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#hq oneshots
keitea · 1 year
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when you try to kick him but he grabs your ankle and laughs as you stumble, trying to steady yourself. he leans in, the all-familiar smirk plastered on his face. "not so bold are we now, hmm?"
i like making myself blush from my own writing LOL
sugawara, OIKAWA, iwaizumi hajime (27) athletic trainer, kuroo, atsumu, osamu (yall know why the twins are here), daichi <33
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hajimio · 2 years
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you’re not quite sure when you fell in love with iwaizumi, but you know now that you have.
and really, it should be easy to know how it happened and where it happened and all the things in between—you should’ve noticed it happening months ago, when you hooked up with him, when he asked you out, when you kept seeing each other even after the one night stand.
you should’ve known, when you slowly drifted into the dating label and then again when he called you his girlfriend like it was only natural—you should’ve known then that you were falling in love with him.
but, of course, you didn’t. you didn’t know that you’d fallen in love with iwaizumi until now—until he was staring out at you, an umbrella over his head while little raindrops fell in front of you from the autumn sky.
you’re still stood under the awning of the library, your books and laptop kept safely in your backpack, and if it weren’t for the umbrella iwaizumi was holding, he’d be soaked.
which is a shame, really. you love to see his hair wet and you love the way water slips down the slope of his nose and you love the way he blinks the water away from his lashes. it’s the little things, you suppose.
but the point is, he wants you to take that umbrella from him. and you’d rather spite his chivalry than give in to your worst temptations.
“oh c’mon,” he says, “just take the damn umbrella so we can go home.”
you want to laugh at the word home. it’s your home more than it is his—your name is on the lease and you bought the bedsheets and the pots and the pans, but he’s managed to leave little pieces of himself there too. you know he’s just saying home as shorthand, you know that there’s a secondary location where he’s bought the sheets and the pots and the pans and everything else inside, but it’s sweet. oddly sweet. to share a space of your own with someone else.
and to know that you love them.
you really should’ve realized sooner.
“i’m not taking your umbrella,” you reply. you try to keep your face straight, but your lips curl at the corners and laughter begs to create a tremor in your voice. “a little rain won’t kill me, let’s just go.”
you go to step out from under the awning, and iwaizumi reaches a hand towards you. he keeps you still—keeps you dry from the rain—and you’re sure that if anyone saw you, they’d think to tell iwaizumi off for being so demanding to a girl. you’re thankful they’re not. you’re not sure you could stand to tell some poor soul that you’re both just too stubborn to move.
“oh- hajime-” you scold, and he narrows his eyes at you. “just let me walk, please?”
you watch him look you over, watch his eyes flick from the top of your head all the way down to your shoes, and he narrows his eyes again.
you see an idea flicker across his lips.
“take half,” he says, or maybe insists. “i’ll hold it just- take half of it.”
and idea flickers across yours, too, so you smile—eyes crinkling, teeth biting at your tongue.
“okay,” you reply, and step out into the rain. iwaizumi glares at you when he leans over to catch you before you get too wet. it makes him lean a little awkwardly—you laugh at him. “but only because i love you.”
you don’t have to look at him to know his reaction—you hear the breath that he takes in—but you choose to anyway. you want to see the blush creep up his neck and around his ears, you want to see where the rain is getting into his hair now, where he’s blinking out the drops, where it’s running down the rise and fall of his cheek. you have to lean over to see it all. you do.
he’s still quiet, but you’re terrible and you’re in love with him—and maybe you’re a little cruel too, so you speak again.
“hajime? baby? did you hear me?” his gaze flicks to you. “i love you, you know.”
you’re not particularly worried about iwaizumi saying it back. despite all that he is, he’s never been particularly conservative with i love you. he grumbles them to his overly-affectionate roommate, the one who sips from his coffee mug and twists his face at the taste and who insisted that iwaizumi just had to meet you. he says them to his mother and to his sister at the end of every call, and even in the middle, just to remind them. he texts them to oikawa, and makki, and mattsun, and whoever else he might care for. because iwaizumi, despite all that he is and all that he may seem, loves like you’ve never known someone to. so, even if he doesn’t say it tonight, you know that, should iwaizumi love you, he’ll tell you. and you’ll wait for him to say it as long as it may take.
so you watch the blush curl around his ears again. you watch it gather and spread and gather again—you watch the breath of almost-laughter fall from the expansion of his chest to the departure from his nose. you watch him—all of him—while he shifts the umbrella a little closer to you.
“yeah,” he says, “i know.” he pauses, you both keep walking. there are parts of you that are soaked and parts of him that seem to mirror you. you find you don’t particularly mind, but you hold your breath with every raindrop anyway.
he laughs a breathy laugh again. “breathe,” he says, “i love you, too.”
and iwaizumi, in his final act, pulls the umbrella away from you—if only for a moment—to let the water soak into your hair and your sweater and everything down to your jeans. he yells when you pull it back in your own direction, sending raindrops slipping down his nose and his ears, just enough to cool the heat of the blush.
you both settle into laughter as the umbrella returns to your center, and you begin to settle into what was really, truly said just moments before.
iwaizumi loves you, and you love iwaizumi. and really, you should’ve known that weeks earlier, but you didn’t. you didn’t know it until you were both half-soaked from the rain, and you realized that you’d rather be like this with him, than be dry and alone.
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taeyamayang · 1 year
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Sincerly Yours,
tsukishima kei; angst
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“If you're reading this, my worst fear must have happened.”
Rain mocks Tsukishima as it slithers from the roof of his tinted car down to the steep glass that separates him from the rest of the world. The events tonight are heavy, leaving a wrenching pain in his chest even though he had everything planned. Emotions and reason are quantified and rationalized and yet he did not expect to feel this way, not when he’s reading a letter from you–the one you gave him before you left the cafe. 
“Ironically, I wrote this at my happiest moment with you. You’re sitting across from me in the living room, my feet on your thighs as you busy yourself with a newly purchased book. You don’t even notice me looking at you and smiling like an idiot in love. Well, that is true. I am an idiot for loving you.” 
Tsukishima couldn’t remember the last time he had a hard time reading words. Every phrase numbs his senses, losing control over his trembling hands, and restricting his air ways making it hard for him to breathe. All he could focus on is the prickling sensation on his palms and his racing heartbeat. Why are you always so unpredictable?
“You burnt your tongue on a miso soup I made tonight. It was my first attempt to recreate your mother’s speciality and you were so excited to critique that you missed my warning. You cussed in different languages at the sudden burn and I couldn’t help but laugh. Sometimes I forget that deep within you rests an innocent child. I want to take care of you; of course, for as long as you allow me. Tell me, do you remember today?” 
Unable to hold it in, Tsukishima chokes on his tears. His pale cold hands cupping his mouth as if to swallow back his sobs. The memory of you in his apartment, wearing an apron way too large for your size and the determined look on your face, eager to woo him with your amateur cooking skills. How could he forget? You looked ridiculous as you complained about the confusing cooking instructions on google. He snuck a photo of you in his small kitchen, your back to his as you take a sip from the wooden ladle. It was his wallpaper for the next three months. How could he forget? How could he forget the first time he wished for a future with someone. Waking up next to you every day, warm showers together, and falling asleep in each other’s arms. He was never this way with anyone before. 
“Why didn’t we make it?"
Tsukishima wallows in despair, tucking the letter away to the dashboard. His forehead meets with the steering wheel, body forfeiting on the burden of breaking up. His hand clutches onto the paper tightly as though he was holding your hand, afraid that losing grip will slip you away. 
“Was I not enough? Was being with me not enough to make you happy? I always tell you to pursue happiness even if it means leaving important yet unhealthy things in your life. Perhaps, in your present day, I am one of them. I’ll never blame you for ending things. You might think how could I be so sure that you’ll be the one to break us up? I have never told you this, at least from the time I wrote this, with you I have always been certain. I want to grow old with you. But things turned out differently for the both of us, didn't they? Even so, thank you and for the last time, I love you, Kei.”
He tosses his glasses to the seat next to him, pressing the pads of fingers on the socket of his eyes. “Stop.” He utters between sobs. The rain has now completely framed the windows of his car. The loud pouring on the metal hood silences the rustling city. He’s alone, listening to his pointless wails. 
“Sincerely Yours,”
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a/n: writing with my uterus. ah i miss writing angst.
masterlist | hq.list
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softxsuki · 1 year
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Can I please request an urgent request about Kenma taking care of reader after their very painful stomach surgery? Thank you TT
Kenma Taking Care of Reader After Their Surgery
Pairing: Kenma x Gn!Reader
Warnings: mentions of surgery, fear, crying, vomiting, pain
Genre: Comfort
Post-Type: Oneshot
Word Count: 1.1k
Summary: In which Kenma takes care of you after your surgery
[A/N: Suzyyyyyyyy I hope you get better soon! I didn't specify the type of surgery reader had, bc I wasn't sure what to add to make it that specific and this just flowed better for me, I hope that's okay. enjoy <;3]
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“Are you L/N’s family? They’re out of surgery now and in a room, you can all come in to see them now, if you’d like. They’re finally awake,” a Doctor calls out to Kenma and your family who are sitting anxiously in the hospital waiting room.
His character on his phone screen dies for the nth time at the news as he jumps up from his seat. He had spent his time in the waiting room playing a game on his phone, but really his mind was completely on you the whole time, not able to fully absorb himself in his games like he usually would.
Before your surgery, he did a great job of reassuring you that you’d be okay and seemed very calm on the outside about the whole thing, but on the inside he was freaking out. He hated how fearful you were about the whole process and would come to hate how much pain you’d be in afterwards. He wished he could take all your fear away, hence why he remained calm. Him freaking out in front of you wouldn't have helped you. And now nerves were eating him away inside as he walked behind your family to your hospital room.
The white walls were suffocating, and if it weren’t for you, Kenma would have never chosen to be in a place like that. He just wanted to be back home with you like things always were. His heartbeat was up to his throat as he approached the door that was slowly opened by your mother. Your mother was the first one by your side, checking you over to see if you were okay despite the pain clearly etched on your features. 
Kenma snuck beside you and gave your hand a gentle squeeze before taking a seat in the far corner of your hospital room, away from your family. As much as he wanted to scan you up and down and try to distract you from the pain you felt, he was still a little uncomfortable displaying affection in front of your family, so he waited for them to leave. His eyes were on you the whole time, trying to express his love for you through them since he couldn’t say it out loud.
After what felt like hours with you in and out of sleep and groans of pain leaving your lips along with tears falling from your eyes, your family were finally heading out for the night. They bid you farewell and even patted Kenma on the back as your mother hugged him quickly, which embarrassed him a bit, but he hugged her back regardless–and then they were gone. 
