#ily iwa

[causenessus]

I hit 30 tags bc I started yapping again right after putting my "ness' favorites" tags BC THIS WAS SO GOOD AAAA!!!!!!!

☼༄ ch. 2 - the second screw up m.list

    rain pours onto the roof, pattering down in a sporadic pattern. wiping your face with your hand, you listen to the sound of yachi snoring beside you. it’s soft, matching that of her kinder side, however, it’s just loud enough that it lingers in your mind. buzzing like an incessant fan that just won’t turn off no matter how hard you push the pillow against your ear.

  standing up, the bed creaks, yachi stirring as she flips around. for a moment, the room is quiet besides the soothing rain. the moment ends quickly as she starts back up again, situated in a similar situation that her airways just barely let out the irritating noise. biting your lip, you slip on your slippers, heading for the door.

  the balcony, from what you could remember, was covered. perfect for gazing into the storm and relaxing before the next long day. twisting the handle, you slowly open the door to hopefully not wake yachi. the door inches open as you look out at the night sky covered with a blanket of clouds. the only thing ruining the situation is oikawa leaning against the railing. 

  his arms are crossed in front of them, elbows leaning against the wood. his foot is crossed over the other one, head turning to look at the foreign noise. oikawa’s eyes meet yours and you realize there’s no turning back now. “hey,” his voice is silent compared to how it normally sounds, not as grating.

  “hi,” you step out of the motel room, shutting the door behind you. 

  walking up to the railing, you stare out at the rain, feeling a light dusting of mist on your face. you can’t bear to look at him this close, the stress probably killing you. “didn’t expect anyone else to be out here,” you purse your lips, looking down at the pool. 

  the lights inside look beautiful under the moving water, splashering effortlessly. “yeah, hinata’s killing me.. he-”

  “kicks in his sleep? we’ve had enough sleepovers as kids for me to know that,” you finally look over at him, seeing a look of surprise across his face, a slight smile hiding beneath his opened mouth.

  oikawa nods, bringing one of his hands up to run through his hair. a cowlick forming from him laying down for the past few hours. you look back out at the sky and take in a deep breath, smelling a mix of his cologne and the fresh air of night. compared to earlier, it has a softer smell, more natural. “well at least someone understands,” he just barely nudges your shoulder.

༄ fun facts! - the tonics is a band created by @/causenessus for their upcoming smau!! - iwaizumi loves oikawa but hates how annoying he can be - about like anything - especially how much he talks about you - this trip is making y/n ever so slightly annoyed with her cousin - like hinata you planned it for a month later??? - but mmh at least oikawa and y/n are bonding a/n: what’s up… sorry it took more than a month… this is super awkward

tags: @sereniteav, @eggyrocks, @causenessus, @zumicho, @tojirin,

@walllflowerrrsss, @staygoldsquatchling02, @girlkissersco, @yuminako, @cryptictheseus

@chizunata, @iluvaquaphor, @romyoia, @empress-pug-pug, @cognitivelypartiallyfurnished

@lovenlucky, @guitarstringed-scars, @thechaosoflonging, @meeeepsworld, @pop-ghost

@juie13, @notverymarley, @iaminyourfloors, @aboutkiyoomi, @itsdragonius

@h3xi2g0n3, @nami11, @iheartpinky, @ghostlykey, @phoenix-eclipses

@miliondollagirl, @19calicos

[ferdihound]

OUGHH im nervous about posting this here..

ion wanna bring chipspeech "me lore" onto my tumblr/the chipspeech tags but like

i should probably bring this up DASGHASDGH, as some of yall know, i used to be friends with.... [person] (/neg)

sorry new followers yall gon learn some me lore LMAO <3

[scaredy-katts]

dodger between who’s there and must be this tall to ride i feel like im getting jumped (/pos)

I feel like I have a hangover from thinking about both of these too much today

[miyamoratsumuu]

ang saya ko magbasa ng unsent letters 😇🔪

HAUAHSHAGAHAHAH I'M SO GLAD I COULD MAKE UR DAY 🥳🥳

[kedsandtubesocks]

congratulations on the milestone erika 🥺 you deserve it all and more 🥺 how blessed i am to be a witness to you 🥺

i would like to join your little event!! with a ⭐ + hajime OR... gojo... (whoever you find easier!!) please!!

SWEETEST SEL!! 😭🥺💘 thank you so very much honey I’m the one who feels incredibly blessed to celebrate this with you!!! 😫 you’ve become such a joy and illuminating inspiration in my life and to call you a dear friend now is a true honor!!! I love you to pieces 🥹

⭐️ - a sweet classic game heart event for you!

Iwa to me is YOUR GUY SEL! Like SELIWA FOREVER!

Even as a very classic physical fitness type guy Iwazumi seems, he in my mind is the firmest believer in that what makes you happy health wise is what you should embrace

So hell yeah Hajime Iwazumi is the biggest champion of self care days and especially when he makes them a date with you!!

He’s getting a manicure and pedicure done and happily helps decided on what color you should get, if you want to get a facial he’s getting one too and even buying you a cute robe from the spa so he can pamper you when you get home

(Yes all the workers swoon over him and giggle with you over how dreamy he is)

But he is still a bit silly of course - like when you and him are getting pedicures he’s watching the current game on his phone and trying not to get too upset too loudly and it makes you giggle

Whenever you’re split up into different rooms for your facials he’s even texting you selfies of himself making silly faces or just simply saying “miss you”

It’s a cozy sweet relaxing type of vibe that allows you and him to just bond enjoying something tranquil together!!

