a little bit extra of the condiment in your tuna mayo onigiri.

it’s become the topic of teasing discussion if atsumu is ever around to bare witness, his twin erupts into a fit of laughter once the door closes behind you, leaving osamu an agitated, flustered mess. “why dontcha just ask her for her number?”

it’s not that simple, is it? sure, you do come in every night, appearing to be thrilled to see him for the short time you’re together. and yes, he has noticed that you’ve purposefully complained a couple of times about your friends trying to set you up with someone. additionally, he’s positive he sees you checking your reflection in the camera of your phone each night before walking in.

“don’t worry about it,” osamu sneers at his brother, turning his back to continue mopping behind the counter. it’ll happen someday. eventually. right?

[tomasweetheart]

“Oh, you are nasty,” Iwaizumi almost seethes, his eyes following the condensation on the plastic bottle while it drips down the side, “grape flavored water?!”

His words catch you off guard, lowering the bottle with a confused look on your face before your eyebrows furrow together more, “Yes, Hajime, grape flavored water,” you respond with an eye roll, “is there a problem with me hydrating myself after our run?”

“You know there’s perfectly good, normal water in the fridge too, right?” he scoffs, he’s still in disbelief. And it’s not because you’re drinking flavored water, more so because of the flavor of water you chose.

Oh. Now you get it.

“I’m aware of that yes,” you hum, a shit eating grin beginning to form on your face, “but I’m also aware that there’s a whole pack of flavored waters that will be left untouched if I do not drink them, because you can’t help a good deal at the grocery store.”

“I would drink them if they were any other flavor!” he protested quickly with a slight pout of his own.

“Oh, you are such a liar,” you rebuttal quickly, “name one flavor you enjoy, because I can name about six right now that you don’t.” 

“I like…” he thinks for a moment, sucking on his teeth while he roams his brain for an answer, “...I, uh…blue raspberry."

You two have had this argument over and over again. Ever since you were teenagers, Iwaizumi has had a certain distaste for actual fruit flavored things. You’d think an athlete would actually prefer the artificial flavors that at least taste like healthy food, but no.

“Not a water flavor,” you hum cockily, crossing your arms over your chest, “and blue raspberry is nastier than grape by a mile.”

“You are a sick, twisted individual,” he scoffs, waving his finger at you in playful disappointment, “I am ashamed of myself for letting you get into my pants, let alone my heart for the rest of our lives.”

“Oh hush,” you hum amusedly, wrapping your arms loosely around his neck to pull his body flush against yours, “you said for better or for worse.”

“Mm, I also said in sickness and in health,” he responds with his own hum, his arms wrapping around your waist on instinct, “and you are definitely sick in the head for liking flavored water.”

His nose brushes against your own softly for a moment before he connects your lips with his in a tender kiss. A soft groan leaves his throat, unable to stop himself from running his hands along your sides as he deepens the kiss. Before he pulls away with an absolutely disgusted look on his face.

“What…?” you ask innocently through bated breath, with a soft giggle and smile.

“...You taste like grape.”

[kawoala]

⁝ USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI 𝜗𝜚 long practices 𝜗𝜚

ᰔ wc ; 354

ᰔ content warning ; headcanon 、 established relationship 、 sleepy toshi 、 semi-professional volleyball player ushijima.

oh, nothing, just bf!ushijima who, as a semi-professional volleyball player, has extremely hard practices that go on for hours and hours. when he’s in the gym, time loses all meaning. hours pass and they feel like minutes; ushijima could stay on the court all night.

but he’s happy when it’s time to leave. happy because, now, he has you to come home to. you sitting on the couch reading a book, laying in your shared bed taking a nap, doing miscellaneous chores. he’s just happy to see you, really.

his favorite place to find you is the bedroom, though. you’re sitting with your back leaned against the wall, reading glasses perched on your nose, eyes scanning the page in front of you.

you look up at the creaking of the door and smile when your gaze lands on your loving boyfriend. you greet him quietly, putting your bookmark to use and setting your book to the side. your arms instinctively open, an invitation to come lay on you.

and of course he takes it. why wouldn’t he? being in your arms is the most comfortable place he’s ever been. his duffle drops to the floor and he makes it to the bed in two strides.

all 200 pounds of his six foot three frame flops down on you and, for a moment, you think you see your life flash before your eyes. his nestles his head into the crook of your neck, wrapping his strong arms around your waist.

“hello, toshi,” you greet, hand carding through his hair. he hums back at you and you see that his eyes are already shut. “long practice, hm?”

you very faintly feel him nod against you, so you sigh happily, continuing your ministrations in his hair. “tell me about your day,” he mumbles, barely audible.

you look down at him for a moment. “are you sure?” he nods again, so you tell him. you tell him how your presentation in your art history class went, you tell him how almost spilled coffee all over yourself, and by the time you get to what you had for lunch, his breathing has evened out and he’s dead asleep.

again, you smile softly. your hands never stop playing with his hair and you continue talking - because he once told you that he’s always listening, even when he’s asleep.

