#hq sm

[hoao]

this new illustration is…… uni student kuroo dropping by to check on nekoma 3rd year student kenma and karasuno’s 2nd years…….. haikyuu you will always be my everything

[velvetreds]

help! we're getting married!? — k. tsukishima

cws; gn!reader, swearing, kissing, sleeping in one bed NO SUS possible ooc and not proofread.

wc; 1227

"do you want to get married?"

you blink, thinking you may have misheard.

"do you want to get married?" he repeats. "to me."

what. you stare at the plate in your hands, dumbfounded. in no way are you prepared for this — today's just a normal saturday night. you're bent over the dishwasher, in your PJs and your old frayed slides. your sweaty hair sticks to your damp forehead, and your hands are covered in grease and soap.

tsukishima is at the table, doing taxes. he's not dressed for any particular occasion, in a loose white button-up and dark coloured slacks. neither of you are in any position for a proposal; his lunch is still half-eaten on the table, and you're both tired and sweaty, and neither of you are dressed well enough for this. but most importantly, you arent even dating!

he pushes his glasses up with a finger, staring at you with his usual lack of emotion. "do you have any hearing problems i haven't heard about?"

"no? are you joking?"

'do i look like i'm joking?" he retorts.

"no, but—"

"there you go, got your answer, didn't you?"

"we arent even dating!" you protest

"yeah?" he says, leaning back and stretching his arms out. "we don't need to."

"fuck's that supposed to mean?" you demand. you're washing your hands now, back turned to him. even though his steps were light, unheard over the sound of splashing water, you still noticed his shadow looming over you. you turn around, exasperated. "what?"

"just give it some thought," he says, and he sounds normal, but there's a weird tension in the air. you know he's aware of it, though, because he pushes his glasses up even though they don't need to be, and runs his hands through his hair, rolling his shoulders back.

it's half past one in the morning, and you stare blankly at the television, feet on kei's lap. he's on the other side of the couch, scrolling on his phone with one hand. the other hand rests on your ankle, thumb brushing the skin gently every now and then. the question hangs heavy in the air between the two of you, until—

"yes," you blurt.

"hmm?" he looks up, putting his phone down. "what was that?"

"yes, i'll marry you." it's stupid, you're stupid to be saying yes to something as life-changing as this, just because of a stupid years-long crush-infatuation thing that you've harboured for him until now.

he nods, businesslike, and you swear you can see the slightest trace of a smile on his lips. "okay."

"why, though?" you ask. "is it like a marriage of convenience? i mean, it's not like you're into me or anything, are you?"

he rips his eyes away from yours abruptly, looking away. but the blush that spreads across his face like wildfire gives you the answer you needed — although it's definitely not what you'd expected. and suddenly you realise that kei tsukishima doesn't remember his other friends' coffee orders or let them put their feet on his lap. he doesn't pin their contacts to the top of the list, doesn't carry them to bed, doesn't pack lunch for them like he does for you. he isn't the kind of guy to show physical affection to anyone — yet you still recall the gentle, loving brush of his knuckles against your cheekbone just a few nights ago, when he'd settled you into your bed. speaking of beds, he doesn't let his other friends sleep in his bed, and he definitely doesn't hold them either, the way he holds you. a small spark of hope rises within you; with it, the flame of attraction and want that you've religiously kept suppressed all these years comes back to life.

"wait, do you?" your voice is half-serious, half-teasing as you yank your legs away from his lap, getting up to advance upon him on your knees instead. except, just before you reach him, you stumble and fall.

kei catches you smoothly, transferring you onto his lap with an effortless grace that is befitting of a 6'5" middle blocker. meanwhile, your hands shoot out to clutch at his shoulders.

"careful," he murmurs, steadying you, hands on your hips. his face — as usual — betrays no emotion, but his leg bounces up and down anxiously beneath you, and his thumb works feverish circles into your hipbone. "you'll hurt yourself."

although grateful for his concern, you acknowledge it with barely a nod, focused on the question you'd asked before. "do you?"

his lips press into a thin line, brows furrowing ever so slightly. "and if i do? what then, will you hate me?"

you laugh, a sound filled with euphoria, joy. "of course not, silly!"

realisation dawns upon his face. "then do you...?"

you nod as he trails off. he doesn't have to finish what he's saying got you to understand; the two of you have always been good at this mutual-understanding-nonverbal-communication thing, after all. he readjusts you on his lap, and you daringly let your hands fall off his shoulders in favour of fisting the material of his shirt instead. "what do you propose we do?"