Sel my starlight thank you for making my light so bright and here’s to more days screaming and giggling together 💖

[girlivealwaysbean]

some lyrics from casual by chappell roan that make me curl up in a ball and cry

[itsmiyamore]

USER ALIENS-TOOK-MY-IWA-CHAN IS BACK IN MY NOTIFS ALL IS RIGHT IN THE WORLD AGAIN

[katasstrophy]

river ..... how dare uuuuuu make me all hot n bothered for ANOTHER MAN on a rin saturday !!!!!!! <//333 i am sooooooo unwell i am literally. hittin a vape as we speak to calm down LMAOOOOO i love u sm bbie u don't get it 🤕❤️

ZARI THIS IS SOOOO LATE ASHSHEJDDJ i’m sorry beloved but i just had to :((( that video had iwa branded all over it so how could i NOT have shown u that would have been the REAL CRIME IMO !!!

i know rinnie bby is quite literally the opposite of the sharing is caring mentality LOL but<3 i’m sure he can learn to make an exception for iwaizumi hajime (27) athletic trainer 🥺 he treats you like a princess after all 🥺

i promise i’ll try (👀) to be on my best behavior this coming rin saturday!!!! but ya know >:)))) not that hard mweehuhauheueuaha

and NO I LOVE YOU MOSTEST MWAH<33333

[causenessus]

where do i even start. two people in love, but that are hurting. two people who meet each other and are in need of love and happiness, (“do you think you weren’t loved enough?” “somewhere between ‘not enough’ and ‘not at all’. i was always hungry for love. just once, i wanted to know what it was like to get my fill of it… just once. but they never gave that to me. never, not once.”). they’re in need of love; the kind of love that reassures them that they are a person. they are a living, breathing human worthy of love. that nothing of their past defines them, there is always the chance to grow. the kind of love that reassures them they are not hated by the world, but that they are loved. and they find that in each other (“i want to hold this moment. i want to believe it. i want his love to have enough salt in it to float me. i don’t want to be swimming for my life.” -frankissstein) they are two people who have been drowning in silence for so long, but then they find each other. and they keep each other afloat. with promises to keep on living and promises that they will always be there for the other. that they will never leave. that they are there to stay. and sometimes one person is all that you need. iwa and y/n have the type of relationship where they cover the other’s ears when it gets too loud, the kind of relationship where they run into the others arms every moment they get. they know each other like the back of their hands, they know what sets the other off and they always know what the other needs. and when they finally retire to bed after a long night of living, and they let down their walls and they finally say it, “i’m so tired.” the other is there to hold them, saying “i know, love. but it’s going to be okay.” and it will be, because they have each other.

ways to live: h. iwaizumi

he’s depressed. she’s depressed. it’s all they ever talk about. she’s willing to try anything to feel better. he’s less optimistic

pairings: iwaizumi x f!reader

status: completed, uploading all the chapters today & then disappearing again

tags/warnings: online friends to lovers, blended smau (every chapter has written parts), university au, mini-series, happy ending, hurt/comfort, lots and lots of frank discussions on mental health, depression tweets, casual discussions of suicidal ideation (no death or sh), disordered behaviors, recovery

taglist: i’m not doing one please do not ask to be added

prologue: the list

chapter one: exercise

chapter two: nurture yourself with good nutrition

chapter three: connect with a support system

chapter four: help yourself by helping others

chapter five: demonstrate gratitude

[iwaasfairy]

┌─ “ ! „ TROPHY

tw. noncon, yandere, explicit gore, lobotomy, blood, pain, power imbalance, doctor kink, badly aged terms about mental health, domestic abuse mentions, somno implications, praise, choking wordcount. 4.7k

a/n. ♡ i realized all my iwa fics were mostly really fluffy and sweet, so here's a gross one. gotta keep up my reputation yk! tysm to the betas ily ily ily

iwaizumi hajime x fem!reader

The doctors have been standing around in a circle for what feels like hours, scraping their pens against the paper. Each check, each prodding, probing touch feels like it’s going on for the sake of going. Hours today, hours yesterday, on and on into infinity. Your skin feels cold, and you fidget by rubbing your fingers against each other for the briefest spark of warmth, before that too fizzles out into nothing. Because that’s what this is, right? A cold, barren nothingness that swallows up every inch of your body.

You can barely remember the look of the sky outside the metal barred walls that keep you, only catching glimpses that pass too quickly. Or the feeling of warm sunlight shining on your face as you rest against the windowsill, watching cars go by. The brief flash of a memory crosses over your view, a hot summer day and your hair sticking to your neck. Hands winding down your shoulders to keep you in a comfortable embrace, and a kiss to your cheek.

It’s nothing like the cold, sterile walls that you’re looking up at now, sitting on the cold metal stretcher with your wrists wrapped in leather. This is all you are now. This is what keeps you separate from the nutcases in the other wing. Little threat of re-offending.

One of the older men pushes his small, round glasses higher up his nose as he approaches, and waves a light past your eyes a few times, snapping his fingers all the while. “Any lightheadedness? Dizziness? Spots in your vision to be concerned about?” You wouldn’t know it with the callous way he regards you, but apparently they’re trying to help. That’s what they say, when they drag you out of your cage. The burning of the light makes your eyes water, but you blink that wetness away as best as you can.