Now it was just the two of you in your hospital room. Visiting hours would be over in a few more hours, but he planned on staying there with you the whole time. Kenma took a seat on the chair your mother once occupied and held your hand gently as more tears fell from your eyes. 
“It hurts so much,” you croak out, your throat in pain from the tubes that were down them during surgery.
He visibly gulps at the sight of you in pain; he hated seeing you like that. If he could take on all your pain for you he would–in a heartbeat. He felt so helpless beside you as all he could offer you were comforting words and his presence, but other than that, you had to go through the pain on your own with the very weak aid of your pain medication. 
“I know Y/N,” he says softly, rubbing small circles on the back of your hand that he was still holding, “I wish I could do more to help you feel better, but all I can really do is just be here for you.”
And as much as it hurt to see you in so much pain, he stayed. Every day he came to the hospital as soon as visiting hours started, to the point until they ended. He stayed through the vomiting, the crying, restless nights–he was right there by your side until your discharge day. 
Going home, Kenma continued to look after you. He listened carefully to the doctor's instructions, taking notes and memorizing everything like he would with the instructions to one of his video games. He was very serious about making sure you healed properly and got better as soon as possible.
In the beginning, he tries to keep you as still as possible, getting everything you need for you so you don’t have to strain yourself. He makes sure you’re well hydrated, even when that becomes too hard for you. When the time comes for you to get up on your feet, he’d hold your hand the whole time in case you need to squeeze it for support or if a rush of pain goes through you. All thoughts of video games go out the window and you become his main mission each day. He’s not satisfied until you’re fully healed.
Spends most nights pressing comforting kisses to your face and lips, shyly. He’s usually not so forward with his affection, but he thought maybe he would help distract you from your pain, so he didn’t mind if he got a little embarrassed. 
One day you ask if you can play some games with him to help pass the time. You were sick and tired of the pain and just bored of not being able to go out like you usually did. 
“Sure,” he agrees, setting up his console for the both of you.
You end up playing some multiplayer game with him, but he lets you win each round, he’s just truly focused on you, glad to see you in higher spirits for a change. 
“Cute…”he whispers without even realizing it, clamping his hand over his mouth once what he said sets in and your eyes meet his.
Now bright red, he refuses to take his words back because he did mean them, you were so cute to him, absolutely beautiful, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be any less embarrassed about it. You just smile at him and lean in for a kiss, making sure to not strain yourself in the process though, Kenma jumps up and connects your lips for you in a gentle kiss full of love. 
The game is once again forgotten and the two of you talk for the rest of the night until it’s time for you to sleep again. It’s probably your third nap of the day, but he tucks you in and gets cozy beside you, joining you in each of your naps so you’re not lonely. 
He loves you so much, and you’ll definitely feel the love during these next few weeks together as he takes care of you.
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REQUESTS ARE OPEN :D
Posted: 10/28/2022
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kitashousewife · 1 year
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fluff, just a silly thought i had
-
“why’d you do it?”
ennoshita freezes, the pillow he’s been fluffing hangs in his hand.
“do what?”
you prop yourself up on one arm, facing your very suspicious husband. you know he knows.
“don’t be funny, chikara. i just wanna know why.”
his fingers fumble with the lamp switch for a moment as he thinks of an excuse.
“i didn’t, i didn’t mea-“
“you drank all of my night water. admit it!”
your tone is accusatory, but ennoshita catches the hint of playfulness. he slips into bed with you, pulling covers up with a sigh. he reaches for you, but you pull away.
“oh come on baby,”
“i knew it.”
he groans. sure, looking back he knows that it wasn’t the best thing he could have done. hindsight is always 20/20, right? but he couldn’t resist.
the fluctuating heat in your shared apartment decided to play it’s regular games around 2:30 am, causing ennoshita to wake up rather quickly, and rather uncomfortable. the warm, dry air made him parched. when he sat up and felt around for the glass on his bedside table, he was extremely disappointed when it was completely empty. before he gave up though, he saw yours completely full, almost tempting him from across the bed.
“baby, you don’t understand! i was miserable. i’m sorry, i really am. it was a moment of weakness!” he pleads, palms up in defense.
“chikara i totally understand! because i woke up for the same reason, except i didn’t have anything to drink,” you pout, and he chuckles. “this isn’t funny! i’m serious about this,”
“i’m not laughing at you, i just think you’re real cute,” he faces you now, on his side, and rubs his thumb over your cheek. you lean into his touch, before pulling away. he rolls his eyes.
“don’t try to distract me. please promise to never drink my night water again,” you grab his hand with your own, wiggling it a little bit.
“fine, i promise,” he kisses you on the cheek, then the lips. he rolls over to his back, opening his arms wide for you to join him. as you snuggle in, placing your head on his chest, you hum.
“thank you,”
he nods. a few seconds pass by, just filled with your steady breathing.
“i promise that i’ll only drink your water if im desperate-“
“no.”
he rubs your back slowly and snorts. “i’m just kidding. i promise.”
as you drift off to sleep, you smile. ennoshita is a sweetheart, and you knew he wouldn’t have done it unless he really needed to. but, it’s just fun to see him sweat a little.
plus, he will be really happy when he sees that you’ve refilled his cup for him earlier tonight.
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writtenbynightlock · 2 years
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them together with a swiftie s/o
— ft. akaashi keiji
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summary: red (taylor’s version) was released
genre: just pure fluff
warnings: none
wc: 982 | m.list
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» akaashi keiji
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akaashi was prepared for this day. he knew you were a big fan of taylor swift. on his phone, he followed a few fan accounts that would give updates regarding the artist. he listened to all her albums because he wanted to be in sync with your feels. out of all the pieces, to him, he finds the red album full of heartbreak.
knowing how emotional you can get, the day before the release, he bought sweets such as ice cream, chocolate, etc.
“keiji! its out!” you screamed, panicking as you opened your laptop and logged into spotify, your hand shaking in excitement.
“do you want me to turn on the speaker?” asks akaashi as he descends from the bedroom, heading to the living room of your shared apartment.
“yes please! i don’t care about the neighbors!”
akaashi obeys and grabs the wireless speaker, connecting it to your laptop. he then placed it on the coffee table, letting you do the rest.
"your lunch's gonna get cold, love”
he says, sitting on the arm rest of the couch, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and kissed the side of your head.
“i'll eat later. this is more important"
akaashi chuckled and properly sat down beside you on the couch.
"do you wanna listen with me?" you ask, and akaashi couldn't say no to that adorable face of yours when you are excited. "of course i do" says akaashi, reaching out a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your hair.
as you pressed play, it was on shuffle. the first song was 'i knew you were trouble'. everything was going well, you were enjoying the songs and can't help but fangirl, then as each song finishes, it started to get into the sadder side of the album.
it then started to play 'everything has changed', making you turn to akaashi who was enjoying the album as well. akaashi understood why you were such a big fan of hers. her songs were some fine poetry. her wordplay is amazing and how much artistry she brings into her songs and music videos.
"this is my favorite" he says, perking up your interest that made you look at him. you were definitely surprised.
"since when did you start listening to taylor swift?"
"ever since i fell in love with you"
you felt your heart skip a beat and feel your face flush red.
"k-keiji, that's so sweet of you" touched was not even the right word to describe how you were moved. the two of you, with the weather cooperating with the mood of the album, the faint sound of the pouring rain from outside and 'everything has changed' playing in the background, it was one of the most wholesome moments you spent with akaashi that made your heart full.
akaashi pulled you closer to him, wrapping his strong arm around your waist and tangling your legs together, resting his forehead onto yours.
"you know why its my favorite?" you remained silent, too overwhelmed the way akaashi was making you feel at the moment. you could even hear your heart pounding in your chest, wondering if akaashi could even hear it. and with him this close to you and the way he caresses your waist lovingly made you feel so giddy inside yet nervous and shy at the same time.
with him being this close to you, you got to look at his features. akaashi keiji --- such a pretty man, with his messy black hair that elevates his striking greenish-blue orbs. and his voice, the tone he uses with you, it made your knees weak and make you shiver. the kind of voice that would make your talkative nature instantly shut up.
"you are my first love, (y/n)"
at this point, you felt like your face was already a tomato. the way akaashi said it to you made you melt inside. you looked away, getting too shy.
akaashi raised a hand and held your cheek oh so gently, softly turning for you to look at him in the eye.
"before i got the guts to tell you on how i felt, i hesitated because you were too good to be true. you are so beautiful, my love, and i'm so lucky to have you"
you felt a stinging sensation up your nose, your tears building up.
before you and akaashi started dating, you two were such good friends since middle school. the two of you actually got a small crush to one another, and as time flies by, it seemed that akaashi fell harder for you but was afraid that if he told you his feelings, your friendship would end. but on graduation day of high school, the confession was quite funny as the two of you confessed on the same day.
"k-keiji! y-you're making me shy" you say, quickly hiding your face on the crook of his neck that made him chuckle.
"i love you, (y/n)" akaashi says, resting his face onto your hair, inhaling your scent. you couldn't hold it in anymore, you pulled away. akaashi gave you a confused look before everything happened so fast that he didn't have the time to process what happened.
you grabbed a fistful of the collar of his shirt and pulled him onto you, smashing your lips onto his. akaashi was frozen for a moment before wrapping his arms around you, kissing you back just as passionately. with his lips in sync with yours, akaashi moved you to his lap and caresses his hands on your hips.
after a heated make out session, you pulled away, lips swollen and the two of you breathing heavily — being unable to open your eyes a few moments afterwards.
"i love you too, keiji"
foreheads on each others, looking at him in the eye, it already felt like you were home, with all the feeling in your stomach is butterflies, the beautiful kind. you were his and akaashi was yours.
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fauxserenity · 11 months
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TenSemi - Canon Related Fluff
Tendo and Semi are spending the afternoon together in Semi's dorm room, with Semi sitting on his bed and Tendo splayed on the floor, listening to the other boy playing his guitar.
"Are you serenading me?" Tendo asks once his friend is done. 
 "Wha- no! I asked you to tell me if you like it," pouting, Semi takes his pillow from its place and throws it towards the redheads head. 
 Tendo catches the pillow, laughing as he sits with his back against the wall.
"It sounds fine, you're really good SemiSemi," he assures him with a smile. 
 Semi turns his face away, trying to hide his blush as he mumbles a small 'thanks'. 
 "What song is that? I don't think I've heard it," Tendo asks getting closer to the blond's personal space.
"Of course you've never heard it, dumbass." Semi rolls his eyes before setting the guitar next to him. "I wrote it..." 