"i think i have an idea," he replies easily, cradling your face with one large hand. the tips of his fingers thread into your hair, and he angles your head upwards. you can see the lightest smattering of pink dusting his cheeks, and he swallows harshly as your eyes meet his. "that is, if you'll let me."

"yeah?" you ask.

"yeah," he replies hoarsely.

you're not sure who initiates, but a second later, you're kissing him fervently — you're kissing kei tsukishima, and he's reciprocating, too. you can smell the mint from the toothpaste he's used for about ten years now — it's oddly nostalgic compared to the unfamiliar territory you're currently treading with him. he lets you take the lead, leaning back lazily, and only pauses to push his fogged up glasses to his forehead. when you pull away, he's grinning down at you lazily.

"yeah," he repeats.

you swat at his chest, flushing, and he catches your wrists, pulling you in so you collapse into his arms, and holy fuck, the two of you fit together perfectly. "so is that a yes?"

"yeah—" you cut yourself off with a huge yawn, covering your mouth with the back of your hand. there's a different kind of affection in his eyes now as he takes in the vision of you melted into him, and he takes a moment to immortalise it in his brain. "sleepy?"

you nod, eyelids heavy, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer. "thank you. go to sleep, i'll take you to bed."

"whose bed?" you snicker. "yours?"

it all backfires when you wake up much later than intended, kei still wrapped around you. all you'd wanted to do was make fun of him — but now he says he can't sleep without you ever again.

"let me go!"

"it's your fuckin' fault, go back to sleep."

BONUS BECAUSE ILYGS

"so what you mean to say is, you were secretly dating?" asks yamaguchi.

"no, the fuck?"

"but you were dating, right?"

"no, we weren't."

"how does that even work?"

"don't know, don't care. we're married and that's all that matters."

maybe he's hallucinating when he sees tsukishima on the phone, a huge, dopey smile on his face as he talks.

fuckin hate my english teacher she dont know what english is so i wrote this in my english class and answered all her questions too without paying attention cuz im cool like that. also i have a general taglist now so send an ask if you want in

also tysm @mitskicain s parents for the inspiration ☝️😎

@akaakeis + @smiithys

[courtesanofdeath]

Tsukki, what are your thoughts on volleyball lately? Thanks to everyone...Every now and then... Just once in a while, it can be sorta fun.

[moechies]

tsumu - nii ❤︎ cw cest

“s-s so creamy, ‘tsumu-nii.”

“yeah? you like it ?”

“mm . .”

you slobber around the tip of atsumu’s cock, strings of spit dribbling down the heavy shaft. one hand wraps around his heavy base , the other around his blushed tip accompanying your mouth.

you’re crouched in between his spread legs , only seconds ago when you had asked your nii-chan for something unfamiliar .

₊˚⊹ ❤︎

“can i suck your cock, nii-nii ? please !”

“no honey. y’gonna hurt yourself, you don’t know how t��do it. next time , okay?”

“but— “ you protest with a petulant whine.

“i said no. y’really need nii-nii to repeat himself?”

“i’m sorry..” you mewl.

he’s so mean. you had only wanted to help , since he had complained about the raging hard-on he seemingly ‘couldn’t get rid of,’ struggling and squirming in his spot on the couch. frankly, it was bothering you too.

you just want what’s best for your nii-chan.

you lean against his chest, his arms enveloping the small of your body , but he feels a tiny pang in his heart as he watches you pout, upset at his rejection.

he sighs and you look up, “okay fine. wanna try makin’ nii-chan feel better?”

he swears he sees your eyes light up.

❤︎ ⊹˚₊

“n-nii nii, i really like it.”

“y’makin’ nii-chan feel so good baby. don’t hurt yourself now.”

