#tsukki imagines

[lookingforlia]

Tsukishima x reader

Fluff , comfort

Tsukki having a crush on you, jealous tsukishima.

Your best friend Kuro's steps halt's for a moment when he spots you just going on another day , getting lunch on a random bench around the campus. Lost in your own thoughts and eyes stuck on the notebook sitting Infront of you.

"well hi there. " He says casually jogging towards you . Your return the greeting with a soft smile.

It doesn't escape the boy sitting beside you you're sharing earphones with. Even Kuroo sweats the way Tsukishima's eyes snaps up at him . You don't even have to look at him to know exact same what salty expression he's giving for Kuro to suddenly be so nervous . He thinks you have no clue . But ow you do.

But how can he not. You guys were having a moment. Cutesy love songs playing in his phone , from the playlist he specially made for you. But now he can't tell you that can he.

He sits giving Kuro dilivering the same salty expression until the poor boy gets uncomfortable enough to call ends to the smalltalk he put up with you and walks away with excuses of club activities .

He sighs out loud , not hiding from you his distaste for the boy . But ow you know . He thinks you don't , but he's bad at lying when you get to know him.

"why did you have to do that ?"

"do what ?"

"scare him off. "

He scoffs at the interrogation . He knows he can't lie to you . He doesn't want to , but he has to mask it with something. Because there's no way he would let that be . "why is he your type ?"

"Nope ." You answer without delays.

"what's your type then ? Brunettes? Mussles ? "

You smile at him for a second before replying. "Nope , I like tall blonds with brown eyes. "

The effect of the words is very visible. Tsukishima's face goes bright red eyes widening comically . And he turns his head away to stare at his phone . He doesn't say other word until the break is over. But he doesn't have to. You already know.

Tsukishima likes you too.

[solvisun]

011925. cw | slightly suggestive (?) i hate him (affectionate)

if tsukishima kei learns the full extent of you losing your mind over the minuscule of things with everything he does,

babe, you’re done for.

if he learns that removing his glasses while kissing you makes your stomach do saumersaults, or when he fixes your clothes casually; smoothing down your skirt or adjusting your shirt, hand on your waist. or when he cups your face and squeezes both of your cheeks together, when it shows that he loves the physical touch in ways that feel crude if you say it aloud. in ways that no one else can speak about, makes you so mushy with him. to the point that it makes you sick, head throbbing.

if he learns that you find his jealousy kind of attractive, all cutting and ruthless, snappy. that you're totally not weak in the knees. if he learns that whenever he leans in whenever you speak is the cause of why you feel flustered, when he hums softly in question, tilting his head, or when he just hook you in his arms to get closer.

god. he will take absolute pleasure in pushing those buttons even more—actually, he’d press them with the precision of someone who knows exactly how far he can go to leave you reeling, all while pretending it’s no big deal.

and this is exactly what happens, as expected, but no less frustrated.

when he realizes how much removing his glasses during a kiss messes you up, he’d start doing it slow and methodical, taking his time to set them aside while giving you that piercing look, like he knows exactly what’s coming next. “what, nervous?” he’d ask, leaning in just a fraction, his tone laced with mockery, but his lips soft when they finally meet yours.

those casual touches? forget it. his hands—though he would ask first—roam your body and let them linger around your waist dangerously longer than necessary, you're not making it up now, you know you feel the slight squeezes his does on your skin, letting his fingers graze, just enough to send shivers down your spine.

when he holds your face in one hand, there’s something about how his thumb lingers near your jawline or how he leans in just a little too close. it’s playful, sure, but there’s a tenderness beneath it that leaves you spinning. because he knows. he knows all too well.

it's game over when he finally does this—one arm braced above your head, his whole figure towering over you, casting a shadow which makes him look ten times more insufferable. you cannot breathe.

his lips hover just shy of yours, so close you can feel the warmth of his breath. “do i really make you that nervous?”

"fuck off."

"really? that’s all you’ve got? how original.”

“kei, i swear to—” you start, but the words catch in your throat as his thumb brushes the curve of your jaw, the touch barely there but devastating all the same.

“what? gonna tell me to stop?” the glint in his eyes turns playful, pupils dilated, “you’re all talk, aren’t you?”

your hands twitch at your sides, torn between shoving him away and pulling him closer. “i hate you,” you hiss, but it lacks any real bite.

“sure you do,” he says, his tone dripping with mockery, and then—because of course he does—he closes the infinitesimal gap between you, his lips brushing against yours with infuriating slowness.

he kisses you chastely. it feels so wrong with how he already built so much tension. that this all just a stupid game he can easily control.

there’s a distinct edge of smugness to it, like he’s savoring every second of your undoing. when he pulls back just slightly, his forehead resting against yours, the smirk is still there, lingering at the corners of his mouth.

“still want me to fuck off?” he asks, though he already knows the answer to it.

you can only scoff and roughly smack your lips against his in a solid, and very straightforward reply. your heart pounding so loudly it drowns out everything else.

he relents to you just as easily, this is why he simply can't get enough of you.

my stupid writers block is not making me write properly for the hershey’s kisses mini series so i had to pull this stupid drabble outta my sick ass (coughing loudly as we speak)

[clawsdevour]

both our firsts

wc: 1.8k content warning: established relationship, smut, first time (both virgins !), tsukishima x reader, not proofread

ઉ⠀⠀𓂂 ׄ

“Kei..” you whispered, slightly shifting your head back to glance at him.

In a cuddling position with your boyfriend under the cozy blanket. His arms are tightly wrapped around your torso, inching up towards your clothed breasts. His nose just barely grazing the crook of your warm neck, half lidded golden eyes staring at the lit up device in your hands.

“Hmm?” a low voice vibrating along your smooth skin, lips delicately pressed against your bare shoulder.

Pressing his crotch closer to your ass, increasing in size and hardness under your embrace. His large hands cup your soft breasts, fondling them inbetween the thin fabric of your tank top. Biting down on your lower lip in arousal, your hips start grinding down upon the bulge that laid inbetween your two searing bodies.

“Have you done it before?” breaking the intimate silence with his husky voice resonating in your ear.

“No.. have you?” you murmured under your breath, shutting your phone off to focus your attention on your boyfriend.

Putting your phone to the side before shuffling in bed to face his flustered complexion. Arms around his neck as you get lost in his honey gold eyes, his hand on your waist moving lower to grope your ass, pulling your leg onto his hip whilst rubbing your thigh up and down soothingly. 

“I haven’t,” Tsukishima purred, caressing your cheek with his soft touch.

Pulling him in by his collar, you share a passionate kiss just about under the covers. Gradually his hands grasp you onto him, breasts pressed against his chest for his eyes to leer on, your heat emitting core rubbing against his bulge covered by articles of clothing. 

Your lips crashed onto his, just playfully pecking the outskirts of his soft mouth. Rimming the fine line with his tongue, urging you to part your mouth for him. Accepting to his advances and just slightly opening your mouth for his tongue to enter. Your tongues crash and sway together at a consistent pleasurable pace. 

His fingers move quickly, slipping under your shorts, barely making it to your panties from under your restricting article of clothing. Fingers pressing against your damp underwear making you flinch to a sudden halt.

“...Wanna do it?” Tsukishima purs from under you, face flushed from the intensive kissing, completely out of breath the moment you parted lips.

“Yeah,” sitting on his lower stomach, your fingers move up from the hem of his shirt, revealing his toned stone body for your desires to linger further. Wasn’t your first time seeing him half naked, but either way you still gawk at his delicious figure. 

His half lidded eyes gaze at you while you scan his stature from beneath. Raising his hands from your waist to grasp onto your breasts, thumb rubbing over your sensitive nipples that perked out from your tank top. Gasping out a subtle reaction to the stimulation he creates with your nipples, grinding your clothed crotch onto his erection while you both surpressed your groans. 

Hands working down lower to hold onto the bottom of your tank top, helping you take off your top, eyes focusing on the little bounce produced when it’s dropped off somewhere into the abyss of your room. 

Sitting up till his back hits the bed frame, hands pulling you closer by your ass, parting his mouth as he raised his head to lick your rosy nipples while you continue to rock your hips onto his.

“You’re so hard Kei,” hiding a smirk under your breath watching his eyebrows furrow while you felt yourself rapidly wetten on top of him.

“Should I just slip it in?” he smuggly chuckled before tracing a finger down your stomach, tickling your skin as he reached lower into your shorts.

Two fingers sliding down into your panties, stopping at your slit that emitted slick from within as he parted your wet folds with his fingertips. Coming in contact with your clit, just simply stroking it with the tip of his finger that had you wanting to rub your legs together despite hovering right above him.

The more he massaged your cunt with his gentle touch, the more stimulation he created, flooding you with pleasure. You’re holding onto his shoulder while you compress yourself in an attempt to not lose your cool in front of him as you bite down on your lower lip. 

Instead of rocking your hips on his painfully hard erection, you’re rubbing your pussy on his fingers while he watched with pride. Fingers creeping up and inserted into your gummy entrance, you let out a groan of satisfaction.

“Fuck so tight..” he breathed out, eyebrows furrowed as you make eye contact with him. Your fingers never felt as good as his whenever you masturbated to the pure thought of him, but woah his fingers that curled and scissored inside you made you whimper in delight.

“Does that feel good?” his breath tickling the surface of your stomach, pressing gentle kisses up towards your breasts.

“Yeah..!–” yelping when he took over and pressed your back against the fluffy blanket, fingers removing themselves from you to take off your shorts and undergarments. 

“S’kinda in the way,” flinging your shorts and undies somewhere on the floor before using his large hands to part your legs wide open for him to gaze upon as you tried to keep your legs together.

Sliding his hands down your inner thighs to soothe your shaking legs as Tsukishima lowered himself. Tsukishima’s hot muscle making contact with your slightly swollen clit, moving in circles while you held in your moans. 

While his tongue was busy bringing you to the brink of satisfied tears, Tsukishima’s inserting his fingers back into your gaping entrance to fill you back up, immediately moving at a faster rate than before.

Dazed from all the stimulation that pulses through your entire being, eyes starting to daze into a shut as it almost became numbing. His tongue working on pleasuring your throbbing red clit while his fingers worked endlessesly pumping out your juices before taking them out.

“You okay?” inches above your groggly face, checking in on your condition while you came back to your consciousness.

“Just feel so.. good,” placing your arm around his shoulder, the other reaching down to feel the hardness of his growing bulge as he swallowed hard upon encountering your touch, a suggestive smile lingering on your lips.

“You want it that bad?” he said confidently, hiding the fact that he’s inexperienced, the fact that you’re his first and that he’s yours.

“Be my first,” bringing both arms in to hug him, the solid rock laying inbetween your hot bodies.

Falling out each others arms, Tsukishima slides off his remaining articles of clothing leaving him bare and exposed. His cock dripped with precum as it stood tall in all its glory, staring back at you with a fiery pink tip.

Tilting yourself up a bit and onto your elbows. You continued to restrain yourself from keeping your legs closed while you watched him dip the tip of his cock into your wet folds, collecting all the left over juices that coated your sopping cunt before lining himself up.

“Are you sure.. y’know, about this? It might hurt,” looking up from the intimact act to see your quivering eyes filled with anxiousness.

He was right, it hurt. A lot. His girth was no match for your pussy, even upon just the slightest entrance. It was as if he were to pass a sword through you, stretching you out with his pointy tip that felt like it was tearing you in half. 

Taking it slow, Tsukishima grunts like he’s the one in pain. Your plush walls tightened around his cock the more he continued to shove his massive girth into you, almost felt like he was gonna get snapped in half inside.

“Wait– it hurts..” clawing into his muscular shoulder as he comes to a halt, letting you adjust to the shape of his cock.

Slowly, your pussy took the shape of his length, molding it into his own personal cunt. Toughing it out together while you breathed out for air. When he managed to bury his cock deep inside you, he’s praising you for your efforts of bearing the troubles of him.

