#hq!! X reader

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹｡ mornings don't feel the same without you | iwaizumi hajime

wc: 3.0k

summary: ​​hajime thinks that it's been a long time coming for him to wake up with this realization.

contains: implied f!reader, lingerie, use of slut (teasingly/jokingly, not to reader), lots of suggestive stuff (touching, implied sex), so much love!!, hajime is also a wee bit sentimental here, established relationship

a/n: not a lot of plot, just a lot of love! haven’t written hajime in a while, but he’s on my mind all the time. these are the songs that inspired me: lights down low, never had you, it’s you, and forever right now. 

part of how to be your lover boy (a valentine's collab by augustinewrites & seiwas) + the in's and out's new year/birthday event | request prompt: making yourself look good to feel good (your partner has something to say to you)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Hajime thinks he’s built a pretty solid life for himself—good health, good job, good relationships; all on equal footing, in no particular order. The routine he’s built is deliberate and filled with purpose, a system diligently followed to keep himself running. 

He firmly believes that if you want to live the life you want, you have to start with yourself. A simple choice, the first step. 

And Hajime’s chosen the mornings, an old conscious effort to wake up at 6:00 on the dot now transformed into a natural rise to the softness of daylight. 

You call him a creature of habit, one that leaves no day to rest, even on Valentine’s Day. 

Sunlight trickles between his curtains, ripples of translucent white highlighting the tip of your nose. He sees you through a sleep haze, olive eyes blinking awake like the leaves on your bedside, ready to tickle your cheek and wave when you turn the other way. 

It suits you, he thinks, to be touched by light when you don’t know it. 

You’re warm under the palm of his hand, bare flesh a soft place to rest between him and your hip bone. If he focuses hard enough, he can feel the faint thump of your heartbeat, almost in tandem with the small puffs of air hitting his chin. 

He sighs, the corners of his mouth curling in contentment. 

A good life. 

Evidence of last night is strewn across the room—the red tulips on your bedside and his slacks hanging off the bed. The shirt he’d worn lies atop the dress he slipped off you, half of your black two-piece set caught in it.

The memory replays vividly—bites to his neck down to his collarbone, a pull of his hair and his lower lip caught between yours. You handle Hajime roughly because you know he can take it, know that it gets him going the more you want him. 

But with you, he takes his time—runs his fingers over every area he’s grown fond of (which is everywhere, really). He strips you down slowly, unwrapping you like a gift labeled: handle with care, open gently. 

Then, he savors it—you.

The wrapper lies next to his head, half-tucked underneath his pillow, a piece of elegant black lace you know drives him crazy. 

A perk of celebrating Valentine’s Day two ways is that one half belongs to him and the other to you—a team effort to make the day as special as it can be. 

He shifts, hand sliding up to rest on your waist. The movement causes you to stir, digging your cheek deeper into your pillow as you scrunch your brows—a sign of you coming to wake. 

Hajime immediately shuts his eyes, feigning sleep. Last night was all his—flowers, a nice dinner, and the dessert that came after it. This morning is yours, with only one instruction for him: sleep in. 

How upset would you be if he ruined your surprise? 

The bed dips on your side, no doubt you reaching for the bedside to check the time. Even with his eyes shut, he has your mornings memorized. A whispered ‘shit’ almost makes him break into a smile, but he reigns it in, expression neutral and breathing steady. 

You move again, his hand still on your waist as you turn once more, to what he can only assume is to face him. There’s a momentary pause that makes him worry you’ve found him out, but he feels your fingertips run over the crease between his brows, smoothening it out the way you always do. 

(He has a terrible habit of frowning in his sleep, he’s learned.)

It makes him nervous the longer you linger, the tips of your fingers sliding down the bridge of his nose to rest on his lips, running over it once, twice. Then you sigh, inching closer before gently nudging his nose with yours.

The small peck you land on his lips almost makes him break, but he holds it in, letting you sneak away (albeit badly) for whatever it is you’re planning for today. 

(The bed dips too deeply, comforter rustling as you untangle yourself from it. You stub your toe on the edge of your bedside table and attempt to muffle an ‘ouch’, even though he can hear you—pretty clearly actually. He has to bite his lip to stop himself from chuckling.)

If it were up to him, Hajime would just keep you here, no sneaking around or stubbed toes, no surprise or anything—just you, wrapped in his arms, under his sheets. 

.

Just as he’d promised though, he did sleep in (if an extra 20 minutes of forcing his eyes shut counts as that). 

The flowers on your bedside are gone, and so is his shirt—the sheets beside him crinkled in the shape of your haste to get up from it. He yawns, running a hand through his hair to fix up the mess you made of it last night. 

As part of his routine, Hajime stretches, first with his neck—side-to-side, up-and-down—then with his back, twisting left and right. Next, he changes, puts on a pair of gray sweatpants that you claim must be a staple in his wardrobe (you say he looks like he could fuck you up, its hem hanging dangerously low to reveal the grooves of that deep v-line leading to his pelvis).

After pushing aside the curtains for sunlight to stream through, he cleans the room, picking up the mess of clothes on the floor and making the bed; you usually do this, because you’re particular with the pillow placements, but he’ll take over for now. 

This should buy you enough time, right? An extra 10 minutes for your planned surprise.

He takes a breath, doing one last scan of the room before stepping out. 

As soon as he gets into the hallway, he smells chocolate. 

Each step he takes is consciously softened as he carries his weight, carefully making his way to the sight of you, back towards him in nothing but his t-shirt hanging temptingly high to barely conceal black lace. You seem focused, entirely preoccupied with the kitchen stove.

A familiar feeling settles into his stomach, warm and soothing, one he’s been having more and more around you lately. The corner of his lips curl up. 

For Hajime, the best way to start the day is with the morning light and you.

He sneaks up behind your back, peeking over your shoulder at the chocolate pancakes you seem to be slowly ladling into the pan. And just when you’ve formed a figure he can only assume is a heart, he takes a step closer, hands resting on your hips as he scrunches up the fabric between his fingers.

“Morning,” he whispers, chin resting on your shoulder as his lips brush the side of your neck, soft and ticklish; you shiver, just a little bit. 

The greeting comes out rough, husky, and you lean into him, your hand coming to rest over his, hiking up your (his) shirt to reveal a slight peek at the black lace hugging the curves of your buttcheek. 

“Morning.” you chuckle when you hear his breath hitch. The pancake in front of you gets flipped to the other side. 

“How’s your head?” he moves to peck your temple. Hajime knows you get the worst hangovers no matter how little you have to drink, and last night was by no means little.

You groan, turning off the stove, letting the residual heat cook the pancake through. 

“Terr–” 

As you turn to him within his arms, you pause, blinking uncontrollably at the presence of Hajime’s bare skin in front of you. Your eyes go wide, zeroing in on the full chest beneath your palms, the cuts of his shoulders, and his arms. Oh—

“Slut.” your brows furrow, lips pouting as you stifle a smile. 

Hajime laughs, olive eyes crinkling as he holds you closer, hands coming to clasp at your lower back. 

“Put on a shirt, you know I can’t focus like this.” 

He knows, because you say this almost every morning, every time. 

“I would,” remnants of his amusement linger on his lips, hand reaching to squeeze your butt as he narrows his gaze mischievously, “but someone stole it.” 

You giggle, arms coming up to wind around his neck, fingers playing with the shorter strands of his hair. Then, you tiptoe, white fuzzy slippers slotting itself between his matching green ones as you tilt your head up for a kiss. 

As it is, Hajime’s liking how this surprise is going. 

He leans in, eyes falling shut as he presses against you. His hand cradles your jaw, callused skin tickling you ever so slightly as he guides your head to turn the other way. Hajime can hardly stop whenever you get him started like this, your lower lip already caught between his teeth. 

But you nip it, right as his other hand crawls underneath your shirt, pulling away as he tries to chase for more. The frown on his face is hard to miss. 

“Gonna get dressed,” you smile amusedly, feigning innocence.

“Isn’t this already too dressed?” he raises an eyebrow, tugging at your (his) shirt. His fingers trail lower, hooking themselves into the lace of your underwear. 

“Don’t be a flirt,” you scrunch your nose, “I feel gross.” 

He squeezes your hip, “I’m gross too.” 

You give him a look. 

He gives you one back. 

If Hajime had the words, he’d tell you you’re the furthest thing from gross, making him breakfast in his clothes and that pretty black number you know drives him up-the-wall crazy.

This is the stuff of his dreams. 

But then you give him those eyes, and you know just as well he’s weak to that too. So he sighs, loosening his grip so you can slip away. 

“I’ll make you eggs!” he calls out as you disappear into the bedroom. 

Your breakfast spread for him is set up on the counter, the chocolate heart pancake on the pan the last needed addition to complete everything. It’s sweet, how you prepared a full-on chocolate feast for him: hot chocolate with chocolate heart pancakes, and butter also in the shape of a heart. The tulips he’d gotten you rest prettily inside the vase he remembers from your first anniversary pottery date.

He feels especially sentimental today taking everything in, noticing how the mug that holds your half-finished coffee matches the one that holds his hot chocolate. 

In the little over two years that you’ve been together, you’ve assimilated yourself into his space so naturally that it feels like you’ve always just been here—that it feels right how all your chips fill up the entire bottom shelf of his pantry because you love snacking on them whenever, wherever.

He cracks in two eggs. 

The throw on his couch matches the pillows all because of you, and bottles of your daily vitamins sit perfectly beside all his supplements in the spice-rack turned morning-essentials-rack (one of your so-called organization hacks). 

The pan sizzles, edges of the eggs turning crisp—just how you like it (lately, it’s how he’s been liking it too). 

When you step out of the bedroom, Hajime’s begun plating your food, pouring in another batch of coffee and preparing a bowl of fruits. 

(Today, it’s strawberries—one of your favorites. He made sure to stock up on that for today.) 

Hajime thinks he’s built a pretty solid life for himself—

He prides himself on his routine and the stability of his day-to-day: the mornings, with you raiding his closet and stealing his clothes; the late afternoons, when he picks you up from work and you crash his place because it’s begun to feel so much more like home. 

The evenings cap the day off perfectly, with you tucked under his chin and your leg slung over his hip. It’s too warm, but you get cold easily and he doesn’t mind the warmth when you’re pressed up skin-to-skin. 

And when he sees you in his sweatshirt—the one paired with the sweatpants he’s wearing right now, he smirks knowingly, setting down the utensils with a dopey smile on his face. 

This is good. 

—his life that you now also fit into. 

“Sorry you had to prep the rest,” you pad towards the counter, taking a seat on the stool as he waves it off and sits beside you, “thank you.” 

Without even a word, there’s a painkiller sitting on the palm of his hand, open and waiting for you already. 

You stare at him, puppy-dog eyes and everything, pouting as your fingertips graze his, “I love you.” 

He laughs, rolling his eyes jokingly as he hands you a glass of water, his cheeks already dusted peach.