[narumi-gens]

just learned that nicotine constricts blood vessels, which can cause erectile dysfunction and now I can’t stop thinking about using that fact to finally convince ukai to stop smoking.

for all of your pleas about his health, the dangers of secondhand smoke, and how you want to spend a long life with him, nothing has ever stuck. he’s tried multiple times to quit, knowing how much you hate his smoking and knowing how bad it is for his health, but has never been able to give up the habit.

until one day you send him an article titled, The Connection Between Smoking and Impotence, and provide no further context. the flurry of messages he quickly starts to send in response go unanswered.

but when you get home from work, the apartment is a mess. all of the drawers in the kitchen are open. there’s a pile of jackets on the couch that have been pulled out of the closet. there are noticeably empty spots on the coffee table and kitchen table where two ashtrays used to be.

and the man himself looks just as frazzled. he has a trash bag in one hand and is digging through the bedside table with the other. his hair is a mess from where he’s clearly been running a hand through it all day. you can see a nicotine patch on one arm and how he’s angrily chewing on a piece of nicotine gum.

“keishin?” you ask, trying to keep the relief from your voice and the smile off of your face.

he glances up at you but quickly goes back to his search, coming up successful when he pulls a pack of cigarettes out of the drawer and shoves it into the trash bag that he’s holding.

“gotta quit smoking if I wanna keep my dick hard for you,” he grumbles but offers nothing else.

maybe you should be upset that it’s only when his cock is threatened that he shows this much urgency about quitting smoking, but if this is what it takes to make sure that the two of you get to spend a long and happy life together then you’ll gladly take it.

[zumicho]

oikawa is back in japan for the first time since renouncing his citizenship. the very moment the plane wheels graze the concrete runway, he feels the difference.

he feels the difference over a warm bowl of chinese noodles, when iwaizumi catches him up on athletic trainer life, complaining about salary and overtime, cracking jokes about how tooru would never relate, “he's got it good.”

his volleyball career skyrocketed, after all.

he feels it bumping into hanamaki at the convenience store, when buying melatonin gummies to help with the timezone adjustment. his former teammate feigns starstruck, theatrically gushing and pleading for his autograph. makki shows him a picture of his girlfriend; teases him about a bet made in high school. oikawa remembers the fight he had with you, about not having enough time. about choosing volleyball. about priorities.

he feels the change when he kicks off his shoes haphazardly in his parents' house, dreading the absence of a nagging mother, who would tell him to set them aside where they actually belong. he reaches for the light switch, the muscle memory of home still ever present - it doesn't take him long to find.

in that dimly lit sanctuary of his childhood, he learned something new.

at twenty seven, oikawa tooru learned that maybe change isn't bad. not always. not if it meant strawberry cheesecake. not if it meant happy birthday, idiot! piped neatly in vanilla frosting across the top. not if it meant watching you fight sleep (losing), as you wield a kitchen lighter in your left hand, candles in your right. you waited.

not if it meant he could see that look on your face, when you wake up on the bed, with your back to his chest, his chin hooked over your shoulder, absolutely livid over the fact that he surprised you, when it was supposed to be the other way around.

not if it meant that though everyone will change eventually, he can sign a truce with difference for now, because being able to recognise difference is the evidence that something is worth missing. and until the day he has to miss you instead of have you, he'll cherish every moment. even if it one day becomes a memory.

tooru knows now,

that to be loved is not (just) to be known.

TO BE LOVED IS TO BE REMEMBERED.

masterlist panorama

a/n : happy belated birthday loverboy! late night quickwrite that might get deleted in the morning. I’m not sure if I hate this or if I can tolerate it, we’ll see what happens to it lol. NOT PROOFREAD

[liillyliilly]

tape me up, please? sugawara koushi x reader content; taping suga up- aka pure fluff 970 words

It was like any other day as Kiyoko’s friend really, dropping off your bag in the library for book club and then going to check on her- making sure your plans to hang out at your house after her volleyball stuff and your meeting as vice president of the Karasuno Literary Society.

So you bounded over to the gym, swinging your arms happily from side to side with a hum. When you peeked your head in, Kiyoko grabbed you by the hand and pulled you into the gym entirely. Harsh, and unusual, but you accepted the nudge and entered into the sweaty palace of the volleyball idiots.

“I need you to do something really quick for me, gotta run and grab my notebook from my locker, just stand here and wait for Yachi to take over.” Kiyoko is holding her hands out as if to prevent you from running away, soothing you and emphasizing how soon she’d return.

You just nodded.

Once Kiyoko had evacuated, you waved at your contemporary Japanese literature teacher, Sensei Takeda. Takeda smiled, holding up a book that you had recommended to him, and you throw him a thumbs up in return. You two were always exchanging books, and he always made sure to give you books that actually challenged you- instead of giving you the regular course books, you were getting literature he had read during University. With appropriate assignments and preparation for your third year final exams of course.

The watch on the wall started to taunt you, and you thought you could probably just leave. But Yachi still hadn’t appeared. Someone else had appeared instead.

“Tape me up, please?”

Sugawara Koushi, with his bare chest and hands holding rolls of pink and blue athletic tape.

You could feel the heat settle within your ears, burning like when the sun got particularly bad during the summer heatwaves.