“No, Doctor.”

The graying man runs his eyes along the sheet on his clipboard, and then his mouth corners pull down, as a few of the other equally graying men start mumbling among each other again, feeling far off. Everything feels far off with the stuff they’ve been putting in you lately. More drugs. More tests. It all feels like a never ending cycle — even though the sane part of you knows it isn’t. Or, wasn’t, until you bit one of the men who tried to lead your face to his crotch with the threat of beating you to death. You bit so hard that they had to amputate, is what you heard, before they shot you full of cotton.

And you’d cry, if you were any more awake. The tears don’t spill, they just sit on your vision and wobble at best. What all of the men in this room see when they look at you, is a violent young killer. They ask you about it when you’re shot up with fluids until you can barely hold your eyes open, and you have to pretend to really hear them. To be remorseful. How can you, when you can’t even remember your own face? You forget your name seconds after they call it. And most frustrating of all, is that you do remember that you can’t remember. This is forever, no matter how little threat there is of re-offending now that they’ve ‘found’ the right mix of chemicals to knock you out like a light.

They say you killed your fiancé with a kitchen knife.

You might have… the honest truth is that you don’t know. The pictures look entirely foreign, even though that face, that mouth, that tear-stricken expression is supposedly you. You don’t remember getting your head smashed against the kitchen counter until blood coated the entire bottom half of your face, and trying to get away. You don’t remember grabbing the knife and plunging it into your fiancé’s collar, or anything that came after it either. It’s like the blood running out of your nose got clogged up and now, you can’t recall anything at all.

Just these gray walls, and the cold floor of your ‘room’, and the brief walks you’re allowed to take outside under the cloudy weather that always surrounds the criminal hospital. All these men standing before you know more about you than you do yourself. More wetness wells up in your eyes, but it doesn’t spill. You don’t feel violent. But you also can barely hold your head up without the support of the metal brace, and they say you did what you did. At this point, your thoughts are too heavy and slow to disprove any of it, pooling in your mouth with your spit— and gliding down your throat each time you risk choking when you swallow.

“How about we call it for today?” A coarse voice sounds from the far off confines of the cloudiness that the drugs leave you with. But it’s a voice that sparks something yet, accompanied by the only young face that you’ve seen in a while. He’s tall and dark haired and intense, but looks too at ease when he walks along, stopping a few feet short. Everyone else looks like you’re a wild animal. But he’s warmer, like sand after a long day of baking in the sun. “You’ve done well,” he almost smiles at you, then turns to them. “That’s alright, isn’t it? My patient’s been awfully accommodating with all the tests.”

He carries this air about him that’s more familiar, where his hand lands on the top of your head and he gently brushes your crown in circles. You feel your head bobbing because of the pressure, and your eyes heavier than before. When you gain more awareness again, you’re already back in the small four walls that keep you enclosed— and the Doctor is crouched before you. Beautiful greens stare into your eyes, a few fingers holding your chin up. It’s warm. Your mouth feels dry and cottony when you speak, and hold your eyes open as best you can. “Sir.”

“Hm?” His free hand slides something into your ear, that’s cold and beeps softly, before he looks again. “Do you know where you are? Do you know who I am?” After a bit of silence, he sighs, and you smell the musk of him, mixed with some cologne that stings your lungs a little. But it’s better than nothing, and your mouth waters like you’re really just a dog. “Your bouts of amnesia have been getting worse lately, hm, sweet girl? Naturally…” His fingers go from holding your head up to along your throat, brushing hot circles there for just a few seconds, before he takes the beeping tool out again. “I’m your main physician here, remember? You asked for me specifically.”

That seems to bring him a lot of pride, because when he hangs back more onto his heels, he gives you a tooth-aching smile. “Dr. Iwaizumi Hajime.” You suppose he wants to see some kind of recognition, but you’re not sure what to say. Aside from the vaguest hint of recognition of the handsome planes of his face, everything stays that same muddled sea of glue that you can’t pull your feet out of. You do your best to smile though, muscles aching.

“Oh, yes.”

“Are you still feeling ill?” he turns to his box of tools, and you slump along the wall as soon as he lets you go. Not enough to topple over, but enough to feel more like a filled sack of sand, than a human. “Still having hot flares?” He places his large palm over your forehead, and scans your expression once over again. “If it were up to me they wouldn’t pump you full of this shit, y’know. Sadly even your personal physician doesn’t have full say over that, of course, so I have to play nice with the other doctors.” Then he cups your cheek, and though maybe you’d shy away otherwise, the kind touch of another human being has your bottom lip wobbling. “There she is. You’ve been awfully docile these last few weeks. Haven’t heard you make a peep.”

The tone shifts to one of slightly more concern, and your heavy lids flutter. “I don’t know.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t, sweetheart.” He starts packing up his things ever so neatly when you just start getting feeling back in your fingers— and you probably shouldn’t, but with enormous effort you manage to grab onto the bottom of his white coat, surprising the doctor enough that it goes quiet. You just want… to talk to another person a little longer. Does that make you a bad patient? Your tongue is molten against the bottom of your mouth, but your fingers still tighten clumsily into the fabric.