Shyness still hits him when you’re so vocal like this, but Hajime has known he’s loved you since that day at some outdoor concert you dragged him into. The forecast was gloomy but you’d insisted it was an experience he shouldn’t miss, so he agreed—packed an umbrella and wore a jacket with a hood even, just in case. 

But there you were, in the middle of the downpour, dancing under the rain, and when you’d beckoned him closer, you had that same look on your face. 

“Love you too,” he whispers against your forehead, pressing his lips against it, “happy Valentine’s Day, babe.” 

Breakfasts with the two of you are usually rushed, but work for him today isn’t until noon and you have an entire day off to pack for a two-week business trip you’re set to leave for tomorrow.

So, this is nice. You both have time.  

You’re talking about all sorts of things—some work gossip, that nice old lady who lives a few units down from him; there’s the whole itinerary for your business trip too—meeting here, meeting there. An extra hour to kill to maybe sightsee. Evenings are usually free, and so on. 

But as he’s chewing on half of the chocolate heart pancake, he just can’t, for the life of him, stop thinking. 

The more he hears about your schedule for the upcoming weeks, the more he’s realizing that this is the longest time you’ll be apart.

And he wonders, what’s that gonna be like? 

Most of your clothes will be gone from his dresser, his bathroom counter half-empty without all your skincare. No overheating at night without your arm wrapped firmly around his spine. Just one mug during breakfast, not two, and only a single pair of green fuzzy slippers pacing around the rooms. 

It’ll be a little like how it was before you.

And he hates how that’s even a possibility.  

He takes a sip from his mug.

“So, Oikawa’s taking me out on a date. Is that okay with you?” you lean against your palm, elbow supported on the counter. 

He nods, humming as he sets down the hot chocolate. 

“Hajime.” you hide your smile. 

He snaps out of it, “Hm?” 

“So you’re okay with me going on a date with Oikawa?” 

His knee-jerk scowl is much more like it. 

“That fucker asked you out?” 

You laugh, shaking your head while taking his hand to interlace your fingers with his, “Just seeing if you were listening.” 

A pause, then a squeeze. 

“Wanna tell me what you’re thinking?” 

He tilts his head slightly; one look at you and you draw it all out of him. There’s something about this—breakfasts in his kitchen, with you wearing his clothes and the morning light streaming in. You share a joke or two (or five), a few teasing touches here and there, the mood relaxed and just overwhelmingly nice. 

Hajime is so authentically himself when he’s with you that he doesn’t want anyone else knowing the parts of him that you do—

Everyone would be surprised to find that his typically uptight self is surprisingly funny when he’s let loose; he’s made you laugh a good number of times to prove it, too. 

The boys would never let him live it down if they saw him peach-faced at the tiniest bit of your affection; and they’ll tease him for eternity if they find out that the reason he taps out so early during ‘boys’ nights’ is because he still gets so excited to cuddle in bed with you. 

This is the kind of day-to-day he wants, and he knows you’re the key to all of it. 

—so, Hajime chooses you, much like he’s chosen the mornings. 

“Move in with me,” he tells you simply, two fields of olive green sincerity. 

The words flow out of him with an intensity uninhibited, something you don’t get from him very often. Your expression shifts, breath on hold and—

“When you get back.” he follows up quickly, giving you space to consider it first, “What do you think?” 

All logic is telling him he should be nervous, that this is the defining moment of another goal he’s been working his ass off to reach, but somehow, with his hand in yours, this feels easy. Comfortable in all the good ways because loving you has always been just that. 

“Sex last night was that good, huh?” 

And this—there’s never been a problem with this too. 

He snorts, cheeks turning a deep peach. 

“Just realizing that mornings don’t feel the same without you,” he admits, pulling you closer. You hop off the stool and inch closer, standing between his legs as he rests his hands on your lower back.  

“Flirt.” you scrunch your nose, squeezing his waist. 

You say that, but he sees how your smile reaches your eyes; how it glosses over when you catch his gaze. 

“Okay, muscle boy,” your hands settle on his shoulders, fingers splayed out over every dip and curve, “better do all the moving then. Want all my stuff here by the time I get back.” 

.

And he does—

When you get back, he’s contacted his landlord to get you on the lease. Your clothes are all in his (or now your?) apartment, some still in boxes but the essentials already organized in the closet now split to house both of your things. 

There’re pieces of you everywhere now, not just touches like a person half-there. A lot of the big furniture is still at your place, but that’s really just because he wants to leave that part up to you. 

—after all, it’s your home now too.

thank you notes: @augustinewrites for loving hajime as much as i do 🥹 lights down low used to be a normal soft song for me before, now it belongs to him bc of u + @soumies @mysugu bc this is kinda really so self-shippy and every time i think of seiwa i think of you both 🥺 + @ktsumu for requesting this! i know it only slightly follows the prompt but i hope you enjoy my spin on it anyway 🥺

a/n: i don't think any amount of fic can express how much i love him 🥹 but i hope this comes close 🥹

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[shouyuus]

─── 飛雄 HE LIKES TO HOLD YOU, sling his arms around your shoulders, press his knee to your knee, crowd into your personal space; he likes to nose into the hollow of your neck, the warm, soft spot behind your ear, even if it makes you squirm away from him, he'd just pull you back and grumble at you to stay still, to stay close.

because he'd always want you close, wouldn't he? always want you within arm's reach, because tobio is nothing if not needy, nothing if not persistent in his petulant want for closeness, for the satisfying friction of skin on skin, for the warm tingle of goosebumps that chase up the length of your arms whenever he presses his lips to your cheek, your neck, the bare skin of your shoulder.

and he'd drink in the way you laugh, the tiny puff of breath before your gasping inhale — his name falling from your lips like a wish or a prayer.

"t-tobio!"

"what?"

he revels in the flush working into your cheeks, his eyes half-lidded in the starveling dark of this izakaya the jva's booked out for the night, the two and a half beers he's had fizzling in his stomach just enough to make his body feel light, to tug at the dwindling edges of his self-restraint till it's fraying. he pulls you into his chest, biting down a smirk at the shiver that shakes down your entire body as you peer up at him with dark, curious eyes.

"people... people will see!"

tobio frowns in earnest then, cocking his head as he weighs the implications. he blinks down at you.

"so?"

but before you can protest again, he bends down to catch your lips in his, humming against your lips, satisfaction unfurling in his chest as he feels you go molten in his arms. he pulls back to trace a thumb along your bottom lip, a dull pounding at the back of his mind, telling him that maybe, just maybe it's time to beg off from this party. he shoves the nagging feeling away for the comfort of pressing his forehead to yours, tracing a finger along the plush of your cheek.

"'s not like people don't know you're mine."

[bokutosbabe]

We've Already Done It In My Head ;)

( kissing with the haikyuu boys )

a / n — was listening to guilty as sin? by taylor swift and knew i had to write something for my boys

content — haikyuu! boys x GN! reader, some suggestive parts, some characters repeated,

synopsis — just kissing with the haikyuu boys <3

✿.｡. “ without ever touching his skin, ” .｡.✿

Always feels like the first time

they're always so giddy to give you a kiss, whether it be a small peck or a full make out session, they are always bouncing up and down in excitement. while they're always the most excited to kiss you, they're also so insanely clumsy about it too.

you couldn't keep count of how many times the two of you had clinked your teeth together, accidentally headbutted each other, and even accidentally bitten each others lips.

maybe it wasn't always the most picture perfect kiss, but you wouldn't trade it for the world.

after all, people do say they wish they could experience their firsts again, and you get that anytime you're around them.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ HINATA SHOYO, shohei fukunaga, YAMAGUCHI TADASHI, asahi azumane, TOBIO KAGEYAMA

Always turns into a make-out session

if there was one thing that was 100% certain in your life, it was that you could never kiss them in a purely innocent way. you could be in a very - and i mean VERY - public place, and if you want to give them a small peck?

nope, it's turning into a whole pda session. sometimes you don't mind, but other times you're a little embarrassed because of their boldness.

even while you're at a big event, they have to have their hands on you at all times. "you look so good right now." ignore. "wanna kiss you so bad." ignore. "wanna go to the bathroom?" ignore, ignore, ig-freaking-nore!

if the two of you can get through the whole evening without a big display, maybe you'll reward him when you get home ;)

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ATSUMU MIYA, korai hoshiumi, BOKUTO KOTARO, hinata shoyo

Always ends up in you getting what you want

it's not nice to manipulate people, especially not by kissing them until they can't tell you no. your boyfriend was a meanie. nothing more and absolutely nothing less.

all you wanted was to watch a rom-com for your weekly movie night, but nooo, they wanted to watch some boring history retelling film. you weren't sure if they really wanted to watch it or if they were only putting it on to piss you off.

so, of course, what else were you supposed to do besides slide yourself onto their lap and start kissing them until you could slip the remote from their hands and into yours.

" i hate you." he grumbled as you switched from the boring documentary to one of your favorite rom-coms of all time.

" no, you love me. " "...sadly."

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ KEI TSUKISHIMA, suna rintaro, OSAMU MIYA, TETSURO KUROO, yaku morisuke

Always gives the perfect kisses

they're literally a perfect specimen, it's really unfair.

you're sad? they're always there giving you small kisses on your head, forehead, and of course your lips. you're in the mood to just be hateful? he's there rubbing your back and kissing your temple while nodding along to your words.

there is no place in the world where they won't fit in perfectly.

and you're just lucky enough to be part of it.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ AKAASHI KEIJI, koshi sugawara, KITA SHINSUKE, toru oikawa, HAJIME IWAZUMI

✿.｡. “ how can i be guilty as sin ? ” .｡.✿

thanks for reading!!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[chimielie]

oh my god, they were roommates

part 2 to and they were roommates. no cws, just silliness.

you're not talking to tooru.

he's not sure how you manage it so effectively. you eat all your meals in your room while he's home, except for when you manage to sneak from there to the door while he's in the bathroom. his only clue that you've gone out is that you leave your bedroom door open when you do, really hammering home how empty his life suddenly is.

"even when we're in the same room," he sighs, resting his cheek on his fist. "it's like trying to grab a fish out of the water. i turn around or blink and poof! gone!"

"your sleeve is dipping into your drink," says his date. "and i really think you need to discuss this with your roommate. at home. alone."

tooru waves goodbye forlornly as they stand up and walks out of the restaurant, leaving behind a half-eaten ball of rice and a broken man.

"you are like a sad, sad," akaashi says, pausing to really linger on the word sad, "wet cat. please stop bringing your dates here to mope about—to them. you are forming bad associations between our business and your terrible romantic etiquette."

akaashi keiji is a mangaka now, or an editor for one, anyway; he works at onigiri miya (tokyo location) on the side because it's the only way he routinely leaves the house; tooru brings his dating drama here to brighten up what must surely be a terribly boring life.

"what would you do without me, akaashi-kun," tooru stretches his arms high with a languid sigh that makes akaashi worry that he has comprehended none of his words. "wouldn't you be so miserable if you didn't have me to bring romance and excitement to your life?"