 "Woah! SemiSemi, you're an artist!" 
 "Don't call me that!"
Despite his words, Semi's smile only grows bigger as Tendo keeps complimenting him, feeling like a weight is being lifted from him as his friend goes on and on about how he's going to be at all of his concerts once he becomes famous.
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laurelleghuleh · 2 years
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/ hq special one-shot spoilers
I know Kuroo/the-company-he-works-for didn’t involve Tsukki probably because he doesn’t play in the first division and blablabla, but… BUT. What if he set this whole thing up JUST because he wanted to see his reaction??
Ofc, Tsukki totally unbothered by this, wouldn’t mind at all not being called to play but Kuroo just hopes he would instead, since he’s now all hooked on volley and-
You know what? Here’s how I think it went.
Indulge me on this, but the one-shot was just pure serotonin and now I don’t know how to behave. My apologies.
“Soo?”
“So what?”
Tetsuro sneers. “Have you seen that little thing I set up?”
“Of course. Like, who hasn’t, Kuroo? You’ve been harassing literally anyone for months now, bragging about how insanely awesome this match is going to be and all the champs you reached out to and-“
“Aaaand?”
“And what Kuroo?!”
Tetsuro frowns. “You really don’t mind not getting involved, do you?”
“Oh god, please. No. I barely have time to breathe these days, between college, the frogs, and the museum. I’m just so glad you didn’t. I would have turned you down either way.”
“Oh.”
“Oh WHAT??????”
Silence.
“So no reaction.”
“No reaction. No. Nope. Why you ask?”
Silence.
“What reaction were you expecting??? I don’t even play in the first division, c’mon.“
Silence.
“Kuroo.”
Silence.
“Kuroo. DONT TELL ME. Wait...” Tsukki needs a minute. He breathes heavily, then clears his throat and tries to regain his composure. “Kuroo. Don’t tell me you set this whole thing up just to see my reaction on you-not-involving-me-“
“I-“
“KUROO!!!”
“OK OK OK LISTEN LISTEN-“
“KUROO PEOPLE LITERALLY FLEW ALL THE WAY HERE FROM GOD KNOWS WHERE BECAUSE OF THIS MATCH AND IT WAS A SETUP JUST FOR ME TO SNAP AT YOU FOR NOT CALLING ME TO PLAY? ARE YOU INSANE OR ELSE, KUROO???? HAVE YOU LOST-“
“NO OK WAIT LISTEN I CAN EXPLAIN-“
“KUROO I SWEAR TO GOD YOU ARE-“
“OK BUT LOOK AT YOU NOW ALL HOOKED ON VOLLEY. YOU EVEN CALL YOUR TEAM THE FROGS, CMON SO CUTE-“
“ANYONE CALL THEM THE FROGS YOU IDIOT”
“OK BUT I THOUGHT YOU WOULD HAVE DIED TO PLAY AND TAKE PART IN THIS AND-“
“Kuroo. This is madness.” Kei is so done, he shakes his head in disbelief.
Kuroo doesn’t mind at all, just grins. “Sooooo?”
“Say so once again and istg I’m going to punch you right here right now. Better, I’m gonna call Kozume first and let him live-stream this.”
Kuroo laughs. “Anyway, I was wondering… I mean. Since you’re not playing, would ya join me on the grandstand? I gotta the best seats, you know. Maybe we could eat something, like, maybe grab a couple of onigiri from that Miya guy? Huh? How does that sound?”
“Was that your backup plan all along?”
“Is that a yes?”
“Like I have a choice.”
“Gosh. I missed that sassy ass of yours so much. I knew it was going to be totally worth it. 100% would do this all over again. Worth it. Totally worth it.”
“I hate you. I really do, Kuroo.”
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fanwarrior321 · 2 years
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the haikyu timeskip one shot that is coming out tomorrow has been my reason for getting up every morning and I could not be more excited to see them all in the manga again
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fixonist · 1 year
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ღ swans mate for life
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ღ pairing: suna rintarō x gender neutral!reader
ღ genre: fluff
ღ word count: 2k
ღ warnings: english is not my first language so grammar ig, lowercase intended - not proofread!! (and probably never will be cause let’s be real, i cringe at these too dw)
ღ author’s note: i rose from the dead, hello. this was supposed to come out around christmas but i lost all the motivation and abandoned it. he’s probably very ooc for what i apologize lmfao. i did not specify whether it’s time skip rin or not cause tbh, it doesn’t matter for this one but i kept his sister little cause it’s cute:’) oh yeah, slutty waist rintarō supremacy guys<3 i haven’t written anything in a long time but i’m trying to get back into it, so please bear with me. hope it’s at least bearable:D
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winter always looks magical. though the brightness snow brings into the world makes your eyes sting, the sight is so worth it. it looks like something out of a fairytale.
what is usually a grassy field with small wild flowers littered here and there is now covered by a thick white blanket. a trail of footsteps is now the only indicator of where is the concrete path located but the more snowflakes are falling down from the sky, the less visible they become under the new, untouched layer. the usually bright trees are now leafless and their branches are slightly bent towards the ground as the result of the heavy layer of snow that’s atop them.
and just when you think it cannot get any more prettier, a loud stomp and following squeaks caused by the old wooden floorboards of the gazebo tear your attention away from your beautiful surroundings and to the source of the noise.
there he is, in all his glory - your oh so endearing lover, suna rintarō.
the cold air of the afternoon painted his cheeks and the tip of his nose an adorable rosy color, and his dark brown hair is decorated by white clumps of snowflakes almost all over. he’s dressed in a thick, black winter coat, which hugs his figure perfectly - highlighting the difference in the width of his broad shoulders and slim waist.
your smile matches his when you move forward to wrap your arms around him but only end up dumbfounded when he backs away from you.
you take a notice of both, the mischievous glint in his eyes and how his arms are behind his back, possibly hiding something that way.
suna huffs out an amused scoff upon seeing you squint your eyes at him knowingly, then proceed to stand on your tiptoes. while you are only trying to see behind his back, he’s quick and meets your lips for a quick peck.
“hi, pretty,” he beams down at you, voice uncharacteristically enthusiastic.
a fake pout finds its place on your lips before it’s replaced by a grin and you greet him back by finally wrapping your arms around his neck. you nuzzle your head into his chest and a bit of his scent from the scarf he has tied around his neck hits your nose.
you sigh in satisfaction, “hey rin.”
he hesitates for a moment before slipping one arm from behind his back and wraps it around your waist, bringing your body closer to his. you feel him press a kiss to your hairline. he hums in response.
“what’s behind your back, rinnie?” you tease him, growing impatient with his antics. his laugh rings in your ears as he gently pulls away from you. it wouldn’t be suna if he didn’t tease you back.
“nosy, are we?”
you successfully ignore his comment and whine his name in order to keep pestering him about it.
suna opens his mouth to tease you even further by making you say please but he ends up shaking his head and pressing his lips together almost immediately after. he sucks in some air through his teeth, then sighs in defeat. his left hand finally emerges from behind his back and stretches out towards you, a gift bag hanging from the tips of his fingers.
“merry christmas, love.”
before you can stop it, a gasp escapes from your mouth. your eyebrows knit together in confusion, yet you still put both your palms underneath it and he gently places the bag on top of them.
you’re more than ready to scold him because he, in fact, broke the deal you two made.
“we said no presents, suna.”
he cringes at the sound of his last name, sending you a brief, over-exaggerated disgusted look. “pfff suna,” he grumbles and rolls his eyes.
with a shake of his head he stuffs his now freezing hands into the pockets, motions with head towards the bench and walks over to sit down. you stay still for a moment when a wave of guilt suddenly washes over you. you really don’t have anything for him.
“rintarō.. i’m sorry i didn’t-“ you start as soon as you sit next to him but he cuts you off immediately. he nudges you with his elbow and urges you to open it. excitement present on his face.
with a sigh and one last apology you take out a brown box. just now you realize it’s quite heavy and the more guesses your mind keeps coming up with, the more you’re being jabbed at by shame.
suna takes the empty bag from you and sets it down on the empty space next to him. the wind blows a little and knocks the bag over but he really couldn’t be bothered with it right now because you just opened the box and he cannot for the life of him miss your first reaction.
and he’s glad he didn’t.
your lips part slightly and your eyes water as soon as you pull the object out.
it’s a snow globe.
suna rintarō gifted you a snow globe and you recognize it very well.
just a couple of days before christmas, suna invited you to join him and his family at the christmas market that was taking place nearby. though unaware of his ulterior motive - that was bringing you along to help him babysit his little sister because she totally adores you - you agreed without a single hesitation.
their parents went separate way and the three of you spent hours wandering around. after being constantly nagged at by his sister - that later convinced you to join her in bothering her brother as well - suna finally agreed to go get some hot chocolate.
while suna was waiting for your order, joking around with his sister and proving your theory about where she got her smart mouth from right, you decided to look around a bit more, though making sure to stay somewhere he can easily see you.
that’s when your eyes caught a glimpse of what you considered the prettiest snow globe you’ve ever seen - the top was shaped like a heart and the inside contained two swans situated in what seemed to be a pond. holographic bits and some glitter scattered around them. the base is white and simple, with roses carved into it.
the urge you had to shake it and watch the snowfall was cut off when you noticed the price tag, and you retracted your hand away from it. it truly was beautiful but spending such unholy amount of money on a thing like that seemed to be very irrational.
his voice brought you back and you hurried away from the stand. you didn’t want suna to see you stare at it either, because you knew exactly what would happen if he did.
and it did happen.
with hands resting in your lap, you are holding the very snow globe. words are stuck in your throat as you stare at it in total disbelief. you take in all the details; from the precisely sculpted feathers on each swan to the tiny curves of the water underneath them.
bringing it closer to your face, you shake it lightly and you cannot take your eyes off the petals dancing around in the water. it somewhat reminds you of the scenery you two are currently in with the beautiful snowfall.
“how did you- what?” your voice is quiet but still loud enough for suna to hear. he moves closer to you and rests his head on your shoulder, eyes also trained on the thing in your hands. he smiles upon seeing how delicately you’re tracing your pointer finger across the ceramic and glass surface.
“i noticed the way your eyes lit up when you saw it, you know, at the market,” he straightens himself back up and even though reluctantly, he proceeds to take his left hand out of the pocket and wraps his arm around your shoulders, bringing your body into his.
“it was so expensive though..”
“don’t worry your pretty head about it. seeing you happy is priceless to me,” he presses a quick kiss to your temple and then dismays all your efforts at trying to make him take it back and return it.
a comfortable silence falls upon you two as you shake the globe every time all the snow sits back at the bottom, and suna truly cannot get enough of your childlike excitement.
