#toru oikawa x you

[tsumuus]

The air was charged with excitement and anticipation as athletes from around the world gathered in the Olympic Village for their first dinner. The buzz of conversation filled the dining hall, a blend of languages and laughter. Toru Oikawa, the star setter for Japan’s beach volleyball team, scanned the room with his trademark confident grin. His eyes landed on a table where a group of female beach volleyball players were seated, their camaraderie evident in their animated discussions.

Among them, one woman caught his eye. Your laughter was infectious, your presence magnetic. You were talking to your teammate, your eyes sparkling with excitement. Oikawa nudged his own teammate, who was busy devouring a plate of pasta.

“Who’s that?” Oikawa asked, nodding towards you.

His teammate glanced over and shrugged. “No idea, but she’s definitely out of your league.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes. “Watch and learn.”

With a self-assured stride, he made his way to the table, flashing his most charming smile. “Excuse me, ladies,” he said smoothly. “Mind if I join you?”

You and the women looked up, some blushing, others giggling. You raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “If you’re looking for an autograph, I’m afraid you’re mistaken. We’re not celebrities here.”

Oikawa chuckled. “I’m not here for an autograph. Just thought I’d introduce myself. Toru Oikawa, Japan’s beach volleyball team. And you are?”

You exchanged a glance with your teammate before responding. “yn ln. Nice to meet you, Oikawa.”

He took a seat beside you, undeterred by your cool demeanor. “You know, yn, I heard the best way to relax before a big game is to spend time with someone interesting. How about we go for a walk later?”

You smirked. “And you think you’re that interesting, do you?”

“Absolutely,” Oikawa said with a wink. “I promise, you won’t regret it.”

You laughed, a sound that made his heart skip a beat. “Sorry, Oikawa. I’m here to win gold, not to play games. But good luck with your matches.”

He watched as you and your teammate stood up and left the table, your laughter echoing in his ears. For a moment, he was stunned by the rejection but quickly brushed it off. There were plenty of other fish in the sea, after all.

The next day, Oikawa and his team decided to catch the women’s beach volleyball games before their own practice. The stadium was packed with cheering fans, the atmosphere electric. As the match started, Oikawa’s attention was immediately drawn to the court where you and your teammate were playing.

You were a force of nature on the sand, your movements precise and powerful. Oikawa found himself captivated, unable to tear his eyes away. Your skill and endurance were unmatched, and as the match progressed, he could feel his admiration growing.

“Wow,” His teammate muttered beside him. “She’s incredible.”

Oikawa nodded, his eyes never leaving you. “Yeah, she is.”

When the final point was scored, securing your team the gold, the stadium erupted in applause. Oikawa watched as you celebrated with your teammate, your joy infectious. In that moment, he knew he had to see you again.

After the match, Oikawa made his way to where you and your team were gathered. He approached you with a confident stride, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Congrats on the win, yn,” he said, his voice warm. “You were amazing out there.”

You turned to him, a hint of surprise in your eyes before it was replaced with amusement. “Thanks, Oikawa. Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I couldn’t miss a chance to watch such an incredible match,” he replied. “You really stood out.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile. “Is this another attempt to ask me out?”

“Guilty as charged,” Oikawa admitted with a grin. “How about we celebrate your win with dinner tonight?”

You shook your head, still smiling. “Sorry, but I’ve got plans with my team. Maybe another time.”

He sighed dramatically. “You keep breaking my heart, yn. At least come watch our game tomorrow. I promise it’ll be worth it.”

You hesitated for a moment before finally saying, “We’ll see.”

Despite your noncommittal response, Oikawa couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope.

Throughout your time at the Olympics, you and Oikawa seemed to run into each other constantly. Each encounter was filled with your usual banter and playful teasing, creating a tension between you that was impossible to ignore. Oikawa's persistence never waned, and each time, you would laugh and turn him down, but always with a smile.

One morning, you were in the gym, focused on your workout. The rhythmic sound of weights clinking and the hum of treadmills filled the air. You were in the zone, completely absorbed in your routine, when a familiar voice interrupted your concentration.

"Hey, yn! Need a spotter?"

You looked up to see Oikawa, grinning from ear to ear, a towel slung over his shoulder. You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the smile tugging at your lips. "I think I can manage, Oikawa."

He feigned a look of disappointment. "Oh, come on. Let me help. I promise not to distract you... too much."

You shook your head, but moved aside, allowing him to take position behind you. As you continued your reps, you could feel his eyes on you, and it made your heart race a little faster. Despite his playful demeanor, he was genuinely helpful, offering tips and encouragement.

After your set, you sat up, wiping sweat from your brow. "Thanks for the help. Didn't think I'd see you here so early."

He shrugged, taking a seat on the bench next to you. "I could say the same about you. Thought you'd be sleeping in after that intense match yesterday."

You smirked. "Rest is for the weak."

He laughed, the sound warm and infectious. "Spoken like a true champion. How about we grab a smoothie after this? My treat."

You shook your head, still smiling. "Nice try, Oikawa. Maybe next time."

He sighed dramatically. "You keep breaking my heart, yn. But I'll keep trying."

Another evening, you found yourself in the dining hall, scanning the array of international cuisine laid out before you. You were reaching for a plate of sushi when a hand beat you to it.

"Great minds think alike," Oikawa said, holding up the plate with a triumphant grin.

You rolled your eyes, grabbing another plate. "Don't you have your own food to eat?"

He shrugged, following you to a nearby table. "Food tastes better with good company."

You sighed but didn't protest as he sat across from you. As you ate, the conversation flowed easily, filled with your usual banter and playful teasing. He regaled you with stories of his teammates and their antics, and you found yourself laughing more than you'd expected.

"You're not so bad, Oikawa," you admitted after a particularly funny story about his teammate's failed attempt to cook ramen.

He placed a hand over his heart, feigning shock. "Was that a compliment? From the great yn? I'm honored."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Don't let it go to your head."

He leaned forward, his expression turning serious for a moment. "I mean it, though. You're pretty amazing, yn. On and off the court."

You felt a flutter in your chest at his words but quickly masked it with a smirk. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Oikawa."

"We'll see about that," he replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

One afternoon, you decided to relax by the pool, hoping to get some peace and quiet. You found a secluded spot, laid out your towel, and settled down with a book. The sun was warm on your skin, the sound of water splashing around you creating a soothing background noise.

Just as you were getting lost in the pages of your book, a shadow fell over you. You looked up to see Oikawa, dripping wet from the pool, a wide grin on his face.

"Fancy seeing you here," he said, shaking his wet hair like a dog, droplets of water splashing onto you.

You held up your book as a shield, laughing despite yourself. "Do you follow me everywhere?"

"Only when you're somewhere interesting," he replied, plopping down on the towel next to you.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't suppress a smile. "And what makes you think I want your company?"

He shrugged, stretching out beside you. "I figured you could use some entertainment. How's the book?"

"Better before you showed up," you teased, closing it and setting it aside.

He laughed, a deep, genuine sound. "Always so harsh, yn. So, how about a swim? Bet I can beat you in a race."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Is that a challenge?"

He nodded, eyes sparkling with excitement. "Absolutely. Loser buys dinner."

You considered for a moment before standing up. "You're on."

The race was close, both of you pushing yourselves to the limit. You felt a thrill of competition, matching Oikawa stroke for stroke. In the end, you won by a hair, emerging from the pool breathless but triumphant.

Oikawa climbed out after you, panting and laughing. "I guess I owe you dinner."

You smirked, wringing out your hair. "You can keep your dinner. The victory is enough."

He shook his head, still smiling. "One of these days, yn, you're going to say yes to me."

You laughed, grabbing your towel. "Keep dreaming, Oikawa."

As you walked away, you couldn't help but glance back, finding him watching you with that same mischievous grin. The tension between you was undeniable, but you were determined not to let him win so easily.

As the Olympic Games drew to a close, Oikawa realized his time was running out. On the last day in the village, he made one final attempt to find you. He went to your room, but it was empty. He searched the dining hall and common areas, but there was no sign of you.

Desperate, he spotted your teammate and rushed over. “Where is she? I need to see her.”

“She left for the airport about an hour ago,” your teammate replied. “Her flight isn’t for another three hours, though.”

Heart pounding, Oikawa hurried to the airport. When he arrived, he scanned the crowded terminals until he finally spotted you at the baggage check-in.

He jogged over, slightly out of breath. “Wait!”

You turned, surprised to see him. “Oikawa? What are you doing here?”

He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. “I know we’ve only known each other for a few weeks, but I couldn’t let you leave without telling you how I feel. I’ve never met anyone like you. You’re incredible, and I can’t stop thinking about you. Can I at least have your number? Maybe we could go out sometime once we’re back home.”

You looked at him, your expression softening. “How did you know I was here?”

“Your teammate told me,” he admitted, his eyes earnest. “I could have asked for your number from her, but I wanted to do this right. I wanted to tell you in person.”

You smiled, a genuine, warm smile that made his heart race. “That’s surprisingly romantic, Oikawa.”

“So, will you give me your number?” he asked, hope shining in his eyes.

You nodded, pulling out your phone. “Alright. Here’s my number. And maybe, just maybe, we can go out sometime.”

He grinned, relief and happiness flooding through him. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

As you walked away to board your flight, Oikawa couldn’t help but feel that this was just the beginning of something amazing. He watched you go, his heart light with anticipation for what the future might hold.

a/n not my best, a lot of it is just empty words idk how to explain it lol, but lowk a bit loooooonger than i thought it was gonna be lol

masterlist

[literatooru]

𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮

pairing: f!reader x oikawa tōru

warnings: 18+ (NSFW) (MDNI) fingering (f!receiving), oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex, squirting, kind of under the influence of alcohol ig? but, like, not really (more sober than drunk), overstim

You both stumble into the apartment, giggling like children excited about sharing a secret only the two of you know. Oikawa’s lips are on yours as soon as you step inside, not even bothering to lock the door as he presses you against the wooden surface. His kiss is insistent as he traces your lips with his tongue to require access, which you gladly grant him. He moans mid-kiss, shrugging his jacket off and unbuttoning your blouse with fumbling fingers. He seems to be having a bit of trouble with the few last ones.

“Ah, screw it,” he says, ripping the garment open, the buttons flying in every direction.

“Tōru!” you huff, tossing the useless fabric to the side.

“I’ll buy you another one,” he says, attacking your collarbone with hungry lips.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging lightly to get a soft moan out of him, and you gasp when he gives a harsh suck on your skin.

“You always say that, but you keep breaking them.”

He snorts against your neck, pulling back to look at you with bright eyes. His cheeks are tinged a soft shade of pink, his hair is all over the place and there’s a big, simpering grin on his lips. He’s definitely tipsy, although not one hundred percent drunk. Let’s say he’s simply in a happy, bubbly mood — and you are too, which is why you can’t help but laugh at the silly expression on his face.

“Sorry,” he says with a chuckle, pulling you back in for another messy kiss and whispering against your lips, “I’m just a little desperate. Always am when it comes to you.”

It’s true, but that’s how it’s always been. He can never wait to kiss you, have his hands on you, hold you. He loves being with you, and discovering new thing about you — he loves you. Don’t ever tell him to hold back, because that’s just something impossible for him when you’re involved.