“won’t..” you whine at his constant reminders.

you kiss against his tip, tasting his creamy pre on the plush of your lips. you have yet to take him down your throat without instruction ; you know he was likely to scold you if you had.

he runs his fingers through the soft of your hair , soft pats to the top of your head.

“gorgeous sis.”

you blush at the compliment , eager for more. you place the tip of his shaft against your tongue , soft suckles to the sensitive tip.

“ah.. shit . ‘s perfect for nii-nii.”

you rub your thighs together when he grunts , hand crawling back into the bed of your hair with a gentle tug.

“wanna learn how t’make nii-chan feel even better ?”

[kokokoula]

prompt: you're in the early stages of a relationship with tsukishima kei, and a secret one at that. one day, you decide to take a peek during his practice to know more about the sport he claims he "doesn't obsess over". however, just before you leave, he sees you, and immediately knows you had been watching him. after his practice, he texts you to tease you about it, until you take away his "kissing privileges" as a joke. he doesn't reply you, but he does shows up at your window. of course, you let him in. "what are you-- mmph!" he cuts you off with a breathtaking kiss. "you kissed me back, which means your statement is invalid." he attempts to leave after that, but you pull him back for another kiss. "it has been and will always be invalid, kei." he melts and hides his face in the crook of your neck as his arms wrap around your waist.

pt 2

[arts-tral]

Happy birthday Iwa!! 🫶

[disaer]

am I too late for Kagehina day?

[ushouldwatchhaikyuu]

thinking about how kageyama's heart probably skips a beat whenever he sets the ball to a particularly tricky place and doesn't see anyone go for it. how he still gets shivers at the sight of an empty place where a hitter should be. how he still thinks, even if just for a moment, that maybe this is it– this is the time his teammates will have finally had enough and the ball will fall down without anyone going for it, again.

thinking about how every time, without fail, there's someone there. how he can feel his soul come back to his body the second he sees someone jump to hit his toss. how he's thrilled if they score a point, but not as much as he is at the sudden realization that there is someone there. always. no matter how tricky his tosses are, or how close they are to losing– none of that matters, because as long as he manages to set the ball, the game isn't over, because someone will hit it.

imagine how healing it must be for him to finally realize he doesn't have to feel terrified when he doesn't see anyone going for his toss, because he knows someone will be there.

(cough. this is mostly thanks to hinata. cough)

[egggelatin]

fly baby crow

[onnie-giri]

-- hands made for volleyball, hands made for food 🏐🍙

do u just,

cry over the fact how much hands play a very huge factor in the twins' chosen careers and how much taking care of these hands is essential for them

do u just,

sob thinking abt that little triangle that forms whenever a setter positions their hands up while looking up at the ball waiting for it to touch their fingertips.

how the volleyball positions itself perfectly in place at the center, resembling umeboshi and how that ball is enveloped by that triangle formed by their hands.

that sight must remind atsumu of onigiri-- of his brother who makes onigiri for a living-- doesn't it?

do u just,

breakdown over how osamu's hands make onigiris

how these rice balls are made with so much love and attention to detail

those hands that used to spike and set volleyballs, now form small circles to make the perfect and delicious riceballs

the onigiris he makes, to feed and help his brother build muscle, to play even better, to be even stronger

do u just,

bawl at how these subtle change in the shape of their hands hold such significant meaning for them both

that eventhough they are now treading on different career paths, they are still bound and connected by the same thing: volleyball and food

can we all collectively cry over that ;-;

[blargberries]

kuroo redraws from the trailer!

[hoao]

oikawa is a perfectly crafted character. he’s silly and insufferable and has a ridiculous way of behaving but he’s also determined and strong and committed and hardworking. if you dive deeper, he’s also desperate, insecure, and he yearns and he wants and he fights. he’s scared his hard work will never be enough because there are people who are already one step ahead of him, people he considers geniuses.