“Does it hurt a lot? I’m sorry.. You did good babe,” kissing the tears off of your cheeks that flowed down earlier.

“Yeah.. but I want you to keep going,” caressing his cheek with your thumb.

“Okay, let me know when to stop or if it hurts. I’ll go slower,” laying a peck on your warm cheek before starting to grind his hips into yours.

Groaning in pain as he slowly continues to drill into you with concern, you can’t help but be impatient waiting for the pleasure to finally wash over the feeling of being cut into two with his own sword.

“Keep going..” you sobbed, eyes continuing to glaze with tears as he continues to stuff you with his length that scratched your walls like a fork on a dry chalk board.

The pain subsided to a numbing sensation before the contentness you started to feel filling you up. Stimulating your nether regions, though still moving in slow and sensational strokes. Watching his cock slide in and out, getting reapplied in your soaking juices with each gradual thrust.

“Does it still hurt?” honey eyes focusing on your facial expressions that continued to twist and contort while you whimpered.

“No.. well I don’t think–” yelping out a loud moan when he found and hit one of your core stimulating areas.

“..feels good!” you exclaimed, arching your back inches off of the plush mattress.

A bit of a smirk crept up his face, starting to pick up his pace, his hips starting to click more with yours. Repeatedly, his tip started to prod into your sensitive regions, over and over again until you reached your high and saw static completely take over your vision.

Legs trembling as you continued to let him pound into you till he reached his climax. His soft delicate thrusts turned into quick and rough ones the more you called out for his name. His hot rod continuing to impale you before instantly whipping it out the moment he felt like he was about to burst inside you. 

His fiery red angry head spurting out his warm milky goop on your stomach as his low voice groaned with satisfaction. Squinting eyes behind his thick lenses observing his gooey mixture drip down your abdomen to the side from out of his cock. 

His large hand stroking over it to completely empty his load over your bare body, coating you in what he had in store. Your torso glistened with his murky white cum, chest heaving out pants of exhausation while you subtly smile in contentness before his heavy body just barely fell on top of yours.

“..Did you feel good?” lifting his head up to peer at you, his fingers moving the strands of hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ears. “Mhm..” you grumble out, too tired for a full response.

masterlist here

[taeyamayang]

👀👀

REPLAY 2003

PAIRING: Tsukishima Kei x fem!reader

TROPE: enemies to lovers

GENRE: romance | slice of life | angst | high school | mental health | brainrotting cliché | second lead syndrome

GIST: your reunification with your long-time nemesis, Tsukishima Kei, forces you both to open wounds that never healed.

NAVIGATION: prologue

a/n: may you all catch the hoshiko syndrome.

part one

It's been three days since school started. So far your experience as a second-year high school student of Miyagi has been more or less... boring, given that you and Tsukishima haven't spoken to each other since the first day of school. Not that you expect him to start a conversation because you would rather sit in silence than continuously fight the urge to keep his jaw in place everytime he attempts to speak. Hence, the invisible wall between the two of you grows thicker with each passing day and you are not bothered by it. In fact, you like it better this way. 

It's another dragging morning in school and you reach the end of the stairs on the second floor, right where your classroom is located. Upon landing a steady foot on the ground, you see several students leaning over the ledge overlooking the ground area as they crowd in the hallway. All of them are whispering to each other; some are skittish, squealing with their friends, while others have their eyes focused at the school entrance.

"(Y/n)!" A honeydew voice calls for your name. Like the other students, he has both his forearms placed on the surface of the ledge as he patiently waits for someone's arrival. Next to him is your friend, Ayumi. In contrast to your unfaltering relationship with the blonde, these two have grown much closer in a span of few days. Additionally, you learned that Yamaguchi, the boy who called you just now, is the entire opposite of his best friend. You wonder how two polar opposites get along.

"What's up?" You gesture to the ledge piled with curious students.

"We’re waiting for the homecoming of the baseball team! They won the nationals!” Yamaguchi breaks the news. Right, you almost forgot. The soccer team had a championship game the other day, the same day of the first day of classes. After several interviews and whatnot, they took a day's rest in the hotel they were staying at in Tokyo before heading back to school.

“They are here!” Yamaguchi exclaims, pulling you closer to him. You narrow your vision to the bus rounding the entrance of the vicinity. The tires screech and the engines roar before the motors finally halt. Soon a couple of male students with pride on their shoulders hop off from the vehicle. Your eyes skim the faces of the baseball team members one by one until you see him.

Hoshiko Ito.

Hoshiko scans the second floor as he and his team lined up to show gratitude for the warm welcome. And when his eyes meet yours, or so you think so, almost by instinct your fingers uncoils as if you were about to wave at him but stopped mid-way after realizing how foolish it is. There’s no way he can spot you from a crowd. So, you pulled an easy smile, one that doesn’t push your eyes into a thin line, and muttered to yourself, “Congrats, Hoshi.”

A schoolmate and friend from your middle school that enrolled in the same high school, except he was recruited to play for Miyagi High School and you had to go through the tedious process of getting a slot. With his busy practice schedule coupled with unforgiving classes you were both put through freshman year, you almost never had spoken to him since. Not long, conversations turned into friendly glances and smiles.

Hoshiko changed a lot in comparison to who he used to be in middle school. He was the type to rarely speak in class to the point that his voice was a mystery to many. The only people he constantly communicates with are his baseball team and you, who consistently chaffed him off during break times (which he appreciates, by the way).

But now, he is an entirely different person. Often, fame makes good people unearth their undesirable side but to him it was different. Fame humbled him even moreㅡthe very reason he has a long line of admirers. Fame made him sociable and outgoing, charming even, and though you no longer talk to him it swells your heart with happiness to watch him from the sidelines and see him grow into a person he wished to become several years ago. You feel proud of you him.

Contented, you head inside the room and leave the rest of the crowd screaming for the member's names. Unsurprisingly, you see the blonde boy sitting in his seat with a book grasped in one hand. He’s the only student in the room and he appears perfectly indifferent by the commotion happening in the hallways. 

“Hey.” His voice came out sheepish and coy. Your muscles become temporarily paralyzed as you take in the image of the boy next to you. 

Without a choice, you sit next to Tsukishima and he ignores you as he flips a page of his book.

Soon, the students begin to enter their respective rooms while you pull books after books from your bag to place it inside the compartment of the desk. A light tap on your shoulder catches your attention making you turn your head to look at the source but to your dismay you see no one behind you. The person once again taps your other shoulder making you turn to look at the other side. There, you see a someone warmly smiling at you. He sits at the used-to-be vacant chair next to you with only an aisle separating the both of you.

“Hoshiko?” Your tone came in question, baffled that you overlooked his name on the class list. 

“I'm glad you still remember me. I was nervous to approach you because I was thinking maybe…maybe you might have forgotten about me.” He brings his hand up to cover his nape as he peers at you through his thick eyelashes. Warmth crawls on his face rendering a tint of soft pink on his cheeks.

My god. This.

This is the Hoshiko Ito you know. The boy who gets flustered quickly by a simple compliment,  who wears his hair down because he doesn't like people staring at him, and who trips on his words when confronted by your teasing utterances. 

Where did the assertive, attractive, and bold ace of the baseball team go?

A part of you is glad that he hasn't changed completely; that you can still see the old him who you used to share a laugh with. Another part of you is thrilled by the selfish thought that you are the only person who gets to witness this side of him. You can’t believe you heard rumors about this boy’s overwhelming aura and intimidating reputation that causes both girls and boys speechless. 

“Are you crazy?” You respond, scoffing in a teasing way at his absurd thinking. “Maybe you forgot about me, Mr. Golden Boy.” You cock an eyebrow as you turn the tables around.

“N-no, I didn’t.” He pulls his head up, eyes wide, and his hands waving "no" in the air. His raven hair is raked up with few strands of hair framing the sides of his face. The sides of heads just above his ears are shaved into a clean look. He has a slit on his eyebrow that perfectly blends with his chiseled jaw as his eyes gleamed in light dover gray in contrast to the bright ray of sunlight coming from the windows of the room. He becomes more and more beautiful the more you look at him, noting facial features you did not notice before. Was he ever this stunning in middle school?

He continues. “I was busy with baseball and I couldn’t get the chance to talk to you outside of school hours but at least now we’re in the same class!” He holds your eyes as though he had missed doing so and asks sincerely. “Do you still want to be friends?” 

“Are you kidding me?!” Your voice accidentally hitches up a knot making half of the students inside the room, including Tsukishima, to look at you. You bow apologetically to the rest of them except to the blonde, before turning your attention back to Hoshiko. He has his lips pursed into a thin line as he stifles a laugh, watching you with an endearing look in eyes as you embarrass yourself.

“So, you’re laughing at me now, huh?” You tease him, making the smile on his face grow wider into a chuckle.

“I’m not.” He states, but his actions prove otherwise.

“There! There! I see it, Hoshi! That’s a smile! You’re laughing at me!” You continue to pick on him. The tightness around your chest, that you weren’t even aware of, loosens as he finally gives in and laughs. He throws his head back, shutting his eyes as a crow’s feet appear at the outer corner of his eyes. 

“Attention everyone, let’s make this precise.” She slaps the cover of the book with one hand while the other hand is placed on her hips. “Good news and bad news, which one do you want me to discuss first?”

With him, it's easy to admit to yourself that you missed him and it makes you glad and grateful to spend the rest of high school with him. Perhaps, the last two years of your youth won't be as bad as you thought it would be. Your shared laughter was put to a stop when your English teacher paraded inside the room.

The whole class groans, thus earning an unsatisfied look from the teacher.

“Nu-uh. You.” She points at a girl sitting three seats behind the boy sitting directly in front of her. “What's your name?”

“N-nomura.” The poor girl stammers in fear.

“Alright, Nomura. Good news or bad news?” The teacher asks again.

“Bad news.” The girl answers after a brief pause.

“Bad news. There is an additional major task for this semester, and everyone has to prepare for it starting today. It involves the whole class’s participation. We will have English month at the start of the winter season, and all second-year students will have to do a theater play as a class. The task will be presented in front of everyone and by definition of everyone, it means every person of this institution will sit and watch all of you including outside guests.” murmurs and grunts echoed within the room,  and concerned faces were plastered on each of the students.

“And as for the good news, the play will be graded. It serves as an additional point for your overall grade and…” The corner of her lips pulls up. She raises both eyebrows as the words roll out of her tongue. “The exciting part is it’s a competition among the classes of your batch! The plot, script, aesthetics, execution, etc., will be scored by the whole student body and faculty. The winner of this event will be granted an exemption from the final exams. In short, win this competition and you won’t have to take the English test.” The air in the room lifts. The teacher, Ms. Nanako, smacks her lips and continues. “The story has to be based on a classical novel and an original twist must be included in the story. It could be the ending, the characters, or the theme. It depends on your creativity as a class."

The announcement instantly shifts the mood of the entire class. The ambitious and driven began whispering among their group of friends and even the impassive ones were unexpectedly hooked by the consequence of winning. One is certain, no one wants to study for midterms.

“President of the class, please take it from here.” The sound of her stiletto knocking against the tiled floor bounces on the walls as the representative of the class takes her position.

“As you all have heard, we will base our story from a classical novel. So, any ideas?” The president spoke as she stood in front of the class.

“Romance?” A student chimes in. “Romance is a common theme among us.”

“Probably, add a bit of hurt and angs too! Audiences like the pains of romance.” Another one adds.

 “Star-crossed lovers!” An enthusiastic voice joins in.

“If we're pushing romance, then we also need an appealing protagonist.” A boy adds.

“Worry not.” The dramatic pause of a boy with a mullet attracts everyone’s attention. All eyes are on him now. “We have Ito.”

You crack your neck to the side where Hoshiko sits. The latter’s bottom lips fall ajar. He straightens himself up from his slouched position as everyone gazes at him.