You curl your arms around his neck and chuckle when he starts walking, pulling you along toward the kitchen, since it’s the closest place with a firm surface. You both let out silly laughs, discarding pieces of clothing along the way. You laugh especially hard when Oikawa almost trips trying to get rid of his jeans, letting out a soft curse and a sheepish chuckle.

He hoists you up to sit you on the countertop, unclasping your bra and diving his head to wrap his eager mouth around one of your pebbled nipples. You arch your back and hold the back of his head to press him even closer to you, moaning. Then, you give a surprised yelp when he gives a way too enthusiastic nip.

“Someone’s excited,” you say, pushing his head back.

“Sorry,” he repeats with a soft giggle, biting his lip as his hand glides down your body until it finds its way between your legs. Your lips part open with a soft gasp when he draws teasing circles with the tips of his fingers over your underwear, and you curl your fingers around the border of the countertop. “Fuck, you’re so gorgeous,” he breathes out, placing his free hand on the nape of your neck to bring your face closer to his.

The kiss grows heated with each passing second, and the movements of his fingers become faster and more precise. He pays close attention to the soft moans you let out against his mouth, the noises making blood rush straight to his cock. He hooks his thumb to pull your panties aside. It's easy for him to push two fingers past your entrance what with how wet you are for him, eager and ready, and he starts working you slowly, his fingers curling in a come hither motion deep inside you. You press your balled up fists against his chest, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, soft mewls and gasps falling off your lips as you buck your hips against his hand.

“Tōru…”

“Feels good, cutie?” he whispers, using the heel of his palm to stimulate your clit.

You only manage to nod, scattering open-mouthed kisses on his chest, biting gently on the his smooth skin every now and then. He pumps his fingers in and out of you slowly, cursing when he feels you clenching around his digits, and the only thing he can think about is how much he wants to be balls deep inside you, filling you up to the brim. He’s torn between finally giving in and teasing you just a tad longer, but he’d much rather focus on you, so he tugs on your panties to get them out of the way.

With a sufficient grin on his face, he drops down on his knees and parts your legs open with gentle hands, licking his lips hungrily, eyes never wavering from your glistening folds. He watches in awe how you clench around thin air when he moves his face closer and blows lightly on you, chuckling when he notices your knuckles have turned white around the countertop.

“There’s my pretty girl,” he murmurs, running a teasing finger between your folds. You whimper, hips bucking up on instinct, chasing his finger when he withdraws it. He licks his lips once more as though he’s just been presented with the most delicious dish on earth, and in a second his mouth is on you. He laps at your arousal, gathering your slick on his tongue and swirling it around the area to savor it, humming in delight with his face buried between your legs. He groans even louder when you pull on his hair, rolling your hips against his face as the most sinful sounds leave your lips. “Fuck, taste so good. My sweet, sweet girl.”

“Tōru, I want you,” you breathe out, panting heavily.

He smirks against you, holding your thighs in place.

“Mm, let me have my fun first, won’t you?” he says, looking up at you from between your legs just as he lashes his tongue against your clit.

He loves seeing how your brows scrunch up when wraps his lips around your nub and sucks, how you arch your back and your mouth falls open to let out the most delicious sounds when he licks a long strip along your pussy, from the bottom to the top, slowly making out with it afterward, his nose bumping against your bundle of nerves with each lick. Your legs tremble as you squeeze his head between them, and you curse loudly when he pushes his tongue past your entrance, his low groan reverberating against your skin.

“Shit— Tōru! Feels so good… so good,” you babble, clapping a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from being to loud, but he’s not having any of that. He brushes his glossy lips against you, shooting you a disapproving look. “Please,” you beg, your voice muffled behind your hand.

He reaches out to grab your arm and pulls it down, placing your hand on top of his head instead, encouraging you to bury it in his hair and pull as hard as you wish.

“You’re not cumming unless I can hear you,” he says, happily moving his lips against you once more. He smiles when your fingers curl around his thick, dark brown locks, and you pull so hard that it’s just a little bit painful, but he enjoys it nonetheless.

Your moans only get louder and louder with each stroke of his tongue, and you squirm under his grasp when he adds his fingers. You’re a babbling mess, whimpering and mewling obscenely, struggling to keep it together — which is something you can’t do when Tōru Oikawa is between your legs.

He doesn’t stop until you’re crying out his name, eyes squeezed shut as your first orgasm hits you with the force of a train, his name on your breath like a prayer. You struggle to catch your breath, but he doesn’t give you enough time to do it, already getting to his feet, his underwear dropping to pool around his ankles.

He’s throbbing with desire and need, painfully hard, his cockhead oozing thick drops of pre-cum that slide down his tip. He doesn’t waste a second to align himself with your entrance, pushing the tip in before slowly sinking into you inch by inch. He watches as you suck him right in, your spasming walls clamping down on him viciously, and he curses loudly and digs his fingers into your thighs, desperate for something to hold on to. Your sweet moan is swallowed down his throat, he’s trying to stifle his own desperate groans against your lips, although his attempt proves futile. There’s just something about being inside you that always seems to awaken something in him. He goes feral, can’t hold back when your warm, tight walls are wrapped around him.

Oikawa’s quick to set a pace that has you trembling in his arms, and a series of animalistic groans and moans spill from his lips. He whispers so many things in your ear, how good you feel, how well you take him, how he can feel you squeezing every single inch of him. His eyes are impossibly dark, lips are swollen and a dark shade of pink as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, peppering your soft flesh with gentle kisses that are a big contrast to his thrusts. He’s going fast, hard, and deep, each snap of his hips echoing in the silent kitchen, which is only filled with the sounds of your skins slapping against each other's and the wet squelching of your pussy sucking him in. Your gasps and moans sound so damn erotic to him, and his hips stutter when you clamp down on him.

He holds your waist with firm hands, pulling you toward him until you’re sitting right on the edge of the countertop as he plunges into you. He lets out soft growls and breathes out your name. Oikawa pulls back slightly to take a good look at you, and finds himself breathless. There you are, head lolled back, closed eyes and parted lips. Despite the place being consumed by darkness, he has a clear view of you, the soft shine of the moonlight washing your face and reflecting in your eyes when you open them to give him the most besotted look, and his heart swells in his chest. His pace slows down a little, rolling his hips in a way that reminds you of waves washing up against the shore at the beach.

He strokes your cheek with his knuckles, cupping it afterward and pressing his lips against your forehead. He then lowers his head to meet your lips in a much softer, gentler, velvety kiss that leaves you breathless, and he holds you as close to him as humanly possible, almost like he wants to fuse with you. His hands are warm on your skin, and they make you feel safe, something that only he could ever manage.

“You’re so fucking addictive… like a damn drug,” he groans, dipping his head to shower your chest with light kisses. “I just can’t get enough of you— fuck.” You wrap your legs tightly around his waist, moaning and holding onto him for dear life. It’s astounding how good he can make you feel, and your body shows it. “You feel so good, squeezing me so tight— ngh,” you clench around him once again, and his fingers flex into your skin, his lips pressed against your shoulder as you tug on his damp hair. “You like it when I talk to you? You like it when I tell you how good your cute little pussy feels around my cock?” he asks, a teasing note in his voice that quickly evaporates when you clamp down on him even harder than before. “Oh, you do. You fucking love it, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Tōru,” you gasp, clawing at his back. “You’re so deep!”

“Ah, fuck.” His moan comes out a little more high-pitched, and he whimpers softly, pressing his lips to the crown of your head, holding your head against him. “S-ay my name again.”

And you do, and he simply loses himself in you. He feels drunk, absolutely plastered, but not because of the alcohol he had been drinking — but because of you. Your scent invades all of his senses, and his mind grows cloudy because all he can see, hear, taste, and feel is you. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Tōru… Tōru I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna—”

“Go ahead baby, I gotcha. Want you to cream all over my cock.”

“T-touch me… please, ah—”

He snakes a hand between your bodies, deft fingers finding your small bundle of nerves. He uses his fingers to rub on it, your jaw dropping in a silent scream as he touches you.

“Right here? Feels good?”

“God, yes! Yes, yes— fuck!” You scream out his name —among other incoherent things that he doesn’t quite catch, although he gets the general idea—, and your vision becomes blurry with unshed tears of overstimulation, but his fingers never stop. “I’m cumming… Tōru, I’m cumming, I’m—!”

You don’t get to finish your sentence, because suddenly clear liquid is gushing out of you and showering his abdomen, and you cry out in ecstasy as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you. Oikawa lets out and embarrassingly loud, wanton whimper that makes your stomach twist, the sound extremely lewd coming from his lips.

“Holy fuck, did I make you feel that good, pretty girl? Squirting all over my cock like that, shit.” His hips stutter for a moment, his heavy breathing hitting your shoulder when he dips his head, eyes slightly shut. “I’m so close… s’close. Wanna fill you up with my cum.”

“Please, please,” you gasp, riding out your orgasm with slow rolls of your hips, and you shiver in delight.

It’s the simple sight of you that drives him over the edge — a sight he wants to imprint in his eyelids forever. Oikawa dissolves into pleasure, a scalding sensation pooling low in his abdomen as mouth falls open, and he presses it against your shoulder to stifle his obscene whines, his abdomen spasming with each hot rope of cum he spurts out deep inside you, thrusting slowly until you’ve milked every last drop he has to offer, and soft breaths of your name escape his lips like a broken record.

He stays still for a second, enjoying the way you trail your fingers along his glistening back, drawing imaginary shapes on his skin. He kisses your neck and shoulder before pulling out, letting out a soft hiss as his softening cock slides out of you. It takes him a good minute to catch his breath.

He looks up, a drunken smile on his lips, though he’s all sobered up now. You’re just so intoxicating, he could spend every single second of the rest of his days with you, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

[ya9amicide]

♡ anime masterlist ♡

pov: your camera roll if you were dating toru oikawa.

[simplyvyn]

── .✦ GOOD GAME !

Your boyfriend just won an importang match. In a huge stadium, with lots of people watching. Not just in the stadium. This game was probably in hundreds of tvs outside or inside of a home. Kids, adults, teenagers watching. And your boyfriend just won the last match. At least your secret boyfriend.

After a bit of celebration with his teammates, thanking the people who are cheering for them and some awardings or a speech with their coach he immediately ran to you.

You were there watching him win, watching him score every point or defend every attack from their opponent. Your hands was laying on the railings. He was on the other side. On the court/field.

You raised your hand, offering him a high five. Even if their were still a hundred or even thousands of people. He still ran to you. His secret lover. "Congrats. That was a good game." He responded to your high five his hand on top of yours but then he pulled you, and then kissed you on the lips. Infront of all the people. You swore you heard alot of camera flash, screams and gasp's.

I thought you two were supposed to go soft launch?

⤷kageyama, hinata, YAMAGUCHI, kuroo, kenma, OIKAWA, iwaizumi, BOKUTO, AKAASHI, atsumu (HQ) isagi, bachira, rin, SAE, nagi, REO, CHIGIRI, karasu, otoya, shidou, aiku (BLLK) + ur favs !

