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pin-k-ink · 23 days

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vestige // oikawa tooru

tw ⇢ exes to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, mildly suggestive at the end

wc ⇢ 2.7k

The sting of failure hung thick in the night air as Oikawa and Iwaizumi trudged home, shoulders slumped heavily under the weight of their devastating loss against Karasuno. Every step lanced through Oikawa like a searing reminder that his high school volleyball journey had reached its brutal end. No nationals, no final showdown against Ushijima - just the bitter taste of crushed dreams.

He stole a sidelong glance at Iwaizumi, his best friend's expression was stony, wisps of hair still disheveled from running his fingers through it one too many times in frustration. A fragile silence stretched between them, loaded with unspoken consolations neither quite knew how to voice.

As they reached the intersection where their paths diverged, Iwaizumi finally broke the hush. "Don't stay up all night dwelling on it, Shittykawa." His tone was gruff but laden with concern.

Oikawa mustered up a hollow smirk that didn't reach his eyes. "No promises, Iwa-chan."

Iwaizumi sighed deeply but said no more, offering a solemn nod before turning down his street. Oikawa watched his friend's retreating back until it disappeared into the inky darkness.

With Iwaizumi's steadying presence gone, a spiraling anguish seemed to constrict Oikawa's chest. His feet began moving seemingly of their own accord, carrying him aimlessly through dimly lit residential streets. Unbidden, images and sensations bombarded him - the searing impact of that final rally, and most viscerally, the hollowing devastation of knowing this was the abrupt end of his high school career.

So lost in his turbulent haze, Oikawa didn't even register his surroundings until he jerked to a disoriented halt. Suddenly, terribly familiar scenery surrounded him - the park where you had shared your first kiss, the convenience store you used to linger outside of pretending he didn't see you sneaking away after curfew.

And there, just ahead around the bend, the warm amber glow of your house beckoned to him like a siren's call amidst the crashing waves of his innermost turmoil. His heart stammered hard against his ribcage as he drank in the sight. What was he doing here?

Before Oikawa could attempt to logic himself out of this reckless backslide, his feet propelled him forwards until he stood motionless on your porch. Each ragged inhale tormented him with the lingering scent of the jasmine vines twining up the trellis just like he remembered.

With a trembling hand, he reached for the doorbell, fingertips hovering featherlight before finally pressing down. The resounding chimes reverberated through his hollow core, mocking the frantic pounding of his pulse.

Shuffled footsteps approached from within until finally the door swung inward, and there you were. Your widened eyes raked down his disheveled uniform, the dusky streaks of dried tears on his wan cheeks, and the anguished despair swimming in his coffee irises.

"Tooru?" The worry coloring your utterance of his name nearly buckled his knees. "What are you doing here?"

He opened his mouth, but all words shriveled up on his too-dry tongue. You searched his stricken face as a heavy beat ticked by.

A broken noise hitched from Oikawa's tight throat. "I...can I please come in?" he rasped hoarsely.

Conflict flickered across your features for an extended moment. But then you stepped aside, silently ushering him into the entryway thick with memories that seemed to leach the air from his lungs.

You led the way to the living room, taking a seat on the plush sofa as Oikawa hovered uncertainly by the armchair before sinking into it. His elbows dug into his knees as he cradled his face in his calloused palms, drawing a shuddering breath.

He was painfully aware of you watching him, waiting.

The weighted silence seemed to smother Oikawa as his shoulders slumped further, fingers raking agitatedly through his sweat-dampened chestnut locks. He could feel your searching gaze burning into him, the unspoken demand for an explanation ratcheting up his inner anguish.

Swallowing hard, he finally met your eyes, immediately wishing he hadn't at the sight of the guarded wall there. "I...I'm sorry for just dropping by unannounced like this," he began haltingly. "I didn't mean to impose or anything, I just..." His words trailed off uselessly as he shook his head.

"You just what, Tooru?" you prompted, unable to keep the faint thread of challenge from your tone.

He flinched slightly at the bite in the way you said his name. Inhaling a fortifying breath, he pressed on. "How have you been? Staying busy with school and everything, I assume?"

A delicate scoff filtered past your lips. "I've been fine. Just working and focusing on my classes like usual." The clipped response hinted at darker depths simmering beneath the surface.