“Me?” He points to himself, eyes wide akin to the full moon.

“If we make him our protagonist then everyone will surely be into our play! It’s an instant win!” A girl adds, and everyone in the room nods. Whispers begin to cloud the silence.

“Right! You have half of the student body population under your belt. We need you, Ito!” An audible "yes's" is heard in the room.

“Ito, can you please stand?” The president instructs him politely.

Hoshiko stands hesistantly. “I can’t act.”

“You won’t be the only one who's first time in acting. There will be a group of actors, and we can support each other.” A classmate raises a reasonable point that even you agree with. 

Hoshiko slowly turns his head to you, worry etched on his face.

“You'll be okay.” You mouth the words before winking at him as you show him an ‘ok’ sign.

“He needs a partner.” A voice says.

“A lady? Modern Romeo and Juliet.” The other one jokingly suggests.

“I don’t think gender matters as long as their chemistry clicks then it's all good. The chemistry among the actors is a vital factor. Do you have anyone in class you’re comfortable working with, Ito?” The representative asks.

“Uh…” His words are jammed as he bites the insides of his cheeks. He gradually turns his head to the side, facing you. You tug a brow up as your eyes meet.

“(Y/n).” He points at you using a finger. Panic rushes inside you, and you swear to god you felt your heart skip a couple of beats as he flashes you a stern face. He isn’t joking. He isn’t joking about choosing you. He breaks eye contact so he could speak to the president directly.

A loud snort is heard from the man sitting next to you. You peek through the cracks of your fingers and spot the blonde stifling a laugh. His eyebrows unleveled, and his signature sly smile makes you want to strike him across the face. He lowers his body with his arms crossed over his torso and sarcastically remarks,

“I’m willing to take the lead role as long as she’s my other half.” He declares. Conviction coats the tone of his voice, and right then, you know that you are about to face a considerable hurdle. You whisper-shout his name but Hoshiko responds with sweetest smile on his face.

Your doomed.

You cover your face using your hands as you lower it down slowly as your forehead meets with the wooden surface of your desk.

“I’m looking forward to your acting, princess.”

continue reading

a/n: hoshiko means stars in japanese and i thought it would be interesting to put a third party that would go with tsukki's name (moon) you know people who prefer night over day are divided into two categories: the star lovers and the moon enthusiasts so basically that's what i wanted to portray. will you be on tsukki's side or will you catch the hoshiko syndrome (aka second lead syndrome)? *chuckles in evil* anyway thanks for reading! rbs and feedbacks are very much welcome. stay healthy and hydrated ♡

taglist is open. let me know.

Masterlist

[temeyes]

my darling tsukki!

[reocidal]

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

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

wc; 1227

"do you want to get married?"

you blink, thinking you may have misheard.

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

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

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

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

"no? are you joking?"

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

"no, but—"

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

"we arent even dating!" you protest

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

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

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

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

"yes," you blurt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"yeah?" you ask.

"yeah," he replies hoarsely.

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

"yeah," he repeats.

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

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

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

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

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

"let me go!"

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

BONUS BECAUSE ILYGS

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

"no, the fuck?"

"but you were dating, right?"

"no, we weren't."

"how does that even work?"

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

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

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

also tysm @mitskicain s parents for the inspiration ☝️😎

@akaakeis + @smiithys

[dearest-tobio]

“i remember practicing how to ask you out.”

you laugh against tsukishima’s frame, looking up into his eyes. his contented smile instantly drops, morphing into a mock frown: “what’s so funny?”

“you?” you manage in between giggles. your fingers poke at tsukishima’s cheeks, tracing the reddish glow settling in them. “you? the high-and-mighty tsukishima kei? practicing how to ask me out?”

“shut up,” he muffles, burrowing his face in your hair. “i was nervous, ok?”

as you relish in the comfortable warmth, you take the moment to recall the day tsukishima kei, your long-time bestfriend, confessed his feelings for you.

you initially thought tsukishima was mad at you—he was equipped with an uneasy glower as he made his way towards your classroom. judging by the way your classmates dissipated at the very sight of him, the thought was a common one. no one was fond of an angry tsukishima kei.

“tsukki?” you asked, shifting from where you had been leaning on the wall. “anything wrong?”

the tall blonde remained unmoving, instead radiating wordless fury in droves. you sighed at the familiar action—this was not the first time tsukishima had gotten into a rut, and certainly not the last.

“tsukki,” you inquired further. “i’m here, if you want to talk. or not—”

suddenly, tsukishima smacked the space beside your ear, leaning his forehead to yours. after recovering from the shock of the sudden movement, all that was left in your senses was blatant confusion. “what in the—tsukishima kei, what are you doing?”

everything that followed happened in the blink of an eye.

the wall pinning. the hair-length distance. the term that came to mind—kabedon—and the realisation that dawned upon you: the blush in tsukishima’s cheeks weren’t spurred on by exasperation, but embarrassment.

“go out with me?”

of course, you had said yes to those four words. the assent had brought you here, cuddling in tsukishima’s arms. despite the eventual happy ending, you still thought his method of confessing was absolutely ridiculous. “i can’t believe you thought it was a good idea to confess by trying to kabedon me.”

“trying?” tsukishima huffs, adjusting his glasses. “that was a pretty successful attempt, if i say so.”

“mhm,” you hum, placing a hand on his chest. even with the knitted sweater tsukishima was wearing, you could still feel his heart race at your touch. “who even suggested the idea? doesn’t sound like something you would do.”

“yamaguchi. and hinata. in hindsight, i have no idea why i listened to those two in the first place. excruciatingly awkward, although—”

the annoyance splayed over tsukishima’s features reverted back into the smile he was donning earlier: gentle, feather soft.

“i’d go through all of that again if it meant being here with you.”

masterlist

[lemqnie]

haikyuu | high school boyfriends pt 2

BOKUTO KOUTAROU ⤠ constantly begs you to come watch his practice. ("but i have my clubs, too," you try to argue. "ok," he says with a pout. "what about tomorrow?"

⤠ loves to show you off. oh, the boys are so sick of him. but he just keeps talking about you. he tells them the new cologne you bought, the shopping date you guys had on the weekend, he raves about how smart you are to anyone who will listen

⤠ is clingy when around you. is always making contact with you. at lunch, he comes by to your class just to sit and watch you study. he'll always have his arm next to yours so when you finish writing a line, your fingers brush momentarily.

⤠ despite living 20 mins away from you, will get up early (when he doesn't have morning practice) to take the train to your flat and go to school together

TSUKISHIMA KEI

⤠ THE high school boyfriend. all your friends are envious. he's super tall and handsome, AND he's super smart. totally the type for most girls. he's surly, but to you, he's so openly sweet it's sickening.

⤠ does lend you his hoodies, as long as you return them within 3 days. once, you forget to wash and dry his favourite purple hoodie and he doesn't let you even try them on at school for months.

⤠ loves handholding. he'll hold your hand and stick them into the pocket of his school jacket or his hoodie as you walk side by side. it's warm, soft, and you daydream the time you can finally cuddle and nap together.

⤠ crazy stupid protective. one bad word about you and he's on his hackles, holding back a snarl as he viciously mocks the person who dares lift their tongue against you. it makes the rounds at school and people grow wary and cautious of what they can say about you.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN: CLICK HERE

[strawberrykake]

“Look At Your Girl….” Prank

“You see how good she looks? Now imagine another guy enjoying her, you not meaning shit to her anymore. Exactly, get your act together.”

>>warnings: Tsukki -> suggestive, cursing

Kageyama, Tsukishima, Atsumu, Hinata

Kageyama

Kageyama was busy preparing his busy volleyball schedule for the next week

It’s been a while since you’ve spent quality time together

So in order to get his attention, you slump beside him with your phone in hand

Sensing your presence, he places an arm around your waist.

“Hey, baby.” He pecks your cheek.

“Hi.”

Without any warning, you play the audio:

Look at your girl.

He looks at you, then at your phone then back at you, confused.

You see how good she looks?

A blush starts to form on his cheeks and his lips curve up into a smile.

Now imagine another guy enjoying her…

His grin immediately drops at the horrifying thought of someone else being with you

“Hmmph.” Kageyama pouts, hearing the rest of the audio.

His grip on your waist has gotten tighter.

“Get up.” He motions to his lap for you to sit on and you gladly hop on.

You can’t stop smiling at his cute little pout.

It was hard to resist a kiss as you leaned in to give him a peck.

You feel his hand move behind your head, bringing you closer and preventing you from pulling away

The kiss lingers a little longer than you intend it to.

“Tob—” He enters his tongue, shutting you up.

He kisses you as if reminding you how much he loves you.

His hands cradle your face as you tightly wrap your arms around his neck.

After a heated make-out session, Kageyama pulls away with a smirk on his face, feeling satisfied with the dazed look on your face

“Tobio…”

“Let’s go out for dinner tonight. On me. I’ll treat you.”

You giggle and it makes his cheeks flush even more.

At the end of the day, you are his and he is yours. he knows that. just likes to be reminded

Tsukishima

“What is it?” Tsukki asks when you approach him slowly on the bed.

He was busy reading a book. He leaves the book open faced down on top of his broad chest.

He leans against the palm of his hand, elbow bent and muscles bulging.

Of course, it’s a habit for you to lay next to him, placing your head on top of his tricep.

“Listen to this!” You pull up your phone to play the audio and Tsukki remains silent to listen.

Look at your girl. His eyebrow raises, looking sideways at you.

You see how good she looks? He nods, giving an impressed look.

Now imagine another guy enjoying her, you not meaning shit to her anymore…

His face contorts into disgust.

When the audio ends, he picks his book right back up and adjusts his glasses.

No more words exchanged. Nothing.

“Uh, Kei?” You scoff, rubbing your nose against his arm

he ignores you

“you’re annoying” before getting up to leave.

“Aht. aht. aht. Where do you think you’re going, baby?”

“Finding another guy cuz it seems like I don’t mean sh—.”

“Don’t finish that sentence. It’s far from the truth. You know it.” Tsukki practically throws his book to the side, not caring if he lost the page he was on.

“I do. But…”

“But what?” He moves closer to the edge of the bed where you stood, taking your hands in his and kissing them.

“Tell me,” he says against your skin.

“I— I—” Instead of saying anything, you press your lips against his.

You can feel his smirk against your lips.

“If.” Kiss. “You.” Kiss. “Wanted.” Kiss. “To kiss.” Kiss. “Just tell me, baby.”

His lips move towards your neck and you feel his arms pull you in close before falling against the bed.

“I want a kiss,” you say shyly.

He chuckles, nipping your ear.

“Okay, pretty.” Tsukki turns you both over, so that he’s on top.

Before giving you a kiss, he stares at you.

And your eyes tell him that you were longing for more than a kiss tonight.

He definitely feels the same way.

Atsumu

“hmm?” He asks mid-crunch on some chips he was stuffing into his mouth

you were simply watching some videos on your phone while cuddling atsumu when he overheard the quote

“You see how good she looks? Now imagine another guy enjoying her, you not meaning shit to her anymore. Exactly, get your act together.”

“who th’ fawk is talkin? what does he know about whats mine?” he says with his mouth full

You giggle

“Who’s that, baby?” He keeps asking

“just some internet guy, love”

Atsumu turns on his side to pull you in closer.

“get off it. n pay attention to me now”

You raise your brow. “I thought you’re watching sports…” you say as the tv continues to play a live soccer game

“It’s not even volleyball. It’s okay baby. C’mon..” He puckers his lips, making you squeal and push him away.

Your actions make him pout.

“Whats up? I dont mean shit to you anymore?” He mocks the person from the video.

You giggle. “You have garlic cheese breath.”

“I’ll brush my teeth if thats what it takes to get a damn kiss from ya” He excitedly hops up from the bed.