“talent is something you make bloom, instinct is something you polish.”

i don’t think anything will ever stop him from doubting and feeling insecure, and iwaizumi himself once told him he’s probably never going to be satisfied. however, by breaking free from the constant pressure of “the talented ones”, he can polish his hard work, his instinct, his drive.

it will lead him far, yes. in fact, it leads him to another country, dealing with another language and another culture and another world. he momentarily forgets just how fun volleyball can be, until meeting hinata reminds him of it. he grows up to be fierce and motivated and passionate and on the opposite side of the court, representing another country and standing up for his “petty pride”.

he’s a character that drives me insane because i relate to him in ways that scare me. am i talented? or is what i have “just” instinct that i have to polish? am i a sort of imposter between people who are born great? people who have to work hard, just like me, but they seem to be doing it a bit more effortlessly?

hard work is always hard work, no matter the raw material (talent/instinct). but oikawa is so good and relatable because he knows it and he still feels like he needs to do more, more, more. he feels different from the others, and when first confronted with this reality it almost takes control of him. (kageyama is what he will never be, he despises him because of it).

and what’s an even bigger paradox is that nobody ever looks down on him. he does it all by himself. kageyama and ushijima and hinata and everybody else, they all look at him for what he is: a good player, a scary opponent, someone they fear and someone they look up to simultaneously, someone they have fun playing against, someone they want to beat, someone worth their time and efforts, someone who’s crazy good at what he does.

as always, haikyuu is so real for this too. our mind works in very weird ways, sometimes we don’t take into consideration others’ opinions of us unless they’re negative, we’re never satisfied with ourselves, we always want more.

oikawa is a perfectly crafted character. he has flaws and he’s so intensely human people might despise him for it. and the path furudate built for him is so fitting and so hopeful it has me believing there’s a chance i’ll get there too. not to Argentina, not to the Olympics. instead, to a future where my hard work means something (to me!).

and what if i don’t feel like the others? what about it? it will never be “just” instinct. it’s my hard work, my pride and drive. it will lead me places because i demand it. when oikawa breaks off the cycle, he becomes insatiable. “i will defeat everyone, so be ready!”

(i also happen to believe he really does defeat everyone).

[syrcinus]

An old oikawa fanart of mine

[courtesanofdeath]

"Me saying I can't is one thing. But if somebody else tells me that, I don't like it."

for @peskyfirefly, have the happiest birthday ♡ 

[dumbidiotzone]

uhm idc what you say im shipping everything

they definitely made out at least ONCE and said nah lets just me friends. like. believe me im furudate ok??? like cmon please belueve me they made out once and didnt feel any romantic feelings but they made out once.

THEY ARE SUCH BEST FRIENDS THO LIKE??? THEY ARE SO SILLY WITH EACHOTHER SOBBING MY ASS OUT

AND ALSO OIKAWA MUST BE SO GLAD TO FIND LIKE ONE JAPANESE PERSON TO BE ABLE TO TALK TO??? LIKE FOR ME IM KOREAN AND I LIVE IN CANADA AND WHEN I SEE A KOREAN PERSON I FREAK OUT BECAUSE YK SOMEONE WHO SPEAKS MY LANGUAGE???

[iwaoiness]

When Iwaizumi-senpai is having a shitty day, he’s genuinely terrifying. And today is one of those days. During the morning practice, there’s tension in his broad shoulders and a clouded expression on his face. He doesn’t say much, sticking to monosyllabic responses. Kindaichi suspects something is wrong but doesn’t confirm it until he notices Oikawa-san being unusually calm around him. There are no annoying comments, he’s not flitting around Iwaizumi-senpai like a hummingbird, no teasing, no tossing balls at his back and hiding behind Mattsun, no jumping on him and hanging off him like a koala. Oikawa-san is just there, calm and collected, keeping the practice running smoothly without drawing any attention to Iwaizumi-senpai, giving him space.

This actually takes Kindaichi by surprise. But he says nothing, not that he had much time to anyway, since the bell rings just as he’s finishing changing, and he has to dash out like a bat out of hell, shoes in hand, his uniform shirt untucked, and his pants unbuttoned, racing to make it to his math class on time with the strict sensei.

It isn’t until the practice after classes that he thinks about it again, noticing how much worse Iwaizumi's mood has become.