Oikawa nodded jerkily, grasping for a new toehold in the conversation. "That's good, that's good. I'm glad you're doing well." The meaningless platitude fell horribly flat between you both.

"And you?" You arched an immaculately shaped brow. "Still playing volleyball nonstop?" Despite the neutral lilt, he could hear the undercurrent of passive aggression.

A muscle ticked in his clenched jaw as the night's failure washed over him anew. "My high school career just ended tonight, actually," he replied tightly. Seeing the brief flicker of surprise in your eyes provided no satisfaction.

"I see..." You chewed your lower lip for a moment, clearly weighing your next words carefully. "Well...there's always college ball to look forward to, right? Assuming you can juggle that with a full course load."

The attempt at subtle rebuke wasn't lost on Oikawa. His throat constricted as he fought against the burning swell of emotion. "Actually, I'm...I'm not sure what my plans are for after graduation yet," he managed in a strangled tone.

The full magnitude of the opportunities he had squandered, the ambitions left in shambles, came crashing down upon his shoulders then. He blinked hard but couldn't stop the hot tears from spilling over, silently trailing down his flushed cheeks as his chest constricted with guilt and regret.

You noticed the treacherous moisture immediately, your expression shifting almost imperceptibly. Though you didn't move from your seat or make any gesture, your eyes softened at the naked emotion playing across Oikawa's features.

He couldn't bring himself to meet your gaze, utterly ashamed at this loss of control in front of you. His jaw clenched hard as he struggled to rein in the turmoil wracking him from within. The tears kept flowing in quiet streams, each one a searing reminder of how deeply his mistakes had cut both himself and you.

The silence stretched unbearably as Oikawa's breaths came in harsh, stuttering draws. His fingers dug ruts into the plush upholstery as wave after wave of guilt and regret crashed over him. In your presence, every wrong decision, every selfish action that had ultimately torn you apart felt magnified tenfold.

He squeezed his eyes shut, but your face - cheeks glistening with shed tears - blazed behind his lids. The anguish became too visceral, too overwhelming to contain any longer. With a shuddering exhale, Oikawa slid boneless from the sofa and crumpled at your feet in a silent show of contrition.

For several beats, he couldn't bring himself to look up at you. Shame burned through him as he pressed his forehead against the plush fibers of the rug. His shoulders curved inwards as broken murmurs tumbled from his lips.

"I'm so sorry..." The tremulous whisper was thick with remorse. "For everything I put you through, for all the pain and heartache...you never deserved any of that." His fingers twisted in the soft carpet as he struggled for measured breaths.

"If I could take it all back, every mistake, every moment of selfishness...I would in a heartbeat." The depth of Oikawa's sorrow left his words halting and raw. "You have every right to hate me, but I'm begging for your forgiveness...even though I'll never be able to forgive myself."

A profound stillness reigned in the wake of his ragged plea. You remained utterly motionless above him, not making a sound or offering any reaction. The weighted pause seemed to stretch into an eternity of taut silence.

Then, almost imperceptibly, you shifted closer until the whisper of your exhales caressed the top of Oikawa's bowed head. A featherlight touch grazed his chin, gently but insistently guiding his face upwards until your eyes finally met. In that soul-searing moment, everything extraneous fell away - the past hurts, the messy history, the unbridled guilt and fury of a million unsaid words.

All that remained was the searing, visceral connection between your locked gazes. As if the world around you had ceased spinning on its axis, leaving just this single point of bared truth.

So much remained unspoken between you, yet in that suspended beat of stillness, no words were necessary. An unraveling understanding blossomed forth as Oikawa watched your nuanced features shift and soften before him.

Your touch lingered upon his jawline for another breath before trailing downwards. You took Oikawa's calloused hands in your infinitely gentler grasp, savoring the comforting weight and warmth. Then, with the barest hint of insistent pressure, you pulled him up and into the protective circle of your embrace.

Oikawa's forehead came to rest in the sloped curve of your neck as you enveloped him fully. His damp lashes fanned across the exposed skin there as he gulped in the painfully familiar scent of you - warm cotton, sweet florals, and the lingering hint of citrus from your favorite lotion. The soothing balm of your proximity finally severed the tenuous threads of his restraint.

A ragged, wrecked sound tore from Oikawa's very core as he crumpled against you, hands clutching at the soft material of your shirt. His frame shuddered with the force of his muffled sobs as every pent-up fear, insecurity, and incomprehensible loss bled from him in wave after breathless wave.