“hey rin,” you break the silence after a moment and he hums to let you know he’s listening so you can continue, “did you know swans mate for life?”
a fleeting, misty cloud escapes your mouth as a result of your hot breath mixing with the freezing cold air. you can’t see it but suna’s eyes shift down to you for a brief moment, then stare back into the distance.
he hums again, this time as if he was reconsidering the information he just obtained. “they do?” the tone of his voice makes it sound like he’s genuinely interested in the random fact you had just blurted out; something he has gotten used to at this point.
you only nod and rest your hands back in your lap, clutching the globe tightly so it doesn’t slip out by any chance.
“where do you learn all these things, hm?” amused, he nudges your head with his cheek. he’s teasing you again and you can only shrug in response. you hear him mutter something under his breath but decide not to question it. instead, a different question pops into your head.
“hey rin?”
suna smiles at your repeated words, voice a pitch higher for dramatic purposes, “yes, pretty?”
you return him a giggle as you move your head from underneath his only to look up at him. his green orbs are already looking for yours, and when they meet, you swear you can see them soften for a moment before he puts back on the smug facade.
“are we swans?”
confusion is all over his face as he stares down at you. the corners of your mouth twitch upwards but you fight the urge to giggle as you try to remain as serious as possible. you see him think for a moment, eyebrows knit together and all before his head falls back slightly. he takes a deep breath and looks back down at you, nodding his head.
“yeah,” he trails off for a moment. the hand that was hooked around your shoulders moves and you can feel the tips of his fingers graze your cheek. though his hands are cold, and so is your cheek, the subtle touch suddenly feels warmer than ever. “yeah, we are baby.”
satisfied with his answer, you offer him a genuine smile before slightly sliding lower on the bench and he copies you not too long after. you snake one of your arms behind his lower back and hug his waist, whilst the other one is now resting with the snow globe on his stomach for extra protection.
suna rests his head back on top of yours as he reaches out for your hand, covering it with his larger one and shakes the globe in attempt to keep the smile on your face.
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© fixonist
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keitea · 1 year
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when he finally approaches you after seeing you so often around the café. he fiddles with his fingers and nervously asks you if he could have your number. his hands tremble as he passes you his phone, his face fully flushed.
you look up from your book and smile, typing in your number. as he walks away, he looks back at you and you send a wink his way.
he stops functioning.
yamaguchi, hinata, atsumu (despite being so cocky i think he would do this), noya, hoshiumi, bokuto, yaku
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hajimio · 1 year
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SAY THAT YOU LOVE ME ! - nsfw. mdni.
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iwaizumi x reader !
synopsis: traditions are hard when you’ve already broken them once. now he expects you to act like nothing happened? what a dick.
warnings: nsfw at end!! mdni. iwa hitting it raw AND getting around. pls be safe irl <3 also these two have a love-hate relationship just trust me here please.
word count: 3.9k
related fics (not necessary to read, but good context!): diner fries // after-party
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last night, iwaizumi hooked up with a girl. this morning, you tried to watch, half-awake, from your spot on the couch as a girl slipped out of his apartment. and now, at 9:23AM, you’ve ordered a piece of pie to cure your hangover.
you’re pretty sure it’s pushing the whole “no breakfast” rule, just by the way that iwaizumi’s eyeing it—you can’t find it in you to really care. you’re starting to wonder if, maybe, by no breakfast, he really means no sweets, but you’re almost starting to revel in the way his brows furrow and his eyes dart from the pie, to his own plate, and into his lap.
the coffee is better today. it’s not as burnt. you take a sip and you don’t feel like squirming into the red cushions of the booth. you think you can hear someone new talking in the kitchen, somewhere way in the back. for a moment, you wonder if he made the coffee today. someone in there must have a talent for it. 
you lift your head to look at iwaizumi, and you can almost hear his voice through last night’s walls—reaching over the unrecognizable music from an old jukebox, the soft clang of pans, and the voices from the kitchen. looking at him, you can hear the soft encouragements, the avoidance of a name—replaced by endearments that don’t sound quite right from his mouth. you hate to say that you listened, and you didn’t. not really, not quite, and certainly not intentionally. if you could’ve, you would’ve slept—would’ve taken your chance of missing the girl and the sound of his voice and all of it if only it wasn’t so damn loud.
that’s a lie. it wasn’t loud. or, not like that. it was deafening the same way the ticking of a clock is, or the buzz of lights and an old tv. it’s just enough.
a sip of almost-good coffee, not as sweet as the pie, but sweet enough. you think you hear iwaizumi call a girl that isn’t you baby—he hasn’t said a word.
“so last night,” you begin, and iwaizumi snorts.
“it was fine.”
“fine?”
“yeah,” he says, “fine.”
he has a blt today. on another day, you might’ve laughed at him, accused him of copying you, of finally admitting it’s the best thing on the menu—though your pie may have something to say about that—but he hasn’t touched it, and you’ve only taken one pathetically-filled forkful of your pie, so you really don’t think either of you are in any position to charm the other with hungover teasing and mockery. besides, he’s moved from staring down your pie to dragging one of his fries across his plate. he’s scowling at it, like the way it moves isn’t quite to his standards, like it should bend more, like it should leave salt crystals along his plate, and it doesn’t.
his gaze moves to you, unchanging.
“why do you keep looking at me like that?” he asks, with a little sigh coating the edges of his voice.
“like what?”
his eyes narrow, his jaw stiffens—if only slightly—his tongue poking at his cheeks while his gaze flits across your own.
“you have something to say,” he settles on, finally.
you both do and you don’t. you want to tell him that he looks tired, that maybe he should’ve slept more, that his hair’s a mess and there’s shadows under his eyes and hey, maybe this weekend we should’ve spent more time studying for midterms than drinking and fucking and whatever it is you were doing, but you don’t. you don’t have anything to say, because he’s still scowling, and your lips don’t quite want to form the words to scold him.
you don’t have anything to say, nothing at all, really, because he’s tired, and you’re equally there, and your neck still hurts from sleeping on his damn couch.
you don’t say anything because the sweetness of the pie is starting to be nauseating to you, too, and you have to push it to the side and away from your nose before your nausea beats your words.
you don’t have anything to say because, let’s be honest, you’re nauseous from the pie and from the drinking and maybe because last night, iwaizumi fucked some girl that wasn’t you, when the week before it had been you that was sleeping in his bed, and you haven’t really been able to talk to him since.
fuck tradition, for putting you on his couch and for walking you to his car and for allowing you—no, demanding you sit across from him in this shitty diner, for letting you stew with the knowledge that you were just another weekend, and now you’re stuck being the hangover cure again.
fuck tradition and all that it’s worth.
you place your hand on the space where your plate of pie once rested, your thumb smoothing along the lacquered wood. you reach forward and let one of your fingers hook around the handle of your mug, pulling it closer so you can wrap your hands around it.
it’s getting colder outside these days, and the warmth of the coffee is nice.
“no,” you answer, looking down into the coffee. it might need more creamer. “i don’t think i have anything to say.”
“that’s a first,” he replies, and you glance up at him.
“i just don’t have anything to say to you.”
you turn away from him as your waitress passes by your table, a faint scent of tobacco swarming her wake. you catch her with a small motion of your hand and ask her for a box—she smiles and nods at you, even if it all seems a little tight.
when you turn back, iwaizumi’s still looking at you, this time with the inside of his cheek between his teeth.
he leans into the cushions of the booth, crossing his arms over his chest. the sweatshirt he’s in looks comfortable, an old, gray one that says uci on it and not much else. you know it’s comfortable because he gave it to you last weekend in the morning, when you’d both woken up and he showered and offered you one, too—when you went to wander out into the kitchen and, just before you did in last night’s clothes, he tossed you that sweatshirt, and it smelled like him and it was warm and worn enough that the shoulders draped over yours without resistance.
“is this about-” he pauses, and your eyes flick up to his. you know your brows have risen, and from the way his tongue pokes out to lick his lips, you can assume he’s expecting some kind of bite back from you. you haven’t decided if you will or not, he sighs anyway. “you know. last weekend?”
you huff out a little sigh of laughter. it feels humorless, in an odd kind of way, and certainly in a way that you hadn’t entirely meant it to. you can’t really tell how much of you is pissed off and how much is just exhausted.
“what about it?” you ask, but you’re sure you know the answer.
“the-” another pause, he sighs, his head shakes as he looks down at his arms, “dammit, you know what i’m saying.”
you sit up in your seat now, straightening your back and leaning forward onto your elbows. your hands stay wrapped around your mug and the waitress comes back with your box. you nod, smiling with a silent thank you towards her—she doesn’t look at you to catch it. back to iwaizumi, and he’s taken a fry off of his plate, tossing it into his mouth while he waits for you to speak. his face twists at it, but he grabs another one anyway.
“no,” you reply, “i don’t.”
“you’ve been ignoring me,” he says, and you pull away from the mug and his gaze to put your pie into your to-go box.
“you’ve been doing the same,” you reply, though you don’t dare to look up at him.
“that’s not true.” you glance up. “you know that’s not true.”
and fine, maybe iwaizumi hasn’t ignored you throughout the week, and yes, you’ve been avoiding his texts like they’re something devilish, but he’s the one that left without warning on saturday, and who dropped you off at your apartment without a word. he’s the one who didn’t bring you to breakfast or lunch or whatever this is that day, who didn’t even bother to try to work things out.
so yes, when he asked you if you were free last wednesday, you didn’t reply. you only went to that party last night because his roommate invited you, because he said he would make sure things went smoothly.
they did. for the most part. things went how they usually do, and iwaizumi stayed on the edges of the room, avoiding your gaze while the girl of the night laughed at his jokes.
“it’s true enough,” you say, and iwaizumi’s head falls back against the booth, bouncing a little on the red cushioning while his eyes look down at you. his voice lowers a little, you can tell it’s going to before he even speaks, just by the his tongue runs over his teeth, the way he sighs.
“i tried, you know that, i tried to reach out-”
“you can’t make me another bitch, hajime.”
your voice is quiet, but you still see the way the waitress pauses momentarily out of the corner of your eye, the way she stutters with the coffee pot in her hand, the liquid sloshing up against the side of the glass. but in front of you, of course, iwaizumi sits back up and leans in. he pushes his blt to the side, the fries half-eaten, the sandwich untouched, and rests his elbows on the same lacquered table that yours are on.