Dr. Iwaizumi only thinks for a moment when heat creeps up to his ears, before he closes the gap. Closes the gap and … has your mouth against his, a wet tongue that isn’t your own invades your space like it isn’t anything at all, and spit that mixes with yours as your lips are opened with some effort. He kisses on you, licks into your mouth as you let your eyes fall shut and your hand clings onto him -unsure where to go- to flee. And get kissed deeply, passionately, your head knocked against the wall at your back. But he’s warm, and your goosebumps let up for the first time, even as he doesn’t allow you to pull back with both hands around your cheeks. Not until your body automatically starts making a noise, and you start to struggle.

You gasp out for air like you’ve forgotten where it goes— but the brunet barely leaves you any space at all, as a string of spit breaks between you two. And he wipes his thumb over your bottom lip, before sliding it onto your tongue with a gravelly moan. “Ahh, I missed you.” The pressure of his thumb keeping your wiggling tongue in place is suffocating. He leans in to brush his nose and lips along your jaw and cheek. “Always miss you when I have to go.” There’s a soft kiss that tingles across your face, before he pulls back. The noises of other cells echo down the hall, and though you can’t see them, the yelling gets louder. He doesn’t even blink, though. Is this yet another thing you’ve forgotten about?

Judging by the way he takes his thumb out of your mouth to slide it into his own, and then looks at you with such love-stricken adoration, you must have. Your shell-shocked quiet doesn’t stop him from giving you another barely-hidden smile, and he brushes his knuckle under your eye to get rid of some wetness there. “I’ve got to go check up on some others, or else they’ll come looking for me.” He packs up the last of his tools, wiping them clean, before tracing his eyes along your features again. “You’re such a doll. Can’t believe you have to be locked up here.” He stands, then clicks his tongue as he seems to stare through the walls with narrowing brows. “I handled you just fine before, didn’t I?”

You can’t say anything. Not only because you’re still bursting with adrenaline, but it’s not like you remember. He seems to come to this conclusion at the same time, because he then softly laughs. “Ah, you wouldn’t know. Forget I said anything.” He takes a moment to adjust himself in his pants unashamed, then tucks his shirt back properly in— clinging to his built figure too much. With another pat on your crown, he nods. “You’ll start waking up more in an hour or so. I’ll be back.”

With that he leaves you behind, and the heavy metal door gets slid back into place before you get the chance to make another peep. And tears well back up before he even locks the hatch.

+

The darkness of the room is in sharp contrast with the bright overhead light that’s beaming down on your face. You can’t help it, you’re trashing against the straps that hold you to the table, and the rag that’s in your mouth does nothing to prevent the feeling of sheer panic that takes over you. As several white shapes roam around you with low commands that you can’t make out over the sound of your own crying, you miss the numbing. It was better when you couldn’t feel a thing at all -at least then you wouldn’t be choking on your own tears as you try to take deep breaths.

Everything’s blurry.

But the slight edge in one of the voices pulls for attention, trying to focus on the sound. If you can’t see through your tears, you can listen. “Aren’t we being too hasty? Her memory and attention span have been basically stagnant since June— which means she’s not worsening.” There’s that voice that has been chasing you every waking hour of the last -week, maybe more- rough and low, but comforting nevertheless. You can tell that one of the blurry white shapes moves closer to you, and try to angle yourself to get closer. Even an inch closer would be better.

“No offense Doctor, but your judgment has been overruled. You’re speaking solely out of personal care for the girl.” Another old voice cuts in. “She’s been deteriorating every day, and we simply do not have the funding, Iwaizumi. The only reason we’re allowing you here is for educational purposes. But don’t forget you’re still on probation until the end of this year.”

A hand wraps around your own, feeling much warmer than you are. You cling to it with all the strength you have. Sadly it isn’t much. Your fingers barely obey your will to curl back around the touch, the only thing that’s keeping you tethered to the real world. “I’ll take personal responsibility for her, Sir. She’s been improving in my care—”

“Enough of this.” The older voice cuts in. “Like I said, you have been overruled. This is the quickest and cleanest cure for violent insanity in women.” You can’t help but start thrashing against the binds, and try to speak around the gag that keeps your mouth jerked open, but nothing other than a soft crying comes out. You’re not sure if it’s the panic or the drugs anymore. Multiple of the men round on the table, and you’re pressed down deeper into the leather covering. You don’t want to hurt anyone again. Promise. Promise. Your arms are held down, and your forehead’s pressed down too.

“She bit a guard’s finger clean off. We can’t possibly justify not treating such a danger.” None of this is my fault, you think— but they have yet to ask you. They have yet to listen. You suddenly have an overwhelming sense of loneliness, remembering flashes of faces you must have loved. People who must have loved you - though you can’t recall them. There’s an awful scraping noise as the metal tool table is rolled closer, and some man with a mask dips into your view.

You never meant to hurt anyone.

You’re bawling now. The adrenaline pumps through your veins as you stare up at the light, then swallow around the gag. There’s some more rummaging as the warm touch leaves your hand, and you sniffle. You squeeze your eyes closed tightly. A wet wipe is dragged over your eyes without warning, swiping your hot tears away, and finally your wiggling stops. There’s no use. The leather’s digging into your skin, and the sad moaning that you can bring out doesn’t convince any of these men that you’re sane. Maybe you’re not. Would you even know it? They clean your face with rough swipes, and then something even more restrictive is placed over your head. “Alright, she’s sanitized.” You try not to choke on your hiccups. “Surgery in session. Doctor...”

You just want to go home. You want to go home, please.