"i have a boyfriend of several years," akaashi says, which is rude to remind tooru of while he's in such a vulnerable state. "i have plenty of excitement with him in my life."

"inconsiderate!" tooru snorts. "please break up with him to show me solidarity."

"i will not be doing that." akaashi picks up the nameless and now-vanished date's plate and takes a bite out of the leftover food.

"understandable," tooru nods, "that's very reasonable. i just don't know what to do, or how to fix it, or what i did wrong."

"you come in here every other night to whine about what you did wrong."

"do not."

"do too," akaashi sticks out his tongue at him. there's a grain of rice stuck to his lip. "you spent several months going out on dates trying to make your friend-turned roommate jealous—during which, I'll note, you basically exclusively talked about the person you were and continue to be obsessed with—then initiated... romantic physical contact, then ran away. because you have the attachment style of a stray cat."

"ah, akaashi-kun," tooru says. "are you saying i get around?"

"i am saying you are lurking outside the window and begging for attention and then biting the hand that feeds you when you get it.”

“oh.” tooru is quiet for a moment. “can i get the check?”

“it’s on the house if you’ll just go home and talk to your roommate and never come back here with another date.” akaashi says, finishing off the onigiri.

“deal.”

your room is empty, your bedroom door ajar when he comes home. mournfully, tooru sits on the bed, reminiscing over the hours he'd spent gossiping with you here.

he'll just wait for you to get back. when he used to take you dancing—with your other friends, but you'd wind your arms around his neck and he'd run light hands over your waist, your hips, and you would look at him like no one else even existed—you always wanted to leave before midnight. it's ten-forty-nine now, according to his watch, so he's sure you'll be back before long.

you get home at two-oh-four. you had never seen the point in staying out longer when going home and chatting over a bowl of cheesy noodles with tooru was so much more appealing—you didn't want to dance with anyone else anyway. now, though, you don't want to be home, and you have something to prove. to who, you're not sure, but you find yourself staying out later and later.

even though you always return home alone. you'd thought about really upping the ante, about moving on as abruptly as possible, but you couldn't. it felt like going too far in this petty revenge game. after all, you still—

you stop short, dropping your shoes on the floor. the devil is in your bed, lying on his side, knees tucked to his chest to fit his absurdly long frame. his breaths are even and deep, his face peaceful.

"oh, tooru," you sigh, and climb over him to tuck yourself against his warm side.

you blink your eyes open slowly, sleep still gleaming in the corners of your vision. there's a weight on your hip and something that smells really, really good surrounding you, nearly lulling you back to sleep.

"oh, please don't," says a voice you haven't heard in days. "my arm's circulation has been completely cut off. i may never serve again."

you jolt away from the soft source of warmth, which you realize belatedly is oikawa's chest.

"what happened?" you say, swiping at your face with the back of your hand.

he looks frustratingly perfect as always, brown hair rumpled, eyes soft like you aren't in the biggest spat of your friendship.

"i was waiting for you," he admits, leaning on his side and casting his eyes down, his lashes shadowing his high cheekbones. "because i wanted to apologize, to be clear. i must have fallen asleep, and then i woke up, and it was like—"

"yes," you cough. "i see. um."

"i'm sorry," he says. "hey, look at me. i'm really sorry."

"for what, oikawa?" you laugh nervously.

"for being stupid," he rolls one shoulder in a shrugging motion. "for trying to make you jealous and instead just being, like, a complete fucking clown during all of it."

"make me jealous?" you say, blinking at him.

"please don't look at me like that," he says, scrubbing over his face with the hand that's not propping up his head. "it-you make me nervous."

"we've been friends for years," you say, still apparently lost. "how can i make you nervous?"

"you always will," he laughs, but it's strained. "look—i like you. probably more, but i'm trying not to scare you—any more than i already have, i mean. i'm not sorry for kissing you, is what i mean. i should just—i should probably go."

"wait," you say firmly before he can untangle himself from your sheets. putting a hand on his shoulder and pushing yourself up to meet his lips, which are soft and dry and parted slightly with surprise.

the kiss is warm and lingers, even after you pull away. tooru stares at you with dazed eyes that make you shy, dropping your own. his voice is quiet but hopeful, contrasting his words in tone when he speaks.

"what the fuck?"

[uwurakax]

-> HAIKYUU x SMAU TEXTS; she's busy

summary prank texting the hq guys "she's busy" ♡

featuring oikawa tōru || kozume kenma || miya atsumu ♡

notes im tired, ive slept for like 3 hours in two days and this was funnier in my head lol ♡

-> idec if im late to this lmaoo, might do more + bllk bois <-

the goddamn loml ♡

he is kenough ♡

my beebee ♡

© uwurakax — please don’t repost or share outside of tumblr

[heartkaji]

★ “HEY, WHATS YOUR SNAP ?”

୨ৎ notes : how haikyuu boys slide into your snap dms 💘 kinda ooc cuz i made them text like stereotypical fboys 💯

୨ৎ includes : atsumu miya, suna rintarou ( only those two cuz i only discovered how to upload more than 10 images after making this 💔 )

★ ATSUMU MIYA ?!

★ SUNA RINTAROU ?!

© ─ heartkaji ; do not steal, copy, edit, translate or reupload

[19calicos]

i know where to look — kuroo tetsurō ˎˊ˗

⋆ ˚｡⋆ ✴︎ to be loved is to be known. ⋆⋆⋆

— on kuroo’s 2am walk home from a late night study session, yn and their skateboard crash right into his head heart.

status: in progress!

content: university au, meet-hurt LMFAOOO, slowburn, toothrotting fluff, some angst, gn skater! yn with they/them prns, whipped lovesick dork! kuroo, ooc writing sorry, ignore time stamps, this fic is self indulgent

warnings: language, bad grammar, injuries from skating, ooc writing sorry, weed + cigs + alc, self sabotage, descriptions of social anxiety, overthinking, usage of kms and kys, trust issues, yn's parents divorcing is mentioned, yn is so avoidant and in denial im sorry

tags are added as story progresses, please check individual chapters for cw.

disclaimer lol i’m not a fan of tv girl at all sorry but just hearing the “you know where to find me and i know where to look” snippet is so soft and sweet to me cuz to be loved is to be known (ty twitter) so here i am w this kuroo smau 🗣️

( 𖦹 ) denotes written content!

the cast: skater cat fan club + stupid bitch syndrome havers

table of contents:

1 ⊹ call an ambulance! ( 𖦹 )

2 ⊹ build something up

3 ⊹ literally everywhere…

4 ⊹ a cat named ube ( 𖦹 )

5 ⊹ helmet hair

6 ⊹ clocked

7 ⊹ tech deck master

8 ⊹ shadow the hedgehog

9 ⊹ happy community day! ( 𖦹 )

10 ⊹ exposure therapy + delusion

11 ⊹ a hundred not-dates ( 𖦹 )

12 ⊹ who wont slime

13 ⊹ on the kitchen floor ( 𖦹 )

14 ⊹ (it was tails)

15 ⊹ so in hindsight

16 ⊹ under familiar lights ( 𖦹 )

17 ⊹ tba

taglist: closed! (50/50)

extra: moodboard | everyone’s decks | yn style guide

[tetzoro]

MSBY BUSINESS — ༉‧₊˚.

ft. kuroo tetsuro !

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : kuroo goes out with the guys to give them his proposal.

꒰ CONTENTS ꒱ : f!reader, alcohol mention, kuroo is tipsy + silly , fluff ! — WC : 2.6k

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : the next installment for the all star project ! just something fun and silly hehe enjoy ! dividers by @/cafekitsune ᰔ

ᯓ★ masterlist

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᰔ*.ﾟ

“hey sweetheart.” kuroo slurred into the phone. you could hardly suppress your giggle. he was still out with some of the guys from MSBY, trying to secure them as players for the all stars match.

“hi tetsu.” you smile, folding the last of the laundry away. kuroo had begged you to come with him tonight, but you figured the deal would go better if it was kept just between the guys. besides, you had your own stuff to do and drinking on a thursday night was not on your list.

“you sound so pretty.” he dramatically sighs into the phone, the noise so loud you pull it back from your ear for a second. whenever kuroo drank too much, he’d exaggerate everything, especially with you, behaving like a toddler who needs your undivided attention.

“thank you.” you walk towards the living room, debating if you should start getting ready to pick him up. “are the guys taking care of you?”

kuroo wasted no time in gathering the guys for tonight’s meeting, wanting to jump on the project as soon as possible. only a week or so after the proposal had been approved, he set up a time to talk to them. MSBY would have a big pull for this match, especially because they were centralized right here in tokyo. but getting the bulk of the olympic players was on the table, as well as a few stars who moved out of the country to follow their dreams in volleyball.

“yeah i guess they are.” he mumbled, bokuto shouting something in the background. “but i want you to come take care of me.”

“well-“ you start before you hear bokuto shouting some more at your boyfriend. kuroo yaps back at him, the two bickering as kuroo sets the phone down for a minute.

“fine!” kuroo scoffs. “bokuto says hi.”

“hi bokuto.” you laugh.

“no!” kuroo groans. “don’t pay attention to him, pay attention to me.”

“i am, don’t worry.” you coo softly. on that note, you decide to get him. “why don’t i come get you?”

“you’d pick me up?” he sounds surprised. 

“duh.” you roll your eyes, grabbing your coat and keys.

“guysss.” kuroos voice sounds further away from the phone. “my amazing girlfriend is coming to pick me up so i gotta go.”

“hold on, don’t go running off yet.” you laugh, “i’ll be there in 15.”

“okay, fine.” if you shut your eyes tight enough, you could practically see the pout on his face. “drive safe.”

after exchanging your goodbyes, or as kuroo insists — see you soon, you quickly get into the car and head over to where he said he was going to be for the night.

the drive over was seamless, city lights blurring past you as you made your way to him — your heart. music filled up the car, your favorite playlist spinning through the songs that you hold dearest to you.

pride swelled in your chest the closer you got to the bar. judging by the way kuroo’s voice sounded — and the fact he was drinking a smidge more than usual — tells you that maybe the deal went off without a hitch.

but who were you kidding, of course it did. kuroo was a man that would go after whatever he wanted, not stopping until he achieved it. and bokuto, atsumu and sakusa couldn’t pass up this opportunity even if they wanted to, their pride couldn’t handle it.

excitement fills you as you get to the parking lot, finding a suitable spot before heading inside. you couldn’t wait to hear how the night went, ready to hang on to every word kuroo told you.

as soon as you walk in, you hear a shout of your name. in a blink of an eye, bokuto is running towards you at full speed and your eyes widen as he sweeps you up off of the ground in a bone crushing hug. 

“it’s been so long!” bokuto roared, holding onto you as your arms are stuck by your side, unable to bring them up and properly hug him back.

“oi!” kuroo quickly zips towards you both, his brows furrowed as he makes his way over. “put my girlfriend down!”

“but-“ bokuto looks at you and deflates, reluctantly letting you down. 