Note: sorry guys i felt a lil silly😋

[satoruxx]

you fiddle with your nails as you walk home at tooru's side, the sounds of mattsun, makki, and iwa bickering further up ahead cutting through the empty streets. you’re uncharacteristically nervous, because god knows you’ve never done something like this before—but you steel yourself because it’s worth it for him.

your feelings for oikawa tooru are all consuming—strong and deep and intense. they’ve been brewing for well over two years now, nourished by the increased amount of time you’ve spent with him. they overwhelm you, washing over your being with an intensity you’ve never felt before, and they drive you to stick by his side for as long as you can—desperate and aching for the boy who puts the stars in your sky.

you know that timing is important because tooru is nothing if not driven—singularly focused on the sport that gives him the air he needs to breathe. so you wait until well after his match with karasuno, giving your all to support him and the rest of the team because volleyball has become important to you after spending so much time with them. you give it time, wait until after the team has taken the time to lament over their missed chance, and after all the third years are ready to move on to the next phase of their lives, before you finally decide to spill your guts to him.

tooru stares ahead as he’s walking, pensive and unsmiling, and you’re dying to know what’s going on in his head. his eyes are bright, a contrast to his expression, and there’s a resolute glint in his irises that has you feeling oddly shaken. when you reach his house, the rest of the group waves back at him before continuing on, and you realize this is your chance.

so, dangerously, you put your heart on the line.

you tell him everything you've ever thought about him—how you admire his drive and his passion, how you have looked up to him for years and years. how you have never felt so deeply for someone before knowing him. it comes out in a rushed ramble of words, all those nights of practicing in the mirror doing nothing for you in the actual moment. you stumble a few times, your face getting warmer with every word, and yet as each sentence falls forth you feel a weight lift from your shoulders—the flesh of your lungs clatter against your ribs, anxious and eager.

tooru inhales, gaze darting between your eyes and then flitting downwards. even in the dark of the night, you can see the pinkish hue crawling up his neck, can see the way he fidgets with his own fingers. he stares at you, lips parted as a wide array of emotions flit over his handsome features—they finally settle into a strange combination of apologetic and resigned.

and then he tells you no.

he tells you that volleyball will always take precedence, that he has already mapped out his future, which is too far away from you. he tells you about argentina and how his mind is made up. he tells you that he's flattered, that he's glad you're friends but that's all he can do right now.

“i'm sorry,” he says with a grimace. he studiously avoids looking at you, but you can't stop staring at him—your stomach sinks as he turns to head inside.

it takes you months to muster up the courage to tell him. it takes him two minutes to say no to you.

the rejection stings in a way that is unfamiliar, and you take a shaky breath as you walk down the street to catch up with the others.

the humiliation makes itself known in the form of a painful lump in your throat—unmoving and heavy. when you glance up you see that the third years have hung back, waiting for you. makki is wearing a knowing grin, but it falters when he sees your expression. mattsun, ever observant, seems to immediately understand, and he wordlessly slings an arm over your shoulder.

all you can do is awkwardly chuckle, knowing that it sounds weak and throaty as you shake your head. “i feel stupid,” you admit, voice wobbling as heat burns through your skin—unpleasant and unwelcome.

“you're not stupid,” makki mutters, hands shoved deep in his pockets as his lips slant regretfully. you stare at the ground, nodding slowly under the weight of mattsun's arm. your lungs ache, and you know that if you open your mouth, you will lose it entirely. so all you can manage to do is look up at iwa with glassy eyes and trembling lips and a rueful smile that probably makes you look as pathetic as you feel.

you don't notice the way his fists are clenched at his sides, nails digging indents into his palms. he grits his teeth, gaze flitting to oikawa's house in the background, but he doesn't say anything.

none of them speak as they walk you home, and you try your best to keep the sniffles to a minimum, too embarrassed to look at them.

you've never felt pain like this before, and it's hard to get over it because everything reminds you of tooru. it's like someone has taken a knife and carved into your ribcage, grasping your heart before taking it out crushing it between bloodied fingers. but even despite the gaping hole in your chest you know that there are expectations to be met, things to be done.

that's the strange thing about your silly unrequited love—it hurts and hurts and hurts some more until it stops one day before you can realize it. even though your chest is still bleeding you go on with life—you go to university, you get a job, you pay bills. you get up in the morning and brush your hair and drink water and tie your shoes until the wound closes itself up. you start smiling a little wider and laughing a little freer until oikawa tooru is nothing more than an old name.

and of course there are instances where you are reminded of him and what could've been, whether it's seeing milk bread in a supermarket or passing by children hitting a volleyball over a net out in the sun. you know very well that your friends are occasionally still in contact with their old captain, not that this bothers you. after all, mattsun, makki, and iwa were very careful not to bring him up around you, which you're grateful for. so even hearing the name in passing becomes easier.

it is difficult until it isn't anymore.

you've all but forgotten him now, after years and years and years—nothing more than a distant memory.

so imagine the sinking feeling of dread pooling in your stomach when you walk into the restaurant on makki's birthday and see oikawa tooru sitting at the bar, drink in hand. his eyes are alight as he laughs at whatever conversation he's joined, dark hair falling into his eyes messily.

one step forward, ten steps back.

for a second you can't help but stare, breath stolen from your lungs because it feels like the knife is back and twisting itself into your flesh all over again. there is a panic rising in your throat, suffocating and overwhelming and jarring.

tooru lifts his glass to his lips, hiding his grin as his gaze lazily travels over the expanse of the room.

another surge of panic. the familiar sting of humiliation.

he pauses as he's about to take a sip, brown eyes widening when they land on you, and you see the sharp inhale he takes. his stare doesn't waver, too consumed by shock to look away.

and yet that's all you can do—tear your eyes away because you're different now and it's long gone and you know there is no point in going down that rabbit hole again.

it was a lifetime ago—it's done now.

but you will never know how long tooru thought of you after that night back in high school. you will never know that he felt sick to his stomach when he saw the way your face fell at his rejection. you will never know that he bit his tongue so hard it bled as he watched you walk away from him. you will never know that he spent countless nights in argentina wondering what you were up to and how you were. you will never know that sacrificing you for his beloved sport was the hardest thing he's ever done.

so imagine the sinking feeling of dread tooru feels when he sees the way your eyes light up as you find your way over to iwa's side.

@teddybeartoji this is for you mickey ily hehehehehe

[ventismacchiato]

OIKAWA BREAKING YOU UP

oikawa tooru x gender neutral reader

you, a semi popular youtuber, meet oikawa at one of his games and he says ily after you scream it at him during an interview. you send the video to your current bf, who gets jealous and doesn’t take it well and ends up breaking up with you. after it goes viral on stantwt oikawa reaches out.

notes: ok i haven’t read the manga, so pls don’t come at me if i get any details wrong 😓 based on the yeonjun situation lmfao. takes place after high school u guys are twentyish. also i know i said peg it in the 27th slide i hope that’s still gn T-T

notes — bye i wrote this in a day the haikyuu obsession is back why r we back in 2020 😭 also ignore the ! in some of the tweet dns i forgot to edit them out and i’m lazy it’s so all the fan users are at the top of my app

[makkir0ll]

thinking about co-star!oikawa who you’re filming a rom com with. it’s fun, flirty, and the two of you have a good dynamic with each other whether that be on set or behind the scenes.

especially behind the scenes because the two of you are in a secret (not so secret) relationship. the whole hair and makeup crew has pretty much picked up on it. the makeup artists who have to re-do your makeup after the two of you are "practicing lines" in each other's trailer. they have to cover up hickey on your neck when you claim it's just a burn from the curling iron the hairstylist used. your hair in an up-do for this specific scene you're filming.

but what get's everyone caught up on your not so secret relationship is when the two of you have to film the steamy makeout scene in the movie that occurs when the two characters finally kiss each other. oikawa keeps "messing up" the kiss. going in for the kiss too early or too late, not making it perfect. so this leads to you having to re-do the scene fifteen times, and in between each time you're getting your makeup retouched up and you see him smirking and winking at you from across the room.

(during press tour, he's asked what his favorite scene to film was and he says the kiss. this stirs the pot for sure and the two of you are now trending on twitter with tweets such as - "oikawa tooru and l/n f/n dating confirmed? watch this clip")

[noosayog]

baby fever ft. oikawa toru

wc: 300

iwaizumi | ushijima | atsumu | osamu | sakusa | kageyama

--

When your daughter first started attending kindergarten, after school pick-up was something that worked for your schedule, and never Toru’s. So the agreement ended up being that he would be in charge of mornings and you, afternoons. 

The first couple of months were rough. At drop-off, she’d wail and cling onto Toru’s leg, begging her daddy not to leave her. When you showed up at the end of the day, she’d immediately abandon her teachers and friends, excited to go home and spend time with you and Toru. When realizing that Toru wouldn’t be home to greet her, she would pout for hours, at least until her father came home.

Today, though, would be a bit different. Finally, Toru was in off-season and he decided to use his free time today to join you in fetching her. 

When you arrive at the kindergarten, your daughter sees you first and runs to you as she always does. It’s only when she rounds the corner that she sees her favorite person, crouched down with open arms waiting. 

It’s instant. 

Her eyes light up and she squeals, no hesitation in jumping into Toru’s arms, stubby arms clinging tightly to his neck. 

She refuses to let go and Toru doesn’t complain about carrying her the entire way home. The afternoon is spent playing, giggling, napping, and eating snacks and she finally crashes from all the excitement.

While Toru tucks her in, you perform your nighttime routine. As you rub night cream into your face, you feel Toru wrap his arms around you and bury his face into your neck, sighing. 

“She knocked out?” 

“Mmph…” he grunts. 

You laugh but continue with your routine when you hear him mumble something else against your skin. 

“Toru, it tickles! And I can’t hear what you’re saying.” 

He raises his face and plops his chin on your shoulder, meeting your gaze through the mirror. 

“I said, we should make another one.” 

“Toru… I thought we agreed that-”

“I know, I know. Wait until I retire so I have more time to help.” 

You nod in response because you two have talked about this already. Multiple times.  

“Ok, hear me out, though” 

“... Okay…” you say warily. 

He takes a deep breath. 

“Please please please please please-” 

You smack his face away, but laugh all the same when he picks you up to retire for the night together. 