“You should probably wait until Kiyoko or Yachi gets here,” You bit down on your lip seeing him bring his tongue out to swipe at his bottom lip slightly, “Or better yet, have someone on the team help you!”

Your feigned enthusiasm for a different solution to his problem caused him to roll his eyes.

“Everyone else is busy, see? Asahi and Noya are busy stretching. The first years are still changing, and the rest of the team is finishing a quick running drill outside. Just tape me. I’ll guide you, so you do it just how I like it.”

He shoved the rolls of tape into your hands and you swallowed thickly, feeling the dense stretchy tape in your hands.

“Are you sure this is how you like it?” You try to catch his eye, but he’s still lifting the back of his hair up with his hand and tilting his head down- trying to avoid getting hair in the strips of hot pink tape you were attaching from near his nape to across the back of his shoulder blade.

“Yes. Definitely.”

You get another strip of blue tape this time, following his instructions. This would curve around his rotator cuff, from the top of his shoulder to his mid-bicep. One piece for the front section and one piece for the back section, creating a sort of oval around his shoulder.

The lack of Kiyoko and Yachi was still an anomaly to you, in the next ten minutes, you would definitely have to leave to get back to your own club instead of acting as some sort of interim manager for Karasuno’s pretty boy Sugawara.

“Okay, can you get my lower back too?”

“Hmm?!” The sound you make is muffled, but not unheard by Sugawara- who’s fumbling over his words trying to avoid embarrassment.

“Just like from my mid-torso to my hip to like, the, uh, start of my volleyball shorts.” He traces his hand where he can reach, trying to illustrate where he wants the tape. His hand ends up right at the back of his shorts, at the small of his back.

His ears are red, his cheeks are pink, and his neck is the same salmon color as the tape you had applied.

“How many slices of tape do I need?”

Soon, Sugawara’s all taped up, and you think his skin is more plastic bandage than actual human flesh at this point.

“All good now?” You ask, standing up from how you’d kneeled off to the side of him to get the tape around his torso.

“Really good, like 100% better than anyone else could’ve done.” He reaches out and touches the side of your arm, squishing you a little.

“Thanks. I really should be heading out now,” You jut a thumb in the direction of the entrance and Sugawara nods furiously.

Later in the day, after practice, when Sugawara is handing two drinks from the vending machine to Yachi and Kiyoko, Kageyama asks Daichi a question.

“Sugawara never wears that much tape for a practice match, and he never has problems with his hips, why does he have support there?” Kageyama downs the rest of his water bottle. 

Daichi wipes sweat off his forehead as he shakes his head with some astonishment.

“Suga just wanted a certain someone’s hands all over him.”

Hinata pops into the conversation, “Ah! Takeda-sensei’s student yeah? The really nice third year who tried to help us with our reading Kageyama.”

Kageyama nods in understanding. “So, he pretended to need to get overly taped so he could have them touch him?”

Daichi pats Kageyama on the back, “Bingo.”

[shoothingstarlie]

OIKAWA, keishin ukai, TANAKA, kuroo, nishinoya, bokuto, atsumu, tendou.

[omi-boshi]

"What are you doing?" Kiyoomi asks from his place on the bed, wary.

His arms part as he makes space for you to wiggle your way onto his chest. He breathes a laugh at your antics, watches as you take his face between the palm of your hands. The grin that tugs on your lips is a little lopsided, a little cheeky.

The bright red of your lips catches the light and it is the last thing he sees before you begin your assault.

Kiss. On his lips.

Kiss. Right cheek.

Kiss. Left cheek.

Kiss. Tip of his nose.

Kiss. The moles on his forehead.

By the tenth kiss, he is roaring in laughter. The kind of laugh that you've only ever heard when he's with you. It's loud, it shakes his entire being, jostling your body that lies on top of his if not for the arms he has wrapped around you to keep you in place.

It's a little ugly, a little silly the way he snorts in between laughs, but it is offset by the unbridled joy so clear to your ears. The kisses you leave by the corner of his eyes are distorted by the way they're crinkled in laughter. From there, his grin is a permanent fixture as you continue to fill every gap on his face and neck with kisses.

As the tint on your lips slowly fades, his laughter does too, mellowing down into a dopey little smile, eyes bright. You pull back to admire your handiwork, your smile just as dazed.

One arm unravels from your waist to cradle one of your hands still cupping his cheeks. He nuzzles into the touch, eyes tracing over your features, gaze so warm you feel it on your skin. It moves you to lean in once more, to kiss him on the lips.

Longer this time.

And Kiyoomi is more than eager to reciprocate. It's heavier, wetter. More breaths, gasps, and the occasional bites. There is an attempt at deepening the kiss further; Kiyoomi's tongue tracing the seam of your lips. But the giddiness that thrums through him pulls his grin wider. Every time your teeth clash, it makes you laugh into his mouth. It is truly in vain that you try to kiss properly.

When you finally pull away, it is to Kiyoomi mirroring you and cupping your cheeks with both hands.

"What was that for?" He is breathless as he asks. The look on his face no less lovestruck than it was before. The tint on his lips was the most smeared compared to all other kiss marks on his face. It makes you giggle, amused.