“and it hasn’t been that long, you saw her 2 weeks ago.” kuroo slinked around a pouting bokuto and next to you, his face flushed as he presses his lips against your forehead, arm quickly wrapping around you. “hi sweetheart.”

“hi tetsu.” you beam up at him before looking back near bokuto as a flash of bleach blonde hair caught your eye. atsumu bounced over with sakusa shuffling behind. you exchanged greetings, kuroo wearing a proud smile as you did. 

“how are you guys getting home?” you asked, looking concerned at how atsumu was swaying side to side, the effects of alcohol clearing weighing on him. you whisper over to kuroo, “how much did you let him drink?”

“what? we were celebrating!” kuroo cheers, bokuto and atsumu enthusiastically agreeing.

“to answer your question, a lot. but then again miya can never hold his liquor.” sakusa sighs, ignoring atsumu making an offended noise of protest. “unfortunately, i’ll be the one driving them home.”

“good luck.” you offer him a sympathetic smile, your hand squeezing kuroo’s side. “i’ll take this one off your hands, though.”

“appreciate it.” sakusa nods. as much as he oozes annoyance around these two, you know better. the fond look in his eye tells you all you need to know about how he truly feels about his teammates.

“oh wait! i saw your interview with nagi.” atsumu speaks up, interested to hear more. “he didn’t give ya much to work with, did he?”

“he didn’t seem interested in talking about how they’re preparing for the next olympics.” you shrug, feeling kuroo’s gaze on your face. “some of them are more open to it than others but i guess we’ll find out with the rest of the world.”

“i wonder if they’ll do another blue lock project.” kuroo wonders outloud.

“y’know, i thought training camps were already fun enough but blue lock sounded like a paradise, i wish they did it for volleyball.” bokuto looks off into the distance, probably imagining how it would play out in his head.

“imagine if we got to do that before the last olympics? we definitely would’ve beaten oikawa.” atsumu joins in, looking off in the same direction. 

“did you guys actually read the interviews? it sounded like hell. sharing that space with people you hardly know for days on end, not seeing the sun—“ sakusa started. 

“alright, alright, i hear ya.” atsumu’s face morphs into a scowl, crossing his arms and looking like a dejected kitten.

sakusa gave him a smug look before side eyeing bokuto who started bobbing his head along to the music playing overhead at the establishment. “did you idiots forget that we have practice tomorrow?”

bokuto and atsumu freeze, clearly answering his question by the dumbfounded look on their faces.

“see?” atsumu practically screeches at sakusa, who only took a slight step back with the raise of his eyebrow. “i told ya kuroo was a con man! made us drink all this stuff just to get us in on whatever scam he’s trying to pull.”

“what?” bokuto’s eyes widened, turning to face kuroo. 

“hey, you guys were the one to order the sake bombs. plus, you already agreed to doing the match so,” kuroo said, a smirk lining his lips in victory. sakusa shook his head as atsumu kept babbling about how kuroo was going to take all their money next. 

“alright!” you bounce on your heels, taking this as your cue to go. “well, i’ll be taking him home now, goodnight guys.”

bokuto’s confused look melts into a frown, throwing you and kuroo into a hug before whispering to him, “i’d let you steal my money anytime kuroo.”

kuroo laughed loudly, atsumu looking on in horror as sakusa realized he could enjoy this little ploy on the way home, an evil glint in his eye as he looks at atsumu.

“goodnight guys.” you wave as they exchange their goodbyes. with your hand still wrapped around kuroo, you guide him towards the door. it’s a quick walk to the car, but kuroo starts walking towards the drivers seat. “just what do you think you’re doing?”

“opening the door for the most beautiful person in the world.” kuroo says, unlocking it and swinging it wide open with a soft expression. he was such a dope when he was tipsy. 

“thank you tets, but i think i’m the one that needs to help you get in the car, not the other way around.” you giggle, opening up the passenger seat. kuroo sighs in defeat and jogs over to his side. he gives you a kiss on the cheek before he slides into his seat.

“all buckled up and ready to go.” he nods with a little thumbs up. you close the door and make your way to the drivers seat, settling in before turning the car on, casting him a glance — eager eyes already set on you. 

“so, how’d it go?” you smile before putting the car in drive, getting on the road back to your shared apartment.

kuroo excitedly fills you in on everything. how he barely finished his proposal before bokuto was already signing everyone up. sakusa looking mildly interested at the prospect of ushijima showing up — asking if he joins that they play against each other. atsumu casted kuroo sketchy looks until the two drinks he had caught up with him, going on and on about how kuroo needs onigiri miya to work the event too if he really wants it to be a success.

and then the sake bombs came out. you’re not entirely too sure if kuroo is telling the truth when he says bokuto was the one who suggested it but you go along with his story anyway.

once he’s finished with his tale, the ecstatic buzz in the car settles and he’s quiet. you quickly look over to check on him and see him dozed off, head resting against the chilled window — the sign of a successful night you suppose.

after a bit, you stopped at a red light, having time to properly cast your glance over to kuroo, who was still peacefully snoozing. the color kisses his skin, waves of scarlet and maroon flowing over his features. the warm glow suited him, red was always his color.

only a few more turns and you made it back to the apartment, throwing the car in park and swiftly exiting the car to make your way to the other side.

“tetsu.” you whisper, crouching through the passenger door as soon as you open it, face close to kuroo’s as you prod him awake.

“hi baby.” he smiles, eyes still shut but he had the sweetest smile on his face. you couldn’t help but melt a little at the sight.

“come on mr. con man.” you giggle, tugging on his sleeve. “let’s get you to bed.”

“just let me sleep here.” he nestles deeper into the seat.

“you’d make me sleep inside all by my lonesome? wow…” you playfully sigh, feigning a step away. kuroo’s eyes bolt open, hand reaching out for your waist.

“never.” he smiles, getting up and haphazardly throwing his arm around you. “take me to bed, please.”

“well, since you asked so nicely.” you shake your head softly, overly fond of the man you’re half carrying into your apartment. 

“my savior.” he giggles, slightly tripping up the steps.

“you’re ridiculous.” you tease, smiling as you enter your shared space. “now get changed and go to bed.”

“im on it, boss.” he gives a lazy salute before stumbling into the bedroom. you shake your head with a smile, following him in there. 

the house was just as you left it an hour ago, the empty laundry basket still sitting on the bed. as kuroo undresses, you take the basket off, holding it as you watch him.

“don’t be a perv.” he teases, unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it off his shoulders before unbuckling his belt and doing the same with his trousers.

“why not? you do it all the time.” you smirk back, holding the basket just a little higher. he gets the message, bundling his clothes from the day into a ball and tossing it toward the hamper.

it lands in perfectly.

“score!” he cheers, throwing his fist victoriously up in the air, pride shining over his features. “i still got it.”

“easy tiger.” you roll your eyes, as you put the basket down. “lets get you to bed, okay?”

“okay.” kuroo moves so he's behind you, arms wrapping around you tightly, ready to wobble over to your bed like a penguin. 

“i still need to change, tetsu.” you try to move but his hold on you is surprisingly strong for his current state.

“let me help then.” he purrs in your ear, pressing his lips against your ear. a shiver runs down your spine as his fingers run along the hem of your shirt, sliding under it and smoothing his hand along your skin. 

“nuh uh, you need to sleep tonight if you’re gonna get up for work in the morning.” reluctantly, you grab his hand and pull it away from you, freeing yourself from his clutches.

“but—“ kuroo starts, looking absolutely pitiful. “i just wanted to help you get ready for bed. no funny stuff, promise.”

“yeah?” you raise a brow as he vigorously nods his head. “somehow i don’t believe that.”

“rude.” he pouts and looks away, nose high up in the air as if you’d ever question his integrity. you just roll your eyes.

“come on, you need to brush your teeth.” you take his hand and pull him with you, flipping on the blinding light.

“you’re so bossy sometimes.” he stands behind you in the mirror, looking at you through the glass with a smirk. his arms wrap around your waist, kissing your cheek before resting his chin on your shoulder. “i like it.”

you just laugh, your palm reaching up to gently pat his cheek. the two of you quickly do your nighttime routine, full of kuroo stealing glances in the mirror and trying to wink at you with a mouth full of toothpaste. 

“i’m going to go change but lie down, okay?” you say after you both finish and walk back into the bedroom. kuroo turns around and quickly pulls you in for a minty fresh kiss, letting himself melt into it for a moment before he pulls away.

“okay.” kuroo smirks and lays down on the bed, propped up on his elbows as he watches you get changed. “hurry up so i can hold you.” 

“now look who the bossy one is.” you roll your eyes, changing out of your clothes and into one of kuroo’s old shirts before slipping into bed with him.

in the blink of an eye, kuroo scoops you in his arms, tangling his limbs with yours and burying his face in your neck. 

“i love you.” the sound is muffled but you hear him loud and clear, heart swelling at his proclamation. 

“i love you.” you whisper back, kuroo’s soft snores already filling the room as he dozed off once again, more than content to be in your loving arms after the next step of his plan had gone off without a hitch.

your fingers weave themselves into his hair, lightly brushing out the strands as you feel sleep trying to claim you as well. but there’s a nervous pit in your stomach that evades you from giving into your slumber, something that’s telling you things are going to be changing soon. now that the ball is officially rolling, you hope it doesn’t topple over everything you and kuroo have built together over the last two years.

thank you sm for reading ᰔ — next part

[revasserium]

hello sry just thinking about leaving hickies on timeskip!hinata's thighs, pinning him down by the hips, not even letting him take off his shorts and he could push you off if he wanted to, right bc he's definitely stronger than you but he doesn't bc he's too busy whining, his arm slung over his eyes, muscles flexing, hips jumping when you get too close to the very obvious tent in his shorts, him peering down at you across the length of his body, cheeks flushed such a pretty pink, his hair still a lil sweaty from a casual game of pickup in the afternoon --

his skin tastes a bit like sweat, but you don't care, not for all the gaspy little noises he's making at the back of his throat, or the way he threads his fingers through your hair, or the way he can't seem to figure out if he wants to pull you closer or push you away.

you sink your teeth into his aching muscles, hear him moan out your name in that broken, pitched voice of his, begging for something, anything --

"anything?" you lick your lips and pillow your cheek on the tight corded muscle of his thigh, admiring the angry little rings of red blooming along his skin.

"b-baby please --"

"please what though, shou?"

"please -- i need --"

"need...?" you walk your fingers up his thighs to tease at the hem of his shorts as he keens, his hips kicking up again as you barely brush your lips over the tip of his tent.

"need you -- your mouth -- your hands -- anything, please!"

and you'd think about denying him just a bit longer, see how long you can edge him, but you decide -- in the grand scheme of things -- he deserves a lil break.

after all, he's got a match tomorrow, and you giggle to yourself, thinking already of the comments his teammates might make, the questions they might ask about the very, very obvious hickies now littering the length of his thighs.

[ktsumu]

when you meet his family (cousins, parents, sister, brother, and brothers*) warnings: drinking

-

Right from the first night you kissed him, Issei's dreamt of this going every way possible.