[tvhsleb3ww]

HUSBAND OIKAWA HCS OMAGHAUSHSHD

husb!oikawa who helps you do the taxes and puts his glasses on and brings a calculator only for him to get bored after 20 minutes and whines when you don't give him attention

husb!oikawa who is your plus one to any events your office is doing and your female coworkers gawking over him only for him to show off his ring before wrapping an arm around your waist, swiftly saying "i'm taken, ladies" with a smug smirk

husb!oikawa who panics and screams whenever he thinks he lost his wedding ring bc he can't wear it in games!

husb!oikawa who ties the ring to a necklace so he can wear it during games, he'll also give the ring a kiss before any serve

husb!oikawa who watches horror movies w you, expecting for you to hide your face in his chest from the jumpscares and he can act all tough and cool by protecting you from said jumpscares— only for him to be the one hiding in the crook of your neck when watching them

husb!oikawa who picks you up from the bar that you and your coworkers went to bc he doesn't trust anyone on returning you home when you're drunk as a sailor

husb!oikawa who makes hangover seaweed soup along with some hot chocolate when you wake up all lightheaded bc of the drinks you had and nags you for drinking too much

husb!oikawa who will reserve you a VIP seat for his games and will shamelessly kiss you in front of the whole crowd, he could also shamelessly make out w you too but that would earn him a smack

husb!oikawa who gets upset when you can't go with him to his overseas games because of your work, muttering a "you can be a housewife instead, yknow!! I'll be the source of income!!" which he got smacked for because you didn't work your ass for a degree just to be a housewife

husb!oikawa who'd act all tough and nonchalant when both of you have a fight and he's lying on the couch with crossed arms but in reality he's thinking about the fight and he hates getting into arguements with you

husb!oikawa who will beg you to listen to his explanation bc he doesn't wanna go to sleep with you being mad at him

husb!oikawa who just grins and wiggles his eyebrows at you whenever your parents start asking for grandchildren when you both come over to visit

husb!oikawa who will not show up to work if you're sick and will take care of you

husb!oikawa who whines when his mother and his older sister treats you like their own family to the point they forget about him (he's actually happy that the important women in his life get along)

husb!oikawa who has an ID photo of you in his wallet and has a polaroid of both of you on your wedding day in his clear phone case

husb!oikawa who comments on ALL your instagram posts and shares it on his story. he will also reply to every men in the comments section that dares to flirt with you

husb!oikawa who always has a hand on one of your boobs when he's sleeping because he says it's comfy! (he just wants to feel something soft)

husb!oikawa who spoils you rotten and sends bouquets to your office on a weekly basis

THATS ALL FOR NOW KEKE

[kitasuno]

i'll keep every promise (if it's a promise with you) | oikawa tooru x reader

oikawa tooru has a bad habit of breaking promises and running from his first love. or: the four times oikawa breaks his promises and the one time he keeps one

( a / n ) - oh my god this is my magnum opus... my baby.. its a little bit of angst and a little bit of fluff and a little slice of life. u go through ages 6 to 28 LMFAO. iwaizumi + you + oikawa were such a fun trio to write for and i hope u guys enjoy !!

gn! reader | 2k words | happy birthday OIKAWA

Oikawa Tooru has a guilty conscience and a bad habit of breaking his promises. 

For every promise made and every promise broken, Tooru repents: 200 yen slid in a saisen-bako, a ninety degree bow, two wishes at a shrine. An offering to counter every promise he breaks, ample water to wash away his sins, and apologies written on wood.

 ( Iwaizumi has made the grand suggestion of: Maybe not breaking your promises? on several occasions, but Tooru can’t help it. ) 

He’s broken four promises and made eight wishes so far: four on blue Tanzaku and four atop Ema boards, followed with a prayer and an offering if the promise broken was particularly heinous or particularly his fault. 

He breaks his first promise at six years old– one made with you and Iwaizumi when the three of you were four and freshly neighbors. It was Tooru’s birthday, and he had promised this: 

I swear that I will take us all to the Ryokan before I turn six.

It’s a small promise: one that neither you nor Hajime had expected him to follow through with. But Tooru believed it, and Tooru had tried. He takes every single chore and odd job in the Oikawa household, scraping together a two-year-old Ryokan trust fund with mismatched coins and crumpled bills. He saves his allowances and puts everything in a glass jar next to his bed, and dreams.

Two Julys pass. Oikawa blows out four candles and then five, the jar gets bigger, you start Elementary school, and you and Hajime forget about the Ryokan. And then, on the third July, when Tooru turns six, you and Iwaizumi find Tooru mumbling about a broken promise— courtesy of his failure to take the three of you on an all inclusive trip to that Snow Monkey Ryokan that Iwaizumi wanted to go to. 

So he apologizes through prayers at a shrine and two wishes under a red Torii gate. It’s a thirty five stair climb to the neighborhood shrine: Hajime and Tooru race up and you come last, but the view is gorgeous and Tooru feels considerably less guilty.

It is 100 yen for each wish on a colored paper strip. Hajime says they’re called Tanzaku. Hajime drops one coin, Tooru drops four, you drop two. Seven thunks, four wishes. 

Tooru gets the honor of tying your tanzaku on bamboo branches as the tallest of your trio, and with it, the honor of reading your wishes.

Iwaizumi’s wish is messy and scrawled on bright red— Tooru tells him to Please work on your handwriting, but it’s legible and all well wishes for volleyball and you and Oikawa and cicadas.

Tooru’s got two wishes— a cyan one and a turquoise one, but he only lets you and Hajime read the cyan one. His cyan one is a little neater than Iwaizumi’s and reads:

Sorry I couldn’t take us to the Monkey Ryokan. 

He hangs the red one on his tippy-toes. Cyan next. Hajime cheers a little when Tooru hangs turquoise next to your pink one, and then asks: 

“Whaddya need two wishes for anyways?” 

He shrugs. 

“Guilty conscience, maybe?”

You’re thirteen when Tooru promises that he is going to ask you out in two years. Tooru is not allowed to date until he’s in high school, so he tells you under a blanket of stars that when the two of you are a little older, he will ask you out properly and maybe take you on a date. 

He walks you to school every morning. Hajime comes too, but the pink skies before the sun rises are for you and Tooru. Moments before you make it to Iwaizumi’s block are moments that Tooru gives you his scarf, and then his gloves, and when the wind bites at your cheeks too hard his jacket is draped over your shoulders. On rainy days, Tooru holds the umbrella and laughs as your fingers brush and your cheeks flush. Some mornings he brings you toast: and tells you in hushed whispers to eat it before Iwa-Chan sees. 

Oikawa and Iwaizumi walk you home after cram school and volleyball practice. Hajime’s house is first— so Iwaizumi bows first, heads back inside first, waves goodnight first. When the door closes and the light turns on, the black sky and twinkling stars are for you and Tooru. He always says Good Night saccharine sweet with a smile like the sun that makes you feel like you really can’t wait to turn fifteen. 

Oikawa blows out fourteen candles. The three of you graduate in blue and walk home like usual. Summer passes, another July goes by, Oikawa blows out fifteen candles, and high school starts.

You learn several things in your first year at high school: you really like the student council, Hajime is actually pretty smart, and Tooru is afraid of commitment. 

Tooru is popular: he is athletic and tall and the Volleyball Club’s golden first year. He smiles at the girls in his class, he slings arms around their shoulders, he winks when he passes by the student council room, and he preens a little and shines a lot.

Oikawa is fifteen when he goes on his first date with a girl from another school: and when he tells you and Iwaizumi after he gets home, he plays dumb as Hajime gives him a look and takes you home, overhearing Iwaizumi’s apologies and your crestfallen voice as you say something about a promise.

Oikawa’s chest hurts that night so he walks to the shrine with 200 yen in his pocket and a sorry scrawled on two pieces of colored Tanzaku. 

Oikawa turns sixteen and goes to the shrine again. 

This time, it’s a broken promise with a girl in his class. She was popular– she smelled like cotton candy and reminded Tooru of strawberries and daisies, so when she asked Tooru out, he had said Sure, and he had smiled like she was the sun. 

But he’s a bad boyfriend– a terrible boyfriend– because he’s only there when it’s convenient and he ditches her for volleyball practice and maybe sometimes he catches himself thinking about a certain childhood friend when she holds his hand and buys him milk bread at lunch. 

She was sweet and she was terribly pretty, but he doesn’t feel anything when she kisses him or when she rests her head on his shoulder.

Iwaizumi asks him what he’s running from after practice one day. Tooru knows Iwaizumi is asking why he is running from you. 

Tooru is a little scared of how you make him feel too much. Oikawa likes being in control and Oikawa likes stability, so when he realizes that his heart thumps erratically whenever you’re around and he finds himself all consumed with thoughts of you and a burning desire to please you; he rejects and refrains. And runs.

His girlfriend dumps him after a few months. Tooru says sorry, removes her phone contact, and faintly remembers a promise he made with her four weeks ago. 

I swear I’m not in love with someone else. 

from: tooru (23:20) shrine time!!! ٩(◕‿◕｡)۶

from: hajime (23:21) You broke another promise?? Ur a piece of shit lol

from: tooru (23:22) iwaaa chan U￣ｰ￣U  ur so mean !

from: you (23:24) bro . don’t tell me it was about ur ex ur a manwhore !!!!

from: hajime (23:25) Average Shittykawa moment

from: tooru (23:25) i can’t help it !! (✿ ♥‿♥)  everyone wants a piece of me !!! ill pick u guys up and we’ll go to the shrine and ramen after plsss ☆

from: hajime (23:26) Ur treat?

from: tooru (23:27) iwa-chan’s treat !! i’m going through a nasty breakup, remember ? \_( ◉ 3 ◉ )_/¯

from: you (23:29) hajime we know his address we can burn his room down

from: tooru (23:30) OK FINE my treat! it’s on me!!! everyone say thank you tooru !!!

from: hajime (23:31) thank you tooooruuu chan (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

tooru and y/n reacted with: Scared !

from: tooru (23:32) um please don’t do that ever again

Oikawa’s fourth promise is one to himself and one to Seijoh. 

We will make it to Nationals. 

He doesn’t leave his room for a week when he breaks it. He’s inconsolable. He says he’s sick: he’s got a bad fever, it’s contagious, he’s bedridden, he’s fine. But the lights are never on in his room, his curtains are always drawn, and you know that Tooru devoted everything for a chance and a dream and a volleyball. 

He comes to you first. He’s standing in your doorway and there are bags under his eyes and he says, Hi, and then, I’m fine. He tries for a smile— and then you give him a look, and suddenly he’s in your arms and sobbing. 

He cries for two hours. Tooru ugly cries– his chest racks when he sobs and his arms are tight around you and digging into your back. Oikawa Tooru is not weak: but he is not a prodigy.  

He falls asleep in your bed with his head in your lap and your hands in his hair, but his eyebrows are furrowed and he’s shifting a lot and he’s probably having a nightmare. You call Hajime before gently shaking Tooru awake. 

He blinks up at you— all puffy eyes and tousled hair and swollen cheeks, but he sees you and he softens.

“Wanna go to the shrine?”

Iwaizumi still grumbles the whole way up the thirty five steps, but he’s quiet as Oikawa slips two coins into the saizen-bako. Hajime wraps an arm around your shoulder as the coins rattle in the box and you know he’s upset too— his hands are slightly shaking and he keeps sniffing. Nationals might have been Oikawa’s dream but Iwaizumi was also a dreamer, and sure, Oikawa was going to go, but they were going to go together.

Tooru hangs two Ema boards and for the first time, he bows at the Honden. Two claps. Head down and hands together as he prays. Iwaizumi joins him: and you watch as Oikawa apologizes to him and Hajime shakes his head- because it was Hajime’s promise too. 

Oikawa is twenty-eight and on a plane when he finally keeps his first promise. 

It’s a small promise: but a promise nonetheless, one that he made before he left for Argentina. He tells you he loves you at the airport but he has his boarding pass in one hand and his passport in the other. And you tell him you love him too, but also that he’s being unfair, and no you won’t go out with him. And Oikawa knew you would say that, but he still finds himself making a promise– a promise you laugh at because Oikawa Tooru never keeps his promises.

If we’re still single in ten years, I’m going to find you, and I’m going to ask you out. 

You cry, and Tooru wraps his arms around you and cries too— and then Iwaizumi’s there, and Iwaizumi’s crying, and you don’t know which part of you is Oikawa or Iwaizumi. Oikawa leaves for Argentina with a heavy heart but a hunger for the future. 