Yet through the deluge of his grief, you were his anchor - cradling his trembling form with tender strength, one hand splaying broadly across the quaking expanse of his back. The other stroked along the nape of his neck in featherlight sweeps, weaving through the sweat-dampened russet strands in a soothing cadence.

As the harsh sounds of Oikawa's unchecked cries began to ebb, you shifted minutely, tucking his forehead more securely into the reassuring cradle of your chest. You held him tighter still, sheltering him in the steadfast comfort and solace he'd relinquished any right to long ago...yet you offered without reservation.

Oikawa remained burrowed against you, his face pressed into the comforting warmth of your chest as the sobs wracking his body slowly subsided into uneven breaths. You continued holding him close, one hand cradling the back of his head while the other rubbed soothing circles across his back.

Several long moments passed in silence as he regained some composure. Finally, Oikawa slowly pulled back just enough to look up at you with red-rimmed eyes. His expression was a raw mixture of guilt, gratitude and something more profound he couldn't quite put words to.

"I'm sorry...I never should have showed up here like this and put you through that," he said hoarsely, gesturing vaguely at the tear stains on your shirt.

You shook your head slightly. "It's okay, Tooru. Clearly you were hurting..."

He squeezed his eyes shut briefly against a fresh pang of emotion. When he reopened them, his gaze was impossibly soft yet pained. "That's no excuse. You didn't deserve to see me like that after everything I put you through."

Throat tight, you stroked your fingers through his disheveled hair in a comforting gesture. "Maybe not. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't still care about you, even after all this time."

Oikawa's breath hitched at your admission, his eyes shining with unguarded hope and longing. "You have no idea how much I've missed you," he whispered roughly. "How many nights I've lain awake replaying every stupid mistake over and over, wishing I could take it all back."

You held his searching gaze steadily. "I've had those nights too, you know. Thinking about the good times, and the bad, and how we let something so special slip through our fingers."

A muscle ticked in his clenched jaw. "It was my fault, all my selfishness and inability to prioritize what truly mattered." He dropped his forehead against yours defeatedly. "You deserved so much better."

"Maybe so," you murmured, stroking the side of his face lightly. "But that doesn't mean we can't start over, learn from our mistakes..." You hesitated, worrying your bottom lip. "If that's something you might want?"

Oikawa's gaze searched yours with an almost desperate intensity. "You mean it? After all this time, all the pain, you'd be willing to give me another chance?"

You gave him a watery smile. "I think we'd be foolish not to at least try, don't you?"

A choked laugh escaped him as his eyes slipped closed, tears clinging to his lashes. When he reopened them, relief and cautious hope shone through. "God, I've missed you so much," he breathed out fervently.

"I've missed you too," you admitted, stroking his cheek tenderly. "More than you'll ever know."

As your foreheads pressed together again, the shattered tension between you gradually unknotted into something newer, tenuous yet shimmering with fragile promise. While so much still hovered unspoken, in this quiet moment you allowed yourselves to simply bask in the first rays of reconciliation.

You and Oikawa remained with your foreheads pressed together, simply breathing each other in as the weighted tension between you slowly unwound into something newer yet fragile. His warm breath fanned across your parted lips in a tantalizing caress.

"Tooru..." you murmured, voice already husky with longing you didn't bother trying to veil. "I've missed this...missed you."

His expressive eyes fluttered open, clouded with undisguised want and remorse in equal measure. "Missed you more than you could ever imagine," he rasped roughly. "Every single day without you was torment."

You shivered at the deep timbre of his voice, at the molten heat blazing in those endless amber depths. Tentatively, you nuzzled your nose against his, savoring the intimate glide of warm skin. "Show me then," you breathed against his lips. "Show me how much you missed me."

A ragged groan tumbled from Oikawa as his restraint finally shattered. With an urgency bordering on desperation, he surged forward and sealed his mouth over yours in a searing kiss.

You sank into the achingly familiar heat and spice of him, lips slanting needily as you returned the fevered motions with equal fervor. This wasn't some polite, chaste reunion - it was a messy deluge of pent-up starvation, of anguished yearning abruptly unleashed.