You slapping his butt as he gets up from the mattress makes him raise a finger at you (as if he isn’t used to it)

Hinata

“You see how good she looks? Now imagine another guy enjoying her, you not meaning shit to her anymore. Exactly, get your act together.”

“Man…” *Hinata says his voice cracking up. Your playful smile disappears.

“Wouldn’t that be a-awful…”

You look at him apologetically.

“Aw baby…that’ll never happen”

Hinata looks dead at you in the eye

“No. tell me. Am I a good boyfriend? Be honest. I can use any critique I can get!”

You sigh

“You’re the sweetest, most loving boyfriend ever. I don’t wanna trade you for anything or anyone, understand Sho?”

He bites his lip, suppressing himself from crying.

“I-I love you, y/n. I mean it.”

You wrap your arms around his neck tightly.

“Well I love ya forever, my sunshine boy”

He holds you close, breathing you in

There’s nothing that feels as good as hugging this man

“Fuck, let me kiss you” *He whispers lowly, already claiming your lips before you get a chance to comprehend his words

You lose your sense of thinking whenever he kisses you

When a small whimper leaves your lips, he chuckles

“Don’t need anyone to tell me how good my baby looks”

And you’re in for an intense love bombing for the next couple of weeks

[noorpersona]

Favourite Positions: Tsukishima

Kei has always loved your ass.

Even before you were together, he never could stop himself from sneaking a glimpse and hating how good your ass looked in your uniform as you stormed away from him. The shape, the perkiness, everything about it drove him crazy.

Probably why he loved fucking you from behind.

“Kei…!” Your voice is muffled from the bed, but your pleasure could be heard loud and clear as he piled into you. The room filled with the sound of his hips slapping your ass, with Kei reveling in the recoil with each thrust. “Sorry, I can’t hear you. What?” Kei purposefully evens his voice to sound unbothered, even though he himself is fighting the urge to groan. He loved teasing you like this, and he could tell you loved it too, considering the squeezes you keep giving him. “Keep going!” You managed to squeal out, turning your head to the side. Kei then stops abruptly, just long enough to hear your whimpers and whines before he smacks your ass, grabbing it at its fleshiest. “Is that how we ask?” Kei knew his tone was cocky, and even though that’s what made you hate him in the first place, it was also what made you jump into bed with him. “Please! Fuck me!” The desperation in your voice is something Kei would definitely bring back up later, but that didn’t mean he could wait anymore either. With a growl, he watched you writhe under him as he plowed as deep as he could, and with a shout you were cumming. Kei gives you a second to breathe, his hard cock slipping out of you making you flop onto the bed like an exhausted fish. He wastes no more time though, grabbing your ass all the while jerking himself off with other hand. It’s not long before he finishes too, his hot cum spurting all over your ass and back. The room settles, a musk weighing heavy in the air. There’s only breathing before Kei can’t help himself. “Seems like you needed that.” “Fuck off.”

[hatsukeii]

think fast / childhood bsf!tsukshima kei x reader

genre(s): childhood best friends x soulmates???? past lives and normal people by sally rooney coded im a sally rooney MEATRIDER!! angsty, gut-wrenching longing, bittersweet / hopeful ending so it's not all bad!! nostalgia is going to carry this fic so hard it's going to be a fun, fun time...

warning(s): eventual smut!! all characters are aged up to 21!!MDNI (at least up until the observatory)!! unprotected sex here remember to wrap it before you tap it!! (sorry kids), female leaning anatomy because smut but pronouns are gn all throughout and honestly you could read it as gn anyways:)) dead dad warning (my dad is NOT dead this was just convenient to kick off the thing), i fw the timeline of the world??? pretend flip phones were still in use in like 2012 or something idk

wc: ~6.3k

tldr; time has a way of reminding Kei of its presence, and its escape. you are the reminder it has been sending to him for six years.

Fate: A power believed to cause and control all events, so that one cannot change or determine the way things will happen. 

It is a sunny afternoon when you step foot into Sendai, Miyagi. A beautiful day of golden warmth beaming onto petals of pink, red, and white, wrapped in coffee-stained newspapers and tied together with a spool of twine. The bouquet lies on browning grass, a contemptible reminder of the time that has passed since your last appearance here, six years ago, and you crouch down to the ground. Now face to face with the engraving of a full name on a slab of polished granite, you hesitate. Your father lived in a language that you can no longer speak, died in a country you no longer call your home. When you whisper blessings and apologies at the gravestone in broken Japanese and slurred syllables, you sound like a stranger. A stranger who sits in a graveyard at noon, with nothing but a bouquet from the nearby florist in hand, and a promise, stuttered out in half-decent Japanese, to return again the next year. 

When a second bouquet falls to the ground behind you, and you turn around, Tsukishima Kei thinks this is what English speakers like you would call fate. He’s a little taller now, and bulkier too, and you have to crane your head higher than you remember just to meet his eyes. You don’t recognise the glasses he dons anymore, the black rectangles from his teenage years swapped out for rounded squares and silver frames. But he has a towel in his hand, a towel that has his initials poorly stitched into the corner with red string. You wonder if the matching one he made you, eleven years ago, is collecting dust somewhere in your dormitory, halfway across the world. 

“You’re back.”

“It’s been a while, Kei.”

You can no longer differentiate Japanese syllables clearly, and your statement jumbles into nonsense in your head. Kei hears the English woven into your accent in the way you roll your tongue like foreigners do, and in the odd intonations that don’t exist in your mother tongue. You don’t even remember your father’s dislike for white flowers. London has truly done a number on you. 

“Why? Why now?”

You bite your nail, a persistent habit that Kei frowns at. He picks up his flowers, and steps towards the gravestone, just close enough for your knee to brush against him for a moment. The bouquet in his hand is wrapped in plastic and filled with red and pink, the white from your own sticking out like a sore thumb when he places his flowers gently on the grass beside yours. He tosses the towel in his hand, opening it up against his palm, and you take it from him. If you cannot get the language right, or the flowers, this is the least you can do. Cobwebs stick to the fabric as you sweep at the granite slab, watching soot and dust fall to the grass. The curves and dips of the gravestone are familiar once again, and you dig the towel into every nook and cranny. You feel Kei’s body shift, before his knee is touching yours and his face is finally level with your peripheral vision. He glances at you, waiting. His knees bounce in anticipation. 

“Never had the chance, college has been a lot.”

Your phone rings as you finish cleaning. The ringtone is familiar, unchanged from when you used to have a flip phone, in fact. Kei hums along to the jingle for the four seconds that the call is left unanswered, before it cuts off into a flurry of English. He catches something about research, and a thesis, his shabby English unable to fill in any more than that. He’s never known you were interested in research, let alone what it is that you’re researching. All he’s known is your aspiration of becoming a librarian when you were six, and his promise to borrow books from you for the museum that he swore he would one day work at. Now, he works at the museum, sorts antique scripts and yellowed books into cabinets and display shelves. He does not borrow books from you. Now, you talk, but nothing makes sense to him.

You end the call, mumbling foreign curses as you shove your phone back into your pocket. Clicking your tongue, you turn to Kei, who stares at the flowers on the ground. He pushes his glasses up when they slide down his nose, and you resist the familiar urge to nag him about buying the right frames for his face. 

“Yeah, college has been mostly phone calls like that.”

He nods, a half-hearted chuckle huffing from his nose. He’s forgotten what it’s like to sit at a graveyard with somebody else, the annual reminder of a lonely death replaced by another this year as you dust off his towel, and drop it onto his thigh. He swipes it from his leg, folding it into quarters and sliding it into his pocket. 

“So you choose to come now, without a word? Not even a heads up? Six years after leaving?” Kei’s voice rises at each question, the same way it did six years ago when you broke the news of leaving Japan to him. This hurts him to ask, that much you can still recognise.

“I would have come sooner if I had the chance. I’ve missed everyone so much.”

You pluck a petal from a white flower in your bouquet, then another, until all that remains is the naked bulb, and scatter them onto the ground beside you. Perhaps the next person that’s been buried under six feet of dirt used to have a liking for them. Kei remains unmoving, throat bobbing as he swallows thickly. His knee stops bouncing. 

“How long will you stay for?”

“Today, then Friday and Saturday too. Flight back is Sunday night.”

Six years of waiting, and this is what it amounts to. A weekend and a bit. Despite that, Kei still thinks this must be fate, in all the languages that it exists in. Six years of life, and love, and hurt, all to be condensed into four measly days. Yet as Kei pushes himself off the ground, dusting his trousers off, he still thinks that this unlikely, yet conveniently timed visit must be the answer to his pleas for your return. That this must be some heavenly reward, good karma for visiting your father’s grave annually on your behalf. You watch him turn to leave, and he calls out to you as he walks away from your father’s grave. 

“Everyone’s at Hinata’s old place tomorrow. You should come by if you can.”

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Change: to replace (something) with something else, especially something of the same kind that is newer or better; substitute one thing for (another).

All it takes is one coincidental exchange of panicked glances at the first throw up of the night for you and Kei to leave together. Hinata slurs a drunken farewell, tries to embrace you as you slip your sneakers on at the door, and you make a note to yourself that you really do not miss most of the people here, spare for the volleyball team. Kei waits at the door, holding it open for when you finally shake Hinata off of your back, and step through. The night is chilly, the warmth in your skin from the indoor heating system emanating into the midnight air. You kick rocks along the pavement as you walk, scattering pigeons that remain awake and active at this time, and Kei smiles at your antics. You still hate birds, and you still remember the trick he taught you when you were nine for chasing away pigeons that flocked around you for food. 

“Who are you staying with?”

“My mom’s.”

The road leads the two of you to a high school. Kei has not come back to Karasuno since graduation. You squint in the dark, scanning the school, and you don’t recognise the new building that stands in place of the old auditorium. He watches you crouch at the plaque next to the front gate, tracing the letters engraved on it with the pad of your thumb. Some part of him blames Karasuno for being a bad place to you, the other parts blame himself for not being good enough to outweigh it.

“It’s changed.”

“Everything has.”

You rattle the locked entrance, the chain and padlock hitting against cold metal. It won’t open, so you look up through the gap of the gate. Six years ago, on that rooftop, was where you stood over a cold lunch box and emptied convenience store drinks, back against the wire fence, saying to Kei, I’m leaving tomorrow. On that day, you had packed yakisoba for his lunch, and nothing for yourself. He could barely respond to your announcement, only dropping his chopsticks and asking you, why? You told him something along the lines of being an expat, and a better school for what you wanted, all in the fluent Japanese you once spoke. Nothing made sense to him anyways. 

When you turn back to him, his hands are in the pockets of his jacket, and his nose is red from the cold air. You stand beside him, staring aimlessly at Karasuno from outside its barriers. 

“Do you still play volleyball?” 

“Yeah, Sendai Frogs.”

You hum, and then wonder why you only asked tonight, and why you’re surprised. He shrugs, clouds of white puffing from his mouth when he breathes out. He tries to blow a wisp of hair away from his face, and you suddenly realise that his hair has grown too, along with his height. It fails, and he tries again. You reach up to swipe at his bangs, before running your fingers backwards through his hair. It parts itself as you lift your hands from his head, and falls into place neatly. A cold breeze whizzes by, and undoes your work, sending strands of gold into his face once again. You snicker a little.

“You know, you could ask my mom to trim it for you like she used to.”

“Nah, I prefer this.”

It isn’t until you turn to look at him properly that you see how much time has passed. He likes his hair longer these days, the choppy hairdo of his teenage years now nothing but an old preference, and you wonder if he is still a loyal customer of your mother’s salon. When he pulls his hands from his pockets and blows hot air into them, calluses line the bases of his fingers, the blisters of his high school years hardened by trials of time and effort. There are bags under his eyes, eyes that are now a little rounder, and softer too. When he speaks, monotone and tired, you realise his snarkiness has dissipated into general frustration. You stare until his eyes dart to you, and turn away quickly, ashamed. Leaving Karasuno has taken your hand and led you to a purpose that you never knew you were capable of. You wonder what the hell it has done to Tsukishima Kei. 