He's thought of it being a mess, defending your honour after a misunderstanding with a cousin or something, taking your hand and squeezing it before waking up with a shiver.

He's thought of it going fucking fantastic, with his mom liking you a bit more than she probably likes him, calling you one of her own and ushering you out of his grasp to ask what wine you like.

And he's though of it going neither way, sat in the middle of neutrality, where they simply decided you were a fine choice for their fine son and that was going to be that.

He didn't cover this.

It's not that he didn't cover it, actually, it's that he can't categorize it. It doesn't fall into any of those three categories he so meticulously dreamt up— you don't fit any of them.

It was decided you'd finally meet his family at his sister's engagement party. He remembers explaining the game plan over a lunch date— all the attention's on them, so you won't have to be as nervous. Good, yeah?

(You snorted, telling him sure, whatever and asking what he was gonna order.)

You both prepared for this like you're in the finals, drew up your game plan on a locker room whiteboard and put your hands in the middle. You wore your finest backyard BBQ-appropriate attire and told Issei to at least add a belt, rolled your eyes when he said he liked your Sunday best.

He told you didn't need to worry about that, that you'd look 'fucking hot' in anything, but you ignored him entirely.

(He didn't mind, 'cause he got a good look when you you were walking away.)

He doesn't even know why he was nervous, now.

The two of you set foot in that house for maybe ten seconds before being overwhelmed with the love inside, warm hands patting his back and names he's heard a million times introducing themselves to you for the first.

He found himself watching how his people swooned over you, gushing over your name and how it suits you— he thinks he remembers doing the same, at least once.

He found himself watching you from across the room as you left his side— divide and conquer, 'Sei —with his mom, grinning as you whirled your head around to decide who you'd answer to first. Grinning as he punched his cousin's gut, the one hanging off of his shoulders and asking how much he paid you.

("Nothing, dickwad."

"Bullshit. How?"

"Magic. You'll never know.")

He found himself relaxing his shoulders when you all went outside, taking a bottle from someone tall enough to ruffle his hair and taunt about how big he's gotten, taking a drink when you met his eyes.

You smiled, and all the worry he's had for the last week disappeared in one fell swoop.

He introduced you to his parents, his sister, her fiancé— his sister was half in the bag and said something about how he talks about you more than anything else, but it wasn't anything you didn't know.

His dad clapped him on the shoulder and pointedly said he's glad he's settled down, but no one can hold him to the man he was in university.

He's pretty sure his mom wanted you to stay the night.

He introduced you to his little brother, who— for the first time that evening —looked up from his phone to blink twice and say you were a stunner. Call me if Issei does you wrong, too.

(He flipped him off and nudged you the other way.)

The wad of cousins that are around your age told you all about a childhood with Issei, of his darkest secrets, raised brows all around when you simply said he told you already.

Safe to say they approved.

Check. Check. Check. Check. Check.

Judgement day was more of how he introduced you to his boys more than anything else. Because he knew that, if anyone was gonna be scarily honest, it was gonna be them.

Makki knew you already— he's around Issei's apartment too much not to know you. It helped to have someone in your corner in talking you up to Tooru and Hajime.

Iwa greeted you with a warm handshake, already armed with harmless questions. He knew where you were from, but he asked you like Issei didn't spill everything after a week of knowing you. He knew how you met Issei, but he asked you like he didn't.

Tooru hugged you, and his questions had an intense lean. Why Issei? What'd you see in him first? If you could pick one thing about him that you love the most, what is it? And don't say anything below the belt!

(That was the end of the onslaught. Hajime grabbed him by the scruff and told him to just stop talking.)

Now it's nearing seven, and the party's winding down.

There's a fire burning and everyone's figuring out a way to crowd around it. His backyard's never been big, but his family's never been either— crammed together shoulder to shoulder, hands on someone's knees when they laugh.

You're off with his sister again, figuring out how much you have in common while Issei prepares to have you stolen away from here for the rest of his life. He doesn't really mind it.

He's slumped back in a lawn chair he used to nap in when he was a kid, paint peeling and the wood probably too old for him, a bottle of beer in hand that he swirls nice and slow. Makki and the others sit on either side, legs kicked up with twin drinks. Makki kicks Issei's to bring him back.

Brothers.*

"So," he drawls.

"Better be good, Makki."

"Good?" Makki shares a glance with Iwa and Tooru—they look equally as buzzed, equally as pleased. "I think you're set for life, man."

There's a quiet laughter amongst the three of them, Tooru even nudges his shoulder when he looks back at him, hanging off of Hajime's neck. The four of them are rarely serious, which is how Issei knows so well when they mean something.

"Think so?"

"Know so. That's your fucking match, dude."

Hajime scoffs from the side. "Never thought I'd see the day."

Issei snorts, taking a slow drink. "Still bitter and single, I see."

"I just congratulated you five minutes ago!" he defends, hiding behind the mouth of his bottle. "Fuck,"

"It's okay, Iwa, you'll do great when you learn to talk to people at the gym!"

"I don't even wanna hear it from you Tooru—get off my fuckin' back,"

"Girls, stop fighting."

Chatter drowns into the back of his mind when you walk into it, just a simple look making you rule it alone. You're smiling at him. The smile that he finds so easy to stare at, one that is unequivocally yours.

He offers you one back— his is more crooked, but that's just how it is. He never really noticed until you told him how much you love it, now he tries a little harder.

"You know," Tooru's singsong tone brings Issei back to the bubble, "now that you've introduced us all, that'll should you guys, next."

Issei follows his finger to where your hands cradle your sister's engagement ring, entirely not your style but still beautiful. He grins, because he knows enough to know you'd like something else.

"Uh, okay, slow down maybe?"

"Why do you take everything so seriously, Iwaa?"

The thought makes him feel wonderfully sick. Butterflies, thunderstorms, whatever else in his gut. The sight of a ring near your hand makes him grin.

"Yeah," Issei agrees, head tilting as he watches you come back to him. "Guess it will be."

(The three of them share a look.)

"What're you guys talking about?" you ask, taking the hand that lures you into Issei's lap. You settle into the spot you've practically molded for yourself, arm reaching around to comb your fingers through the curls on the back of his head. "What'd I miss?"

Issei leans back to get a good look at you. "Nothin,' just catching up."

You scan over the four of them— they've all got that look that says they're up to no good, but you think that's the effect of the group.

"Uh-huh."

Issei can't categorize tonight into one of his three genres of dreams he's had. It's not that it wasn't amazing, it's that it was more than that.

He hadn't thought about bringing you home, and leaving a piece of you there. He hadn't thought about bringing a piece of it home with you. He can feel it in his lap, and he wants to ask you right here.

Makki huffs a laugh, giving Issei a little wink behind your back.

"So," he drawls, "I forget—what'd you see in him, again?"

"Oh, not this."

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹｡ i left my keys on your bedroom floor | miya atsumu

wc: 2.4k

summary: atsumu is the clumsiest guy you've ever met; nothing ever goes to plan, especially when it comes to love. 

contains: f!reader, use of ‘misus’, mostly fluff with a bit of misunderstanding, reader wears heels, some swears, atsumu thinks he’s going to have a heart attack but it’s just him being him, atsumu is an idiot in love 

a/n: not related to the plot, but take a chance with me and fearless remind me of atsumu’s feels in this one (and paper rings will forever be an atsumu song for me)

part of how to be your lover boy (a valentine's collab by augustinewrites & seiwas)

Atsumu thinks this is the dumbest fuck-up he could have ever fucked up. 

Wood isn’t supposed to feel this cold, but his leg is freezing rested against it. 

Is this what it means to be weak in the knees?

Out of all places, of all times, Miya Atsumu finds himself knelt down on one knee by your bedside, legs feeling like jello at his attempt to look under your bed for his apartment keys. 

This wouldn’t be a problem at all, really; he kneels down all the time—for lunges during training (the bane of his existence if you ask him), for helping his Ma plant those herbs he’s sure she does for Osamu (he hates how the soil sticks to his skin), and for buckling the straps on your heels even, when you need him to (he doesn’t like it, only because he prefers you much more comfortable in softer shoes, unchafed ankles and all). 

So, kneeling isn’t really that big of a deal for Atsumu—

—but you’re there, standing by the bathroom door, staring at him with overwhelming surprise, evidently anticipating something serious enough to bring tears to your eyes. 

This is wrong. It isn’t at all what you’re thinking—he was just looking for his keys. 

“‘Tsum…” you choke out, mouth partially covered by your shaky hand. 

Fuck, if this isn’t the worst way he could possibly do this. 

He’s sure his eyes are wide, brows furrowed by a mixture of worry and regret. 

“Wait,” he holds two hands up, slowly coming to a stand, “S’not what ya think.” 

This is seriously the dumbest way he could fuck this up. 

The expression on your face drops, warmth rushing to your cheeks. If Atsumu could describe how you look, he’d call it worse than heartbreak—the horror in your eyes flashing embarrassment and the creases between your brows screaming rejection; what once were lifted cheeks have now sunk, turning into an undeniable frown. 

There are tears threatening to spill from your lash line, for a different reason now, he thinks, and it’s all his fault—it makes his heart break that he’s the sole culprit. 

And the sick thing is, despite all this, he still finds you the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, backlit by a halo of fluorescent white that he’s tempted to drop everything he originally planned just to do it right now. 

“O-oh,” you mumble, “sorry, I just thought–” you close your eyes, taking a deep breath, “nevermind, that was stupid of me, Tsum.”

When you open your eyes, a single tear falls, and he tries not to comment on how you wipe it quickly, feigning a smile as you walk past him, mumbling something about making breakfast and preparing his lunch for when he heads out.

And, well, he feels shitty, that’s for sure. One, for making you cry, and two, for even making you think, just for a second, that he doesn’t want to marry you. 

It wasn’t stupid of you to assume he was proposing at all. He’s hinted at it enough in the past few years, calling you ‘the misus’ enough times when mentioning why he’s heading home early from post-game dinners and parties. His Ma keeps a photo of you and him in his childhood home, and Osamu’s given you a family discount at Onigiri Miya now, too (which is only 1% higher than the friends one, but it’s the fact that he considers you as family that makes it feel much larger). 

He likes coming home to you, likes that you don’t force him to do anything. That if he chooses to stay out, it’s all fine by you—he’s just stopped looking for that kind of life anymore; it’s a lot more fun getting to cuddle up on the couch with you. 

His legs still tingle, and he crouches down again with a big sigh. The silver key is there, glistening from the light directed from his phone, and he reaches to grab it, fishing for the metal that, if he’s being quite honest, hasn’t fully served its purpose in the past three years anyway. 

Four years together, and Atsumu has lived with you for most of them. The only reason you still have separate places by name is because of the apartment he owns in Osaka, meant for training season and game days. 

Other than that, home has always been your place. 

And lately, he’s been thinking of moving somewhere where home can now officially be both of yours—it’s the whole reason he was looking for his keys in the first place, with property managers and realtors coming in to assess the space. 