There’s a prick under your brow that takes you by surprise. It’s sharp, and though you can’t feel it sting like it would without any drugs— it’s still uncomfortable. The gear around your face keeps you from moving, keeping you stuck to the table, but your breathing instinctively gets more shallow, and rapid. Before you can say, or do, or think, a loud smack knocks your head back and heat spills all over your face. A push so hard against your skull that makes your body tense so tight your bones feel like splintering. The pressure’s unbearable— more than just painful, it’s a loud thumping, shaking your entire skull. You want them to stop.

Pain, p-p-pain rocks you upside down.

The pain ebbs in over your entire face —suffocating you from the inside, like a knife’s being wedged along the inside of your eye socket— scraping, and the blood’s everywhere. Streaming all over your face and swelling your eyes and cheeks and head. Your nose is full of it, forcing you to choke down the thick coppery heat. It grinds before it snaps, and the resonating clack of your bone giving in is loud enough to deafen everything else. It hurts. It hurts. You’re sleepy. Sick and in pain and wired too tight all at once, not able to think before another thump knocks you over the head and your head vibrates until it explodes. Or not.

Please stop.

it hur-ts. hurts.

It floods your ears with static, indescribable pressure, and worms deeper until everything’s black - out like a lightswitch.

…

He feels bad.

They’re jamming the metal rod deeper and shaking it hard enough to rock your head. Your poor, pretty face mangled and covered in a fresh, red-hot coating that will be his job to clean up later. Iwa’s breath is bated, and the coppery tang sticks to his lungs.

+

The halls echo with his rhythmic steps. Iwaizumi hates the smell of this place, treated air that circles around a thousand times before getting out. He hates the monotonous routine of it all— and he hates above all else that people are constantly on his back to leave you for some retarded nut that takes up all of his patience. But he is a Doctor. It’s expected of him, and if he gets fired before you get discharged - what was the point. He gets to your door, that familiar door with the pretty sticker of your name, and pushes in with the creaking of the metal. You’re still on the bed, barely looking up, and in some ways it hurts his heart a little.

He hadn’t really meant for it to go this way. All he ever wanted was to be near you. To have you close enough to touch and smell and hold, and for a moment after the judges’ ruling, he got his wish. With a procession that dumped you inside the barbed walls of the hospital, he’d volunteered to oversee you - and every other doctor was swamped enough not to blink twice. He’d worked so hard to get you right here— your pretty face cupped in his hands, getting to kiss you, long to come back to you each evening he’d lock up.

But then you had to bite one of the guards. He isn’t even mad about it either. The sweaty, mustached swine had been eyeing you from the second you came in, and you’d protected yourself so valiantly for such a sweet, little thing.

But it did throw a wrench into his works -  and everything kept spiraling.

“Hello doll, I missed you.” He breathes out, then pulls you upright onto the bed when you face him. “Are you hurting? Are you feeling sick?” The bruising around both eyes has gone down entirely, but there’s still a ghost of color painting your eye sockets. Still, your eyes follow his voice, but you don’t respond. He wraps his arms around your shoulders. “No? That’s good. You’re looking much better today.” You’re so warm against him, and your scent floods him as he nuzzles into your cheek with a smile. It’s not like he’s happy with this outcome. He didn’t want this to happen.

 “I’ve been thinking about you all week while you’ve been in the ICU. Missed you,” he places both hands on your face, making you smile just slightly, before kissing you on the mouth. You don’t really react, but you don’t push him away either. He kisses, and kisses, only taking brief moments between to look at you. “So much. Missed you so much. My sweet girl.” As you sit still and quiet, smiling, he can’t help but imagine taking you home already. You’ll be discharged soon enough, judging by your recovery— and when you do, all your family will have gone. Moved, or have passed away, or simply too old to be caretakers. And hey, he’s more than proven himself capable of caring.

“Do you want to kiss me more?” he asks as he leans down to you a little, capturing your attention again. “Yeah? You want to kiss more?”

“Kiss,” you parrot, and your pretty smile brightens. Fuck, he loves you. He’s not been able to stop since the day he first met you. Of course he’ll indulge you. Last time he allowed himself to let loose, things didn’t end so well. But that was before, and now he’s made very sure that no one will interrupt you both. His mouth meets yours as you sit still like a doll, nice and polite, and he opens your lips with his own, sliding his tongue into your mouth. You taste so fucking good. Maybe it’s his almost compulsive imagining leading up to this moment throughout the week, but there’s nothing better. You taste sweet and let him lead you back as he wraps your arm around him, pulling you closer.

Your arms hang limply around his waist, but no matter. It’s not like that’s stopped him before. He takes a quick scan of your fluttering lashes before you open your mouth, and he leans back in to kiss you again. Tongue sliding in to taste all of you until his entire body feels tight and his cock is so hard it’s starting to hurt against his pants. You simply oblige when he starts pushing you back onto the bed. “Back, back, back, that’s a good girl. Such a good, pretty girl for me.” His hands slide down your shoulders, over your chest as his breathing catches, and then settle at your hips to pull your butt closer to the edge. And you are pretty. It’s almost a bit unfair how good you look with your eyes half lidded and a barely there smile on your cheeks that makes him all warm inside.