In the ten years that pass he plays a lot of volleyball. He tans a lot. He learns some Spanish. He tries beach volleyball. And then, he buys a plane ticket on his birthday. 

from: y/n (21:12) happy birthday tooru !! me n hajime r having an honorary drink for u. hope ur having fun in argentina!!! hajime and i say te amo !!!!

from: tooru (21:15) i’d like a hot sake plssss thank u!!! ( ˙▿˙ )

from: y/n (21:15) LMFAO. no. me and haji r drinking ASAHI DRRRRRRYYYYYYYY for u bro also hajime got BUFF wat the hell hope ur tanning good in argentina 

from: tooru (21:16) well tell BUFF iwa chan that ill be there in 5 and i want a HOT SAKE and also YES i tanned good SO EYES OFF IWAIZUMI

from: y/n (21:17) ? what? ur funny lol … TOORU?

Tooru is twenty eight and might retire soon. Thirty five stairs is too many to climb and keeping promises is far more fun than breaking them. So he taps your shoulder, hands Iwaizumi your bouquet, and takes your cheeks in his palms to tilt your chin over. 

“Hi!” He says. 

 Tooru bends down to kiss you. 

[fushiguruuzzzz]

req by @lizbix for 700 event

OIKAWA who is “just a friend”

OIKAWA who dedicates every serve (even the ones he misses) to you with a wink and a cocky grin, throwing in a “just because you’re special to me,” on occasion, but it’s all strictly platonic. yep.

OIKAWA who tosses his volleyball jacket over your shoulders when you’re cold, and just before you can see the gentle fondness in his eyes, he brushes it off with a “just displaying my kindness. thank me with a kiss later, mhm?”

OIKAWA who only smiles when you hit him in return, but really just wishes you’d take him seriously.

OIKAWA who is always staring at you when his fangirls try to get his attention — he doesn’t even realize it, but they sure do.

OIKAWA who sniggers to himself every time he’s asked if you two are a thing, because in his mind, you kind of are. he won’t deny what he believes to be true. if he’s right, he’s right.

OIKAWA who always manages to somehow slip into your house, and you often find him sprawled out in your bed, snoring like he’s in hibernation.

OIKAWA who smirks lazily as you let out a deep sigh and crawl in beside him, wrapping his arms around you and ignoring your excuse of “I’m tired” and “it’s obvious you won’t move anyway.”

OIKAWA who is just a friend, but you’re curled up under the covers with him and sinking into his warm embrace, soft skin brushing over his as his heat seeps into you.

maybe OIKAWA is just a friend, but as he presses his face into the crook of your neck and mumbles something that sounds scarily similar to “I love you,” it doesn’t feel like it. not like you mind.

OIKAWA who denies any hints at his sleepy confession profusely, telling you it must’ve been a dream — a fantasy of yours that you’d gotten caught up in that day. he says he doesn’t blame you, he gets it a lot.

OIKAWA who only admits that he did, in fact, tell you he loved you back then three years later. he figured it was a good time, because now you’re curled up in bed once again, except the covers are not yours. they’re his too; property of the home you’d created not long after graduation.

OIKAWA who stares at the back of your head, stunned, when all you responded with was a smile and an “I know.”

OIKAWA who feels really dumb afterwards, but he figures it’s alright, since he ended up at his planned destination all the same. he’s still mad he lost so much time, though.

I cannot write for oikawa I think. please don’t attack me for this.

gen tags: @sh0ot1ngst4r @azinniyaa @kashee-h @bubybubsters @lizbix @mayyhaps @adoresia @gumims @cinnamxnangel @aldebrana

[tsumuus]

For prompt 2 for your event, could you do that one Leah and Rob sound. "You don't hate me?" "I could never hate you." with Oikawa? tyyyyyyyyyyy

₊✩‧₊˚ toru oikawa + prompt 2 ˚₊✩‧₊

₊✩‧₊˚ ‘so you don’t hate me’ ‘i could never hate you’ ˚₊✩‧₊

You had always thought you knew Toru Oikawa like the back of your hand. From the days when you first met in middle school, his charisma and infectious energy had drawn you in, and over the years, you had become inseparable. You shared laughter, tears, and countless late-night conversations. So when the sudden shift came—when he started pushing you away, his demeanor growing colder and more distant—it threw you into a whirlwind of confusion.

At first, you thought it was something you had done. Had you unknowingly said something to upset him? Or perhaps your busy schedule had pushed him to the background? The questions buzzed incessantly in your mind, but you couldn't find any answers. Each time you tried to reach out, he seemed to withdraw even further, leaving you feeling lost and adrift.

It was during one of those quiet evenings, when the moonlight streamed through your window, that you finally confronted him. You had just returned from a particularly painful day at school, your heart heavy with the weight of his cold shoulder, and the sight of him at the park, sitting alone on a bench, felt like a last straw.

"Toru," you said, your voice trembling slightly, "what's going on? Why have you been pushing me away? Did I do something wrong?"

He looked up at you, his eyes softening as if he was seeing you for the first time in weeks. He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair in frustration. The usual charm and confidence that he wore like a second skin seemed to be stripped away, revealing a vulnerability you rarely saw.

"I've been an idiot," he admitted, his voice low and rough. "I didn’t want to hurt you, but I didn’t know how to handle everything I was feeling. It’s like every time I’m with you, I want to spill everything out—everything I’ve been keeping inside—but it scares me. It’s so unnatural for me."

You listened, heart aching, as he continued. “You make me feel things I’ve never felt before, and I don’t know how to explain it. I thought if I distanced myself, it would be easier for both of us.”

You stared at him, processing his words. The silence that followed was thick with unspoken emotions, and the moonlight cast a gentle glow on his troubled face. Slowly, you approached him and took a seat beside him on the bench, your presence offering a silent comfort.

"So you don't hate me?" you asked softly, the fear of losing him gripping your heart.

He turned to look at you, his expression a mixture of relief and regret. "Hate you? I could never hate you," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "The way I’ve been acting, it’s because I care so much. It’s because you mean everything to me."

The tension between you seemed to melt away with his confession. You reached out, taking his hand in yours, feeling the warmth and the sincerity in his touch. His eyes searched yours, and for the first time in weeks, you saw the familiar spark of affection in them.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn’t mean to make you feel like you were the problem. I’ve just been struggling with my own feelings, and I didn’t know how to handle it."

You squeezed his hand gently, offering him a reassuring smile. "It’s okay, Toru. I just needed to know where we stood."

He nodded, his relief palpable. "Thank you for understanding. I promise I’ll work on this. I want to be better for you, and I don’t want to let my own fears ruin what we have."

The night continued with a renewed sense of closeness, the distance that had grown between you now replaced by the understanding and the warmth of a bond that had weathered the storm. As you sat there together, the moon casting its gentle light over you both, you knew that despite the struggles, you were still there for each other. And for the first time in a while, everything felt right again.

a/n RAHHHHHHH i don’t like this but here you go🙏😓

₊✩‧₊˚ 555 follower event ! ˚₊✩‧₊

main masterlist

[fayelero]

— HAIKYUU BOYS WHEN THEY WAKE UP NEXT TO YOU ! multiple

➥ pr : multiple x fem!reader

➥ syn : their reaction to waking up next to you.

➥ tw : fluff, none <3

➥ a/n : there there, a lil multiple for ya <3

The soft, early morning light filters gently into the room, casting a golden hue over everything it touches. The first thing he feels is the warmth of your body pressed against his, the heat radiating between the two of you making the cool air of the morning almost nonexistent. His arms are already wrapped around you, your body naturally nestled into his side, and for a moment, he doesn’t want to move—he doesn’t want to acknowledge that the world is waiting outside.

He slowly begins to wake, his eyes fluttering open just a sliver, not quite enough to make full sense of his surroundings. But enough to see you: soft, peaceful, tangled in the sheets beside him, your hair scattered across the pillow, and the steady rise and fall of your chest as you breathe in and out. It’s a sight that feels almost too perfect to be real, and for a second, he wonders if this is what paradise feels like.

The quiet sound of your breathing fills his ears, so soothing that it almost lulls him back to sleep. The urge to just stay here, to lose himself in the comfort of your presence, grows stronger with every passing second. His heart beats a little quicker, a little more tenderly, as he takes in the peaceful serenity of the moment. You look so content, so safe, so completely at home, and the thought that he gets to be the one who shares this space with you sends a rush of warmth through him.

He doesn’t want to wake you. He doesn’t want to ruin this perfect, calm bubble that exists just between the two of you. So, instead, he shifts, ever so gently, his chest tightening as he moves his face closer to yours. His lips brush against your forehead, soft and light, as though he’s trying to imprint the feeling of this moment into his memory forever. The kiss is brief, but meaningful—like a secret shared only between the two of you.

His hand moves automatically, threading through your hair, tucking a loose strand behind your ear, and his thumb softly traces the curve of your cheek as if to memorize the feeling of your skin under his touch. Every little action is a quiet declaration: he wants to be here with you. He wants to stay like this.

But reality calls. There’s practice to get to, responsibilities waiting outside this cocoon of warmth. He knows it. He can feel the weight of it, but the temptation to stay in this space, this private bubble where nothing matters except the two of you, is far too great. So he pulls you a little closer, his arms tightening around you, and closes his eyes again. He pretends to still be asleep, letting the steady rhythm of your breath against his chest lull him back into the haze of half-consciousness.

If he’s lucky, you’ll sleep just a little longer. If he’s lucky, he can stay here with you a little while more, wrapped up in the comfort of your warmth, the peaceful silence, and the simple joy of waking up next to you. For now, the world outside can wait.

USHIJIMA, ARAN, AKAASHI, ASAHI, KITA

He wakes up slowly, blinking against the soft morning light that filters through the curtains. For a moment, he’s still lost in the warmth of the blankets and the comfort of having you right there beside him. His arm is around you, your body tucked close, your head resting on his chest as you sleep soundly. Everything is perfect, so peaceful, and for a few seconds, he just lets himself relax in the moment, breathing in the familiar scent of you.

But then, his eyes flicker down, drawn to something he can’t ignore: the tiny trail of dried drool that’s escaped from the corner of your mouth, glistening faintly in the morning light. He freezes for a moment, unsure if he’s seeing things, but no, it’s definitely there. A little drool puddle, dried and stuck to your chin. It’s adorable in a way that makes his stomach flutter. The sight is so innocent, so human, and honestly, it’s the last thing he expected to see when he looked at you this morning.

He stifles a laugh at first, biting his lip to keep it quiet, but it’s no use. A low chuckle escapes him, followed by another, until he’s laughing freely, a sound that seems far too loud for this early hour. His whole body shakes with the laughter, his chest bouncing lightly beneath your head as you continue to sleep obliviously.

“Look at you,” he whispers, almost to himself, grinning like an idiot. “You’re so cute when you’re all… out of it.”

He reaches up, his fingers hovering near your face for a moment, tempted to gently wipe away the evidence of your dream-induced slip-up. But he doesn’t. Instead, he lets himself laugh again, louder this time, until it’s almost impossible to keep quiet. The sound of it fills the room, too bright and too carefree to be ignored.