The new place—he’s hoping for it to be somewhere in the middle of both you and him, maybe a bit bigger, who knows? He was planning to ask you about it after the proposal—the one he’s planned and has been trying so hard to keep a secret from you. 

It’s a miracle he’s managed to keep it this hush so far. He’s got the ring, the venue, the speech, and has even asked Osamu to take the video (even though he knows he’ll never let him live down every jitter and stutter he’s bound to make). And the date, the oh-so-important Valentine’s day that you’ll both remember forever. 

The living room is awfully quiet when he steps into it, no sign of you and your usual humming to whatever song’s been stuck in your head. He walks to the kitchen counter, eyeing a plate of eggs with a bit of fried rice; you packed his lunch, just like you always have—fatty tuna with some rice and vegetables on the side.

Atsumu thinks he could cry, his upper lip already trembling as he stares at the piece of paper in front of him. 

Written in your delicate handwriting is a short note: ‘grabbing some grocery, be back later.’ signed with nothing—no ‘love you’, no ‘see you later’, no x’s and o’s. Just nothing. It sucks even more because the grocery is your place, your one escape when he’s upset you enough that you can’t even look at him. 

Yet, you still made him breakfast, and you still packed his lunch—that’s the only thing giving him hope that he hasn’t fully fucked this up. 

.

“Samu, I think am g’na die.” 

The scenery beside him whizzes past quickly, creating a blur of blue, green, and white. His head leans against the window, and he adjusts an earbud, increasing the volume to hear the call better. 

Osamu sighs on the other end, the sound of clinking pans and crinkling plastic muffled in the background. 

“Y’said that t’Ma the last time, what’s it now?” 

Atsumu groans, the memory still fresh in his mind; when he called his Ma a little over three years ago, he was a stuttering mess, breath unsteady and voice shaky at 1:00 a.m. The pounding in his chest would not stop, he thought for sure he was going to have a heart attack. 

His Ma diagnosed him all right, called it a serious case of ‘in love with you’—because, when he recounted everything he could have done to cause any potential uptick of his heart rate, all he could talk about was you. How you held his hand and laughed at his jokes, called him handsome even when he was sweaty and gross; how you nursed him to health even though he was probably stinky and dehydrated from an insane diarrhea episode. 

All these years later, and he’s even more in love with you. 

“I fucked it up, ‘Samu. The plan ‘n everythin’? Poof.” he gestures with his hands, even though he knows audio call doesn’t allow him to be seen. “Dunnow if there’ll even be ‘nyone t’propose to.” 

Then, he tells Osamu everything—the search for his keys, kneeling on the floor, the mistaken proposal but how he would have done it there, how he wanted to but didn’t because he actually managed to plan something and didn’t want to throw it away.

But then he said it all wrong, then you cried, and he really did mess it up; he wasn’t even able to say goodbye. He’s miss-called you thrice and you’ve only replied with ‘can’t talk right now.’ (which he knows is suggested text because you always say ‘later, baby.’ or something else more time-efficient). 

“Ya dumbass,” Osamu sighs again, words still sharp but tone a bit more rounded, “just give it time, ‘n stop catastrophizin’. Y’ve put y’self in stupider situations ‘n hav always made it somehow.” 

Atsumu feels like crying, again, but Osamu’s always right. He lets out a tear or two, maybe a sob for another five minutes, and when he recovers into small sniffles, Osamu tells him to get some sleep to clear his head—he’s holding the line in Onigiri Miya during peak time. 

.

His Osaka apartment feels even emptier than usual even though it shouldn’t be all that different. Meetings with realtors and property managers finished an hour ago and all they need is the go signal from him before they put the property up for lease. 

He was supposed to stay here until the end of the week, to meet with PR for sponsorship deals and brand campaigns throughout the year. But, the only (non-suggested) text he received from you today was an indication that you were home and heading in early for bed (which, he knows is a lie, because a new episode of your favorite show is airing tonight and there’s no way you’re missing it after last week’s cliffhanger). 

And he can’t, just can’t, leave you thinking that he doesn’t want to marry you. 

So he decides, fuck it, and packs it up—books a last minute train ticket back to you and hopes to god that he gets the words right this time. 

. 

He’s never been this nervous in his life. 

The olympics is a close runner-up, but nothing compares to this, standing outside your door with his finger hovering over the doorbell. It’s funny, because he has your keys, knows your passcode too—but it feels wrong entering your space without the assurance that you still want him to. 

What makes him ring the bell is the sickening twist in his stomach that warns him: this fuck-up could make him lose you.

So he presses it once, then twice for good measure, and before he can do it thrice, you’re opening the door, in sweatpants and a hoodie (his hoodie) as you rub the puffiness out of your eyes. 

You’re beautiful like this, too, he thinks—dressed in his clothes, staring at him with those eyes, standing in front of him and looking like the rest of his life. 

“Please don’t break up wit’ me.” 

The words stumble out of him freely, with barely any time for him to process it. Atsumu feels each pounding in his chest and knows now, just as his Ma said, that it’s all the love he has yet to let out.

“I–” he begins, hesitating. He’s still wearing the same joggers and bomber jacket from this morning.

His hands clench into fists and he pushes them in his pockets, unsure what to do with them; the bottom of his lip trembles and it’s starting to make sense why people tell him and Osamu apart by ‘the one who always cries’. 

“T-this mornin’,” he looks up to find you leaning against your door, listening, “Was lookin’ ‘round cos I left mah keys on y’r bedroom floor.” 

You nod, tilting your head to urge him on. 

“And I was kneelin’,” he breathes out, “and y’thought it was somethin’ else, but I said it wasn’t. And I shouldn’t ‘av ‘cos it came out all wrong and it wasn’t what I planned. Then ya cried but still made me breakfast ‘n lunch and it was good, just like everythin’ ya make is. But ya went to the grocery, and baby,” he chokes up, tears falling, “‘m sorry. S’not what I meant. Please don’t break up wit’ me.” 

Atsumu is a bumbling, stumbling, stuttering mess as he cries in front of you, his incoherent rambling a jumble of all his mixed-up feelings. He’s sure he looks dumb as hell right now, a fully grown man in tears at your door—but your brows furrow in concern, jaw tightening as the pout on your lips deepens. Then, you take a step closer, arms stretched out to pull him into your shoulder for a hug. 

This is why Atsumu loves you—

This is why Atsumu has never been more sure of the future he wants. 

—because, even when he’s fucked things up and has made an absolute mess of himself, you’re always there, picking him right back up. 

“T’sokay Tsum,” you hush, rubbing circles on his back, “there’s no need to explain.” 

He sniffles, tucking his face against your neck. It’s impossible to miss the sadness underlying your comfort. 

You’re wrong—it’s not okay, and he absolutely has to explain. 

After he’s calmed down and the tears have subsided, he pulls away, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand and apologizing for all the snot he left on your hoodie. 

You look confused and a little bit surprised as he takes a step back away from you, his hand immediately reaching inside the pocket of his joggers. 

“Y’know I can’t keep anythin’ from ya, right, baby?” he flashes you a small smile, a little nervous. 

You nod, because it’s true. Not a single birthday or celebration has ever surprised you because Atsumu’s always ruined it; he just can’t keep a secret from you. Either that, or things just never go accordingly. 

“Well, I kept this one real good. Planned it ‘n all. Had everythin’ set.”

The velvet box in his pocket is smooth to the touch, his fingers turning it over. It feels tangible and real now, a moment’s away from his life being changed, forever. 

He feels like crying again. 

“Was g’na do it on Valentine’s, ‘cos I had it all rehearsed ‘n shit.” 

Realization dawns on your face, eyes wide and your chest caught on hold—as if you’re expecting the wrong assumption again. 

But when Atsumu gets down on one knee, reaching from his pocket to present to you a ring hidden in red velvet, his fingers tremble when he says, “Know s’not Valentine’s, but can I be your forever Valentine?” 

You blink once, then the tears fall—the smile on your face is a little bit wobbly but an awful lot in love. You kneel on the floor with him, your hand reaching out to cup his cheek, pulling him in for a kiss.

The both of you are a tear-y mess on the floor, but when you part, he leans his forehead against yours, ring held up between his fingers as he asks just to be extra sure, “So… s’not a goodbye kiss is it?” 

You smack him on the chest before slipping in your finger. 

“S’a yes kiss, Tsum.”

thank you notes: @augustinewrites for suffering through this atsumu train with me & @soumies + @mysugu for helping me with tsumu characterisation and for listening to me ramble abt this fic!!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[kyoghurts]

tsukishima x reader: from cat skeptic to cat luvr over the course of five months.

"i don't like cats."

you gasp incredulously, a classic pose of a hand on your mouth and wide blown eyes, "we need to fix that!"

tsukishima kei grimaces, "i don't need fixing."

"yes you do. how else are you going to take care of my- ehem, our children then?"

"excuse me?"

"you're excused."

"what child…ren?"

you’ve never revealed even the slightest of hint about owning…five cats into the one year of friendship and two months of dating (and counting) you both have. at the very least, he knows your fondness for cats. if the times you’d stop at your tracks to pet a street cat whenever you’re on a date with him, or buy cat-related things like plushies or keychains (and perhaps even jewelries) weren’t obvious enough.

okay, he might’ve guessed that you do have your own cat, but he’ll never cling onto assumptions that quickly.

but wow, it’s not just one cat but five???

four months: he finds himself utterly stuck at the doorway with you when he hears the soft ‘meows’ echoing until he feels something rubbing on his leg, there are three cats, which you tell him that they’re the most affectionate out of all of them. he doesn’t know what to do, or what to say in response to that information—so he nods rigidly instead, earning him a teasing snicker from you.

four months and two weeks later: he’s still not used to the feeling of being greeted with such hospitality by the three cats, but he lets them anyway (only for a couple of seconds, until he clicks his tongue and holler his presence for you to greet him with a kiss on the cheek)

a day later: you caught him trying to pet one of them but flinching once he sees you in his peripherals.

(that same day: you took it upon yourself and teach him where they like to be spoiled the most. and then he tries it out for himself, before you see a hint of amusement flash across his face as they purr under his touch.)

a week later: two cats have been quietly observing tsukishima from afar. he sees them looking up at him but rarely approach like the rest.

he supposes they're the stoic type, but that doesn't really make any sense, more so when he sees them so clingy to you the next day.

when he asks you about it, you could only giggle at his confused face.

then another week passes: kei has made some progress with the three affectionate cats, though the two still remain elusive. you find it amusing how his stoic nature contrasts with his awkward attempts to bond with your feline companions. one evening, while you're both lounging on the couch, the two reserved cats sit a few feet away, watching your boyfriend intently.

"why do they keep staring at me?" he asks, sounding mildly annoyed but also genuinely curious.

"they're just trying to figure you out," you reply, snuggling closer to him. "they're probably wondering why you haven't fully embraced their cuteness yet."

he scoffs, "i'm not sure i ever will."

you giggle and decide it's time for some intervention. "you know, you could always bribe them with treats. they love those."

he raises an eyebrow. "bribery, huh? sounds like cheating."