Oikawa's calloused palms cradled your face with ardent possession as your fingers tunnelled through his sweat-dampened chestnut locks. You tasted the saltiness of his lingering tears, but it only seemed to add a delirious edge to the dizzying exchange.

When you finally broke for air, Oikawa peppered lingering, opened-mouthed kisses along the curve of your jaw and throat as you panted against him. "Missed this so damn much," he groaned between each scorching brand. "The taste of you...the little sounds you make..."

His words were deliciously suggestive, the rumbling timbre of his voice coupled with the bristled graze of his sculpted jaw along your sensitive skin making you shiver violently. You fisted the material of his uniform top, tugging him impossibly closer as desire blazed white-hot through your veins.

"Don't stop..." you pleaded breathlessly. "Tooru, I need..."

He answered your silent entreaty with a molten kiss that robbed you of oxygen and rational thought alike. Hands began roaming, caressing feverishly as you lost yourselves in the heady rediscovery of each other's tastes, textures, every mapped path and memorable pleasure point.

For this suspended moment, nothing else existed beyond the scorching exploration ofrecaptured intimacy and connection. You clung to Oikawa tightly, utterly intoxicated by his earthy, masculine musk and the perfect familiarity of his weight, his solidness surrounding you.

As your ardor momentarily overwhelmed your good sense, you couldn't find it in you to regret a single reckless second of it. This was a starvation borne from years of self-denial, of always wondering 'what if?'. And now that you'd ripped away the floodgates, you had no intention of holding anything back from the man you'd never stopped loving.

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x reader smut #oikawa smut #oikawa tooru #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa x reader smut #oikawa tooru smut #oikawa tooru x reader smut

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red-writes · 1 year

Note

The audience wants more of haikyuu and chubby reader, please spare some crumbs

okay here's some.

Oikawa hasn't said this to anyone but before the two of you started dating he would have the most vivid wet dreams of you. he would imagine himself laying down on a bed and having your chubby pussy hovering over his face. he could feel the heat radiating off of you, your cunt's juices just dripping onto his cheek and your voice above him like a sirens urging him to smell it and taste it. you slowly inch your cunt down closer and closer until his nose grazes your clit and then he shoots up out of his sleep and sees his cock poking through his underwear hard and leaking. he just sighs and lies back down gripping his cock in his hand before jerking off with the fleeting images of you in his mind.

Iwazumi wants you so badly its almost embarrassing. he isn't subtle with his adoring stare or the compliments he gives you. it's only when you guys go out for drinks one night when he tells you he thinks you look "so fucking gorgeous" in that dress that's hugging every curve you have. he doesn't hold back how rough he fucks you either. months of dreaming of your thick thighs squeezing his waist as he fucks his cock into you has led him to having the roughest nastiest sex of his life. his cock won't stop cumming (he can't help it, you're his favorite girl) and it's forcing globs of white out of your pussy and onto the floor of his bedroom, his pants are halfway down, your bra is still on-- one tit still in its cup and the other swinging about as he fucks you. he's spit into your mouth and onto your cunt just watching as you take whatever he gives you and your longing for him makes him harder than he could've ever imagined.

#red’s inbox— ੈ♡˳#hq smut #iwazumi smut #iwazumi x reader smut #oikawa x reader smut #oikawa smut #red writes— ੈ♡˳

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drowninghell · 10 months

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Haikyuu masterlist

Bokuto

Wedding shoe game

Pregnant

Dating hc

Depressed

Kuroo

Wedding shoe game

Delinquent

Pregnant

Early morning

Ushijima

Wedding shoe game

Delinquent

Dating hc

Early mornings

Walking down the isle

Oikawa

Drunk reader

Pregnant

Wedding shoe game

Soulmates

Iwaizumi

Drunk reader

Pregnant

Walking down the isle

Aakashi

Pregnant

Wedding shoe game

Tsukishima

Wedding shoe game

Tendou

Depressed

Semi

Siren

Early mornings

Kageyama

Comfort when needed most

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu!!#akaashi haikyuu #haikyuu ushijima #kuroo tetsuro x reader #oikawa toru x reader #bokuto koutaro x reader #tsukishima kei

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kiwanopie · 2 years

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You get the things that you deserve.