“Do you know what I’m doing? What we’re gonna do?” he asks after a few seconds, and despite feeling horrible -he really does- his cock twitches when you shake your head a few times. He slides your flimsy blue gown up your thighs a bit, and moans at the sight of the smooth soft skin revealed to him. “That’s okay. I’ve got you.” Fuck, you make him feel like a timid virgin all over again, looking so damn erotic splayed out before him with no shame. He wonders if before, you’d have blushed. If you’d have whined and played coy, or if you’d have been so damn needy for his presence that you’d spread your legs for him even easier.

This is more than good enough though. He undoes his belt with slightly shaky hands, feeling the heat of your body on his skin, and then shoves a hand down his pants to take out his awfully throbbing cock. When he takes your thigh into his hand again and squeezes, you make a little moan that sounds almost like a purring cat- leaning into the warmth of his touch. His throat closes up, but he forces out a sentence as he leans in. “I’m just going to stick my hot cock inside you- you like that, don’t you? Fill you up, get nice and close?” Iwa’s mouth’s basically watering as he kisses you. He’s unable to help it. “Yeah, you like that. I know you do, pretty girl.”

He wraps a hand around the thick shaft and gives it a few slow pumps, biting back a moan. Then he sinks to his knees to hike your legs up over his shoulders and thumbs over your pussy a few times. Clear slick makes you all wet and sticky, drooling pussy waiting for his touch. He doesn’t make you wait long, because his tongue swipes out to lick up against you— sliding the wet muscle over your pussy and rubbing over the sensitive nub at the top. You let out a slight moan, and your legs twitch as he continues, licking and sucking and abusing your poor, needy cunt by rough fingers that trail around your hole before just barely slipping in to stretch you out. “Look so good, baby. You always look so good.”

“I knew,” he gets up from the floor to stand back between your legs, “that you’d still be a needy whore. Your pussy needs me even when you’re sleepy, so- fu-agh-” His cock brushes up against you as he lines up, and leans into you to grab a handful of your tits. “Can you say ‘thank you’?” You whine instead, and sort of wiggle in place, like you can’t articulate what you need. But he gets it by the way you grind yourself against the flushed, swollen head of his cock, and your mouth hangs open desperately. “Say ‘thank you for taking care of me, Doctor’,” he breathes out, while pushing into that tight, hot pussy that instantly clings to him.

You whimper, and he laces one of your hands with his by force, pulling you closer, deeper onto his cock as he slides in inch by inch. You feel so fucking good, hot enough to make his entire brain cloudy. Fuck. “I missed you so much, baby. You feel so fucking good- god.” You’re squeezing around him hard enough to make it hard to keep back the groans that spill out of him involuntarily. It’s almost like you’re doing it on purpose, but one glance at those teary, far-off eyes tells him more than you could, yourself. “Come on, say ‘thank you’. I know you can.” He winds his other hand around your soft throat and squeezes a little, until your back curls off the table and his cock bottoms out, nice and snug in the tight pouch of your tummy.

“Than’  you-” you slur back when he shakes your face a little, and though it’s a weak whimper, it’s enough to make him shudder.

“That’s a good pet- fuck. Agh-uh, my precious girl.” He pulls back and slides in again harder and deeper, speeding up the rhythm of the bed clanging against the wall. You know, he’d feel bad. He would— but your pussy’s sucking him in so deep, and your legs wrap around his thighs like you want to be even closer, like you’re still enjoying it. He leans in to kiss you again, and whispers your name like you’re cherished. You are. Each time he pulls back, more slick and wetness spills and makes the place you’re meeting into a mess, tits bouncing.

He hikes one of your legs up to your side instead, dangling over his arm to get closer, fuck you even deeper. And even you must feel the change, because you start moaning and wiggling despite yourself- as his cock fills you up again and again, bumping up against the soft heat of your walls. “You can still cum, can’t you?” His jaw clenches, and he reaches between your two sweaty bodies with messy circles over your puffy clit, unable to hold out for much longer. You’re just squeezing so fucking tight. “Cum, cum on my cock- gh-that’s it. That’s what you’re best at, aren’t you, baby~” God, you’re going to make him knock you up. Always clinging to him so fucking tight.

Your walls clench hard enough to make him see double, and before he’s even got the chance to pull out, hot ropes of cum fill you up until you’re sucking him dry.

All Rights Reserved © IWAASFAIRY 2023. Works are exclusive to this Tumblr.

[sad-stucky-shipper-107]

LMFAO THEY'RE TAG TEAMINF TO BULLY HIM NOW.

DAICHI IS CAPTAINING. I LOVE.

MY GUY AT LEAST LOOK BEFORE U SPEAK LMFAO.

MY BOY GETS SUCH A BAD REP LMFAO. HES LITERALLY THE GENTLEST GUY ON THE GODDAMN TEAM.

They're kiyoko's scary dog privilige

PERVERTS.

PROOF NISHINOYA IS LITERALLY A GENIUS LEVEL LIBERO FOR THOSE PEOPLE WHO DID AND DID NOT ASK. WHY IS EVERYONE NOT TALKING ABOUT THIS.

HINATA UR SO WIERD ILY

OMG THE WAY NOYA SAYS IT. THE WAY HE STEPS FORWARD TO IMMEDIATELY DEFEND ASAHI. THE WAY ASAHI STOPS HIM AND FACES HIM HEAD ON RATHER THAN LETTING NOYA RISK HIMSELF. OH GOD THIS SHOW.

LMFAO EVERY SCHOOL HAS ITS OWN PROBLEM CHILD

KAGS KNOWS HIM SOOO WELL LMFAO

LMFAO KAGEYAMA IS THE SCARIEST THING HINATA HAS FACED.