"I just wanted to kiss you, is all." You kiss the palm of his left hand to emphasize. "And I wanted to try out the lipstick I bought today." You nod towards the tube sitting innocently on your nightstand.

Kiyoomi shakes his head, chuckling to himself.

He hugs you to his chest, rolling you onto your back, placing himself on top of you. He reaches for the tube of lipstick, smile growing mischievous.

"Guess it's time to return the favor."

[afyrian]

early morning wake up w/ kuroo | wc: 300 m.list

    your comforter scrunches up where you're laying, your hands crossed on your stomach. the brown sheets wrapped into a ball, resting beneath your head, hair tangling within it. your gaze can't help but face the morning sky. the way the clouds intersect with the blue hue of the atmosphere, it's too eye catching to look away. even when you feel the bed move, kuroo adjusting himself on your bed.

  "good morning," he hums, socked foot tapping against yours, his hair strewn into a mess atop his head.

  narrowing your eyes, you purse your lips. "good morning, 'suro.. i hope this isn't my monday class wake up call," you finally look back at him, his head resting against your pillows.

  the soft light of the sun peeking behind the clouds bounce off of his eyes. you've always known how emphatically beautiful he is, the way his smile glistens every time his lips part. kuroo brings his hand up to yours and holds onto it tightly. "it doesn't have to be today, if you'd rather stay here with me," he sits up, looking down at your slowly rising smile.

  "are you, kuroo tetsuro, asking me to skip my courses for the day?" you turn onto your side and rest your head in your hand.

  kuroo shakes his head. but he can't help but smile at your accusation. "i'm just saying, i would be more than happy to spend the day with you instead of nucleic acid. but it's up to you if you want to go to class," he shrugs his shoulders, your face feeling warm as you look back to the window, unable to look into his eyes any longer. 

  "you really do know the way to a woman's heart, 'suro," you confess, rolling your eyes at the sky.

  "no, just yours."

gen. taglist (open): @eggyrocks @causenessus @applepi25 @softpia @bakery-anon

@nekozaki

[quirrrky]

IWAIZUMI HAJIME, your big brother’s best friend, who always visited your home when they were in high school. You looked up to him the same way you did for your Tooru-nii, until he came home from the States.

You welcomed Hajime with a big hug. You felt safe and protected in his arms that seemed to be more muscular than you could remember. You were so small around him as he grew a lot taller too. His jaw was now chiseled to perfection and he aged so handsomely you got weak in the knees. He‘s no longer the stand-in big brother you once knew. In your eyes, he’s now a man.

He still visited your home frequently even when your Tooru-nii’s already in Argentina. You tried your best to look pretty and mature but he always ruffled your hair like a little child.

You watched as you saw a woman talking to him—flirtatiousness was evident in her actions. It’s only normal that a lot of ladies fancied him since he's quite a catch, but you just couldn’t bear to see it.

You caught him saw you but you pretended not to notice and chose to walk away instead. He kept calling your name and you felt his hand on your elbow, stopping you from walking.

“Hey, it’s late at night. I’ll walk you home.”

Tears involuntarily fell from your eyes and he was quick to notice. He cupped your head with both of his hands, caressing and comforting you. “What’s wrong huh? What happened?” he asked so sweetly yet it broke your heart even more. You were just a little sister after all.

“Nothing. Burn out, I guess,” you responded, concealing the truth.

You gazed upon him, giving him a lonely smile with vulnerability shrouding your orbs. His eyes turned half-lidded the longer you stare. You tiptoed, reaching out for him and he leaned closer and closer until your lips met, tentatively. It was soft and gentle but it wasn’t enough so you kissed some more. His lips were treading yours as if he was savoring something he couldn’t believe was happening.

You parted to take a breath. His eyes caught yours as you both heaved in longing and want.

“I’m sorry,” he said and you were left accepting your fate as your heart broke into pieces in his arms. Perhaps, one kiss was enough to know that he couldn’t see you the same way. “Y/N, I’m sorry…I can’t be your big brother anymore.”

Your eyes widened in hopeful disbelief. “Then don’t, Hajime.” you said, breathlessly.

“Are you sure?” he asked through the rise and fall of his chest.

“I am-“

And he captured you in a fervent kiss. His arms wrapped tightly around you, squeezing you closer to him as he devoured you with his lips. He took out all the frustrations of trying to be your stand-in big brother as an excuse to stay close to you. All this time he’d rather scoop you into his strong arms than ruffle your hair. How much he wanted to tell you how beautiful you were and how mesmerized he was of you ever since he had come home from the States. He’s down so bad he kept on thinking how it would be like to kiss you so passionately like this. Oh, how badly Hajime wanted be more than just your brother’s best friend but be your man.

[sandwhitches]

ೃ༄ 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐌𝐄? (𝐩𝐭. 𝐈𝐈)

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘀: bokuto koutaro, akaashi keiji, iwaizumi hajime, oikawa tooru & sakusa kiyoomi

𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗰: how they pop the question! (hcs + drabbles)

𝗰𝘄: implied fem. reader, mentions of marriage tehehe, mushy corny top romance

𝗮/𝗻: part two yayyyy!!! i wanted to post this earlier in the day but i unfortunately have to be a functioning member of society from time to time blegh. iwa's part is dedicated to my lovely moot @froyaoya who just gets it. sorry for any typos!!! also working on requests from the event still hehehe

(read part 1 here!!!)