Oikawa Tooru x Reader (college au)

cw: suggestive. hinted smut. canon divergent. reader is fem coded. reader isn’t described with any specific characteristics aside from being shorter than oikawa. reader is a “transfer” but there’s no locational specifics of where she’s from, other than English being hinted as a language she’s fluent at. reader is characterized as being siren adjacent throughout the story. unresolved angst ending. 6k

Summary: The best things happen for the worst reasons.

“Look at me.”

“Wanna see how good I’m making you feel.”

He feels rejuvenated.

Like the type of rejuvenation you get after a long restful sleep. After a light breakfast and a two mile run, after ecstasy. Nearly half inclined to jump out of bed and break into a full sprint just to see how far he’d get - he feels reinvigorated. Renewed and revitalized. He’s glowing, he’s sure. And he wouldn’t be too far off figuring that it was all because of the figure laying beside him.

He has…never had sex like that. Never. Has never felt so completely one with another person, never felt so inclined to look for the seam between him and whoever it is curled up in his sheets. He’s had one night stands sure. Dime-like dames that are good for an overnight rush but he’s forgotten them by morning. Fixes and scratched itches, but this - this was an experience. Empiricism and philosophy, a finesse on physicality and someone that felt like they truly knew him, and knew how to make him feel good.

Now if only he knew their name.

Familiar hues make brush-like strokes through his clearer memories as he fishes through a night obscured by cheap beer and whisky. - He remembers a smile, bell-like laughter that makes his cheeks hot and his hands clammy. Tooru reaches for his cup and takes another swallow.

He wonders what that dress might look like on his bedroom floor.

You’re familiar. Someone he knows, or at least he wants to know, that if not for the palliative haze would be recognizable with a little more thought. His nerves are what have him searching for liquid courage. You say something and he laughs, it’s the only thing keeping him from kissing you. You’re the only person in the room - you’re upstairs somehow and everything’s suddenly too hot. You’re soft.

“You’re so pretty, Tooru.”

He shivers.

Whoever this is, whoever’s curled up in his blanket right now, naked and cotton like under the peaking sun; whatever angel it is that walked into last night’s house party and captivated him so critically last night. - Fucked him within an inch of his life. And if the way you’ve started to shift in their sleep means anything, he’s about to find out who that is.

You sigh as you come to. Stretch and then yawn. There’s alarm bells going off in his head but he doesn’t know why.

And then you lay on your back.

You’re the transfer!

Tooru’s breath nearly audibly hitches as you stretch again, pretty enough to block out the sun and he suddenly remembers why he went so heavy on the sauce last night.

But you don't look like you’re faring any better when you start to realize who he is either.

“Oi…Oikawa…?”

His charms are a falsehood but he smiles like he’s not already losing his mind. “Morning, sunshine.” His voice crackles. “Hope you slept as well as I did.”

Your stare’s a little stagnated by a look he doesn’t recognize but you’re back in motion with a humored huff. “….I did.” You point your nose to the ceiling. “Your bed’s really comfortable.”

“Last night’s kind of blanking on me though,” You add before he gets a chance to retort. “We didn’t just both decide to get naked and fall asleep in your bed, did we?”

“Wan’ it inside, Tooru! Wanna feel you inside!”

He inhales shakenly. “I’m afraid not.”

“Huh.” And the way you bite your lip has him following it out of your teeth. “That…wasn’t quite the impression I was going for when we talked last night.”

What? Was rocking his world not what you were going for? “Is this not a good impression?”

“I wanted to make friends with you.” You pout. “At least - I wasn’t trying to get into your pants when we first met.”

You chuckle when he leans in, hand comfy on either side of your thighs as he tilts his head to get a better whiff of your perfume. His breath is warm and ticklish.

“Peach on the beach?” He guesses.

“Mango matrimony.” You correct. “You like it?”

He’s brazen as he hums against your neck, impatient but collected as every sanguine skim of his lips inclines you to shiver from where they climb up your jawline. You let out a sigh that makes him goosebump; and for a moment he feels like he’s won it all.

He shrugs. “It’s alright.”

“Just alright?”

Tooru smirks before he goes in for the kill. “Yeah.”

“We can still be friends?” Tooru says. I mean with a fuck like that’d he’d rather be so much more but- “We can take things slow. If you want…?”

“You wanna… take things slow?”

“Is that okay?” After last night? “We can be friends and then… see what happens?” He’ll beg if he has to.

You look at him a pensive moment before nodding.