“please,” he says, low and gruff and with that hangover-gravel to his voice, “i want you to be honest with me.” you take a sip of your coffee, brows slightly raised over the rim of the mug. you hold eye contact with him, even as the coffee burns down your throat. it’s better, but not great. “do you honestly think you’re just another girl?”
you don’t lower your mug from where it rests in front of your face. he’s skipped over the word bitch, replaced it, like that would do anything to mend the lonesome saturday that led into an almost-forgotten week, like it could take last night’s missed gazes and make them finally connect.
but, even still, you don’t lower your mug.
he curses, followed by your name under his breath, and he pulls out his wallet, dropping a little over twenty dollars onto the table before standing up.
“c’mon,” he says, and leans over to grab your box off the table, “we’re going.”
“what do you think you’re doing?”
“i’m not having this conversation here,” he replies, “not in this shitty diner, now c’mon.”
“what conversation?”
“can’t you just trust me? or listen to me?” you watch where iwaizumi stands, a light jacket hanging off of his arm, your to-go box in his hand. if he were a mother, you could almost see his hand on his hip, a foot tapping away at the linoleum. you don’t think now’s the time to laugh, so instead you stand.
“fine,” you reply, “just this once.”
if you weren’t so busy watching his expressions as you left, you would’ve missed the roll of his eyes.
the drive is more awkward that you would’ve imagined, with your pie sitting in your lap and iwaizumi’s brows furrowed at the road—but it’s short, which means you’re following him back up the stairs to his apartment faster than you might’ve liked to, even if the curiosity is starting to eat away at your pride, just a little bit. 
he unlocks the door and steps in, calling out to his roommate without receiving a reply. he must’ve gone out with his girlfriend, either at her apartment or some cafe near campus. you don’t think iwaizumi’s going to take the time to find out. instead, he stands at the other end of the island, watching as you place your pie on the counter and shrug off your jacket, hanging it on the edge of the chair that he always tells you to.
“so, what did you want to-”
“last night was stupid.”
“how tactful, hajime.”
“do you ever listen?”
you both go silent. there’s a buzzing of lights that fills the room. no tv, no ticking clock, just the sound of buzzing lights and a fridge that’s set too cool.
“i fucked up,” he says, “i fucked up, and it was stupid but-” his hands go up by his face—tensing the muscles of his fingers, running his index and thumb over his lips, it’s enough to make you go insane- “you infuriate me sometimes, you know that?”
you let out one breath of laughter. “you’ve told me that a couple times, smartass.”
“well,” he says, bowing his head down near the arms that rest on the counter, laughter trickling into his voice, “you do. you really fucking do. you drive me insane.”
you know that, about twenty minutes ago, you were furious with him. coming in here, you had planned for both of you to yell and argue and probably call each other names, but looking at him now, with laughter mixing with his breath and those shadows under his eyes—hair a mess as he looks back up at you—you really can’t be that angry. not now, anyway. this guy fucking sucks sometimes, and you both know that, but at the very least, he’s the guy who always lets you sleep on his couch when you’re drunk, the guy who knew your coffee order after the third time getting it together, the guy who pays for you no matter where you go.
it sucks but, he’s both not yours and he is—you think you both know that. even before last week, you’ve been tied to each other in some fucked up way for a while, even if it didn’t mean anything beyond friends.
“okay, so tell me,” you say, and he glances up at you, “what drives you so insane, hajime?”
he stares for a moment, letting his eyes flit over you, like he’s collecting the parts of you he doesn’t quite have the name for yet. you want to move under his gaze—fix your hair or your shirt or something—but you don’t, you let him trail along your skin while he thinks.
it takes a moment, but then he pushes away from the counter, turning the corner of it and walking towards you. his hand reaches up, burying itself in your hair, his thumb brushing along your cheek before his lips meet yours.
you make a little sound at the contact, but you don’t move away. instead, you let him back you into the wall behind you, both of his hands finding your jaw while your arms wrap around his neck.
he starts to trail down your body, a thumb lifting the hem of your shirt to find your skin beneath it to follow the contours of your hips and waist. you turn your head, letting his lips find your neck while you catch your breath to speak.
“you didn’t answer my question.”
there’s a pause between the kisses down your neck.
“does this not fucking answer it?”
you hum, fingers curling around his ear and threading in his hair.
“you could use your words a little more often.”
another hand trails down to your thigh.
“fine,” he groans, before lifting you and wrapping your legs around his waist, carrying you into his bedroom to, as you would like to say, use his words.
he lays you back onto the bed, his lips still finding home somewhere beneath your collar, and keeps your legs open around his waist. you can feel him now, hard against your inner thigh, and his hand trails down to that skin there, squeezing just enough that a gasp leaves your lips.
“that,” he mumbles into your neck, “that’s infuriating.”
“i think you’re mixing up anger and arousal, hajime,” you sigh, an arch in your back punctuating the way you speak. you can feel the smirk on his face, and for a moment you want to wipe it clean off.
his hand trails up your thigh, a thumb running up the center seam of your sweats, you gasp again, and his laughter rumbles through you.
“fine,” he says, and his hands continue to trail upwards, sliding beneath your shirt until he’s nudging it up and off of your torso. “i can name other things that annoy me then.”
“annoy?” you reply, and your hands are tangled in his gray sweatshirt, pulling at it and almost begging for it to come off. he takes it off for you. “can’t believe i got downgraded from infuriate.”
“you put too much shit in your coffee,” iwaizumi says, and then leans in to press a kiss to your lips, his hands roaming until they meet your tits, fingers rolling over the whole of them while you stutter out little sounds into his mouth.
“you order fucking pie as a hangover cure,” he continues, and then his lips are on your sternum, slowly traveling from center to side—rising with the curve of your body as you move beneath him. he lifts himself from you, turning his head to the side to rest his cheek on your chest while he meets you gaze.
“and you can be such a bitch sometimes.”
that draws laughter from you, and then his hands fall down to your hips and you gasp again, heat spreading from your chest up into your cheeks. iwaizumi stands then, just at the edge of the bed, his hands running up and down your thighs and hips until they hook at the top of your sweats. he drags them down, taking your panties with them, and throws them both off to the side—somewhere on the floor of his room.
“right,” you reply just as his hands spread across your naked thighs, “i’m the bitch.”
he laughs, low and soft and enough to make your head spin. you hate that he looks good and sounds good and that you want nothing more than to pull him as close as possible and just makeout with him right now. you hate that shirtless, with just a pair of sweatpants on, he looks terrifyingly good. and it’s not that you haven’t seen this before, because god you’ve seen it and enjoyed it, it’s that he’s somehow making you feel like this even while telling you how much you annoy him—and you love it. like nothing else.
he runs a finger along your pussy and you whine, curling forward to grab at the waistband of his pants—to pull him closer, to take them off, anything—and he laughs again.
“oh my god,” you say between whines, the tonality leaking into the words, “you’re totally the bitch here please just-”
you lean up, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down with you. you both stumble into laughter, your legs wrapping around his waist as you both slip off his pants. you settle on top of him, sitting on top of his thighs, your hands resting on his stomach.
he’s smiling up at you, a little crooked, with this glint in his eye that you don’t see unless he’s really proud of whatever insult he’s thrown at you. you lean down, kissing him to get rid of the glint and the smirk and all of it, and he follows after you, a hand tangling in your hair and pulling, just slightly, eliciting another moan from your throat.
“dick,” you whisper into him.
laughter hits again.
“you love it,” he replies.
“yeah?” you say, turning his head to the side with a nudge of your nose, tracing the shell of his ear with it before your lips start to follow, “how do you know?”
“oh c’mon honey,” he says, and that, you realize, is what an endearment sounds like from iwaizumi when it feels right, “you’re gonna make me spell it out for you?”
“yes, hajime,” you reply, a teasing lilt hidden somewhere in your voice, “i want you to spell it out.”
“well,” he begins, and before he can say another word, you sit up and then slowly settle back down, slipping his dick inside you with a stuttered breath. he can’t get another word out either, too busy biting his own hand and digging his fingers into your waist to try. even still, a bitch stumbles past his lips.
“oh,” you stutter out, “c’mon, don’t you love it?”
you slide up and down, mixing laughter with moans as iwaizumi tries to tell you to shut up. even still, he’s guiding you up and down, pressing his nails into your skin like little crescents along your flesh.
you can tell he’s starting to get frustrated with the pace, so when he taps your hip twice, you don’t resist as he flips you both over, holding up the curve of your back with one hand and holding himself up with the other.
you’re struggling to hold yourself together at this point, reveling at the feeling of him inside you and the way he’s leaned down, running his teeth and lips along your skin—his breath hitting your neck with every moan. your own hands are busy, nails trailing down his back, making iwaizumi groan and hold you closer. you wrap your arms around him, as tightly as you can, pulling him impossibly close as the tightness in your stomach builds and builds.
you can feel him start to get inconsistent—a little sloppy—he’s kissing your neck and your cheeks and your jaw between breathy moans, and he’s not holding up the arch in your back anymore, instead choosing to wrap an arm around your neck, cradling your head closer to him as you come, tightening around him until he follows, both of your moans mixing into a stuttery mess in the air of his bedroom.
he pulls out, rolling to the side of you, and you curl into him, his arm under your neck wrapping around to play with your hair.
“the uh-” iwaizumi begins, and you angle your head to look at him, “the point is, i don’t think you’re just another girl.”
you don’t say anything to him, but you watch the way he runs his tongue along his cheek.
“or, at least i don’t want you to be.”
you’re not quite sure what to say now, so you just lean up, using his chest as leverage as you kiss his jaw, then his cheek, and then finally his lips.
“okay,” you reply, and he lets out a bit of tired laughter.
“okay?” he asks. “to what?”
“i’m not just some other bitch to you,” you say, “and i don’t think i want to be.”
“i didn’t say bitch.”
“oh whatever, it was implied.”
he takes his free hand and shoves you away. you catch the smile that carves itself into his cheeks at the way you laugh in response, curling yourself further into him.
“but okay,” you say, “i’ll be your main bitch.”
“oh shut up,” he replies—and you don’t. because, let’s be honest, you never do.
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taeyamayang · 1 year
Text
FROM WHENCE WE CAME
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ㅡa fangirl, her idol, and a funny twist of fate.
❀ sakusa kiyoomi x fem!reader
❀ tags: fluff! | crack if you laugh | serendipity | first meets | fan x idol to potential lovers
❀ warnings: sakusa's charms | oh and i uh curse a lot, sorry | mentions of kidnapping and death in just one part, dont wanna freak yall out
a/n: i hereby serve you a light one shot to ease your stress. also, my writing here is stupid and messy. nothing serious, tossing that poetic shit on the side. WE ARE SIMPING FOR THE SAKUSA KIYOOMI. YOU WITH ME??
note: will edit when the sun's up. enjoy
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"what?!" your eyes round at the words sputtered by the security guard of the building. "wait, so you're telling me that my car got towed?!"