If earlier his expression was clouded, now it’s completely dark. He doesn’t speak to anyone, and the only sounds that leave his lips are hoarse apologies. And it gets worse during the practice set they’re playing. Iwaizumi is an exceptional player, but today, all his hits and serves are, at best, terrible. His receives are mediocre, barely managing to save the balls deflected by the blockers, and his blocks are far below his usual level.

And Iwaizumi knows it, which only seems to frustrate him more, turning him into a ticking time bomb ready to explode.

Kindaichi tries to cheer him up with encouraging words, but they barely reach Hajime. He seems to be in his own world. He doesn’t even hear Irihata-san’s instructions.

It’s only when one of his intense spikes goes completely off course with a dull thud, plunging the gym into a heavy silence, that he finally snaps.

“To hell with this fucking shit!” he yells angrily, hands clutching his hair, pulling it in frustration and startling everyone. “Dammit! Fucking dammit! Fuck it!” He squats down, head bowed, huffing in an attempt to control his rage.

Yutaro blinks in near fear, clutching Kunimi’s shoulder tightly, who is too shocked to even protest. No one says a word yet.

Until, of course, Oikawa-san steps in.

“Okay!” He claps to get everyone’s attention, wearing an easy smile. “I think it’s a good time for a switch! Group C, you ready?” He turns to the bench where the first and some second years are sitting; they nod, still a little shaken. “Great, then come on in for us,” he encourages them, getting the coach’s approval.

“Finally, a break!”

“I thought my hands would fall off from all the blocking.”

Kindaichi barely registers Matsukawa-san’s and Hanamaki-san’s words, still watching Iwaizumi. His breathing is still a little heavy, and he soon stands up as the two third-years gently pat his back. He keeps his head down as he heads to the opposite bench from everyone else, shoulders tense and fists clenched.

Kindaichi twists his lips into a frown, letting Kunimi drag him to the bench. They drink water and towel off while the practice set resumes. The young boy tries to focus on his teammates, but his eyes keep drifting back to where Iwaizumi-san is sitting, leaning against the wall, one leg bouncing frantically, arms crossed, and a towel covering his head and face.

He’s alone, but not for long. Yutaro’s eyes widen in slight surprise when he sees Oikawa-san approach and sit down so close to Iwaizumi-san that their legs and arms are touching. For the moment, he doesn’t say anything, taking a long sip from his bottle before closing it and placing it on the floor.

And then, he casually places his leg over Iwaizumi’s, completely stopping his frantic movements. That’s when Iwaizumi rests his head on Oikawa’s shoulder, and the storm seems to calm. Kindaichi can’t help but blush in embarrassment, quickly averting his gaze, feeling like he’s intruding on an incredibly intimate moment.

But his curiosity gets the better of him, and he sneaks another glance at them. Oikawa is playing with Iwaizumi’s hand on his thigh, stretching his fingers, gently caressing them, intertwining them with his own. He’s moving his lips, speaking to him, and from the way they’re softly curled up, he’s either telling something funny or teasing him. Iwaizumi looks more relaxed by the second, and moments later, he pulls the towel off his head with his free hand, tossing it to the floor.

He still doesn’t say anything, just listening, staring at their intertwined hands. But his expression softens; he’s no longer frowning, and there’s a small tug at his lips before he finally speaks. Kindaichi can’t make out what they’re saying, but he feels a little better seeing that Iwaizumi-san is okay, so he turns his attention back to the game, enjoying it.

Though, a little later, amidst the shouts and the squeaking of sneakers, he hears Iwaizumi-san’s laughter. Yutaro blinks in surprise when he looks at them again because it’s one of the very few times he hears that laugh from him—so clean, loud, and genuine (though the one to coax it out of him is always Oikawa). He finds them in practically the same position, with his captain looking at him amusedly and his vice-captain still laughing, head now lifted to look at Oikawa with squinted eyes.

Oikawa’s leg is still over Iwaizumi’s. Their hands are still intertwined. Their arms still touch.

Kindaichi once again feels like he’s intruding on an incredibly intimate moment and looks away.

Then, he thinks.

Oh, so this is what real love looks like.

...

i miss my laptop but i miss iwaoi much more

u can find me on my ao3 🍉