The movement shakes you slightly, your breathing catching in a soft, confused sigh. A little groan slips from your lips as you slowly start to stir, your eyes fluttering open. You blink sleepily, still half-lost in the haze of sleep, and your gaze meets his—still smiling, still amused—and that’s when you feel it. The cold, sticky patch on your chin.

Your hand instinctively shoots up to touch your face, and when you feel the dried drool, your cheeks burn with embarrassment. “Did I…?” you start to ask, but before you can finish, he’s laughing again, louder now, unable to hold back the amusement in his voice.

“Yup,” he says, his voice full of teasing affection. “You were out cold. Drooling all over the place.” His grin is wide, almost mischievous, but there’s a softness in his eyes that makes it clear he’s not teasing you to be mean—he just thinks it’s the most endearing thing he’s ever seen.

You’re still half asleep, blinking at him with the kind of dazed confusion that only a morning hangover of sleep can give. His laughter is warm, infectious, and even though you’re mortified, you can’t help but smile at the way he’s looking at you. The playful gleam in his eyes makes it impossible to stay upset.

“Oh my God, are you serious?” you groan, trying to wipe your face with the back of your hand, but it’s no use. You can already tell you’re too late.

“Yeah, I’m serious.” He leans in closer, his eyes twinkling. “It’s honestly kind of cute, though. You’re just too adorable when you’re all zoned out. I mean, look at you.” He chuckles again, brushing a strand of hair out of your face like he can’t resist getting closer.

You groan and hide your face in your pillow, half wanting to bury yourself completely to escape the embarrassment, but at the same time, his laugh makes you feel warm inside. The sound of his joy—his pure, unfiltered amusement—suddenly makes you realize that this moment, awkward as it is, is something special. It’s the kind of goofy, intimate moment that only happens when you’re truly comfortable with someone.

“Don’t laugh at me,” you mumble into the pillow, though it’s clear your voice is fighting off a smile.

“I’m not laughing at you,” he says, his voice softer now, teasing but still affectionate. “I’m laughing with you. You’re just too cute when you’re not paying attention. Honestly, I wish I had a camera.” He lets out another chuckle, but it’s not as loud this time—more like a quiet, lingering smile.

You finally lift your head from the pillow, cheeks flushed but eyes bright, despite the embarrassment. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible to resist,” he retorts with a wink, his hand now brushing against yours as he gently pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as if to make up for teasing you. It’s a small, sweet gesture that somehow makes everything feel right again.

You can’t help but laugh with him, despite yourself. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you mutter, before burying your face against his chest to hide the rest of your shy smile.

And as the two of you settle back into each other, the room filled with soft laughter and quiet moments, it becomes clear: even the embarrassing moments are the ones that make waking up next to him unforgettable.

ATSUMU, NISHINOYA, HINATA, KOMORI

The soft light of morning fills the room, gentle and warm, casting a peaceful glow over the two of you. You stir slightly, your body still nestled close to his, the quiet sound of your breath the only noise in the room. The world outside seems far away, like it’s not ready to intrude on the little bubble of warmth you’ve created together.

He wakes up slowly, his gaze falling on you, your face relaxed in sleep, hair spread across the pillow. Your breath is steady, the rise and fall of your chest calming him in a way he can’t quite describe. His heart feels lighter when you’re near, and in this moment, with you wrapped in his arms, the world feels perfectly in place.

For a moment, he just watches you, tracing the soft lines of your face as you remain blissfully unaware. His fingers rest gently on your arm, his thumb absentmindedly brushing over your skin as he smiles to himself, quietly, without making a sound. His chest tightens in the most beautiful way—a mixture of love, tenderness, and admiration he can’t quite put into words.

He can’t help it; he needs to say something. It’s an overwhelming feeling that rises up in his chest, and he has to share it, even if it’s just a whisper, even if it’s just between the two of you.

With a slow, careful motion, he shifts, drawing you closer to him until your head is resting even more firmly against his chest. He lets out a soft breath, his arms tightening around you in the most protective, loving way. His fingers brush through your hair, tucking it behind your ear with a gentleness that speaks to his deep care for you.

“Hey,” he murmurs softly, his voice low and full of warmth. It’s a whisper meant only for you, one that dances between the stillness of the room. “I love waking up like this. With you. So close, so peaceful.” He lets the words hang in the air for a moment, taking in the feeling of having you near. His chest rises and falls slowly, his heartbeat steady against your ear.

He smiles down at you, pressing his lips to your forehead in a soft, lingering kiss. “I adore you,” he whispers, his voice soft but full of so much emotion. “Everything about you. How you make me feel. How you just are.” His words are a quiet promise, the kind that only holds weight in the quiet moments of the morning when nothing else matters but the two of you.

He pauses for a moment, his hand tracing the curve of your jaw as he speaks again, his voice barely above a whisper but carrying all the sincerity in the world. “I never thought I could love someone this much. But here I am, falling deeper every day, every second spent with you.”

His words are like a melody, sweet and soothing, and they sink into your heart in a way that makes you feel entirely adored. You can feel the tenderness in his touch, in the way he holds you close as though he wants to keep you this way forever. Your heart races just a little, not from anything he’s doing, but from how deeply his affection resonates with you.

He presses his cheek gently against the top of your head, his arms wrapped tighter around you now, holding you as though you’re the most precious thing in the world. “I don’t ever want to let you go,” he whispers, his voice thick with the weight of how much you mean to him. “You make everything better. My whole world is brighter because of you.”

You don’t have to say anything; the feeling is mutual. In the warmth of his embrace, you feel safe, loved, and utterly adored. You can’t help but smile softly, nuzzling closer into him, your own fingers trailing up his chest to rest near his heart, as if to tell him you feel the same way.

His lips graze the top of your head again in another sweet, lingering kiss, before he gently whispers one last thing: “You’re everything to me. Don’t ever forget that.”

And in that moment, with the quiet serenity of morning surrounding you both, you feel it—a love so pure and deep, wrapped up in every whisper, every touch, every tender word. You know, without a doubt, that there’s nowhere else you’d rather be than right here, in his arms, as he holds you close to his heart.

DAICHI, KUROO, IWAIZUMI, TERUSHIMA, BOKUTO

The morning sunlight seeps through the curtains, gently bathing the room in a soft, golden glow. The air is warm and still, the quiet of the early hours wrapping around the two of you in a comforting embrace. He stirs awake, still half-dreaming, but immediately notices something strange. Something that feels a little… off.

At first, it’s just a subtle shift—a tightness around his body that he can’t quite place. He blinks, his eyes still hazy with sleep, and that’s when he feels it: your arms and legs are practically entwined around him. Your face is buried in his chest, but your body is draped over him like a sloth attached to its tree—limbs wrapped around him in a way that makes it almost impossible for him to move.

His first instinct is a small, startled breath as he feels the weight of you clinging to him, not entirely expecting it. He’d never really thought of himself as someone who would get trapped in someone else’s sleep embrace, but here he is, caught like a helpless prey. You’re heavy, warm, and—honestly—so close that it’s a little overwhelming. He tries to move, but your grip is like iron. He’s caught, held in place by your limbs as if you were a sleepy, affectionate koala.

“…Uh, okay,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible, his face scrunching in confusion. He shifts just slightly, trying to free his arm, but the more he moves, the more you seem to cling to him. He blinks, unsure whether he should laugh or freak out—this is definitely not how he imagined waking up today.

“Seriously?” he whispers, trying to move again, but your body only tightens in response. You’re out cold, not a care in the world, but for him, this feels like an unspoken challenge. How is he supposed to get up now? How does someone even get out of this?

For a moment, he wonders how long you’ve been like this. Has this been going on all night? He doesn’t even remember falling asleep this way. It’s definitely one of those moments where he realizes that he’s completely at your mercy, and you’re entirely unaware of the hold you have over him.

He lets out a quiet sigh, unsure of whether to laugh or cry, but before he can even fully process it, something happens. You shift in your sleep, a soft groan escaping your lips as you begin to wake. You blink, your eyes fluttering open slowly as the haze of sleep fades.

And then, just like that, the whole situation changes.

As you stretch slightly, your sleepy face turns up to meet his gaze, still disoriented and half-asleep. For a moment, you blink up at him in confusion, like you’re trying to make sense of why your arms and legs seem to have taken on a life of their own.

But then, that sleepy smile forms on your lips, your eyes still a little hazy, and it hits him. You’re so cute when you wake up—just like this, all tangled up and trying to figure out what’s going on. The adorableness of it makes him forget about the discomfort from before, and he feels a warmth spread through his chest, a quiet affection blooming in his heart.

“Morning…” you mumble, your voice still thick with sleep. Your fingers lazily brush his chest as if you’re still trying to make sense of where you are. And then, your eyes widen slightly, realizing how close you’re clinging to him, how wrapped up you’ve gotten around him.

“Oh,” you say softly, blinking up at him with the cutest, sheepish smile. “Sorry… didn’t mean to, uh, trap you.”

His initial awkwardness fades completely, and now, he’s laughing softly, almost shyly, as you still cling to him like a sleepy koala. He looks down at you, the corners of his lips lifting into a soft, affectionate smile. You’re still holding onto him, but it’s not the discomforting sensation it was before—it’s just… cute. It’s just you in your sleepy, adorable way.

“Yeah, you’ve got quite a grip there,” he teases gently, his voice warm with affection. He’s still chuckling, but his tone is more tender now, the smile on his face never quite fading. “You almost had me trapped there for a second.”

You blink, still a little groggy, and then you smile back at him, the kind of smile that makes his heart flutter a little. “I’m really sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking,” you murmur, a small blush creeping across your cheeks as you try to unwind yourself from around him.

He gently places a hand on your back, guiding you a little, but his fingers linger there, warm and reassuring. “It’s okay,” he whispers, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the top of your head, your hair messy from sleep. “I don’t mind. You’re just… too cute to be upset with.”

And just like that, the awkwardness is gone. The tension of trying to break free from your grip melts away, and all he feels now is a soft, tender affection for you. You’re his sleepy little sloth, and somehow, that makes him fall for you even more.

As you finally loosen your grip, and you both settle back into a comfortable position, he smiles to himself, holding you close again. “But next time,” he whispers, his voice low and playful, “maybe don’t try to suffocate me in my sleep, okay?”

You giggle softly, your eyes twinkling with a touch of mischief. “I’ll try,” you say, but you both know you’re still going to cling to him, maybe just a little tighter next time.

And he won’t mind one bit.

SAKUSA, TSUKISHIMA, KENMA, KAGEYAMA, KUNIMI

The soft warmth of the morning light brushes across the room, filling the space with a comforting glow. His eyes flutter open, the remnants of sleep still clinging to him. The first thing he notices is you, peacefully curled up beside him, your face nestled against his chest as you softly breathe in and out. You’re so close, so perfectly close, and for a moment, he just lies there, staring at you, completely still.

His heart swells with a quiet appreciation, an overwhelming feeling of gratitude. He’s always had a sense of pride in the things he’s accomplished, but nothing compares to the humbling reality that you’re here with him. That you chose him. He still doesn’t fully understand how he got so lucky, how someone as incredible as you could love him so completely, but he knows one thing for sure—he never wants to take that for granted.

He lets out a slow, contented breath, his gaze never leaving your peaceful face. Your hair falls in soft waves around your shoulders, and the way you look so effortlessly serene next to him makes his chest ache with affection. In that quiet moment, a deep realization settles in his heart: he is beyond fortunate to be loved by you.