"honda, dark blue, and a license plate with 6 or 8, i'm not sure but it's even. it was parked over there." the guard points at the empty spot near the fences of the parking lot.
"that's my car! why would they tow my car parked inside a parking lot?!" at this point you could feel the frustration boiling inside you as you try to make sense of the situation.
"it's past nine. they don't allow overnight parkings at the sports arena. the admin has been strict since the incident with the football fans who camped for tickets for the championship game last year."
"could they at least be considerate? i mean, i wasn't planning on leaving my car here! i am fifteen minutes late because i was at the maintenance office waiting for the staff who happen to pick up my missing bracelet." you explain your case although you're certain that it's pointless. right at this very second your car is being dragged to the nearest pick up point and the man guarding his post has nothing to do to stop it.
"at least you found your bracelet." the man shrugs. he offers you a bit of positivity in liue of easing your outburst.
you let out a long sigh, shoulders slumped forward. afterall, he is right. your bracelet means so much to you that you even traded the chance to meet the players of MSBY just to look for it. meeting them is a once in a lifetime experience but losing your bracelet equates to losing a generational heirloom.
"look, i'll help you get a cab." the guard says to comfort you.
"thank you, sir." you say with defeated tone. you flash him a weak smile before shifting your eyes to an empty parking lot... or so it seems like?
it was hard to spot but if you squint your eyes into the almost-pitch dark lot, you could see a car tucked at the farthest corner. the silver logo of four intertwined circles flicker against the solar lamp post on the road adjacent to it, thereafter catching your attention. it's a luxury brand car, audi to be exact; painted in matte black and parked, or rather untowed, you emphasized.
"what's that car doing over there?" you ask the gentleman. anger and jealousy slowing seething inside you.
"oh, he always goes out after closing. the admin knows." just as he was about to explain further, a man pushes the glass door of the building. "here he is." the security gestures to the man in his sweatpants and white shirt. a shadow is casted from his shoulders up to his face making it difficult for you to see his features.
"have a safe drive." the guard greets him in a casual and friendly tone. one that could give you a hint that this man often stays behind closing that the guard has become acquainted with him.
"you too." he says.
the voice. you can't miss this voice.
the countless hours spent on watching MSBY's interviews and games has finally served its purpose.
you keep your eyes at him as he steps forward. the shadow that cloaked his face gradually rolls up as the light from the lamp post illuminates his features. his hair fresh from the shower and his usual white mask covering half of his face. your speculations are confirmed.
you missed the meet and greet but he's here.
sakusa kiyoomi.
you know everything about him. your workmates even deemed you as sakusa's crazy little fangirl because of how much you look up to him. taking advantage of your extensive knowledge about him, you were able to stop your initial reaction which is to scream to his face like a lunatic.
sakusa absolutely hates loud people.
that's why he's often seen frowning at the other three: miya, hinata, and bokuto when they're on a practice match.
so what do you have to do?
you must act edgy, just like him. a man with class. prim and proper and barely amused by trivial things. yes, you must earn sakusa's favor.
"hey." you managed to say in a calm voice.
in response, he arches a brow as he looks at you through his bottom lashes.
FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. ABORT MISSION. THAT WAS FUCKING HOT
HOW ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO KEEP CALM WHEN FACED WITH A HOT SEXY MAN??
you choke on air staring at him and when you were about to embarrass, you thank the gods of olympus for the security guard saving your ass for nth time tonight.
"no ones picking up." the man says as he turns the screen of his phone to you. flashed on the screen is a loading sign on a transportation app. worry begins to cloud you. forget about the hot sexy man next to you, how the fuck will you go home?
"at what time do you think the towing station closes?"
"even if they're open 'till now. they won't release your car tonight. it has to sit there for at least twelve hours."
"twelve hours?!" you shout, petrfied and losing your edge. once you realized it you immediately clear your throat and pull yourself together. you must make a good first impression on sakusa kiyoomi so you can boast it on your stan twitter account. you look at him at the corner of your eyes before stating in a confident manner, "i'll take the bus."
"oh, dear you can't!" the guard presses his brows together.
way to go, sir. you thought. now your pretentious indepedent-obviously-not-bothered-by simple-mishaps woman role is shattered. the man continues.
"some say that a kidnapping near the area happened recently. the woman is about your age." he leans forward, voice dropping to a chilling whisper. "rumors has it that the woman was found dead and sealed inside a drum." his narrative deserves a set of campfire and smores, a tale told by old people. nonetheless, if it were to be true you are left to risk your life on the road.
after a moment, a question pops in from a person you momentarily forgot about.
"where do you live?" sakusa says, hence you turn to face him. his height easily towers you but what's even more notable than his height is the intimidating aura he exudes.
"kunitachi." you reply and his face instantly crumples. he lives on the other side of the city (of course you know that, pft) so he must know how far you have come to watch the game.
"i'll take you home." he tucks his hands inside the pockets of his grey sweatpants and begins to stride. however, you remain still on your spot and he notices.
it's not that you don't trust him... no, actually you don't. it may sound funny coming from his fan but you have zero knowledge about his personal life. outside being a pro volleyball player, he is a stranger to you. this could be a moment you will never forget either because you had a great time or the complete opposite. there is a reason why people advise to never meet your idol. you might find yourself agreeing to the saying.
when he notices your delay, he pulls out a leather wallet from his pants. he shuffles through the pockets before taking out a laminated identification card.
"hold on to it if you don't trust me."
your eyes scan the i.d. sakusa kiyoomi. march 20, 1996. black hair. black eyes. 189 cm. you can't believe that between your hands is your idol's government i.d.. observing the object in your hand, your eyes catch a badly taken photo of him pictured at the right side of the card. it's a fact that he's beyond ethereal but this... not even someone like sakusa kiyoomi can escape the horrible quality of an oustretched identification card photo.
your eyes rally from the photo on the card and to his face, obviously comparing his actual face and the one on the picture. sakusa's realizes what you had seen.
"stop looking at my photo." he lightly smacks your hand down to cover his face. "are you coming or not?" he snaps.
you tail behind him, hand clutching onto his i.d. like it's an object worth of gold. he takes out a key to his car then presses a button that made the luxury car that was once hiding behind the moonlight outshines the full moon. the low click resonates, unlocking the doors. his car is worth thrice as your annual salary. he opens the door for you and waits for you to get in before shutting it close.
instantly, a fragrant musk mixed with soap and light perfume pangs your nose. it slams right into your nasal and down to your lungs. all you could sense is the clean air inside his car. you bet your all your credits worth that the air inside the vehicle is cleaner than your bedroom.
rumors about him are true. this man loves to keep his things neat and organized, which reminds you to keep a persona close to his liking. when he pulls the door to the driver's seat open, you immediately keep your knees together, ankles aligned, and your hands to your thighs. he briefly glances at you, fingers brushing the strands of his damped hair before pressing the ignition button.
the car rumbles in a low vibrato like a beast emerging from a deep cave, slealthily yet cunning. now you understand the difference between a luxury and an ordinary car. yours rumbles like it's its last day to hit the road.
you're already whipped beyond saving for sakusa to begin with but watching him operate his high technology car makes him even more attractive. let alone if he wears a suit and tie, driving one hand on the steering wheel, brows pressed together and-
"i said, your address." he asks as you blink rapidly back at him.
fuck, you were daydreaming this whole time? did he asked you twice? what the fuck were you thinking? keep it together, (y/n).
"oh, uh, right. 34 Ilmare building, Kunitachi." you swallow down your composure. you watch his long boney fingers type in your address on a screen attached to the front dash. "sorry, i was spacing out."
"figured." he responds without missing a beat. his comment is like a stab in your chest. he knows you were out of your wits moments ago.
minus 10 points on impressing him.
the female voice coming from the system of the car echoes. it informs the driver about the location with a brief information about road blocks and minor traffic. sakusa maneuvers the car to a reverse. he puts his hand on the back of your seat as he looks over his shoulder. his other hand grips on the steering wheel as he positions the car to exit. even with the mask covering half of his face, you could clearly see the prominent lines on his jaw. its even more beguiling up close than just zooming it in on your phone. once on the road, the space you shared falls into silence. sure, there is soft music playing in the background but it is not enough to fill the space. of course, you cannot keep your mouth shut.
"congrats on winning." the stoplight switches to red.
"thanks." he doesn't leave room for small talks and now you're once again trapped into silence.
actually, you're not.
"the winning point spiked by hinata made the crowd go wild. heck, i was up on my feet." you want to bite your tongue down to prevent yourself from talking. sakusa may not want to converse with you and you're just making a fool of yourself by starting a conversation with a brick wall.
"outside hitter fan? thought you're one of miya's." he says suddenly. the stoplight turns green.
"do i look a miya fan? does miya fans have a certain characteristic?" you are amused by his assumption. your body slightly angles towards his direction.
"no. just assumed you're a fan of him since he's got a ton." his free hand skillfully unhooks the strings latched around the shell of his ears before tossing it on the backseat. his fingers rakes through hair once more, letting the wavy strands brush against the top of his forehead making your eyes draw to the beauty mark above his eyebrow. then, he runs his fingers through the neckline of his white shirt as he pulls it loose.
"nope." you swallow thickly, feeling guilty for watching him. "he's a great setter but his serving technique, the one he does to silence the crowd is a bit...weird to me. but he scores points through it so i think that's fine, i guess."
your eyes round when realization sinks in.
did you just insulted his teammate?? what happened to impressing the sakusa kiyoomi? how could you do everything you're not supposed to do?? what the heck??
"exactly what i said to him." he lets out an airy laugh.
oh.
"so, hinata or bokuto" sakusa runs his tongue over his bottom lip. "i'll let them know i drove their fan home. i want them pissed off first thing in the morning. they love fan service." he chuckles to himself.
is this why they say to never meet your idol? is this the "other" or "dark side" of him that you are supposed to hate? because clearly with the way the corners of your lips pulled up, you are enjoying his humor. this is not supposed to happen.
"why do you assume it's them? you literally have people praising your picture." you whisper to yourself. you can't believe that sakusa thinks that he has zero admirers when in fact, the social media alone is flooding with men and women, volleyball league fans or not, oggling at his mere presence. a shot of him mid-air about to spike a ball once trended on twitter after five minutes of its release.
you tear your eyes away from him, pouting at his oblivion, and draw it forward where your attention lands on a familiar figure.
"hey! is that a voltes five miniature robot?" you point at the small robot planted on the dashboard. it shines in bright tones, making it apparent that the small figurine is made from pure metal.
"yeah." sakusa glances at where you pointing.
"no shit! and the model is curated from the original version!"