“It looks good.”

He breathes in sharply, then exhales with a huff, shoulders relaxing as he stuffs his hands back into his pockets. You suddenly realise that your fingers have gone numb from the cold of the night, fingertips tingling like a million frost-bitten needles poking into your skin. You also stuff your hands into your pockets, rubbing your fingers against each other to generate some heat. Then, Kei’s looping his arm around yours, and pulling you away from Karasuno High School. He keeps on his straight path, and you stumble along behind his leaping steps. When you round a corner, the night breeze grows into something less imperturbable, and more vicious, pushing the two of you forward from behind in slashes of cold. The sea is near. 

“Is this the beach we used to go to?”

“You still remember it.”

He drags you down a flight of stairs to Fukanuma Beach, and the misty sea air rushes to your head. When he leads you to the shoreline, you hesitate. The sea has been off limits since the two of you were five, a regulation put in place in remembrance of the Great Sendai Earthquake. An earthquake that saw Kei and yourself hunched beneath the same table in the middle of class, huddled next to each other as you cried for your parents. Now, in your final years of college, as the water slips beneath the soles of his shoes, pushing and receding in layers of aqua and bubbles of white, it seems that time has slipped by just as easily too. Time, that saw the fading of the earthquake’s devastation, despite the loss of thousands, including your father. Time, that frayed the string connecting yourself to Kei as you moved through life halfway across the world from Japan. Time, that passes through you like sand spilling between your fingers on a beach you once thought you knew, but has changed like the unprohibited water that seems to push further up into the shore at each tidal wave. 

“They lifted the ban?”

“A few months ago, yeah.”

You step into the next wave that fizzles into foam, and the water crashes into the toe of your shoes. Crouching, you push mounds of wet sand into a cylinder, flattening the top and pushing divots in equal intervals. Kei joins, moulding shorter ones beside your own and drawing windows into the side. You finish, and he stands, smiling at the creation. You cover the top, afraid he will stomp on it, a trademark of Kei’s whenever you built sandcastles with him in childhood. Instead, he laughs, and walks further into the water. When you get up to join him, the hems of his trousers are soaked, shoes also covered in a sheen of wetness. You hop over the castle, and the next wave that comes sends its foundations crumbling back into the sea. 

“We used to do that. You’d destroy it every time.”

Kei chuckles, and looks back to see the half destroyed castle. Clicking his tongue, he returns to the rubble, and you watch his hands push mounds of sand towards what is left standing. 

“I’d always build a better one for you afterwards though.”

He dusts his hands off when he finishes, and the waves fizzle out just before they hit the two-tiered sandcastle. You sniff, holding your arms close to your chest. When Kei looks up, he feels like the summer of being seven years old again, smiling at you with his missing front tooth when you sniffle and laugh at the improved castle he’s put together for you. Now, it is winter. He only grins with the corners of his lips. You only sniff because it’s cold. 

“Kei.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s really been a while. How have you been?”

He steps over the castle towards you, careful not to break it. Your hair blows in your face from the beach breeze and your eyes squint from the sand that flies into the air, and Kei takes it all in when you’re face to face with him. When he opens his mouth, some selfish part of him thinks about casting his words into shackles of regret, so heavy that they weigh you down and keep you in Japan, in Sendai, on this beach, somewhere close to him.

“Do you want to stay the night? Like you used to?”

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Nostalgia: A sentimental longing, or wistful yearning for a return to or of some past period or irrecoverable condition.

Kei does not take you to his family house. He leads you up stairs that make no sense, and hallways that stretch on forever, until you finally reach his flat. He wipes his shoes on the doormat, throws his keys into a glass bowl upon entry, and hangs his jacket on a hook mounted to his front door instead of the coathanger that used to stand beside it. You look around, searching for the shells you once collected in a jar for his tenth birthday. When your eyes land on a jar filled with conches and cowries, you let go of a breath you were unaware of holding. They sit on the top of his bookshelf, above textbooks and file organisers. A knot forms in your throat at the realisation that the jar sits alone in its compartment, with nothing beside it. You’ve done the same to the jazz vinyl Kei gifted you at the airport before your departure. You don’t realise that he’s disappeared somewhere as you stare at the shells, until a shirt and a pair of shorts are thrown into your chest. He stands at the entrance to a hallway, donning sweatpants and an old hoodie, one that’s clearly a size too small. The pocket is lousily sewn on, a result of a mishap that occurred when you had borrowed it once. He doesn’t know that you spent the night learning to sew fabric just to fix it.

“Change. It’ll be more comfortable.”

You scurry through the hallway to his bathroom, pulling the shirt and shorts on hastily, before balling up your clothes and returning to the living room. Kei sits at his couch, now bound in leather instead of fabric, and clicks at the television. You join beside him, legs splaying across his own subconsciously. He doesn’t move. He stops at a movie, one you’ve seen hundreds of times before at his old house. It drones on in the background as he watches in silence, his arms now draped over your knees. The first time he watched this movie, it was in his old home, cross-legged on the carpeted ground with you on the couch behind him. Your hands used to press into his shoulders from above, shake them whenever your favourite scenes came on, squeeze them when you laughed until tears rolled from your eyes. Now that his new flat lacks a rug, he’s willing to settle with your legs on his own. Flashing lights illuminate the dark room in sequences that you can still recall perfectly from memory. He watches the movie. You watch him. 

“Have you been doing good, Kei?”

Turning to you, he pushes his glasses up into his hair, leaning further back. You shuffle closer, legs bending as your shoulder digs into the leather couch. A strand of blond falls into his face, and you lift his glasses to tuck it back, before smoothing your hands over his mess of hair, combing and pushing with your fingertips.The words from the television melt into gibberish when he hums in satisfaction, what is unspoken between you two is more glaring than ever.

“I’ve been okay.” He cuts off, then finds himself thinking of what to tell you first, amongst the recollections of life that rush through his head. “Started working at the museum a couple years ago.” He wishes that you still remember the building, where the marble floors squeaked beneath your slippers, and glass panels lined the walls, hiding away treasures and artefacts that have withstood centuries, maybe even eons of erosion and weathering.

You nod, mind filling with the many museum visits you had with him there. He’s always liked the dinosaurs more than the shells. When you breathe out a chuckle, he knows you’re recalling the time he almost pissed himself at a life-sized, moving tyrannosaurus rex model. 

“What about you?”

“Research. I’ve been doing research about…” you sign in the air, searching for the Japanese words that have slipped from your mind. Surrendering, you whip your phone out, searching for a translation. 

“Archaeology?”

“Yeah, that. No more librarian dreams for me. More dinosaurs, though.”

A smile finds its way onto Kei’s face, one that softens his cheeks and flattens his eyes into crescents. He wonders if amongst the silver plaques and digital displays, your work is engraved in there somewhere. If each time he explains something to some bright-eyed child, who scuttles around the museum as you and him once did, he is unknowingly speaking in your language, translated until he can decipher the thoughts that run through your mind in your research, your memories, your dreams too. 

“Maybe it’s in the museum somewhere. I’m willing to bet.”

“I hope it is.”

Your conversation fizzles back into silence, and the characters on the television do too. The two on the screen sit in a field, mere inches apart. The two of you look at each other, your knees now leaned into Kei’s chest and one of his arms draped along the back of the couch. When he pulls his glasses back to his eyes, and studies you all over again, it hits him that you really haven’t changed all that much, even after your six year separation. Six years older, with the exhaustion of a functioning adult, but you still gnaw on your cheeks, and tilt your head as you ask questions. Six years apart, and you are still you, who taught him to build sandcastles, and introduced him to his favourite movie, and fixed his hair whenever it stuck up in stubborn peaks of gold. When you let your eyes close, and drop your head onto his shoulder, you wait for lost time to tick backwards, until you’re on the rooftop with him once again. In this version of time, you blush when you tell him that you’ve chosen to stay in Japan instead. Pushing your head further into the crook of his neck, Kei’s chin reaches over to rest on the top of your crown. The credits of the movie roll in the background, and you mumble into the skin of his pulse. 

“Can you take me there? I’ve missed it.” Your words send vibrations down his spine, sending his head into a frenzy as he pushes his hands against the couch harder. 

“The museum?” It will be closed for the weekend, but Kei nods anyway. He’s sure he can find his way in through the back. Maybe he’ll take you to the fossils again, let you run your fingers along smooth amber and stone engravings. Perhaps he could show you the new exhibitions, ones that you won’t miss this time, as you have for the past six years. For now, he thinks he will let you sleep on his shoulder, listen to your soft snores, tremble at every hot breath that fans onto his neck. 

The credits roll to the end, and come to a stop. Kei removes his arm from the couch to grab the remote from his coffee table. He rewinds the movie to the start.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

思慕 [しぼ, shibo]: yearning; deep longing, especially when accompanied by tenderness or sadness.

On the final night of your stay, you learn that Kei still giggles when he breaks rules, as he drags you through the back entrance of the closed museum. He maneuvers through hallways of antique paintings and repurposed junk, slips into dark stairwells illuminated by the flashlight of his phone, traps your wrist between his fingers and chuckles to himself, shaking his head as he takes you higher, and higher, and higher. You’ve lost count of how many flights of stairs have gone by when he taps his keycard against a sensor by a backdoor, and pushes it open. The museum observatory, once a mess of bamboo scaffolding and green covers, now allows silver moonlight through its glass dome, boasting billions of iridescent stars nestled in a blanket of hazy midnight. A decade of your anticipation has resulted in a circular space, hundreds of plush recliners lining the circumference of the room, and you wonder how many eyes have watched the stars from those seats before you ever had the chance to. When Kei leads you further into the observatory, you step foot onto the north star plastered on the ground in the centre of the room, where nothing but a telescope remains in a ten-foot radius. He takes a spot on the ground, back pressed against the cushioned edge of a seat.

“I figured this is the best spot. Better than any of the seats, actually.” He plants his feet on the ground, bending his knees and spreading them just wide enough for you to sit in between. You cross your legs, wagging them up and down as your hands hold your shins, and he lowers his legs, stretching them out in front of him. Leaning back, your spine hits a spot between his ribs, the same way it did when you were thirteen, and fourteen, and fifteen, staring at stars from the grass of his backyard. You pity the visitors that have yet to discover the simplicity of stargazing from the ground, hands pushed into the ground for stability, dirt and moisture seeping into the fabric of clothing. Pushing further into him, his breathing is heavy against your back, chest rising in rhythmic ups and downs. For what feels like hours, you sit in silence, eyes trained on your fingers that pick and fiddle. At the realisation that you haven’t looked at the stars in years, something bubbles in your stomach, pervasive, relentless. When you finally loll your head backwards to fall on his shoulder, and the tip of Kei’s nose grazes your cheekbone, you wonder how long he has not looked at the stars for as well. 

“Why’d you stop calling?” His sudden question sends a haze rushing into your head.

You swallow thickly. If the passage of time were a sin, you’d burden it with all your explanations. Telling him that now would seem like some lousy excuse.

“It stopped going to your line a year after I left.” You pause, searching for the right words to use amidst the sea of Japanese and English that you must now sort out. “I only stopped trying after another month, the voicemail just said your number was no longer in use.” 

Kei wishes he could dig his fingers into his chest and rip his heart out. If only he hadn’t stupidly broken his phone that night, five years ago during volleyball practice. If only he had checked his pockets before entering the court, just as he has done hundreds of times before. If only he had this, if only he had that, he might just torment himself for the rest of his life. His breath hitches, shoulder freezing rigid. Time does not differentiate between the knowing and oblivious. It slips and leaks beneath the noses of all that it encompasses, and it is but the cautious few that know to grab it, and join in on its journey. He knows now that he is not one of them, not after he’s cursed at the passage of time over and over and over for his own blunder.