𝐁𝐎𝐊𝐔𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐎

» Look at this man, this beautiful blessing of a man, and tell me this is not about to be the showiest proposal ever

» He’s asking you to marry him and he wants EVERYONE to know (in the purest way possible)

» You knew what you were getting yourself into

» Is he nervous? No, maybe, he doesn’t want to think about it, OKAY?!

» Thinks the perfect time is asking you right after MSBY wins at finals, but one of his teammates (because he told them the plan…obviously) is like what are you going to do if we lose???? He almost dies on the spot because he totally forgot that was a possibility whoops

» There’s an easy way around that problem! Just win, duh!

Your heart feels as if it could just beat out of your chest with excitement as the last set ends, MSBY reigning victorious. Mind swimming with unadulterated pride, you’re already halfway down to the court once others begin to flood it, nothing you want more but the man who is currently wading through a crowd in search of you. 

For a brief moment, you pause at the sidelines, unable to find him, then remember Bokuto was probably in the midst of one of many interviews or something else much more important than a simple post-game congratulatory hug. Your conjecture is quickly smashed by the call of your name, paired with your boyfriend’s big, shiny beam of pure joy as he opens his arms for you. You let out a huff of laughter, then hurry over, practically launching yourself into his hold. 

Koutaro exclaims in delight, squeezing you close as he spins you around excitedly, “Did you see?!” You giggle, still holding onto his thick forearms as he places you down, “How could I not?” 

Bokuto’s chest puffs with pride before he bends over ever so slightly to give you a kiss that he’s been thinking about for the better half of the game. He dearly hopes that you didn’t see him dash off the court as soon as he was able to, making a quick job of fishing a ring box from his duffel bag on the sidelines as Atsumu cheered him on. Now, the box sits in the pocket of his uniform shorts, ready to be presented to you. 

“You did so good, Kou!” You add with an endearing smile, chest filling with warmth as his smile broadens upon hearing the praise, “Only because you were watching me.” Bokuto supplies in a chipper response, cheeks flushed. 

“I think you’re good, either way,” you chuckle fondly.

Koutaro clicks his tongue playfully, wagging his head back and forth in disagreement, “Nah, you’re the reason I’ve made it this far, after all.”

Though you beg to differ, it’s nice to hear it. You’re more than positive that Bokuto would have made it this far with or without you, still, you can’t help but count yourself lucky for being along for the ride.

What started as his hopeful attempts to impress you with showy spikes back in high school, what turned into a cramped downtown apartment, and what is now this moment that you share on the court. And while to you all of this seems so extraneous to his performance tonight, Bokuto can surely recognize where his motivation has been coming from, it’s only natural he wants to spend the rest of his life with you. 

“I want to be able to win every game in the future for you!” He declares, and it takes you a moment to register that he’s deadly serious, you’d nearly giggled in response, “I just want you to enjoy yourself, isn’t that what matters?” You speak up a bit over the crowd, head tilting. 

“Well, you’re right,” he shrugs, “But I also think you’re the biggest reason why I keep wanting to get better.” 

The sentiment makes a lump form in your throat, knowing that he doesn’t even mean to flatter you half of the time, he’s being entirely honest with you. That’s one thing you’ll never grow used to about Bokuto, how easily he can say something that knocks the breath out of you, and everything he tells you is undeniably true to what he believes. 

“So, that’s why I hope we can be together forever,” he adds with a simple nod, reaching into his pocket. You’re just about to agree, after all, he says such sappy things like this so often that it’s hard to tell when the words have more weight behind them. This time, you soon realize as he lowers himself to the ground, his words have the weight of the entire world. 

“I love you so much, you know? I’ll never stop, either,” Bokuto presents a ring box that looks absolutely tiny in his large hands, still, he’s ever so gentle in opening it to reveal a large diamond that glitters under the stadium lights. At this point, the people around you have paused their celebratory ministrations to watch, but none of that really matters to you and Bokuto. The most important thing in the world, you can’t ever deny, is the man staring up at you so lovingly. And coincidentally, you just happen to be the most important thing in the world to him, too. 

“I hope you’ll let me love you forever,” he speaks with sheer confidence and pride, as he does with everything else, “Can I marry you?”

𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐈𝐉𝐈

» Something simple but intimate, that’s just his thing 

» Definitely a winter proposal, Akaashi thinks the snow is just so romantic

» Takes you down to a snowy park to go ice skating (despite contrary belief, you probably had to hold him up almost the entire time, this man doesn’t exactly have any natural grace when it comes to treading ice)

» Afterwards, it’s the standard snow day affair, you two build a snowman and give it a name inspired by one of your countless inside jokes, the both of you engage in snowball warfare, he buys you a cup of cocoa and sits on the bench with you (and yeah, he helps you blow on it, he’s just that perfect)

» What you DON'T know is that all day he’s been waiting for the right moment to reveal the little gift he’s been harboring for you in his back pocket

You can’t remember the last time you felt cold in the winter at all. When you think about it, the icy bite of frozen wind hasn’t nipped at your cheeks in years, perhaps having something to do with the eternal warmth the man beside you incited, the sort of toasty comfort that made your muscles loosen and eyelids go heavy. 