"how did you know?"
"how could i not know?!" you inch closer to the figurine, missing the small tug on sakusa's mouth when he sees your eyes sprakled in excitement. "how did you get your hands on this? i heard that it's difficult to see these in stores nowadays. only collectors have them."
"i knew a collector back then but i didn't have enough money to buy it. when i won my first official match as a pro player, i knew i have to get this."
"that's awesome!" you sit back in the seat, stretching your legs in a comfortable manner. you unconsciously loose all the tension in your muscles as you let go of you true self; your persona and goal to impress him, long forgotten.
"have you heard of the newest version of voltes five? it's a remake but in a form of a movie. i heard it's got an updated tech showing all the cool effects and all that. oh, look! it's there on the billboard!" you point at the huge advertisement board featuring the movie. sakusa ducks his head forward to read the sign before pulling his eyes back on the road. "it's showing this week but i bet nothing will top the 1977 version."
when you were about to worry on his lack of response, he remarks.
"1977 to 1978, golden era."
"are you an original version fan too?!" you turn to face him and this time he fails to stop a growing smile. his fingers drum on the steering wheel as zest builds inside him.
"yeah."
"finally! someone with a taste! were you ever called a freak for liking the original version too?!"
"everytime." events of komori, his cousin, teasing him for liking a show that's beyond his age crosses his mind. komori fancied the newer series, one that has great effects and updated styles. on the other hand, sakusa remained an old soul. growing up, he had few kids in his age who have the similar taste as him. this is the reason why he struggled to connect with his peers and became comfortable in his own bubble.
except for tonight as he finally feels connected to someone, a person he ironically do not know.
"tatoe arashi ga hukou tomo..." you sing to yourself the first line of the theme song while looking at the window. he catches you off guard when he continues to sing the song in a rather shy and quiet voice.
"...tatoe oonami areru tomo." your vision flew to him. face splitting into half as you grin wide at him like a kid.
"kogidasou tataki no umi he..." you pause, waiting for him to continue the song but he keeps his mouth into a thin line as struggles to fight a smile. "come on! sing with me!" you urge him with an upbeat tone.
"no." he shakes his head. the muscles around his mouth stiffens as he wrestles to keep a straight face.
"i already heard you sing! it's just the two of us freaks here so what's stopping you?!" you gleefully push him to continue singing.
"no!" right then, he bursts into a laugh.
you have been his fan for the longest time but you have never saw him laugh this carelessly beforeㅡnot on interviews, practice games, or behind the scenes. it is a sight no one in the volleyball league has seen. and it's all because of an iconic show from ages ago.
"we need to play it. you are not dropping me off at my place without us singing the entire theme song." you take your phone out from your bag as you scroll through your playlist.
"connect it to bluetooth." sakusa sets the touchscreen monitor on his dash, and you take this as a chance to jest. your eyes rallying from the monitor and to his face.
"what?" sakusa notices the look on your face. he claws on his lips to hide a smile.
"and you told me you didn't want to sing? how pretentious can you be!" you playfully call him out, thus earning another heartful laugh from him.
"no, you sing and i play the song." he argues.
"no, no, no. i am the dj here, alright? you follow me. we both sing it together."
when the theme song blasts through the speakers of his car, it took sakusa thirty seconds into the song before he finally caved in. he sings with you like nobody else was in the room. he was clearly enjoying himself and it was an image you can never forget.
soon, reality dips in. he pulls over in front of your apartment before switching the lock off. you step out from the car but as soon as you close the door, the window rolls down.
"thank you. here's your i.d., by the way." you duck your head down to level his gaze. he takes the card from your hand.
"i never got your name." he let his gaze linger at you for a moment before shooting you a small smile.
"(y/n)." you smile back.
"(y/n)." he repeats it, letting his tongue be familiarized with the syllables of your name. he continues, "it was nice meeting you, (y/n)."
"it was a fun ride."
just when you were about to leave, a thought crosses your mind. you have to clear things up before the night ends.
"there is no need tell hinata or bokuto about driving home their fan."
"hm?" he tilts his head to the side, confused.
"i've got my eyes on outside spiker number 15, not on them." a faint blush colors his cheeks as it sinks in. fifteen is his jersey number. without waiting for his reply, you bid him goodnight.
"goodnight, sakusa-san. drive home safely."
BONUS!!
it's been three days since sakusa drove you home. currently, just like any other day, he's at the gym honing his skills in volleyball with the rest of the black jackals.
however, during the break a staff calls for him.
"your food is here." the staff holds a bento in his hand as he walks towards the pro player.
"i didn't book a delivery." he wipes a sweat on his forehead. the three: hinata, miya, and bokuto are secretly following him to eavesdrop.
"the sender's name is "(y/n)"." when the three hears a woman's name they synchronously tease the spiker.
"oooohhhhh who is she?" miya wriggles his brows.
"an admirer? a fan? or are you dating?" hinata adds.
"this is news! i gotta tell akaashi." and bokuto is on his way to dial akaashi's number.
sakusa curses at the three as he takes the bento from the person. he goes to a corner where there are signs of an orange-headed, a clone of an onigiri chef, and an owl. he then opens the cloth wrapped around the container and see a paper taped on the surface of the box.
"i got my car! as a thank you gift, i made you a bento. i cooked it myself so i hope it's not that bad. also, i hope you're not on a strict diet! thanks again!
ps: i watched the newest voltes v movie and i am confident to say that the original version is still the best!!
-(y/n)"
sakusa foolishly smiles as he reads the short note for the second time. heart swelling with memories of a long drive. he is in a strict diet but that won't stop him from eating your homecooked meal.
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note: voltes v (five) is a japanese show that took asia by storm and tons of remakes were made after its release.
a/n: i hc sakusa as the type to have childhood fixations who tends to collect figurines and toys he couldn't afford when he was young. he may be a stoic cranky boy but i think his inner child has the potential to be loud and showy once paired with someone he's comfortable with.
anyway, i hope you guys enjoyed this short brainrot. i just thought it will be cute to portray a child-like sakusa in contrast to his usual indifferent character :) as usual likes and rbs are very much appreciated!!
masterlist | hq.list | nsfw acc: @taekozuyang
297 notes · View notes
rinsaint · 1 year
Note
What are your thoughts on Suna x reader who wears a purity ring and everyone makes fun of them for it until the walk into class one day and see that they are not wearing and they only get they answer as to why is when Suna asks reader to meet him in the school gyms locker room
suna definitely is the type to make fun of reader for being the innocent christian girl. He would tease and bully you every day just to get a rise out of you. He would never miss up the chance to rile you up and watch you get flustered.
so when your math teacher told you that you would have to tutor suna rintarou, it made you slightly annoyed but nonetheless, you still obliged.
even if you would never admit it, there was some tension between you and suna. His constant flirtatious act towards you made butterflies swarm in your stomach. But you couldn’t do anything about it, your family didn’t want you to be with someone until you got married.
not like you had a chance with him anyways.
or so you thought, you’d never thought you find yourself on your bed as suna rintarou’s hands roamed your body. He squeezed the sides of your hips and you let out a whimper as he starts leaving kisses on your neck.
was this really happening?
You could have ever imagined that something like this was going to happen. Being in a christian family, you had made a purity pact with your mom and dad, the ring on your finger being a proof of that. But suna is too intoxicating, the way he treats you, the way he lets his flirty comments slip pass his mouth, the way he smirks everytime you stutter out a response from his teasing, the way his rings fit on his fingers and how he knowingly knows what to say to fluster you up, is all too much. But you liked it.
You let your head fall back as his fingers starts to rub circles on your clothe clit, “mm i wonder how your family would react if they saw their little angel spreading her legs right now.”
“S-suna-“
“Call me rin, yea?”
You made eye contact with him as his finger pulled your panties aside, teasing your hole, he slips two fingers in slowly, watching as you arch against him. His fingers pumped in and out of you, you gripped the back of his hair as he left noticeable marks on your neck. Suna felt you clench around him and he sped up his pace.
“rin.. i-i think m’close” you whined, you could feel sunas smirk that always has you weak in the knees against your neck.
“well cum for me then pretty.”
your toes curled and your vision was blurred and went white as you blissfully came around rins thick fingers. You gripped onto his fingers and felt his movement when he continued to pump his fingers in and out of you, overstimulating you.
“r-rin i cant please.”
“yes you can angel, and you will, give me one more yeah?”
5K notes · View notes
omi-boshi · 29 days
Text
period cramps and a little bit of pining
your best friend omi comes over to take care of you during your period
tags: no plot just gratuitous fluff and yearning word count: 2.2k
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through the haziness that comes from just waking up, you hear the muffled sound of knocking, followed by the click of the door unlocking. you poke your head out from under the covers, curious. the sound of footsteps and rustling just outside your bedroom door fill the space and truthfully, you should be more worried that a stranger has seemingly broken into your apartment. however, the lack of angry growling from your sweet great pyrenees and screams of bloody murder from the stranger soothe the concern that tries its damnest to rise above your grogginess. you stay quiet, curled up on your side, head still peeking out. the continuing muffled sounds almost lulling you to sleep, your eyes falling close. that's how kiyoomi finds you.
he pushes the bedroom door open. quietly, he pads over to the bed and crouches just beside where he can see your face. the concerned furrow between his brows softens slightly as he takes in your sleepy form. he debates waking you up, not wanting to disturb the sleep you're finally getting after a night dealing with cramps of the worst kind. he wishes nothing more than to indulge you as he always does but as your closest friend, he knows you have yet to get up and eat. and that takes priority. cautiously, he runs his fingers through your hair and down your cheek which you turn into, seeking the warmth radiating from his skin. the subconscious action disarms kiyoomi. he has to fight through the thumping in his heart to call your name until you finally start waking up. he watches as you rouse from your sleep, grumbling through the whole motion. it tugs a small smile up his lips. your eyes flutter open and the seconds that follow are punctuated by the stillness of the air as you stare up at him, slowly processing his presence. your eyes travel up his figure. the mask dangling from his right ear. the hoodie he wears — the one you usually steal from him. the fuzzy socks you got him for Christmas. the worn sweatpants you've told him many times to replace and yet he never does because it looks fine, you remember him arguing at some point. the memory of it makes you smile. your gaze trails to the soft curve of his lips, the moles partially covered by his damp messy hair — he must have showered before he came from practice — before finally landing on his eyes that quietly watch you. "hi," you finally whisper in what feels like eons. voice scratchy from disuse. "hey, sleepy head," he says just as softly, mirth coloring his tone. "what are you doing here?" "you texted me last night. did you forget?" you hum in confusion, sitting up slowly and pulling your arm from under the covers to look for your phone.
to omi!!! :] Yesterday 10:43 PM
omiii com e over tmrw :((( - from omi!!! :] Yesterday 10:44 PM
You okay? - from omi!!! :] Yesterday 10:44 PM
I have practice in the morning but I can come over after. Is that alright?