"it's not cheating if it works," you say with a grin.

a few days later: kei arrives at your place with a small bag of cat treats. you discreetly watch from the kitchen as he awkwardly approaches the two stoic cats, kneeling down and holding out a treat in each hand. the cats, curious and tempted by the smell, cautiously approach.

"come on, it's just a treat," he mutters, almost to himself.

the cats finally take the treats, and he looks mildly triumphant. you smile, feeling a surge of affection for him.

"see? not so hard," you tease, walking over to him and planting a kiss on his cheek, flushed pink and demure.

a month later: tsukishima kei has slowly but surely won over the two more reserved cats. you come home one day to find him sprawled on the couch with all five cats nestled around him, either lounging on his lap or snuggled up against him. you can't help but laugh at the sight.

"looks like you've finally been accepted into the family," you say, leaning against the doorframe.

he looks up at you, a rare, genuine smile on his face. "i guess i have."

you walk over and join them on the couch, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you. as you lean your head on kei's shoulder, you whisper, "i knew you'd come around eventually."

he wraps an arm around you, what was once a grimace, is now replaced with a soft expression. "yeah, yeah. don't get used to it."

you chuckle, knowing that despite his words, he's already gotten used to it. and so have the cats.

i need a cat and tsukishima in my life.

[starrbright]

Repentance And Reward

Miya Atsumu, Miya Osamu & Suna Rintaro

your bullies fucks you.

this was supposed to be just a drabble. 2.8 k

i settled this in a college setting. all my y/n are fat and of color.

if you've been here with me since day one, you'd figured it out i like it messy and sloppy. i am so serious when i say all my faves in haikyuu can spit in my mouth😔 i really made myself so horny while i was writing this.

inspired by @shaisuki, her piece of the trio being bullies.

honestly don't know if this counts as manipulation. spit kink hahahshahahah. thigh riding. handjobs. slight thigh fucking and blowjobs.

It's another day of the slight misery that weighs heavily between everything; being the manager of the inarizaki boys. Of course, the reasons being—the menace of all them, the Miyas and Suna.

Yesterday ended with you not being able to hold back anymore, pent up dejected frustrations bursting suddenly that allowed you to have the guts to at last put them in place somehow, at least. And despite they repented, and you of barely passing by for all their actions, you're still as rightly upset about it all.

They expected it. When they came in the gym for their morning training, the three arriving earlier than usual having talked about what to do with you—with the sight of you alone being there already and preparing all their necessities. Familiarized of their footsteps enough to know it's them, not even looking the doorway when they walked in, nor falter your focus of what you were doing, just simply ignoring them again.

It's cute. You think you can keep up against them.

You think you're the only one who has been penting up something. That it's only you who's gonna overflow and snap. What happened yesterday only gave them the push. Whether it'll only piss you off more or accept their apology, they don't care, after all--it'll be a win-win.

So there you are now being trapped by the trio once again, ignoring your protests when they spoke of making it up to you, if you could just go with them to the lockers. You have an idea of what they're imposing but trying to deny it in you.

Atsumu and Rintaro remains to bombard you as they pull on your arms, your body trapped between the two as they walk towards their intended direction. While the two always simply enjoy taunting you to a mess, Osamu doesn't want to waste time anymore, they only have an hour before anyone arrives more and a few minutes has passed by already.

"Osamu!" You gasped when you're suddenly as easily lifted off the ground by the said man, wrapping your arms around his neck in an immediate wary, looking up at him in disbelief. "Put me down," your voice lightly dragging in both plea and irritation.

Given, he doesn't listen. The snickers of the two echoes as they follow as Osamu keeps heading to the lockers.

"Come on, sweetheart. You want this, hmm?" There goes Atsumu with his mouth again, always putting words in your mouth—when you now find yourself locked with them, cramped between them like never as their hands begin to touch you everywhere.

You shake your head, keeping up with your protests, trying to push them away but it's only met by heavy and peering eyes, so much of their amusement and the lust. Strongly ignoring the tents they had in their shorts. But you could hardly deny yourself as well.

For once, you admit at least only to yourself, Atsumu is right about you.

"Why don't we just see it for ourselves and let her see it as well?" Rintaro said. Cupping your round cheeks between his one hand, stopping your useless complaints and the other pulled down on your pants, with the help of Atsumu.

"No," you let out weakly and barely as Rintaro keeps his fingers squished on your cheeks while your lush waist and panties are revealed. Hearing them muttering curses when they let your pants pooled on your feet, fat thighs there for them to feast.

"Rin—" before you could utter more, his hand has already dipped in your panties, looking dead in your eyes as he slides his palm further, cupping your mound, two of his fingers feeling how your cunt has been leaking a bit. Breath stopping in your throat and eyes threatening to flutter when his said two fingers began to rub your folds, feeling how your slick drips more. Your eyes stay on anything but their eyes, embarrassed; shy from how aroused you are as they remain eyeing you down.

Rintaro's smirk curls up more, "Aren't ya filthy?" he has the nerve to say and rub his thumb on your clit, eliciting a sudden whimper from you. To prove more of their point, he takes his hand back and shows it to you. Smugly parading his slicked digits, your eyes widening when he sucked them in his mouth, humming as he does. "She doesn't want this, nah." Says he, his untainted hand getting his phone from his jacket and began to record. Knowing all the best angles to catch with whatever goes next.

And what Atsumu says in haste after, they can't wait for. "Fuck, I wanna taste, too."

A pathetic sound barely tumbled from you as he dropped his knees on the floor, your panties yanked down, "Atsumu!" Your hands couldn't even make it in time to prevent his mouth from going to your cunt, forcing arms kept against the back of your thighs to spread you open as he laps on your mound.

The blonde loudly groans from your taste, his sounds rumbling within you and his tongue eagerly licking your cunt, your mere restraint slipping away completely. "Look at 'er," Osamu says, taking notice of every little reaction you have, his hand laying on your nape to turn you to him and sealed your mouth with his. Rintaro gliding his own on your neck sloppily as he takes off your jacket, shirt and bra. You whine even more when they begin to get raw with their thoughts aloud. "Her pussy tastes good, doesn't it, Tsumu?" Rintaro prods in between, his hand groping your breasts, and you, in a mess of not wanting to hear their crude words but so riled up from it. Your poor cheeks once again held by Osamu this time as he freed your mouth and made you look down to his twin.

Atsumu takes a moment to let your pussy breathe after he gave no mercy to it in giving you pleasure; slurping you up while he kept licking and sucking. Spitting on you a few times, even as parting your little hole to spit in you, your juices and his drool already such a mess that he's been drinking. "S'fucking great," Atsumu wildly rasps, mouth wide open and dribbling of the mess. The sight of his eyes you've never seen from anyone because of you. An insanity he knows he has on, with teeth and widened lips soaked, hearts in his pupils, swirls in his widened eyes.

Osamu rumbled a low laugh, squeezing your cheeks. "You've no idea how badly we wanted to do this to ya," he muttered on your ear, his tongue flicking so slowly there.

"Bet you thought about this, too." Rin chuckles, both he and Samu pressing their still clothed and hard cocks on each of your thighs. Your hands now held by the two and led you to palm them, heavy and full against their shorts. Their groans came with its ever teasing laughs as you let your fingers caressed them, hiding your face on Samu's neck, long given up to deny them, and yourself. "Good girl." Samu breathes, his mouth still on your ear.

They, as always cruelly, continue to taunt you of what you can't and won't escape from. "Just say the words, princess." Atsumu croons, back to petting your wet cunt with his thumb.

There you go giving in. You nod, filled with shame yet eagerly you do. "Yes...please..."

So, not a minute sooner, you're on top of Atsumu's right thigh, soaking him there of your leaking cunt, Osamu and Rintaro's cocks in both your hands, Atsumu fisting himself as he kisses you, his other hand on your thick hip and began to move you on him.

"This is so fucking hot, fuck." Rin cursed as he and Samu slowly fucks into your hands and of you meeting their thrusts, his recording still going, your left breast being slapped by him and the other heavily kneaded by Samu.

The view showing most of you, your naked breasts to your ample belly dripping of sweat and their spits from all the sloppy kisses they gave you. Atsumu's thigh with a little paddle of your slick. "Move, baby doll." Atsumu demands as he stopped kissing you, guiding you to grind on his thigh more, making your hands tighten and tremble against their cocks and the two hiss even more.

You follow, with you not allowing too much of your sounds leave you as you fuck your pussy on his thigh, still trying to ignore the shame drowning you. It's nothing but adorable to them as you keep that wall up, still wanting to avoid their eyes.

"Still so shy, huh?" Atsumu exposes your readable thoughts, a grin stitched aside on him, and then your cheeks were once held again, locking your gaze on him.

"Nothin' to be embarrassed about, love." Osamu says. He's not lying but he wouldn't lie as well that sight of you so little while they're whoring you out—makes his cock want to pound your cunt endlessly.

Of course, there's Rin. "There is if she's being such a slut right now for us, hmm?" He laughs, then licking up a thick stripe on his left fingers and smeared it on your nipple as he toys with it.

You're wordless against theirs. What could you even say to them? Complain? While you're pleasuring your cunt by riding the star setter of the team's thigh, his damn glorious thighs. Pressure so fucking good in your sex. Your hands obediently pleasing two cocks. Parts of your body already leaving marks from their hands of slapping your tits, nipples pulled and pinched, your ass spanked, digging on your thighs, gripping your arms, groping your belly, from their nails driving amidst in all of it. Their spits mixed in your mouth from their kisses, that drips down on you so warm.

"Ya like this," Samu says the obvious for you and you could only gnaw your lips at that, bearing to hold Atsumu's gaze as you keep your pace. "Say it for us, doll." the man begins to use his hold over you, his blonde twin's smug but nonchalant face breaks into a grin seeing how Samu's effect on you, fucking his on his hand cock a bit faster.

Everything is so damn good. "Like this...I like it...so much." You utter in whimpers. "All feels good," you barely mumble and they swear, they almost let themselves cum from that alone.

"Fuck." Rin laughs so breathlessly, a groan catching in his throat from it, gripping his phone harder as his hold on it began to shake. The twins just held their reactions but no better.

Wanting the four of you to finish all the same time, Samu poses a push that'll do it. "C'mere," he murmurs, his hand on your chin and turned you to him. "Don't swallow until they've all spit." he ordered before he opened your mouth and let his tongue hover above yours. A thick glob of his saliva slowly dropping to your tongue, resulting a loud moan from you, your eyes rolling back, his grip that was now on your neck squeezed tight.

"Shit. Holy fuck." Atsumu groans when he sees it all. Rin as well, "Fucking hell."

Then Atsumu was more than eager to follow next, though carefully getting your head to him so as for you to not waste Samu's spit. There he let his spit fall on your puddled tongue, a few drops slowly beginning to drip on your lips from how much they gave you.