“I broke my phone in a game. Got a new one so the number changed as well, fuck me.”

You laugh dryly into the empty observatory. The occasional twinkling of the stars above do nothing to make his explanation any easier. You think you’ll blame it all on doomed fate that you’ve spent five years trying to find somebody that felt the same as Kei did, to no avail. Blame it on cursed luck that you’ve clawed and grabbed at anything familiar enough, archaeology, jazz vinyls, old DVDs of the movie shared between two, all to remind yourself that he too, was once within grasp. You say nothing, because you don’t see a reason to. Instead, you push your head into his neck, drown in the scent of his cologne, ease yourself into his now grown body. You don’t see him wipe a hand across his mouth, then rub his eyes with pinched fingers. 

When Kei decides to speak again, it is what feels like another hour later. He’s readjusted his posture about fifty times by now, arms removed from the ground and draped over your shoulders. The sensation of your hair against his skin is suddenly more prominent than ever when your hands find his own, holding them closer to yourself.

“If I didn’t find you at the grave, would you have looked for me?” His question is heavy, weighing his chest down as the words leave his throat in a hesitant cluster. You turn to look at him, and your eyes linger on his own when you squeeze his hands once, twice, then a third time. 

“I’ve been looking for five years. Nobody else could take me home.” Your heart rushes to your mouth at your confession, and the bob of Kei’s throat does not go unnoticed. One of his hands comes up to hold your shoulder, pushing it towards himself until your body twists, rubbing against his. You let go of him, pressing your fingers into the ground between his legs instead, and he breathes out shakily, his windpipe suddenly cleared of its uncertainty.

“You’re leaving tomorrow.”

“Yes, I am.”

His fingers slide down to grab your wrist, before going numb completely. His unoccupied hand peels itself from the floor and settles on the side of your waist. Your mouth goes dry when Kei breathes, hot and heavy, his eyes travelling to every inch of you. A bout of heat rushes from his chest to his head, and his legs, and his arms too. The air between the two of you is thick, and it sends your head into a feverish blur. The ground collapses beneath your knees as they shift to press into the floor, and you come face to face with Tsukishima Kei, who prefers his hair parted in bangs on the sides of his face, and wears silver frames instead of black ones. Tsukishima Kei, who has been visiting your father’s grave on your behalf for six years, and still plays volleyball even in his adulthood. Tsukishima Kei, whose eyes are finally finished with their ventures across your figure, that is pushed up against him on the ground of an observatory, and is learning whatever he can about you when his fingers tighten around your wrists and he kisses you without a warning. 

Once, at the young, innocent age of seven, Tsukishima Kei kissed you in this museum. You had run a little too fast, stepped on your loose laces and fallen onto the ground face first. You sulked at a bench facing some random painting of melting clocks, red dots scattered across a purple patch right beneath your eye. When he kneeled in front of you to grab your face, and pressed his lips onto the bruise for a fraction of a second, he must have kissed the pain away, mending the leaking capillaries beneath your skin as he separated from your cheeks with a pop. Now, he pulls against your wrists to push himself closer, traps you in the embrace of his legs around the back of your thighs, wheezes and stutters against your lips at the lack of oxygen in his lungs. His head is running in circles instead of straight paths, and everything is spinning. When your hands reach to grab at his shirt, and palm at his chest, he pulls away only to rip his glasses off and toss them to the ground. Beneath the glow of the moon from above, everything but your flushed cheeks and swollen lips is a blur. You take half a breath in, before it is interrupted by Kei’s palms pulling you in by the sides of your neck, and his mouth on yours again. At seven years old, he ripped bruising pain away from your face with a kiss. At twenty-one, he forces his pain, and grief, and regret rushing into your heart by pushing himself against you, fingers tangling themselves into your hair as he kisses you, desperate, almost distressed. Every tug at your lips is a confession left unspoken, every time Kei opens his mouth apologies spill out into you in choked groans and sighs. At the sensation of his hand leaving your neck, your arm searches for him aimlessly, before he’s palming at you through your pants. He swallows your sudden gasp, and your fingers grip his wrist until your knuckles go white. 

“Did you ever like me?” You can do nothing but choke out a question against his lips, one you’ve pondered about, day in and day out, since your departure from Japan.

By the way that Kei nods frantically, you’re certain that this is what six years of separation has amounted to. 

Sparing no time, your fingers tug at the hem of his boxers, pulling them down just enough to release himself from the fabric constraints. He does the same, hands roaming until they find the waistband of your pants to push them down, fingers tugging your underwear to the side with a flick. He grabs you by the waist beneath your shirt, yanks your body towards him until something feels right and he can’t help but let out a trembling sigh into your shoulder. And when you finally begin to sink yourself onto him, agonisingly slow, you wish that you had never left Japan in the first place. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, and you wish that you could spend the rest of your life in this observatory with Kei, your hands wrapped around the back of his sweat-slicked neck. 

When he pulls you down to push further, more pervasively, you fall into him, head hanging over his shoulder and arms squeezing around his neck. His inexperienced hands rock you back and forth against his hips, pulling a flurry of gasps and moans from your throat. He lets himself learn how you taste when his teeth tug at the hem of your shirt, pulling it down to expose your bare shoulder. His lips latch onto your collarbone, biting and sucking a trail of red marks up to the side of your neck. You shudder at his advances, and he studies the way your walls flutter around him, the erratic pulses that draw stars around his head, how your nails dig into his shoulders, and send his mind into a senseless orbit. 

When he pushes and pulls at you a little harder, you whimper his name into his ear, reduced to nothing but a babbling mess that nibbles at his neck and kisses up his jaw feverishly. First friend, first kiss, first love. The notion that this is another first that Tsukishima Kei has brought upon you sends your mind spiralling. He should have been your first prom date, first roommate, first dance too. If only you hadn’t left him first. You push your head off his shoulder, hands moving to hold his face instead. A wave of pleasure washes over you when his palm presses against your stomach, and you hang your head low again, a shaky sigh released from your chest. 

When you look up, there are tears in Kei’s eyes. He rolls his head back onto the plush seat behind him, hands lifting you off himself fully, just to push you back onto him again. You collapse into his body, palms pressing against his heaving chest. 

“I- fuck! I fucking loved you! I still do!” He speaks it into the glass ceiling as one hand reaches for his face. He wipes his palm across his eyes, only for more tears to form. They are uncontrollable, relentless as he turns his head away from you. He isn’t sure how he will live again tomorrow, not when he’s finally come to a reckoning with the pang in his chest at every thought of you. He thinks he could die the second you step onto that flight back to London, ripped away from him once again. The reality that he cannot stay buried inside you for any longer than the next couple of minutes haunts him to no end, the idea of being separated from you a second time unbearable to even imagine. When he turns back to see you, head on his chest and fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt, he decides that reality can wait until he’s finished with you. 

“I love you too- shit, Kei! I never stopped!”

You rut against his hips senselessly now, chasing some unfamiliar high as your vision fades to black and you scream his name until your throat goes hoarse. Kei barely gives you time to breathe, before he’s coming undone from right beneath you, shuddering and groaning as you relax against his body and go limp. He holds you against him, one hand pushing your head against his chest and the other wrapped around your back. He tucks your damp hair behind your ears, places kisses along your temple so he can hear the hums of satisfaction that sound from your curled lips. 

“Can you stay forever?” He mumbles into your hair, and you turn to press your ear against his chest. His heart pounds as he pushes his cheek into the crown of your head, and your hands crawl up his chest to wrap around his neck. When he looks up through the glass ceiling, the stars have not moved one bit.

“I’ll find you again, wherever you are.”

Time may slip away from Tsukishima Kei like petals that fall off the buds of flowers, water that seeps beneath the soles of his sneakers, stardust that hovers above the atmosphere. Yet he has learned that it has a way of always coming back to remind him of its presence, and its escape. You are the reminder that it has been sending to him for six years.

author's note:

ERM! never writing nsfw again that's for sure but this piece defs had some stuff that i was very, VERY proud of coming up with!! sorry to my minor moots who probably won't read this in its entirety bc of the big MDNI warning... but I honestly don't know how to feel about this piece as a whole... i was super excited to write it but i think i got a little impatient towards the end esp since im always writing at like 3am LOL but i hope you guys liked it anyways!!! i tried really hard to make the dynamic work and i hope it did!!!!!

also ps they exchange numbers again js a little extra bonus that i didn’t get to put into the actual thing

anyways tags!!

@staraxiaa @chuuya-brainrot @akaakeis @laughingfcx @writingsofanomnivore @t0rchknight @bailey-reeds @wyrcan @hiraethwa @fiannee @catsoupki @anonymity-222 @wishi-selfships @kuroppiii

ok love u guys thank u for being patient

[struwberrii]

haikyuu!! boys date night 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋

here are my cute headcanons on where i think haikyuu boys would take you on dates!! hope you guys enjoy (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

characters: kageyama, tsukishim, kuroo, kenma, bokuto, akaashi, oikawa, iwaizumi

˚⊱🪷⊰˚

kageyama

movie date!!

he would def pick you up super awkwardly but try his best to show that he’s excited to be with you

pays for all your snacks, also buys himself snacks even though he’s not hungry so you don’t have to eat alone

would probably watch a rom-com with you

leaves the movie in tears because he thought it was cute but he tries to hide it (╥﹏╥)

wins you a plushie at a crane machine on your way out

walks you home too :)

would shyly ask you to be his partner at the door to your house

tsukishima

arcade date!!

meets you there

smokes you in every game, shows no mercy (¬_¬")

wins you prizes though

gets you drinks/candy

if you actually do beat him in a game he says he let you win (he totally did NOT let you win!!!!!)

would probably want to stop and get fast food on the way out

walks you home and thanks you for letting him take you out

probably gives you like a keychain or something as a gift lol

kuroo

escape room!!

he picks you up from your house

you guys stop and get food before you get there

he catches onto most stuff pretty fast but slows down so you don’t feel bad if you don’t catch on as fast lol

still teases you a little if you don’t get something

gets super into it when he’s trying to solve a puzzle

genuinely stressing out if you can’t solve something ᯣ.ᯣ

when you guys escape he gives you a kiss on the cheek

like hes so happy he was taking it so seriously

walks you home and says next time he takes you out it’ll be as your boyfriend (>_<)

kenma

lego building date!!

i don’t see him as the type of guy who would want to go out if he doesn’t really have to so he’d probably invite you over

he picks you up from your house and walks with you to his for your date

also wants to play video games with you

he buys a lego for you guys to build together

you guys have really good convos :3

hes honestly kind of shy (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

also orders you food for you guys to eat together

not much to it;

he walks you back home at the end of it

bokuto

amusement park!!

def tries to talk you into going on all the tallest and fastest rides and almost passes out on all of them

he still gets back on the scary rides though

buys you funnel cake and ice cream

probably carries you on his back if youre tired

buys you guys matching hats too

makes you take pictures of him with all the mascots (˶˃⤙˂˶)

you guys take the cutest photobooth pictures and he ends up kissing your head in one of them (such a cutie pie ♡)

your amusement park pictures are his lock screen

brings you home too

akaashi

home cooked dinner!!

hes really awkward and anxious so i think he'd avoid somewhere super crowded but still would want to talk to you

you guys watch an online cooking class and make food for eachother :)

you guys have super good convos all night

he romantically wipes food from the corner of your mouth at some point (idk guys sorry)

hes super sweet all night and cracking jokes awkwardly (っ- ‸ - ς)

you guys build a puzzle together :D

probably end up watching a movie together too

oikawa

mini golf date!!

probably only takes you there since hes pretty decent at it

kind of shows off but still praises you for your for your skills (or lack there off)

takes so many pictures of you guys

he probably cheated behind your back and kicked his ball into the hole

gets you food and drinks after obliterating you in mini golf (he didnt he actually went easy but still didnt let him beat you)

carries all your stuff for you when youre finished

takes you home after and asks if he can kiss you ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

iwaizumi

hiking date!!

doesnt take you down a crazy path but its still a bit of a workout

def picks a route with nice scenery

takes a picture of you in front of the view and cant shut up about how pretty/handsome you look (cutie patootie ♡⸜(˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝

constantly pushing you to keep going (hes literally so fit its hard to keep up!!!)

he probably ends up having to carry you back (its ok guys i couldnt keep up with him either)

takes you to a cute sandwich shop after (healthy king)

brings you home and kisses you goodnight <3

[solvisun]

012825. moon carved, love written on skin

tsukishima kei x reader . . . cw / tsukki has a back tattoo. fluff. not proofread and i am sleepy. i dreamt about this lmao. notes / when will i stop writing for this 6ft stickbug pls. (gn again im gonna eep)

tsukishima kei, years after high school, now in his mid-twenties. no longer the snot-nosed looking teenager that he once was, more taller, and softer and tender and so much more forgiving of himself— allowing his vulnerabilities to slip through quite easily with you.

then there's the tattoo, one he doesn't tell you about until now.

you only find out when the two of you are lounging at home one night, moonlight filtering through the curtains, bathing his skin in a dim-lit glow, low music humming in the background. he's lying facedown on the bed, his shirt discarded, and his glasses abandoned on the bedside table. he almost fooled you, making it seem like he’s sleeping, with slow breaths and closed eyes.

you see it clearly, the moon cycle inked onto his back.