- to omi!!! :] Yesterday 11:07 PM
that work s yes!!! and im okya, just kinda in pain and loopy from the meds and sticky ;-; - to omi!!! :] Yesterday 11:07 PM
everything hurts n i cant sleep on my back but it's ok see u tmrw! - from omi!!! :] Yesterday 11:08 PM
It's that time, huh? - from omi!!! :] Yesterday 11:08 PM
Get some rest. I'll be there as soon as I can.
"oh," you mumble, as you scroll through your messages. "i thought I was dreaming." you put your phone down to look kiyoomi in the eyes, a tilt to your head. "i'm glad you actually came though." kiyoomi breathes in deeply, heart thumping so loud — at this point he's sure you can hear it. but of course, you are none the wiser as you continue peering down at him, sleepy smile on your face.
"of course, i would." he returns the smile. “anyway, i didn’t know what you wanted since you didn’t reply to me all morning.” he pulls out a paper bag that was sitting behind him. “so, i just got a bit of everything.” in your curiosity, you sit up straighter to look at the bag kiyoomi has brought. he starts pulling out its contents and showing them off to you with a dorky grin that grows the more items he shows you. there were donuts, churros, chocolates, cookies, mochi, bread of all variations, and a singular bottle of the tea drink you've been raving to him about the past month. "kiyoomi!" you yell, doubling over in laughter. "i can't eat all of this!" "well, good thing there's two of us," he rolls his eyes, grin still on his face. "in my defense, i didn't know what to get." which is a lie. sort of. because everything he got were things you mentioned craving the days leading up to this week. not that you needed to know that of course. "you'd ruin your diet for me, omi?" you pout, eye glimmering in amusement. "that's so sweet! come here!" you reach out to pinch his cheeks, cooing how your omi is the sweetest and kindest person there is and that people would know that more if you stop looking so grumpy, you idiot.he feels his ears flush and he pushes you — nudges, really — to the side, grumbling something about ungrateful spoiled brats. but he can't bring himself to actually chide you for it, not when you're high in spirits right now and he knows how the littlest things could set you off. he wants you happy for as long as your period lets you which isn't long; fickle as your moods are at these times. "alright, alright." he chuckles. "go freshen up and let's get some real food in you first before we eat the sweets," he stands up from his kneeling position on the floor, hand on your arm to pull you up, grunting as he does so. you groan as if remembering why he was here in the first place. you flop helplessly on the bed, boneless, unwilling to leave the inviting warmth of the blankets. "nooo," you whine, purposely obnoxious just to irk him enough to let you go. "i know what you're doing." he tugs again. "it's not gonna work." it's a losing battle, one that you fought valiantly 'til the end. your whining doesn't work and only ends with you thrown over his shoulder. you yelp, thumping his back with your fists in protest as he makes his way through the living room where your dog sees you both and follows you to the bathroom.
kiyoomi gently puts you down, righting your crumpled shirt. he chuckles at the look you send him. to him, you look about as threatening as a baby chick but he rightfully stays quiet. not taking any chances with your knees so close to his crotch. "there are some pads in the cabinet that i bought," he pauses to fix your hair that got messy from being upside down. "it's the kind you always have." you grumble out a thanks, still a bit peeved from being carried out of bed. kiyoomi was right, of course — you do need to freshen up — but you can still give him trouble for it. you're bleeding out and you feel all weird, sue you, right? "while you're here, i'll go heat up the food i got you — it's korean, by the way — and feed snowball too then we can do whatever you want after. sound good?" kiyoomi tilts his head towards you to see your face.
you don't answer immediately, still stubbornly holding on to the frustration of being forcefully pulled out of bed. but just like most things are with kiyoomi, it's a losing battle. again.
it doesn't take you long before you drop the pretenses and meet his gaze. what you see makes the fight in you leave all in one go. his gaze is warm with mirth and... something else. you don't know what it is but it makes you feel shy being at the receiving end of it. you are suddenly conscious of how sloppy you must look right now even though you know kiyoomi would not mind. in your rising embarrassment, you usher kiyoomi out of the bathroom, eyes not meeting his. snowball, who's just so happy to be there, follows kiyoomi out the door. a muffled boof! sounding through the door once you get it shut. you get your wits together and freshen up, taking extra time to deal with the flush on your cheeks that just won't disappear. kiyoomi is taking out the last of the food from the microwave as you come out of the bathroom, livelier now that you've washed your face. he greets you with a smile and calls you to the dining table. lunch is far calmer, a nice change of pace after the hectic ordeal of getting you out of bed. the strange shyness from earlier is forgotten temporarily as you both talk about nothing and everything; how volleyball practice went, how his courses are going, about the new show you wanted to watch with him. once you start feeling the cramps come up again, kiyoomi catches the change in your expression and decides it's time to go back to bed. he hands you the pill you take to treat the cramps and a glass of water. you give him a grateful smile and he ruffles your hair in return.
"go back to bed. i'll be there in a sec," he says, no room for argument. you feel a bit guilty not helping with the cleanup and you tell him as much. he only snorts and tells you it's fine and that it's what i'm here for.
it doesn't do much to abate your guilt but with the cramps only getting worse, there's not much of a choice to be made.
when kiyoomi comes back, he sees you curled up under the covers, eyes shut in pain. he grabs the rechargeable heating pad from across the room and nudges your hand with it. it's only then that you open your eyes.
"hi," you mutter, attempting to smile. "the medicine hasn't kicked in yet." you grab the offered heating pad. "hey, guess we're not watching that show then?" kiyoomi murmurs, knowing full well that you would want to sleep the ache away. you give him an apologetic smile which he only waves off. "i really wanted to watch it too," you mourn. "it's fine. we can watch it another time." he smiles kindly. the silence that follows is somewhat cautious, neither one sure where to go from here. usually, you would have invited kiyoomi into bed by now and he would groan his protest before reluctantly joining you, all the while you would be teasing him about it. but the shyness from before overtakes you and kiyoomi is unusually hesitant as well, eyes darting and feet shuffling in place.
he is the first to break the silence. "i'll head to the living room so you can sleep, okay?" he begins turning away from you. at his words, you hastily sit up. "omi," you call out. he looks to you, head tilted to let you know he's listening. you can barely hold eye contact as the next words stumble through your lips. "um, the-the heating pad falls off when i sleep on my side and, and you know how i can't sleep on my back because the bleeding would leak," you look away from his gaze. "do you... do you mind helping me?"
kiyoomi turns around, regarding you curiously. "and what do you want me to do?" knowing that words will fail you, you silently flip the covers and pat the space beside you. kiyoomi exhales and cautiously takes his spot on the bed, as if this is the first time he's done this. it makes you snort; your shyness and his hesitance, it's ridiculous. and yet you're unable to soothe your increasing heartbeat.
"and then?" kiyoomi asks, quietly.
shaking off the anxiety that's starting to take hold of you, you nudge his shoulder, urging him to lie down beside you. you turn your back towards him, reaching for his hand and slowly guiding it down to lay flat on the heating pad pressing to your lower abdomen. you swear you hear the sharp intake of breath over your shoulder; whether from the temperature of the heating pad or the action itself, you don't know.
kiyoomi is quick on the uptake and lays his palm fully on the pad. it takes you by surprise when he pulls you towards his chest that you can't help the little gasp you let out. "like this?" he asks, almost teasingly. the hesitance from before melting away from his tone. unfortunately for you, it does menacing things to your heart.
with your heart seizing in your chest, you hum your affirmative and relax in his hold. kiyoomi pulls up the covers on both of you and adjusts so that your head rests on his other arm. with the soft thump-thump of his heartbeat combined with the warmth from the heating pad and his body, you are slowly lulled to sleep. "we should talk about this, you know?" you hear just as you are on the brink of sleep and you only hum in response. you hear him chuckle, or rather feel the vibrations of it. And then lastly, a kiss to your hair. "another time then."
what comes after will be dealt with another time. for now, you will enjoy each other's warmth.
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i wrote this on a whim because im currently bleeding out and everything hurts so bad and i wish i had an omi to take care of me ;;;;; I've got a more planned out fic that i can't wait to get out there i swear ;;;; pls take this crappy peace offering for now
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satarou · 17 days
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you and kuroo aren’t dating. you made that plenty clear last week.
you like to show up at his place and give him a headache, whiplash, whatever you want to call it this week. make out a little, spend the night, cook him dinner and then call him your friend whenever your roommate asks.
so you've made things very clear—you aren't dating. you text him and tell him he's an idiot and he calls you his favorite hot mess. he's not your boyfriend, you're not his girlfriend.
still, he keeps finding your earrings around his apartment. little gold hearts attached on hoops sitting on his windowsill, his spider plant (affectionately named marv) dipping down to brush against the metal. it's almost started to curve inwards towards the hoop—hooking around it like you do, spinning your keys around on your index finger whenever you show up, unannounced, at his door.
kuroo takes a few pictures of your little hansel and gretel trail. first, the hearts, then, another set of dangly stars—almost like a string tear drops—that are hanging half-on and half-off of his coffee table coaster. one more, he notes, on his bedside table—tomato seeds, or a bag of them, wrapped in gold and meant to hang all chunky just below your ears.
he knows what it feels like to nose against that one—cool metal touching the tip as he trails along the side of your neck. sometimes, against his cheek; a little solace from the flush the dusts his face, from the heat that radiates off of you onto him.
miss these? he sends, the pictures gathered together underneath the text.
oh shit, you reply—he wants to take pride on how quick you get back, for a moment, he does—i wanted to wear the star ones today :(
he can already imagine the outfit you want to wear—he thinks it's that dark green sundress, the one you wore that time in his car, the hem pulled up by your hips rather than your thighs. you wore those earrings that day, and then again a week later. you took them out during the climax of some horror movie that he was more afraid of than you were.
then come get them, he replies.
he knows you think he's ridiculous. the little texting bubble pops up, then disappears, and then pops up again. he kind of wishes you were here, twisting the fabric of his t-shirt in your fingers to pull him closer, biting at your lips to try not to smile at whatever dumb innuendo he decided to make.
and if i don't?
well, he sends first, i guess everyone will know that your outfit is a complete mess.
can't have that.
not at all.
his fingers hover over his keyboard, his eyes flick back over to your earrings. he thinks he might buy you a new pair when he gets paid next week.
so see you in ten? he sends.
make it five, you reply.
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