You couldn't wait to swallow it all, now it was Rin. And he was glad he's last because he gets to do what he does. His tongue lolled out and his spit trickles down to yours into thick drops from how much he gathered.

Just so to please them more, instead of just closing your mouth and immediately swallowing—you slowly rolled your tongue up and back in, giving them a glimpse of how their spits dripped down to your throat and whimpered when you do swallow, your paces faltering but theirs in a fast rhythm. "You're such a good slut." Rin pressed tightly, lightly slapping his fingers on your cheek.

All of you so close. "Fuck, come on, doll, faster." Atsumu grunted and you heed again, catching back your rhythm, fast, both for your pussy and the two cocks on your hands.

"Just like that, princess." Osamu says, gripping on your right breast so hard. It's no half a minute when you've all let yourselves let go for your peaks to immediately rise; dogs in heats of your movements, panting so loud, your grip on their cocks tight and desperate as is your thighs on Atsumu to keep on pushing your cunt to its end, Atsumu thinks he could never go back to watching porns when jacking himself off when he could have a live show.

"Close?" Osamu calls to you when he takes your face to him again and kissed you. You nod immediately, eyes given up and just closed as you keep kissing, your hips doing its best to finally take the edge off.

And at last you do after a moment more, whining loudly when you came and had you shuddering greatly—still even when you stilled your hands on their cocks, threatening them to cum right then and there, they held back, Atsumu as well. Savoring the sight of your end for a moment but not long enough to let your high down.

"On your knees, love." Osamu says, though they know you could barely comply, your body already on clouds, so Atsumu does it for you. In a hurry but still as gentle to getting you off of him and you tried to get on your knees. "Open wide."

Fuck, what they were going to do was better than their spits. Your mouth opens wide and tongue laid out, hazy eyes tired looking up at them, seeing their cocks near your mouth as they fist themselves.

Then they came one after another, their three cocks huddled close to your face but making sure no drop is wasted as their cum spilled straight to your mouth. They groan of curses with the heat flooding them as they finally released, the sight of their thick and hot cum flood on your tongue. Swallowing it all in so much of delight.

You're slumped on your knees, heaving for breaths, eyes in a feathery state. Shame long numb in you despite still there. And how could you even feel it still when you just keep seeing hearts in their eyes? You were sure your own pupils were beginning to whirl its own hearts.

So you weren't surprised when they went for another. Making most of the remaining time and they haven't had enough. They couldn't. Osamu having you on his lap as he fucked your thighs, your pillowy flesh suffocating his cock so good and while rubbing against your wet pussy. As you suck off Atsumu and Rintaro at the same time, switching from giving them a handjob to let them fuck your mouth in between. The ending once again, them cumming in your mouth. No happening left unrecorded. They had you good.

But more of them by you.

Why else Atsumu had taken your bag from the bleachers when they took you to the lockers? Cleaned you up good after with your things. Eased your used body with their skilled hands. Dressed you back up neatly in your uniform. That they're the only ones who cleaned up any mess and didn't let you to even help a little.

.

.

.

When you opened the door and took a step aside, you flinched at the sudden sight of two figures. Kita and Aran.

You could only stand there frozen as they near, having left no choice but to let the inevitable be. The three now walking out as well. You don't need to look at them to know they're unfazed. Normally smug, more so with what just happened.

"Y/N." Kita nods to you, his calm look remaining even as he eyes the three besides you.

Your look as you stare at the captain is deeply apologetic, despite you want to laugh to yourself as you see the sheer knowing look of Aran and the want of the ground to just take you. "I'm so sorry." You mouthed to Kita.

Bless his heart, he only tuts his head as he merely gestures it's alright and you could go. And you do, covering your mouth in disbelief, mirth and shame as you walk away from them and back to the bleachers when you hear the captain's words to the three. "The next time you do this again, don't do it here."

[chimielie]

cw: and they were roommates

oikawa has another date tonight.

you’re well used to it, the parade of people who he’s gone out with blurring together after years of friendship. especially now that you’ve moved in together and he bothers you every time someone says yes, like an excited puppy with a bone. and who wouldn’t say yes?

you’re lying on your bed, idly scrolling past cat pictures and outfit inspiration, while he blows in and out of your room, begging your opinion on every item in his closet. you don’t know why; you’ve gone through the whole thing a million times at this point and he always chooses just-slightly-too-tight jeans and a button-up open one button too far.

you’ve had nightmares about his collection of silky shirts. nightmares. only occasionally featuring the triangle of exposed chest.

“what about this one?” you roll to your side, blinking.

“i haven’t seen this one before,” you say thoughtfully. “do you still have enough money for rent? i swear you cycle through more clothes than i do in a year in a week.”

“shut up, do you like it?” his ears are burning red, and you smile. you like making him blush.

that’s a dangerous thought, so you turn your attention to his outfit, and—oh.

the new shirt is a cool, pale blue, complimenting the pink hues of his skin perfectly, looking like ice caps on winter waves. it’s tucked loosely into black pants, followed by black boots, laced up and tied with a perfect knot.

he looks like a million bucks.

“it’s perfect,” you say, after a beat too long of drymouthed silence. “um—when do you leave?”

he shoves the sleeve of the shirt up and checks his watch in one smooth motion, and you’ve seen his forearms a billion times, but encased in blue silk you kind of want to bite them? what a bizarre impulse.

“now,” he says, tone rising in panic. “shoot, i was gonna brush my teeth—how’s my breath?”

“how am i supposed to—” you start, but then he’s crossing the room, and you’re sitting up, spine straightening in confusion, and then he kisses you.

one long, hot press of the mouth over yours, his lips soft and open but claiming in a way that sucks every thought out of your head.

the silk of his shirt is cool in contrast to the heat of his skin, too.

“it’s—still fine,” you stammer when he pulls away. “minty. um.”

“perfect,” he says, adjusting his collar like he hasn’t just thrown your world off its axis. “see you later!”

you wave vaguely at his back, still scrambled as he exits your room, though not without turning to shoot you a cheeky wink and a peace sign. once you hear the front door slam shut behind him, you jolt out of your frozen state to fall back onto your bed, staring at the ceiling, just one thought running through your mind.

“what the fuck?”

part 2 here.

[uwurakax]

˖ ˳·˖ 𝓫𝓪𝓫𝔂, 𝓲'𝓶 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮𝓪𝓽 ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

+ 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒'𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝓇𝑜𝓅𝒽𝓎? 𝒽𝑒 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓈 𝓇𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑒 ♡

♡ 𝓼𝔂𝓷𝓸𝓹𝓼𝓲𝓼 a surprise pregnancy throws you in for a loop when your rising star boyfriend starts to kick off his career. not wanting to hold him back, you leave without saying a word. six years later, fate brings you back together again, but with still sour feelings, how will you navigate keeping things civil all while all eyes are on him?

♡ 𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 miya atsumu x f!reader

♡ 𝓰𝓮𝓷𝓻𝓮 smau + written || exes to lovers || second chance || deviated canon universe || drama idk

♡ 𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 pregnancy || time-skip spoilers || misunderstandings

♡ 𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓼 tba || n/a

♡ 𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓽𝓾𝓼 starting sept 16th ongoing

♡ 𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 if you wanna join pls fill out here ( i lose notes sorry :c )

-> me - update your other shi- also me - but what if i did this- idk

𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒾𝑔𝓃 𝑜𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝓈𝒶𝒾𝒹 𝒾𝓉'𝓈 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝑒𝓇𝓋𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓂𝑒 ˖ ˳·˖

[heartkaji]

[ 𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐃 ]

★ ── selfship event

❤︎ WHAT’S CAPTAIN CUPID ?!

hihi hello ! welcome to my selfship event where I, MARS, assign scenarios & headcannons to your selfships !

❤︎ HOW DOES THIS WORK ?!

easy ! all you have to do is send me an ask describing you (or your oc’s) personality ! it’s similar to a matchup event except you’ll specify what character you’re being shipped with. my job as cupid will be to assign a dynamic & scenarios based on you & your fictional other’s personality !

you’ll select a maximum of three questions ( or four for moots ) you’d like me to answer about your selfship, and i’ll do my best to answer based on my idea of what your relationship would be like !

❤︎ WHO CAN I BE SHIPPED WITH ?!

your fictional other should be a character from wind breaker, haikyuu, mha or blue lock only.

note that all characters will be written as adults (18+) by default (everything is still sfw !)

only one f/o per person

❤︎ ANYTHING ELSE, CAPTAIN ?

here are some guidelines when requesting :

anyone is free to join ! you don’t have to be a follower or mutual to take part.

on that note, all scenarios & hcs will be sfw or at best lightly suggestive, so everyone of all ages is free to join

you can send your requests on or off anon. i recommend sending it off so you’ll be notified, but it’s all up to you ! edit : if requesting on anon, feel free to assign yourself a name or emoji !

don’t be shy ! i feel like a lot of self shippers are shy when talking about their self ships because they may feel cringy or embarrassed. trust me i’m not judgy at all. i love reading selfship posts so describe yourself or your oc in as much detail as possible !

❤︎ PICK A QUESTION, ANY QUESTION !

note that before answering questions, i will provide a description of what dynamic i think your selfship would have !

if using an oc, please provide their name !

starred questions (*) have potential to receive slightly suggestive answers

remember you can only pick a maximum of three while moots pick four !

how did you first meet ?

who confessed & how ?

who fell first & who fell harder ?

first date ?

what do others (ex: parents/friends) think of your relationship ?

toxic things they do ?

toxic things you do ?

what do you often fight over ?

why/how did you break up ?

at what moment did they fall in love ?

at what moment did you fall in love ?

what do they not like about you ?

what do you not like about them ?

what do they love most about you ?

what do you love most about him ?

how was your first kiss like ?*

their favorite activity to do with you ?

their green flags in your relationship ?

how did they propose ?

what’s having a family with them like ?

❤︎ HOW TO REQUEST ?

to participate, you must first reblog this post then send me an ask following this template. starred (*) questions are optional. any requests that do not follow instructions will be deleted !

pronouns

*gender + any relevant information regarding gender identity (ex : perhaps you don’t wear certain clothing, or use she/her pronouns but prefer to be treated as male. this is to avoid me making you uncomfortable in descriptions

*sexuality (if unanswered, i will assume you are attracted only to the same gender as your f/o)

f/o + their fandom (refer to list of accepted fandoms)

what questions you want me to answer (3 or 4 max)

a description of you/your OC’s personality

*a description of you or your OC’s appearance (this is to make more specific & personal hcs, ex: them loving you/your OC’s freckles)

your perception of your f/o. everyone has different perspectives on different characters; so i’d like to see your f/o through your eyes in order to make more accurate hcs !

that’s all ! please remember i can only take a limited number of requests. i can’t guarantee requests will be answered on a first come first serve basis, but i recommend requesting as soon as possible ! when requests are closed, the prompt below will go from “start” to “end !”

TAGGING : @kaiser1ns @seneon @seumyo @caelivir @y2kuromi @17020 @megutime @bloodswrd

[ 𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐃 ]

end.

© ─ heartkaji ; do not steal, copy, edit, translate or reupload