“love,” you murmur, your voice laced with curiosity, careful as to confirm if he’s actually out like a light or not, “when were you planning to tell me about this?”

he stiffens almost instinctively, your fingers trace the faint outlines of his shoulder blades, trying to ease him. he turns his head slightly, one eye peeling open, the corner of his mouth curves in faint amusement, as if he didn’t anticipate getting caught in the first place. “wasn’t planning to.”

your hands explore the tattoo—the phases of the moon, spanning the breadth of his back and etched in crisp black ink. each phase feels like a pulse of one’s heartbeat you’ve come to learn and memorize, mirroring the cycles of your lives together: waxing, waning, full, and new.

“why the moon?” you ask softly, running a fingertip along the crescent. you’d never have guessed that the man you’ve come to love had anything as sentimental as this. feels like another layer of intimacy you’ve set foot on, a secret unearthed by the only person he’s planned to reveal it, almost as if this occurrence was already predetermined by him.

he trusts you so much it hurts, in a good way.

he hums, burying his face into the pillow, muffling his voice. “it’s for you.”

“for me?”

“yeah. don’t make me explain it—it’s embarrassing,” he grumbles, his ears tinged red. even more so when you chuckle whilst letting your hand caress his back.

but you can’t stop smiling, “no, no, kei. you can’t drop something like that and not explain.”

he groans into the pillow, but you don’t miss the way his fingers twitch against the sheets, betraying his nerves. after a beat, he rolls over onto his side, propping his head up with one hand, the other resting on his stomach, he looks at you and—your smile curls into a smirk, raising one eyebrow playfully—and then he urges you to join him.

so you do. cuddling into him as he sigh in faux resignation and gently planting a kiss to your temple. the old habits from his teenage years die hard.

“it’s... stupid,” he starts, hesitating.

you interrupt, your voice gentle but insistent. “i want to know.”

he exhales, trying to steel himself, his gaze fixating somewhere over your shoulder. “it’s the phases of the moon. you know, waxing, waning... all that.”

“i can see it, thanks,” you tease lightly, earning yourself a flat look.

“let me finish,” he mutters, his cheeks slightly pink. he fiddles with the hem of the blanket before continuing, quieter now. “it’s... because you remind me of the moon. you’re constant—always there—even if i’m too blind or stupid to notice it sometimes. and even when things feel... off, like everything’s dark, i know you’re still there, just waiting to come back.”

your chest tightens, his words sinking into you, pulls you in like gravity.

“you’re always changing, too,” he adds, his voice steady but soft. “growing, shifting... but still you. and i—” he pauses, swallowing thickly before meeting your gaze again, his expression open and raw in a way the ache never buries itself, only stretched into a shelter inside you that is love. “i just wanted something permanent. something for me. to remind me of you, even when you’re not... here.”

you blink rapidly, trying to keep your emotions in check, but your voice wavers when you respond. “...that’s not stupid at all.”

he scoffs lightly, looking away again, but there’s a faint smile tugging at his lips. “a little, still.”

“it’s perfect,” you counter, sliding closer to press your forehead against his. “and you’re lucky you explained it, or i might’ve cried.”

“you’re already crying,” he points out, brushing a thumb against your cheek, his voice teasing but tender.

“my bad.”

he laughs quietly, you stare at the moon with warmth.

his thumb lingers on your cheek, tracing gentle circles, “you’re ridiculous,” you say, though your voice carries no malice—just a kind of awe tinged in disbelief. “keeping this to yourself for so long…”

he shrugs one shoulder, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. “didn’t think it was worth mentioning.”

“you have an entire tattoo on your back—dedicated to me—and you thought it wasn’t worth mentioning?”

he opens his mouth to respond but falters, and for a second, you see the remnants of his old high school self, the boy who avoids vulnerability like it was a volleyball hurtling toward him. but he doesn’t retreat now, he lets you see him in full view.

“it’s not that i didn’t want to tell you,” he admits. “it’s just… i didn’t know how. or when. and i guess…” he trails off, his brows knitting together like he’s trying to piece together the right words. “i guess i wanted it to be... ours, you know? just ours. something no one else gets to know about.”

you cup his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones, and he leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut.

“kei,” you murmur, your voice steady despite the lump in your throat. “you’re incredible, you know that?”

his eyes flutter open, half-lidded gaze as he blinks to your lips, “you’re being dramatic.”

“no, i’m being honest,” pressing a kiss to his forehead as you continue, “you’re incredible, and this—” your hand moves to trace the outline of his tattoo again, arms stretched to reach his back, fingers light and reverent. “this means the world to me.”

you hear the slight hitch of his breath. the way his arms tighten around you says more than words ever could. “i’m glad you like it,” he murmurs eventually, breathless.

“i love it. just like i love you.”

“good,” he says, his voice teasing but soft. “because i don’t plan on getting rid of it.”

“good,” you echo, settling back against him, your head resting on his chest. you can feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, it’s telling you what you already know, but always search for a reminder: you’re home with him.

the two of you stay like that for a while, until kei speaks again,

“i guess this means you’re stuck with me now,” he says, his tone light but tinged with something deeper. he chuckles to himself, “i love you, too.” and he’s glad these words are already carved to his skin. his own museum he’s carved just for you.

© SOLVISUN 2025. all rights reserved, do not repost/alter.

[clawsdevour]

pretty insecure

wc: 1.7k content warning: post-timeskip, established relationship, insecure reader x tsukki, reader is flat chested, smut, not proofread

Ⳋ᧙   ۟   ⊹

Always wanting the light to be off whenever you had intimate time with your loving boyfriend who’s never refused. Tsukishima never questioned why you wanted the lights to be dimmed whenever you guys fucked but it still surfaced on his mind from time to time. He’d always wonder how you’d look whenever your slightly parted, swollen lips moan out sweet whimpers in his ears.

The world’s spinning whenever your lips graze against his for a long and passionate kiss that may or may not lead to having intercourse from time to time. A string of saliva the only thing connecting you two as you feel his left hand moving from your waist to caress the subtle valley emerging from your chest.

The ambient light highlighted his every move that sparked intent with each gesture. His honey brown eyes that glowed in the darkness, face lit up from the lamp that stood tall on your nightstand. The warm shade settling right on the surface of your breasts that hovered and spilled out of your push up bra as you laid flat down on the bed.

“Can we turn off the light?” putting a hand on his muscular shoulder as he leaned back. 

“Why do you wanna do that when I’m tryna see all of you..?” placing a soft peck on your hand, his stern half lidded eyes glancing at you with desire.

“I’m just.. a bit embarrassed,” breaking out of his intense eye contact as your cheeks fluttered a bright red hue.

You weren’t ashamed of being naked in front of him. It’s just that.. you don’t wanna make him feel like he’s been fooled when you take off your push up bra to show that you don’t have much chest as he expected whenever you have your brassiere on. Not to mention, being flat chested made you feel insecure ever since you’ve hit puberty, expecting to have bigger busts like the girls your age.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I love you for you, not your body. You already know that..”

Warm words dissolving in your ear. The words you’ve been searching to hear for so long. The words you’ve long to hear come out of someone you like, rather, love. Tsukishima wasn’t just anybody, or just your boyfriend. He’s your soulmate for god’s sake.

“...even if I don’t have the biggest cups with a push up bra on?” looking down to peer at your tits that gathered and sat at the top of your chest to look fuller.

“Yes? Is that why you’ve been wanting the lights off?” lowering himself to graze the surface of your bare stomach, toned with the accent lighting, sending you shivers down your spine. 

His heated little kisses tickle as Tsukishima makes his way up to your bust, making sure you know that he wants you to receive all of his love no matter what part of you his lips land on. Mumbling out a low ‘mhm..’ observing his blonde head of hair slowly inch up towards your field of vision, your fingers diligently stroking through his messy locks. 

When his slender long fingers meet your bra, immediately sliding under whilst meeting all the stored up warmth your body produced that greeted his cold fingertips. 

Pushing your bra up to reveal your small chest and perky rosy nipples, you can’t look. His honey golden eyes darted straight at your insecurities, accented by the ambient light that made you flare a bursting red. 

“You’re too gorgeous, y’know that?” mumbling under breath before you felt a wet and heated sensation arouse your little nub.

His fiery hot tongue circles around your erected nipple while you rubbed your knees together under him. Feeding into your satisfaction when Tsukishima’s large hand fondles with your other breast, making sure it gets the same amount of attention as the other.

The saliva Tsukishima left on your nipple glistens in the light while he switches to the other, showing you that he loves you even if you don’t love yourself inside or out. Delighted with glee, you just want to take all of him that instant as your patience runs low.

“Kei..” you whisper to him with content. His heavy eyelids making contact with yours from beneath.

“Hmm?” grumbling with a nipple still in his mouth, feeling the vibrations on your breast.

“Let’s fuck already” trying to surpress the dopey goofy grin about to be plastered across your face. A bit stoked, his mouth drops the erected nub out and instantly you feel him lay the girth of hardness on your thigh, feeling how hard you make him. 

Helping you slide off your underwear while you removed your push up bra that was quite literally pushed towards your collarbone, you can’t help but feel like the luckiest girl in the world knowing that your boyfriend genuinely doesn’t care that you have this aching insecurity that has been eating at you ever since you were younger.

“Woah.. already this excited? What was it this time, love?” stroking his thumb down your glistening slit before slightly rubbing slow circles on your wet clit.

“Mm, I dunno…” you wholeheartedly said while biting down on your bottom lip, ready to bury him into your warm embrace that yearned for him to fill you up.

Before he could sink his cock into you though, he always made sure you’re prepped enough to take him. What he wielded wasn’t a ruler, but a sword. He’s putting his fingers to work. Twisting and turning, scissoring and curling inside your tight and plush walls that dripped with juices.

Making your legs tremble with pleasure as you dug your nails into his shoulders, leaving your bright red imprints on his pale skin. Your raggedy breathing increases while you tilted your head back into the fluffy pillow, your body moving at a rapid pace to stabilize your breath as you basked in the ambient lighting in front of him. 

Right when you were about to lose it, your made him come to a halt before you were able to cream all over his digits. Yes, you were a bit disappointed you haven’t came but at this point, you were a sopping and dripping mess. Almost too fragile for him to fuck with.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” landing a kiss on the back of your knee that he placed on his shoulder.

“Yeah.. I don’t care if it hurts if it’s you,” spreading your wet folds for him to enter with your fingers for him to examine.