Akaashi’s breath comes out in short, puffy clouds, then rolls out into nothing in a matter of mere seconds. The crunching of snow beneath soles of winter boots fills the silence and makes your heart sing, oh, how you love this time of year. Beside you, however, Keiji is struggling to discern what his instincts are telling him to do. Two separate thoughts of just do it now and wait for another time have been pestering him all day to the point in which he can no longer hold a conversation without feeling a nervous ache in his chest. 

“Ah!” You exclaim with surprise, tilting your chin up ever so slightly towards the cloudy sky. Akaashi peers at you first, then up in the direction you face, realizing that tiny snowflakes are beginning to fall down to earth once more. The world is so quiet during the winter, he thinks, even with the mirth surrounding the two of you in the busy park, the snow will always serve to bolster the sound in its milky white embrace. 

He chuckles to himself as you stick out your tongue, darting it upwards to catch a snowflake, and the sight nearly makes him forget about what he came here to do. If there truly is a perfect time, Akaashi isn’t sure he’ll ever have the confidence to pin it, but right now, things feel okay, they feel right. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs in a whisper, catching your attention. Akaashi doesn’t miss the snowflake stuck to your eyelashes, nor the stray speckles of snow glittering in your hair like sugar. Your cheeks flush, leaving you to grin sweetly at him in gratitude while he brushes snowflakes from your hair, “You know what I just realized right now?”

You hum, blinking up at him curiously for an answer, eyes training on the subtle upturn of his lips, the crinkle of his reddened nose. 

“I think this is the happiest I’ve ever been in my life.” Your heart swells and a flustered, almost sheepish, giggle falls under your breath at the compliment. Akaashi can be so romantic, sometimes, and it leaves you wondering if he even knows what he’s doing to you…he has to, hasn’t he? Keiji clears his throat, “Actually, that’s what I wanted to ask you about today.”

Furrowing your brows in confusion, you tilt your head at him ever so slightly, “What do you mean?”

Now it’s Akaashi’s turn to let out a sheepish laugh, slipping a knit glove off of one of his hands and placing it into his coat pocket, much to your perplexity. “I wanted to ask if you’d let me have this forever. There’s nothing else I’d really want more than this.” Suddenly, everything clicks in your mind as he reaches into his back pocket and lowers to one knee, that softened grin of his cracking into a wide beam once tears flood into your eyes.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you, I want to marry you,” the ring he’s since taken from the box shines so brilliantly under snowy sunbeams, and you realize Akaashi was right about one thing, this is the happiest you think you’ve ever seen him. 

“Would you let me have that? Will you marry me?”

𝐈𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐌𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐄

» This is the world’s best boyfriend in case there was any confusion (which there shouldn’t be)

» Unfortunately this man wouldn’t know subtle if it slapped him in the face and stole his lunch money

» If you get your nails done, Iwa always pays for them, but he is oddly persistent about it the week leading up to when he plans to propose…which is kinda suspicious to you but you let it go

» He’s a big nature lover!!! He loves going on hikes with you (and doesn’t even mind in the slightest if he has to wait up for you, all he cares about is spending time together)

» Suggests the two of you go to your favorite trail and is absolutely relieved when you agree (Oikawa’s already headed over to hide in the bushes for three hours with a camera)

Wiping the sweat off your brow, you let release a drawn-out heavy breath of relief to have finally made it past the steep monster of a hill you and Iwaizumi had been dreading to trek. It’s worth it, though, it always is. The past few times that the two of you have gone down this trail, you’ve never lingered long enough to get the perfect view that you’re getting now, overlooking treetops gone vibrant green like everything else in springtime. 

“I thought you weren’t gonna make it for a second,” Hajime snickers, pulling at the collar of his shirt to cool himself down, and you can’t help but ponder why he seems so different today. For one, he’s taken every excuse to put his hands on you, holding your waist or lacing his fingers gently into your own with a periodic squeeze or two. Not to mention, he also can’t seem to be able to take his eyes off of you, which isn’t anything new in the slightest, save for a brand new depth to its usual shine that has puzzled you. 

“Are you kidding?” You scoff playfully, “I’m the one who almost had to drag you the rest of the way!” The two of you both know that is further from the truth than anything, but you still laugh, you always do. How can’t you feel such a dizzying high of joy when you’re together like this? Iwaizumi slips his backpack off his shoulder, presumably to grab a bottle of water, leaving you to admire the view once more. 

Today seems like it was made to be enjoyed, the trail isn’t as humid as it has been before, but it was just as lush, budding with the forest flora of early spring. Hajime noticed this too, in fact, not only is today perfect to enjoy, but he knows for certain it’s perfect for something else. And it’s now or never, he thinks, making sure your back is still turned as he grabs a navy velveted ring box from the front pocket. 