NOYA U IDIOT.

I can't blame them. I AM THEM

IWA-CHAN IS SCARY.

IWA-CHAN HE'S JUST A BABY! STOP BULLYING HIM!

I wanna talk about this for a quick sec because that IS WHAT Karasuno's ultimate strategy is, it's not their blocks, their recieves, or their spikes, its their fucken adaptability, it's the way they constantly change themselves. this is how they defeat opponents stronger than themselves, by surprising them, by adapting to them.

YOSHHHHH!!!!! LETS FUCKING GOOO!!!!!

LMFAOO I REALLY THOUGHT IT WAS GONNA BE HINA.

LMFAO DAICHI-SAN CHILL.

Plz stop bullying my boy.

HINA SO CUTE. KAGS TOSS HIM THE FUCKING BALL OR ILL KILL U (Whoops, I think I love shoyo too much.)

COLDEST SCENE IN HAIKYUU, IM SORRY EVERYONE ELSE GO HOME.

I find it sooo funny that Tooru was literally sleeping when the others were playing but WHEN ITS HINATA-

Brotha literally floated down. ✨

[nectardaddy]

I hate your guts | iwaizumi hajime

two | brother, please

masterlist

track two. . . I love playin' with fire

fast facts !

★ ignore typos if you see them ★ these are the old man overalls (taken from pinterest lmao) ★ mattsun is TERRIBLE at math but is willing to help amanai anyway. right now he's only tutoring her because yn will be damned if he takes her on a date ★ gc messages are supposed to be a little chaotic - gc core yknow? ★ kiyoko clocked amanai so quick ★ iwa was in class during this whole interaction, but kuroo and mattsun were deadass just staring at each other through the door to the porch ★ I swear to god mattsun is not toxic, he is genuinely just an idiot ★ once again 10 things I hate about you plot goes crazyyyy iwa ily sir

taglist (open, send an ask)

@causenessus @eggyrocks @asthmaticcchoeee @mollyrolls @honeekyuu

@nobrain-onlysteven @acowboykisser @grassbutneo @mysteriousballer1na @theycallmenanamisgirl

@wyrcan @applepie-macaroon @lynjaesoo @s777athv @atsumuenthusiast

@solaqes @wave2mia @greninjafan5000 @nobodybutnnoorr @whosmarjj

@justsomeonewhoyoudontknow @corvid007 @muyyie @moucheslove @staileykout

@joy-laufeyson @kr1nqu @just-coreee @viscoolreal @soulfullystarry

[semieita24srockstargf]

SHES BACKKKKK ND READY FR MORE OML REE THIS MIGHT J CHANGE MY MIND ABT IWA WHO KNOWS 😍😍😍

she’s the first female driver in formula one history to win the monaco grand prix. instead of a celebration, they replace her with a longtime rival. it sends her down a spiral no one can save her from. except maybe race engineer iwaizumi hajime.

PAIRING iwaizumi x reader, not so slight oikawa x reader

TAGS, CWS social media racer au, childhood friends, love triangle, fem!reader, written parts with summaries (indicated by 🏁), language, details on injuries, suggestive, mentions of sex (no smut), maybe ooc, kys/kms jokes, drug tests, alcohol consumption, angst, flawed and imperfect characters, images for visual purposes

THINK lewis replacing carlos + challengers + gran turisimo

QUICK TO DEAD THE BULL LIKE A MATADOR . . . !

MOODBOARDS & PLAYLISTS: Y/N’S, HAJI’S, TOORU’S

introductions : city girls NOT up , dreem teem , the grid (extras)

ONGOING — REPLY TO THIS POST FOR THE TAGLIST [1/50]

inspired by @plagalkey — thank you again for letting me use some of your art ♥︎ ur an absolute godsend (more credits will be added!)

a/n you don’t have to know about motorsports and racing to read, definitions will be added for certain chapters! if updates take long, imagine me pacing around my room taking deep breaths after typing out each sentence .. this fic is my magnum opus it means the world

masterlist growing sideways

[bubooo]

↬ rock candy

prev | the sound of restored peace | next

cw: kys joke

✧ rocking facts :

iwa sure hopes either the reassurance on his part to yn and the pushing on noya’s part from the boys™️ will mean one of them will make a move and do it soon

yn is genuinely so terrified of losing noya even with constant assurance from her friends and even being partially sure herself noya feels the same she feels there’s still risks to telling him how she feels and possibly losing him

yn did, in fact, give yachi the biggest fattest wettest juiciest kiss on the cheek when she got back (hey look she and noya are matching lipstick marks!!)

yn and noya kissing all over each other face’s anywhere but the lips is pretty normal to them (throwback to when yachi said noya gives yn forehead kisses yeah jokes on her they be kissing all over each other’s faces- but it’s also not exactly out of the ordinary for yn because she kisses like everyone on the cheek all the time- just one of her things she does)

kuroo was sitting on the couch and recorded yn chasing noya around the apartment and was laughing his ass off when they went to the floor and started wrestling

noya can deny it all he wants everyone knows he was in paradise being kissed all over his face by yn (flushed ass face absolutely zero thoughts but pretending he hated it like ok mf) he didn’t wash the lipstick off for a while and took a lot more pictures than the one he posted (yn later sets the one he posted as her lockscreen)

iwa JUST left ten minutes ago from the apartment that had JUST been cleaned he was not about to let it get destroyed

kuroo did prevent any destruction and the apartment was in perfect condition when iwa eventually returned

man i sure wonder what happened between yn and noya in the past,,,

↬ a/n : soo,,, that happened!! sorry it took me a bit to get this part out but it is here and i suppose forcing myself to write it might have gotten me back in the swing of things? anyways! delving some more into yn’s past and some of the doubts and fears she hold,,, eheheh i’m so excited for the next part because there is some stupidity that will have you guys tearing your hair out (yn noya ily but i fear you are both DUMB)