Gulping at the glorious sight held upon him, stroking his cock a few times before using the slick to slide in smoothly upon entrance. The pain started to kick in instantly the moment his tip entered, your tight walls clamping down on him as it stretched to fit Tsukishima’s size. It was as if he was about to split you into two.

Squirming under him while you held onto his biceps for support, cock still slowly inching into you like a fork scraping a chalkboard except it was your gummy walls. Your cunt producing more fluids to accommodate a smoother and painless entrance before he’s fully situated inside you.

“Keep going Kei..” averting your trusting eyes at him that glossed with forming tears.

“Tell me when to stop” kissing your sticky forehead due to sweat, like he could even care.

Finally nesting his length inside you, your insides feel like they’re just about to burst as it expands to take a grasp of his size. Tsukishima’s plump lips make their way back down to fondle onto your smaller chest, playing with your nipples with ease. Just lightly teasing them, flicking them with his fingertips while you fidgeted under his towering stature.

Grinding your hips into his bit by bit, building up the delicious friction that started to have waves of euphoria wash over you. Your knees sitting on his broad shoulders as his strong hands pinned your wrists down, Tsukishima makes sure your insecurities get all the love they could ever get aslong as you’re with him.

“Want me to start moving?” his hot breath tickles on your damp skin, just slightly shimmering in the semi-dark light due to the sheen layer of sweat that built up from your foreplay.

Nodding into the pillow, Tsukishima starts to remove and insert himself back in at a steady and leisurely rate to not discomfort you. Your folds clinging onto him whenever he went out before burying himself back into you, making you feel him reach the depths of your cunt every time he nestled inside, his cock glossy with your dripping essence. 

“Ugh.. Kei–” trying to shield yourself from his intoxicating vision when he started to pick up the pace that made you start gasping for air.

His cock hit places his fingers couldn’t reach and you always thought that the areas his fingers stimulated were already good enough. Your moans and whimpers spilling out of your parted lips, filling the room with your echoing noises that mixed with the squelching from your cunt.

Your aching pussy starting to throb from all the tension and pleasure his cock offered you, the veins on his length stimulating your walls even further whenever they pulsated inside. Tsukishima’s low grunts of satisfaction suppressed through a series of kisses he leaves on your knees and inner thighs, focusing on you and only you.

Pumping you full of his girth until you released your hot fluids all over his cock, absolutely exhausted and tired out of your mind as you continued to receive his hard thrusts until he came. Seeing white until he pulled out, leaving you to quiver feeling so empty without his filling presence in you.

Squirting out white ropes of cum, his milky fluids catching onto your swollen tits you were once insecure of. Your chest heaves for air, your sleep eyelids started to pick a fight with your consciousness.

“Kei..” lifting your limbless arms for him as he dives into your sticky, heat emitting embrace. Placing a kiss on your cheek as your finger draws across his face.

“Too pretty to be insecure..” his hoarse husky voice whispered, tucking a strand of hair that clung onto your skin behind your ear.

masterlist here

[adumbratrapedme]

BABY BUMP | teen pregnancy series

Synopsis. after revealing your pregnancy to your boyfriend a few weeks passed and you finally realize the baby bump is here o.o

characters (all separated): tsukishima, kenma, kageyama wc.x words aprox. | genre. pure fluff !|cw/tags. fluff, teen pregnancy, baby bumps. teen pregnancy series masterlists here!

important ! im sorry y'all, i promise in working on the other guys too, btw you can check out the teen preg. masterlist to get a little spoiler over the next chapters <3

Kenma

It was a quiet afternoon after school. Kenma had just finished a round of gaming in the clubroom, and you were both sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall as you chatted. You had been trying to keep your pregnancy low-key for the past few weeks, but the signs had become undeniable. The nausea had subsided, but a deep sense of exhaustion still lingered, and you found yourself eating more often.

You hadn’t thought much about it until recently—until now.

Kenma was fiddling with his phone, looking over some stats for an upcoming game, when you stood up suddenly. The simple act of standing made you realize something had changed. You placed a hand on your lower abdomen, feeling the slight roundness there.

“Kenma,” you said softly, your voice laced with hesitation.

He looked up from his phone, the usual nonchalance in his eyes, but something in your tone made him pause. “What’s up?”

You shifted uncomfortably on your feet, lifting your hoodie slightly to reveal your growing belly. You hadn’t really noticed the change until today, when the fit of your clothes felt tighter. Your stomach now had a visible curve, small but undeniably there.

Kenma’s gaze immediately shifted to your stomach, his eyes widening slightly as he absorbed what you were showing him. He blinked twice, his mind catching up with the situation.

“I think… it’s growing,” you said quietly, trying to keep your emotions in check. The reality of it was becoming more and more real every day, and now, seeing the bump clearly, it was like a weight settling in your chest.

Kenma didn’t say anything at first, his gaze still fixed on your stomach. He seemed lost in thought, his fingers twitching as if unsure whether to touch or not. You waited in silence, your heart racing.

Finally, he spoke, his voice soft but steady. “Yeah… it is.” He reached out cautiously, his hand hovering near your waist before gently placing it on the curve of your abdomen. The warmth of his hand felt reassuring. “It’s really happening, huh?”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “I… didn’t think it would show so soon.” The reality of being a first-year high school student and carrying a child was overwhelming, and now, your body was unmistakably reminding you of the responsibility ahead.

Kenma’s eyes softened as he looked at you. “It’s okay,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. “We’ll figure it out. You’re not alone in this.” His hand rested more comfortably on your stomach, as though offering silent support.

You smiled, trying to steady your breathing. Despite the nerves and uncertainty that loomed over you both, his steady presence always calmed you. Even though this was a huge change for both of you, you felt a sense of calm in knowing that Kenma was there by your side.

“Yeah, we will,” you agreed, your voice growing more confident.

For a moment, there was nothing but the soft sound of your breathing, the quiet stillness of the room, and the warmth of Kenma’s hand. The world outside seemed distant, and for now, it was just the two of you, facing the next steps together.

Tsukishima

It had been a few months since that day. Things weren’t perfect—far from it—but Tsukishima was trying. He showed up to appointments, asked questions about the baby’s development, and even begrudgingly helped pick out a crib.

Today, though, everything felt ordinary. The two of you had agreed to spend the afternoon together, sorting through some of the baby things Yamaguchi had been helping you collect.

You were in the kitchen, struggling to reach something on the top shelf. Tsukishima, standing nearby with his usual unimpressed expression, sighed and walked over.

“Couldn’t you have just asked me?” he muttered, grabbing the item with ease.

“Maybe I like the challenge,” you shot back, though the slight smirk on your lips gave you away.

As you turned to set the item down, the hem of your shirt caught on the edge of the counter, riding up slightly. Tsukishima’s sharp eyes caught the sight instantly.

“Wait.” His voice stopped you in your tracks.

“What?”

He motioned for you to stay still, his expression shifting as he stepped closer. For a moment, he simply stared at you, and you followed his gaze downward. That’s when you noticed it—a subtle curve below your navel that hadn’t been there before.

Your heart skipped a beat.

“Oh…” you whispered, placing a hand over the small bump.

Tsukishima’s hand hesitated, hovering near yours. “Can I…?”

You nodded, and he carefully placed his palm over the swell of your stomach. His hand was warm, and the touch was so gentle it made your chest ache.

“It’s real,” he murmured, almost to himself. “I mean, I knew it was real, but… this…”

You watched his face as he stared at your stomach. The usual sharpness in his features softened, replaced by an emotion you couldn’t quite place.

“It’s weird,” he finally admitted, though his tone lacked its usual bite. “In a good way, I think.”

You laughed softly, resting your hand over his. “Yeah. Weird in a good way.”

For a moment, the two of you stood there in silence, the weight of the moment settling over you.

“Do you think it’ll kick soon?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual.

“Maybe. It’s still early, though.”

He nodded, his thumb brushing over the fabric of your shirt absentmindedly. “I don’t know if I’m ready for this,” he admitted. “But I want to be. For you. For… them.”

Your chest tightened at his words. “You’re doing better than you think, Kei.”

He glanced up at you, meeting your eyes. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

His lips quirked into a small smile—a rare, genuine one that made your heart swell.

“Thanks,” he said simply, his gaze flickering back to your stomach. “I guess we’re really doing this, huh?”

“Yeah,” you said, a smile tugging at your lips. “We are.”

Tsukishima leaned down slightly, his hand still resting on your stomach. “Alright, kid,” he said, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “Don’t make this too hard on your mom, okay?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, tears pricking at your eyes. In that moment, despite all the challenges ahead, you knew you wouldn’t be facing them alone.

And as Tsukishima stood there, his hand protectively over your growing bump, you knew he was starting to believe it too.

Kageyama

It had been weeks since Kageyama promised to try. He hadn’t been perfect — far from it, actually. There were still moments he’d retreat into himself, overwhelmed by fear of the unknown. But he was showing up, and that mattered more than anything.

One afternoon, the two of you were walking home together after school. It was unusually quiet between you, but not uncomfortably so. The crisp autumn air rustled the leaves, and the faint scent of baked goods from a nearby café filled the air.

Kageyama glanced at you, noting how bundled up you were in your oversized hoodie. “Aren’t you hot?” he asked, gesturing to the layers you had on.

You shook your head, pulling the hoodie tighter around yourself. “No, I’m fine. It’s cozy.”

He frowned slightly. “You’ve been wearing that a lot lately.”

You hesitated, unsure how to explain it. It had been getting harder to hide the small swell of your stomach. You hadn’t mentioned it to him yet, partly because you were still processing it yourself. But his sharp gaze caught your hesitation.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, stopping in his tracks. His tone wasn’t accusatory — just concerned.

“Nothing,” you replied quickly, but your voice betrayed you. You tugged at the hem of your hoodie, avoiding his eyes.

Kageyama stepped in front of you, effectively blocking your path. “Y/N,” he said firmly, his blue eyes narrowing. “Tell me.”

You sighed, realizing there was no escaping this. Slowly, you lifted the hem of your hoodie just enough to reveal the gentle curve of your belly. “It’s… starting to show,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Kageyama’s eyes widened as he stared at the small bump. He didn’t say anything at first, and the silence was deafening. His hand twitched at his side, like he wanted to reach out but didn’t know if he should.

“Tobio?” you prompted nervously. “Say something…”

He blinked, finally snapping out of his daze. “That’s… our baby?” His voice was quiet, almost reverent.

“Yeah,” you said, your cheeks heating up. “It’s real now, huh?”

Kageyama hesitated for a moment before lifting a shaky hand toward your stomach. “Can I…?”

You nodded, holding your breath as his hand gently rested on your belly. His touch was hesitant, as if he was afraid he might hurt you or the baby. But then his fingers relaxed, and he let out a quiet breath.

“It’s… warm,” he muttered, his brows furrowed in concentration. He stared at your bump like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. “I didn’t think it would feel… like this.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his awe-struck expression. “It’s not kicking or anything yet. But soon, maybe.”

He nodded, his lips pressing into a thin line. You could see the gears turning in his head, the weight of the situation sinking in even deeper. But then he looked up at you, his eyes filled with a quiet determination.

“I’ll do better,” he said firmly. “For both of you.”

You placed your hand over his, resting on your belly. “You’re already doing better, Tobio.”

The two of you stood there for a moment longer, the world around you fading away. For the first time, the future didn’t feel quite as scary.

TAGLIST:

@chilichopsticks @dreadnoughtus101 @starykari @staygoldsquatchling02

[youwerethedefeated]

The concept of Sendai Frogs trio is so funny to me cause like. Imagine Tsukki, fresh out of high school and finally free from Hinata and Kageyama. Getting into a professional team for the first time and having to balance that with college. Life has never been so peaceful.

....and then next thing he knows he's on a team with Kogane and fucking. Mad Dog.