“Okay.” He follows the curve in your hips as you turn in his direction. “Let’s take things slow then.”

He tries not to look too obvious as he portions out a relieved breath. Slow. Honestly, after what you put him through last night he might just be willing to wait a lifetime if that meant he’d have you all to himself again. Just having you in his bed like this, peeking at you from his peripheral and ducking his head when his heart starts to race. He feels… like a teenager. Like a nervous little boy high off his first time wiping his palm sweat on the sheets. He likes you. He realizes. He thinks he might have even before he bumped into you at that rager last night. Distantly, he wonders why it took him so long to scope you out like he did. But with the way your quiet breaths are turning his shaky, he could probably take a guess.

It’s embarrassing how quickly he turns his head when you start to speak again. “Um, before that though..”

“Hm?”

“Do you wanna…” You hesitate a little bashfully. “Go again?”

Tooru sighs. “God, I was hoping you’d ask that.”

He’s in love with you.

He’s sure. From the moment you walked into his morning lecture to the hours spent worshiping you head to toe, heated lips pressing scorch marks on his skin, and the way your voice sounds when you’re begging for him to give you more. - He’s in love with you. Making heart eyes from across the lecture hall and daydreaming on the next chance he’ll have to press his lips against yours. Taste you again-

“Stop being weird, Shittykawa.” He’s out of his daze when a hefty arm knicks against his. “You can’t just stare at her like that. You’re acting like one of your shitty fan girls.”

“We’re meant to be Iwa-chan.” Tooru sighs out. “You’re just jealous I’ve got dibs on her first.”

“Only thing I’m jealous about is how easy it is for a dumbass like you to completely turn his brain off like it’s nothing.” He pulls his laptop out of his book bag. “You can have your damn dibs, I’m not delusional enough to think I’ll get with the transfer student of all things.”

“No, no,” Maki waves him off beside him as he leans back in his seat. “Don’t put him off yet.”

Hajime raises a curious eyebrow at the unusually glum faces of his two friends beside him. Issei sighs hopelessly. “He fucked her.”

“What?”

“The stupid asshole fucked the transfer student.”

“Hey!”

Hajime scowls. “You’re fucking with me.”

“‘fraid not.” Maki blows a quick breath out through his nose. “Heard ‘em both through the wall of my flat.” And his hands are raw just thinking about it.

“She’s a singer, alright. You can definitely hear it.”

Tooru ducks from what is very surely about to be a good whack on the shoulder from his best friend, a little pink on the cheeks as he scowls up at him “What is the matter with you? Can you go two weeks without whoring yourself out to some underclassmen?” Hajime chastises. “And how much does a dipshit like you have to beg to get the transfer student to fuck you?”

“Hey! I didn’t beg!” Tooru defends himself. “How hard is it to believe that deep down I’m actually as charming and likable as people make me out to be, huh? It can’t all be hype.”

The group fall into a collective silence.

“I think just you saying that makes you like ten times more lame than you already are.”

Tooru gasps.

“How’d you do it, man?” Issei frowns. He seems to be taking the news the worst out of all of them. “How’d you get her to fuck you?”

“You’re that volleyball player, right? The setter.”

Phantom-like wisps of finger brushes burn holes in his memory as he all but shivers. Truthfully?

Tooru shrugs genuinely, blowing out a breath as he follows your smoke trails until the far side of the room. “Feels like she lured me in, really.”

Maki’s head audibly knocks against the back of his chair as the group look on at him in mutual envy.

Issei rests his chin in his hand as the lecture begins. “You’re a fuckin’ asshole, kawa.”

He tries not to be too obvious when the lecture finally ends, how much he’s been dying to make his way over to you before you eventually disappear into the crowd of buzziling students. Some even stop you in your gate to get the exit, probably feigning an excuse to get closer to the foreigner before you’ve gotten your wits about you. Though that’s said with the bit of irony it deserves. He’s hasty in the few muted greetings he passes to the freshmen that call for him in the path he leaves behind, and his apologies are quick as he bumps the few backs it finally takes to get to you.

Your head’s slightly turned to a student on your side when he gets to the wall you’re currently idling against, nodding your head at her as she rolls her words like she’s admonishing you.

She cuts the thought short when she realizes he’s there. “...Huh.”