# taglist : @eujoana89 @loveelylacey @walllflowerrrsss @le000xxgrd @punkhazardlaw @csbnova @jaynawayna @hyenagoated @lvtilzs @nbcvs @nyxlai @kazunish @dawnisatotalqueen @piapiaweee3 @kuroosmikasavolleyball @empress-pug-pug @eggyrocks @keelsforreals @spicana @mfcherry @myromanempiree @beckixwsm (send an ask to be added !! for my sanity LMAO)

[eiimeixi]

speaking of haikyuu (no one brought it up)

about the half filipino iwaizumi hajime headcanon!!!

his mother's filipino and taught him and he'd go tell them to oikawa so both oikawa and iwaizumi know tagalog (and a little bit of english bc the philippines' second language is english) cuz and its like their little secret when they talk in tagalog cause seijoh only knows a few curse words HAHAHA and maybe "ha?" (which is kind of a slang that means "what?") and "ano daw?" ("what did [pronoun] say?") or something bc they're pretty common tagalog phrases

and yall can decide on whether or not iwa actually taught kawa what "mahal kita" meant (it means ily) and says it all the time but says it means "i hate you" to cover up ORRRRR iwa just suddenly says it out of nowhere and kawa has to fucking stop! and stare at iwa in confusion

[irisintheafterglow]

sel this is my favorite thing you've ever written

it’s an experiment, a game: smile, wave, reel in the bait. 

you’re playing—being played, actually, by none other than suguru.

seasons have passed since your first meeting: a collision of chest to shoulder, your textbooks falling to the floor; a man in a leather jacket, hair semi-tied into a bun, crouching low beneath you. 

when he stands up to hand over your books, he tilts his head low, expressing his apologies. it’s not at all what you expect his voice to sound like, but it adds a layer of peculiarity. the dark violet of his turtleneck matches his eyes, two obsidian pools that intrigue you despite your instincts alerting you of bad news. 

then he walks away, a little too quickly for your liking—apple and tonka bean with a hint of cedarwood trailing the air he leaves in front of you. 

the second time you meet, it's a coincidence. 

—though you like to believe that everything happens for a reason.

there are barely any seats available in the cafe you spend your breaks in, an effect of the morning rush from last minute reviews during exam season. you scan the room, eyeing any seat for vacancy.

it’s at the corner of your eye, black leather and a smile you can’t quite get a read on—the man with the top-bun offering the space in front of him almost like he’s had it saved the moment you stepped in. 

“we meet again,” he chuckles, a teasing lilt to his tone. his right leg crosses over the other as you sit. 

he’s charming, handsome as he fiddles with the rings on his fingers; your cheeks are set ablaze at the heaviness of his gaze. his words flow out a little too smoothly, but you find yourself smiling. 

it’s chemistry, an initial attraction. 

there are unknown chemicals in his speech, a substance that presents itself deceivingly. you’re having trouble identifying the compounded meanings behind his intentions. 

when he lists his contact as ‘suguru’ and tells you he’ll shoot you a text, you wonder—

—is it to keep in touch? or to ask for something more? 

an enigma, he is. 

one you’re itching to figure out.

and you do—all his physical properties. 

his chest is wide and muscled, firm underneath your fingertips; he’s sensitive by his temples and ticklish between his brow bones. sharp features define the elements of his face, nose pointed when he goes down on you; his tongue is precise in discovering all the ways to make you fall apart. 

suguru is a contradiction to himself, you realize; he is never what meets the eye. 

long fingers grip your thighs; they’re thick, the pads of them rough but they squeeze you gently, soothing you with each coming wave. 

(there’s no name to whatever this is, that’s not the game he plays. 

you meet and fuck, that’s it. 

everything before that is foreplay—a means to an end; to get you into his bed. 

… right?

nevermind that he stays the night, that the first time this happened, it took every inch of his control to last a week without sending a reply;

nevermind that he greets you with your favorite dinner, looking forward to hearing about your day more than the whole point of his visit in the first place; 

nevermind that he tells you there’s no one else and means it, that since talking to you, you’ve stayed at the top of his messages, everyone else left on read; 

nevermind that his lips linger over yours a few seconds longer as he looks into your eyes, that he kisses you like he loves you—reels you in with emotion he’s good at faking but now can’t hide. 

this is a game suguru’s played, mastered, from how often he’s come out winning. but with you in the picture, it’s different; he can feel himself slipping. 

and for the first time, he thinks, he might be losing.)

a/n: this is fuckboy!suguru agenda! set in non-curse au—college!au if being specific; another exercise on his character!

for @peachygf, for feeding my fboy!sugu thoughts with your ask!

thank you notes: @selarina @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat @threadbaresweater for helping me figure out this characterisation of him! + @mididoodles for being just as excited as me abt this! + @mysugu @soumies

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