You glance back over your shoulder to make sure Hajime is sharing the view with you, that he too can see how terribly romantic everything can be when you care to notice it. He gulps, quickly tucking his hand behind his back as he comes up to place the other palm on your shoulder with a slight squeeze of affectionate warmth. “So pretty,” you note, knowing it goes without saying. 

Hajime nods, chewing on his lower lip in thought, until he’s unable to fight a shaky grin of excitement. You sigh contentedly, turning to face the sun again, relishing in the spoils of your hard work, and Hajime speaks up once more, “Today is perfect, isn’t it?”

You nod wordlessly, and he stares fondly as ever at the nape of your neck, knowing for certain that anything with you involved will always be perfect. That’s why he’s doing this, isn’t it?

“That’s why I thought today would be nice to ask you this.”

Your brows crease in confusion at the statement, prompting you to glance back over your shoulder again with a hushed hum, only to jump in surprise at the sight of him much lower to the ground than before. A hand flies to clasp at your mouth, Hajime gazes up at you from one knee like you hung the stars in the sky, and in fact, you might as well have. You’re the reason everything in his life is beautiful, why the thought of being without you is worse than death. 

“Don’t cry,” he chuckles adoringly at the sight of you falling apart, knowing it’s hypocritical of him to say with fat tears brimming in his own eyelids. Hajime carefully pops the ring box open, a quivering grin and creased brow are the only things standing between him and weeping.

“You know,” he starts, sniffling, “The only way I want to spend the rest of my life is with you, all I need to be happy is you.”

“Will you let me have the privilege of getting to marry you?”

𝐎𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐖𝐀 𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐑𝐔

» Showpony (in the most loving way possible)

» He was going to have an airplane spell “Will You Marry Me?” in the sky before Iwa shut that down 

» Bottom line, he needs this to be as romantic as possible, it’s the most important night of your relationship by far, after all!

» New Years is right around the corner and what’s more romantic than celebrating another loop around the sun with fireworks?

» I’d imagine you two would be in Argentina so on New Years Eve he’ll suggest that you head down to the beach to watch fireworks pop over the city in the distance

» Much to your surprise, there’s already a picnic set up for the two of you upon arrival (this man is so extra. I cannot.)

Fireworks occupy the inky sky in the distance, brilliant, vivid speckles of light begin to dwindle as they fall to the earth. You’re entranced by the display, the dazzling red of another large firework bursts across the sky like stardust, glittering on its way down. And while the celebration is a sight to see, Oikawa couldn’t keep his eyes on it if he tried.

In his opinion, you were countless times more appealing to stare at, the way your eyes light up when another crackling display of gold goes off in the sky, how the flickering lights make the shadows on your face dance. This is something he could never get sick of, it seems. 

“You’re staring.” You mumble under your breath coyly, giving him a cursory once over, then looking back at the fireworks. Oikawa laughs under his breath, “How could I not? You’re stunning.” 

As he expected, you groan playfully, nudging him, “You are the corniest person I’ve ever met!” Tooru likes this bit, the one where he tells you something he wholeheartedly believes and you pretend you don’t hear the pure sincerity when he says it, “It’s true!” He scoffs in mock-offense, “You’re so gorgeous, am I allowed to say that?” Oikawa tilts his head back with a whine. 

You’re looking at him now, still sitting cross-legged on the beach towel; and Oikawa’s bubbly mood quickly goes flat with the realization that you’re not just beautiful, you’re captivating. He’s not sure what he’s done right in order to be sitting on this beach with you, eyes lingering on the way salty sea air blows gusts of wind past you softly, sending your hair to ripple like tendrils of smoke. 

Just in those few seconds, he knows that he can’t wait any longer to ask you to let him have this view for eternity, and he’s hungry to walk straight into the future knowing you won’t stray too far from him wherever the two of you may end up. Tooru sits up straighter, fixing his sweatshirt as he shifts to rest on his knees, raring to figure out how to begin to say what he wants to. 

You’ve since taken notice of his movement, smiling softly in confusion at him while he gives up on fighting the urge to stare at you, brown eyes glimmering with something warm each time another firework bursts in the sky. “Can I make a promise to you?” Oikawa whispers, head tilted. 

With perplexity, you shrug, then smile with a focused eye on his expression, “Sure.” He clutches your hand, “I promise that I will always be here for you, even if you don’t ask me to be there, I will always make sure you know how much I love you,” Oikawa’s voice goes low with uncharacteristic solemnity, and you’re on the verge of asking him what this is all about before he shifts to one knee, bringing a black ring box from behind him to light. 

You can’t help but gasp, sitting back on two knees, face now leveled with his. You can perfectly see his expression soften, melting into something entirely new. Oikawa knows he is falling in love with you all over again, he’s been the head over heels kind of smitten, but now? Now his love has grown to become a need to have you with him in order to continue on living.

“And I…” the box opens, a diamond reflecting the bright colors spilling across the sky enters your watery vision, “I want to be able to make these promises to you at the altar, and I want to spend my life living up to them.” 

“Will you let me keep my promise and marry you?”

𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐒𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐈

» Wants something quiet, you know? When it’s just the two of you guys, it’s most romantic

» You come home after a tiring day of work and he’s doting on you more than usual (which is saying a lot considering you’re the apple of his eye as it is)

» What’s this? Your hunky boyfriend made you pasta dinner? Oh okay.

» GODDDD no matter how many times you two eat together he always pulls the chair out for you even if it’s just at home, he’s subtle in the loudest ways about how much he loves you 

» Actually pretty nervous because doing something like this is so vulnerable and I can see that as something that frightens him a bit

» But it’s you!!! If there’s anyone he’d ever feel comfortable being 100% vulnerable around, it will always have to be you!

“What’s the special occasion?” You had snickered upon entering your dimly-lit apartment, raising your shoulders to make it easier for Kiyoomi, who’d taken to helping you slip out of your coat as soon as he’d finished kissing you hello. Your boyfriend said something along the lines of, “Just wanted to,” with that airy tone of his, donning a grin much larger than usual. 

Sakusa has never, and never will, be able to get over how utterly beautiful you are. Everything you do makes his chest ache with longing, even after having dated for years, he just has accepted that being around you will always make him go weak with adoration. “This is amazing,” you muse, twirling your fork around on the plate for another bite, “I think you should just take over dinner all the time.” 

The two of you laugh amongst yourselves quietly, “I can see it now, I’d love to come home to you in a frilly apron after work,” you add teasingly, tapping his shin with your socked foot under the table.

Kiyoomi simply shakes his head with a humored scoff, “I’m sure you would,” he drawls, taking a thoughtful sip of wine. He still can’t get over it, even thinking about it right now, you are the most beautiful thing he has ever laid his eyes upon and it’s not fair how easily you can render him speechless. In the candlelight, you remind him of a painting, a set of perfectly carved out features, each one intentionally placed with the utmost amount of care. You’re perfect.

Tonight will be the night that he asks you to please let him devote his life to you, for the simple feeling of him to be able to bask in your radiance. And if that, in your own words, means cooking dinner in a frilly apron for you every night, Kiyoomi struggles to really find any grievances he has with that. 

“I’d gladly do that for you,” Sakusa finally returns, earning a playful quirk of your brows, “Oh?” 

“In fact, you know, I’d really like to do that for you,” Kiyoomi stands up, much to your confusion as he steps to your side of the table. You almost don’t process the way in which he bends over to kiss the crown of your head on his way down to one knee, a hopeful smile on his face. 

“If there’s anything I want you to know, it’s that I’ve wanted to spend the rest of my life with you for a long time, now,” Kiyoomi slips a velvet box from his pocket and your jaw goes slack in surprise, a hand traveling to grasp at the collar of your blouse. 

“You’re the only person I want to spend the rest of my life with because you’re my best friend,” he says, voice faltering with a sudden onslaught of emotions, “And I think…I know that I exist to love you.”

You’re unable to speak, breath caught in your throat and hot tears threatening to overflow onto your warm cheeks, his voice comes out solemn and intentional, “I want to be able to love you for all the time that I’m able to.”

Kiyoomi presents the ring to you, a question he’s been dying to ask you for years forming on his lips as they part to ask it, “Will you marry me?”

[tomasweetheart]

SMUT, 18+ MINORS DNI. OVERSTIM, DRY CUMMING, PRAISE ("good boy", "honey", "sweet thing") M!RECEIVING.

Oh, he looks so pretty like this.

All spread out, just for you, like the absolute present he is. His sweaty back pressed against your chest, his legs spread wide exposing his flush, begging cock that you've had your pretty little hand wrapped around for hours now.

It's not that he's being edged, he can cum as much as he wants. That's the problem.

His body is fucking hot, a burning temperature he could only experience when pressed against your flesh.

"Baby...baby please, can't take no more..." he's slurring, but the next thing that leaves his mouth is an unholy moan that only encourages you further.

"C'mon sweet thing," you coo against the shell of his ear, your hand squeezing the base of his cock, "you can give me one more, right? Be a good boy and give me one more."

He whines again, a broken gasp escaping his puffy lips when your hand begins to move again. Up and down his shaft at an agonizing pace, your thumb slipping over his pre-cum covered slit.

His hips jerk forward, he's practically thrashing in your arms, begging for more. But he knows you won't give it to him, you haven't for the past hour.

The sheets beneath him are wet and your hand is covered with old cum, but yet you're still not satisfied. You need him to be absolutely fucked dumb.

You decide to give him some grace, you aren't heartless after all. Your hand's pace picks up, now moving rapidly up and down, up and down. If it's not one extreme, it's the other.

He's thrashing, begging, screaming in your arms. Fat tears rolling down his cheeks, his muscle-clad stomach becoming concave, his legs tense as he gets to the edge, he's so fucking close.

With a final flick of your wrist and a snap of his hips, his eyes roll back.

But he doesn't cum.

His eyes widen when he hears you click your tongue from behind him, your hand wrapping around his flacid cock again.

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry. I'm afraid that doesn't count," you pout with a tone full of fake sweetness, smirking against his shoulderblade, "try again."

MAKOTO. TACHIBANA, rin matsuoka, kageyama, atsumu, kenma, kojiro, usahara, uramichi + your favs !