A small, soft smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he carefully shifts, trying not to disturb you. He doesn’t want to leave this moment just yet, but a thought lingers in his mind—you deserve something special today. You’ve shown him so much love, and even the smallest act of appreciation feels like the right thing to do.

Slowly, he lifts his arm from around you, carefully extricating himself from your grasp without waking you. His movements are gentle, deliberate, as if he’s afraid that making any noise might shatter the quiet beauty of the morning. He stands up quietly, careful not to disturb the peace that surrounds you. His feet move across the floor to the kitchen with a quiet purpose, the weight of his appreciation for you still lingering in every step.

The kitchen is warm, and as he starts to gather ingredients for breakfast, a sense of joy settles over him. He’s not the world’s greatest cook, but today, that doesn’t matter. He’s determined to make something just for you, something that shows you how much you mean to him. Eggs, toast, maybe a bit of fruit—nothing extravagant, but everything he prepares is filled with love.

As he cracks the eggs into the pan, he can’t help but smile to himself. The sound of sizzling fills the space, and he takes a deep breath, inhaling the simple, comforting scent. His mind drifts back to moments shared with you: the way you laugh when you’re happy, the way your eyes light up when you talk about something you love, the soft way you cling to him in your sleep. You’ve made his life infinitely brighter, and he knows he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you feel just as cherished in return.

The food begins to take shape, and he adds the final touches—a little sprinkle of seasoning here, a touch of butter there. He’s focused, making sure everything is just right. He can’t help but feel a sense of pride in this moment, even if it’s something as simple as breakfast. It’s not about the food itself; it’s about the love he’s putting into it.

As he plates the meal, he takes one last look around the kitchen, then heads back to the bedroom with the tray in hand. His heart beats a little faster as he approaches the bed, the tray gently placed in front of you, who is still sound asleep, looking like the most peaceful thing he’s ever seen. He stands there for a moment, watching you, feeling a rush of emotion.

You stir, slowly waking up to the smell of food. Your eyes flutter open, and for a moment, you blink, trying to adjust to the morning light. When your gaze finally lands on him, a sleepy smile tugs at your lips.

“Good morning,” you murmur, your voice soft and warm with sleep. “What’s all this?” You sit up slightly, your eyes widening in pleasant surprise when you see the breakfast he’s made for you.

He smiles, his heart swelling with happiness. “Good morning,” he says, his voice full of affection. “I thought you deserved something special today. You know, just… a little way of showing you how much you mean to me.”

You blink up at him in surprise, the genuine sincerity in his words taking a moment to settle in. His gaze softens, filled with the unspoken truth of how much he loves you. “I’m so lucky to have you,” he adds quietly, his voice tender. “I know I don’t always say it, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fully express how much I appreciate you… for everything.”

The quiet sincerity in his words touches something deep inside you. You feel a warmth in your chest that mirrors his, your eyes softening as you meet his gaze. It’s rare, these quiet moments between the two of you—moments where the world slows down, where it’s just you and him, wrapped in the simple, profound bond you share.

You reach out for the tray, the gesture almost instinctive as you try to express your own gratitude in return. “You don’t have to do this,” you say with a soft smile, even as you take a bite of the food he’s so carefully prepared for you. “But thank you, really… this is perfect.”

The moment you take your first bite, his face lights up with a little, sheepish grin. “I wasn’t sure if it would turn out right,” he admits, but the joy in his eyes says everything.

You reach out, gently taking his hand, your fingers intertwining with his. “It’s perfect because it’s from you.”

He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a moment as he pulls you a little closer. “I’ll always do whatever I can to make you feel loved,” he whispers.

And in that moment, everything feels right. The quiet morning, the warmth of the food, and the love between you both—it’s enough to make him feel like the luckiest person alive. Because as long as he has you, he knows there’s nothing he could ever want more.

YAMAGUCHI, OSAMU, SEMI, TANAKA, FUKUNAGA

The soft, golden light of early morning filters into the room, the warmth of the sun spilling gently across the bed. You’re still sound asleep, your chest rising and falling with each peaceful breath. The quiet hum of the morning settles around you both, but your partner isn’t quite as relaxed. In fact, his eyes gleam with a mischievous twinkle, and the glint of an idea forms in his mind—a plan he simply can’t resist.

As you lie there, blissfully unaware of his devious intentions, he reaches for his phone with a quiet grin. The excitement of this “perfect opportunity” is too good to pass up. He knows he won’t get another chance like this, and the thought of embarrassing you later with these precious, unguarded photos is enough to make his heart race with playful anticipation.

With as much stealth as he can muster, he slowly leans over, holding his phone in position. He angles the camera just right, focusing on your face—your hair a mess, strands sticking out in all directions like a bird’s nest, and your features relaxed, still trapped in the haze of sleep. Your mouth is slightly open, a drool stain barely noticeable on your cheek. He bites his lip to stifle his laughter, his finger hovering over the button to take the perfect shot.

Click.

A photo.

You stir slightly in your sleep, but you’re still far too deep in dreamland to notice his evil plotting. He snaps another, just to make sure the first one wasn’t a fluke. There’s something about the chaos of your hair, the cute little snoring noises you make, and the utter disarray of your sleepy form that’s so endearing, it’s almost too much to handle.

Another click.

His smile grows even wider as he moves to get even more shots from different angles. You’re completely unaware of the camera flashing, your face a masterpiece of messy bedhead, and he’s getting the best material for future gaslighting purposes. The thought of teasing you relentlessly later, showing you just how ridiculous you look in the mornings, makes him feel both victorious and a little guilty.

But mostly victorious.

Finally, after what feels like a dozen photos, he decides he’s gotten enough “evidence” for later. With a satisfied grin, he gently sets the phone down beside the bed and leans back against the pillows, content with his devious little game. He knows the storm that’s about to come once you wake up and realize what he’s done.

As if on cue, you start to stir. Your eyes flutter open, blinking against the soft light of the morning as the haze of sleep begins to lift. Your gaze drifts to the side, and you’re greeted by the sight of your phone sitting innocently on the bed next to you, the screen glowing with a picture of—you. Your bedhead. Your drool-stained face. The mess that is your hair.

You groan, a deep, disgruntled sound as your hand instinctively reaches for your phone. “What the heck…” you murmur, still half-asleep. You frown at the screen, your eyes widening as you see what’s been captured.

“Did you seriously—” you begin, sitting up quickly, your messy hair flopping in all directions, as you glare at him with sleepy but fiery eyes. He’s sitting there, trying his hardest to look innocent, but there’s a smug little smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“What?” he feigns, his voice dripping with feigned innocence. “You look cute.” He chuckles under his breath, clearly enjoying the moment.

You scoff, swiping the phone and checking the gallery. It’s worse than you thought—there are multiple pictures. Multiple. And of course, they all feature the absolute worst moments of your sleepy self. You can feel your face heating up in embarrassment, and before you can even think about it, you whip your head back around, narrowing your eyes at him.

“You… took pictures of me in my sleep?” you ask, your tone half-laughing, half-scolding. “What the hell is wrong with you? I look like a literal disaster!”

He raises his hands in mock surrender, his laughter now spilling out uncontrollably. “What? I had to capture your natural beauty. You’re just too perfect, and I had to preserve the moment.”

Your eyes roll so hard it’s almost comical. “I swear to god, when I get my hands on you…” You lunge forward, grabbing the pillow next to you and swinging it at him with all your might.

He dodges with a laugh, leaning back and holding up his hands as if to protect himself. “Okay, okay! It’s not my fault you’re so photogenic when you sleep!”

You scoff again, but this time you can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of your lips. The situation is ridiculous, and while you’re annoyed, the sight of him laughing, the playful gleam in his eyes, makes it hard to stay mad at him for long. You know he’s doing it because he loves you, and that, in itself, is both sweet and aggravating at the same time.

“I’m deleting all of these,” you mutter, swiping through the phone to erase the photos he so proudly took. “And if you ever try this again, I’m going to—”

But before you can finish your threat, he’s already launched into action, grabbing your wrist and pulling you back onto the bed, his arms wrapping around you tightly to keep you from grabbing the phone. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he says between bursts of laughter. “I’ll never take pictures of you again! Promise!”

You’re both tangled in a playful wrestling match on the bed now, his arms tight around you, laughing together as you squirm and try to get the phone back. He’s winning, of course—he always does—but as you both collapse against the pillows, breathless and still chuckling, you can’t help but feel content. This silly, chaotic fight is just one of the many things you love about your relationship.

And even though you swear you’re going to get him back one day, for now, you’re happy just being in this moment with him—ridiculous bedhead, terrible pictures, and all.

OIKAWA, SUNA, SUGAWARA, YAKU, SATORI

The room is still quiet, the soft morning light filtering through the curtains as the world outside begins to stir. The air is warm, and the only sounds are the gentle hum of the house and the peaceful breathing of the two of you. But something isn’t quite right. The bed is empty on one side, and there’s a slight disturbance in the blankets—no longer tangled around you both like they were just moments ago.

You’re still deep in sleep, completely unaware of the shift in the night. But for him? He’s just waking up, groggily blinking his eyes open. The familiar warmth of the bed is gone, and the soft comfort he’s grown so accustomed to next to you is nowhere to be found. Confused, he stretches, reaching for the sheets, but instead of feeling your soft body beside him, he’s met with—nothing.

He blinks again, still not entirely awake, his hand reaching out for any sign of you. And that’s when he feels it. The cold floor beneath him. He groans, realizing he’s lying on his back in a very not comfortable position. His body is stiff, his face already scrunching in disbelief as he starts to take in the situation: he’s on the floor, and not just any floor—your floor.

The realization hits him all at once. You kicked him off the bed.

A flash of memory comes to him from the previous night: a quiet shift in your sleep, the way you had turned and tossed a little before it happened. He remembers the sudden, unprovoked shove of your foot in his side. At first, he thought it was just a fluke, a gentle nudge in your sleep. But that turned into a full-blown push, sending him off the edge of the bed and onto the floor. Mid-sleep.

He lies there for a few moments, contemplating the absurdity of the situation, his brain still half in dreamland. He could’ve sworn he was just fine a few minutes ago. He could’ve sworn the bed was warm and cozy. But no. He’s here, on the floor, in the most undignified position possible. The worst part? You’re still sound asleep, completely unaware of the little disaster you caused in your sleep.

Fighting the urge to laugh (and maybe scream), he finally decides he’s had enough. It’s time to wake you up and let you know what you’ve done to him. But of course, he’s not going to make it easy. He rolls onto his side, groaning dramatically as he slowly drags himself up onto his knees. There’s a smirk on his face now. The playful look in his eyes is already there, ready to stir the pot.

With a deep breath, he stands up and inches closer to the bed, careful not to make a sound. You’re lying there so peacefully, all curled up under the covers, completely oblivious to the chaos you caused. He watches you for a moment, enjoying the softness of your expression, and then with a mischievous grin, he decides to go for it.

He bends down next to the bed and taps you lightly on the shoulder, his voice suddenly low and dramatic. “Hey,” he says, his tone feigning irritation, “did you, by any chance, happen to kick me off the bed last night?”

You stir slightly, a small groan escaping your lips as you begin to wake up. Your eyes slowly flutter open, still bleary from sleep. You blink a few times, the haze of slumber clinging to your senses. And then, you see him. Standing next to the bed, looking at you with mock indignation, arms crossed over his chest.

And then you realize—he’s on the floor.

Your eyes widen slightly, and you squint as you process what’s happening. The confusion fades quickly, replaced with realization—and then the laughter begins. You can’t help it. It’s like a switch flips inside you. The sight of him—your partner, the one who you know to be tough and capable—laying on the floor like an absolute mess, his hair ruffled and his face scrunched in a way that is just too hilarious, makes you lose it.

You sit up in bed, a loud laugh bubbling up from your chest as you clutch your stomach. “Oh my god,” you say between gasps for air, your voice practically cracking from how hard you’re laughing. “I kicked you off the bed?!”

He stands there, trying to maintain his serious expression, but it’s impossible. His face softens, and a little chuckle escapes his lips as he watches you dissolve into giggles. But he’s not done with his act. He crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes. “Yes, you did. And I have the bruises to prove it,” he says, though the effect is completely ruined by the smile that tugs at the corner of his lips.

You only laugh harder, and honestly, he can’t help but laugh too. The way you’re trying to hold it together, your face scrunching up in between laughs, makes everything so much more ridiculous.

You snort between your giggles, wiping a tear from your eye as you hold onto the blanket. “I’m so sorry,” you manage to say, but your laughter doesn’t stop. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t know I kicked you that hard!”

“You didn’t just kick me,” he says, finally letting his playful act slip. “You launched me off the bed. I was minding my own business, trying to get some good sleep, and boom—suddenly, floor.”

You’re laughing so hard now, you can barely breathe. The absurdity of it all is too much for you to handle. The image of him on the floor, looking all disgruntled and confused, just makes everything so much funnier. You lean over the edge of the bed, your face flushed from laughter, and reach out to tug at his arm playfully. “I can’t believe I did that!” you say, still laughing, though there’s a hint of guilt in your voice. “You’re lucky you didn’t break something, you goofball.”

He rolls his eyes, though he’s still grinning. “Lucky?” he repeats, raising an eyebrow. “I think I deserve compensation for this kind of behavior.”

You look at him, still in a fit of giggles, and then an idea strikes. With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you scoot to the edge of the bed and lean down with a teasing grin. “How about I make it up to you with snuggles and breakfast?” you offer, your voice dripping with sweetness.

He narrows his eyes playfully, considering it for a moment before shrugging. “Fine, I suppose that’s acceptable,” he says, finally giving in. But as he climbs back onto the bed, you can see him trying to suppress his own smile, the last traces of your laughter still lingering in the air between you both.

As you snuggle close, he drapes an arm around you, still shaking his head in disbelief, but the warmth between you both is undeniable. “I’ll get you back for this, you know,” he says with a grin.

“You can try,” you tease, your voice light and carefree.

And as you both lay there together, still smiling, you know this is one of those mornings you’ll both laugh about for years to come—when you kicked him off the bed, and he was the most adorable angry person on the floor.

HOSHIUMI, LEV, GOSHIKI, KOGANEGAWA, DAISHOU

Ⓒkiesbrainjuice all rights reserved. please to not plagiarize, repost, or translate !

tag : @haechansbbg

[takes1]

newest drop was fire bro🙌🔥🔥🔥

oikawa crushing on quiet!reader

ts made me smile. much appreciated ❤️ no smut this time; i'm getting smut fatigue. needed a short palette cleanser. thinking about doing some short form stuff while i work through the pre-january requests.

warnings. none, sfw

details. fem!reader / fluffy, feel-good fic / quiet!reader / oikawa crushing / 'weird'!reader / nerd x popular trope / oikawa is obsessed with you / based off of the 'hi wayne/bye wayne' audio / whipped!oikawa / iwa being a good person / 800 words

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3.

"Hi, Tohru," You said, just as you did every day, to turn in your homework to the teacher's desk.

Oikawa was leaning forward, engaged in finishing a hushed story with Iwazumi. But your light, airy tone -void of any old, tired motive- took precedence with no further thought.

"-And then he was-- Hi, (Y/n)."

He perked up in many ways, just in time for you to walk by his desk again. Eyes wider, an uncontrollable smile brightening his former, serious expression- his brow softer, as he twisted to watch you return to your seat.

It was unclear why you felt comfortable enough to be on a first-name basis. Oikawa didn't mind. It distinguished you, like many things did, from the girls who only spoke to him because they were after something.

"The fuck was that?" Iwa searched his expression, finding some kind of emotion, or thought pattern at the very least, that he had never seen on his friend before.

Oikawa turned back around, confused, but not defensive.

"What?"

"That," Iwa asserted, shortly before he was called to face forward. He muttered, under his breath, "-That look on your face."

Oikawa was left to figure it out, a hint of effort on his brow, for the remainder of class.

Lunch eventually came around. He was still feeling different, and wasn't sure if it was what Iwa pointed out, or not.

In the process of standing to grab his lunch from his bag, and go eat outside like he usually did with his friend, he caught a quick glimpse of you. You were folding another addition to the row of tiny, paper cranes on your desk.

"C'mon," Iwa shouldered his bag.

Oikawa took a step, but lingered a moment longer.

You were sitting alone, but you didn't look sad about it. The seat in front of you was empty.

He filled it, despite Iwa's quiet protests, and sat backwards to watch you. The bench they usually chose to sit at sucked, because it was regularly bombarded with people he didn't know, all trying to talk to him. He usually never got to eat his lunch.

"Hi Tohru," You smiled, choosing not to look at him, in order to focus on your craft.

His reply was a fond sigh, "Hi, (Y/n)."

From here, he had the privilege of finally getting a good look at your face.

There was a sort of mild, unbothered, pleasantness to you. You weren't worried about anything else. You didn't give a damn that he was here, much less that he couldn't take his eyes off of you.

Iwa flicked him, hard, in the back of the head. It was after he shot back upright, rubbing the sore spot, that he realized he had been leaning slowly forward.

"Don't be a dick," Iwa muttered.

The assumption was such a leap in logic that Oikawa had no idea what he meant. You added another crane, that tiny, permanent smile on your pretty face.

He ignored him. Instead, he opted to try talking to you for the first time, "Um- are you going to eat your lunch?"

Still not looking at him, you were tearing off another page-- "I forgot it."

Again, you didn't seem like you minded such a dismal thing. Without much further thought, he grabbed his and set it in your workspace.

This was the only time you would look up at him.

A shudder wracked down his spine, rendering his voice a bit weak, "Yo-u can have mine."

There was some consideration in your eyes, before you pushed it back towards him, and refocused on your paper, "No. You need to eat. Aren't you playing a big match, soon?"

The way you asked made it seem like you weren't looking for an answer.

"Uh-," He did you the liberty of freeing up your desk space again, lunch box in his clammy hands, "Yeah- yeah, we are."

Iwa was getting tired of standing- you heard him shift his weight and sigh. He was still under the assumption that Oikawa was trying to flirt for some useless, and cruel joke.

"You can sit there," You motioned to the desk next to Oikawa.

His inflection was stilted, and his cadence was slow as he, hesitantly, took a seat.

"Thanks..."

It was quiet for a while, aside from the other students chatting from further back in the classroom. Iwa watched his friend face forward and eat slowly, slouched at the shoulders. It was an unusual sight.

Gradually, it dawned on him that this superficial pretty boy -in a rare, natural phenomenon- held a deeply genuine and innocent crush.

When they got up at the ring of the next bell, you were about 20 cranes deep. Oikawa left you, with another wistful stare, to head back to his seat. Though he loved how you didn't need to fill the silence, he wished he could make more conversation with you.

The classroom began filling up again, getting louder, and crowded for the next subject.

He was flitting his pencil between his sluggish fingers, a frown deep and heavy against his knuckles, when you came into view once more.

Another precious moment of hopeful, heart-pounding glee.

You placed a crane on his desk, then straightened it up, "Bye, Tohru."

This time, you waited long enough for him to properly respond, dawning that uncontrollable grin again, "Bye, (Y/n)."

☆VIP☆

@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco

my masterlist. more haikyuu

[taintedtort]

you should TOTALLY make a part 3 too "wiping off their kisses" with kuroo, bokuto, and oikawa 🥰

" WIPING KISSES! "

summary. wiping their kisses off pt3

characters. kuroo, bokuto, oikawa

warnings. gn!reader, none!

a/n. omg you guys love this prompt lol (me too) also. i dont think i’ve ever written for oikawa ?? (links to pt1 and pt2)

KUROO

☆ he sort of already knew you were up to something because he knows you better than anyone. he tends to kiss your brow bone or your temples, and this time was no different. what was different was when your fingers came up to wipe at your brow. he looks at you with expectant eyes, and he can see the way you’re trying not to smile. your lack of poker face gives you away, and he lets out a snicker before just kissing you again.

"nice try."

BOKUTO

☆ kisses you practically everywhere on your face, but mostly your lips. now, in your defense, bokuto can get overly excited and his kisses can get a bit sloppy. however, you try to make sure he isn’t looking when you wipe off any excess wet marks he left. this time though, you wanted to see his reaction, so you wiped your lips off right in front of his face. it’s almost funny how quickly his expression drops into a frown, and he’s immediately holding onto your shoulders with a pout. he rapid fire questions you, and you don’t want him to get into a mood, so you end up just kissing him again. he lights right back up, so no harm done.

"what’s wrong? are you okay? did i do something wrong? why did you wipe it off??" (all in one breath)

OIKAWA

☆ he'd probably play the same prank, so he can’t be too mad at you. just very dramatic, though he’s only messing with you because he knows you’re messing with him. he didn’t expect you to wipe off the kiss he planted to your cheek, and he honestly didn’t even know you were joking with him at first. his initial instinct was to tease you, even if you just wiped it off absentmindedly. you roll your eyes at him before giving him a kiss on the cheek too, which he obviously wipes off as well. you both end up being petty for the next few kisses and wiping each others away before he gives in and smothers you with a flurry of pecks.

"you must hate me."

[izuqi]

pure hatred was almost the right word to describe you and oikawa's relationship. no matter how much you guys 'hated' each other, the sex was too good to ever leave him alone.

"fuck- you oikawa." you hissed, sinking down onto his length. the feeling is so heavenly, oikawa wishes you two could just get along for once, but, obviously not. "yeah yeah i know, just shut up." he breathes out, throwing his head back into the headrest. fuck, it's so messed up that someone who hates you sosososo much, and vice versa can make you feel so fucking good. the feeling is ethereal, the feeling of his cock dragging in and out of cunt shouldn't even be possible, it's like his cock was made for you. it makes you wish it was literally anyone else you had this weird chemistry with.

the feeling is addicting. desperate for more of him, you roll your hips harder against his. "fuck y/n." he groans. he slightly scoots down in the seat and gets a better grip on your ass so his hips can meet yours halfway. the pleasure is unreal. "ah-oikawa, mhm, your cock is so good— feels s'good." you can hear him chuckle alittle before picking up his pace, going deeper.

literally there is nothing else in your head except for the feeling of the plunging of his cock inside of you.

he's fucking you dumb, so dumb. you can't even think of a reason to hate him right now.