“Hi,” He briefly bows to the both of you. The whiff he gets of your perfume has already been indexed in his memory. “I’m sorry, I’m not interrupting am I?”

He follows your eyes from him to the student still standing passively to the side of you, a little stiffer than before and scrubbing her eyes against him like she’s trying to say something. A fan of his possibly? She has that same doe-eyed glimmer about her that he regularly recognizes from the court whenever he’s looking into the stands. Fingers unwittingly tapping into the booklet pressed against her chest as she finds her bearings again.

“N-..No,” She finds your encouraging smile as she glances at you again. “No, I was just going-”

“This is Ayumi by the way,” Your smile curls up a little as she quietly hisses your name. “She was at the party last night, if you remember?”

Tooru tilts his head a bit to pause in thought. If he’s being honest, the only thing worth memorizing last night was every moment he spent floating around you. And even that he feels regretful for missing a few bits and pieces. He doesn’t exactly wanna disappoint her but he can’t lie to her either.

“Ah,” Tooru simpers regretfully. “Last night was kind of a blur to be completely honest.”

Your eyes briefly flicker between the two when Ayumi frowns reflectively at his response. Briefly bending her neck to shift on her feet before she raises it again, smiling understandingly before throwing a glance at you. “Yeah… But you two met last night, didn’t you?”

Now it’s his turn to feel a little flustered as she tauntingly eyes the both of you. Shifting a little on the balls of his feet as he peers at you, but even he can’t help but smile at the way your cheeks puff out when you’re embarrassed.

His nerves settle when he realizes she’s teasing you. “I’m glad you two had fun,” Ayumi sighs as she readjusts her grip on her booklets.

“As long as you’re being careful about it.” She eyes you chidingly.

You nod up at her like a child acknowledging a parent, and belatedly he starts to piece together that you must be friends. “I am, I swear.”

His smile pinkens at the way you cross your fingers. You’re really cute.

Ayumi returns your grin of reassurance with an assured nod of her head as she bids you a quiet goodbye, stretching one of her hands forward to pinch you on the shoulder before starting the motion of turning on her heel.

She pauses though, briefly.

“You really don’t remember me?”

Oikawa inadvertently throws his head back at the question. Should he? He hopes that isn’t too coarse to say.

He forgoes a direct response with a remorseful shake of his head. “Uh, no. Sorry.”

Ayumi smiles silently.

You send her another goodbye as she finally turns to the rest of the auditorium, throwing a lingering wave back at you as you return it until she’s blended in with the rest of the crowd. But you’re raising off your back the moment it’s just the two of you left in this crowded space, and it’s instinctual the way he readily follows your footsteps.

Your voice is a beacon in the sea of constantly chattering students buzzing around the vibrating hallways of this university. It’s a distinctive hum that turns the parlance into white noise and parts his thoughts like the red sea. If anything could be any more distracting, it’d be the way your lips curve over each word. Carefully molding around your Japanese, as if you mean to honor the language as you speak it.

The way you smile at him when you notice he isn’t listening turns his ears florid. “You have a staring problem.”

“I have a you problem,” Tooru exhales as he cranes his head to the windows hovering above them. “If you don’t want me to stare, try not sticking out so much?”

“Oooh, way to make the foreigner feel welcomed.”

Tooru pouts as he shuffles his footing to playfully knock his shoulder against yours, blushing a little when you giggle. “You’re a hanker sore is what I mean! It’s like you showed up like that just to spite me!”

You drop your head to quickly scout over what you’re wearing.

Tooru snorts at the way you absently pop your hip out a little for him. “I did wear my sexy sweats today.”

“They’re very distracting. - You’re very distracting. You’re so pretty it doesn’t make any sense. It’s a wonder how I’d get anything done around you.”

You hum. The look you throw him is as inquiring as it is chastising. “Do you talk to all your friends like that?”

“Just the ones I’ve slept with.” He sighs. “Hey, when did you get around to making friends with Ayumi? I thought you just transferred recently?”

“Eh, we met on an internet forum when we were high schoolers and hit it off from there; her and another friend of ours,” And Tooru watches the way you smile fondly as you reminisce. Lilt in your voice that softens like you're kissing the thought and he hopes one day you’ll sound that way with him in mind. “They’re both maybe a few months older than me - but they’ve treated me like a little sister since.”

“Ayumi major’s linguistics so she’s the one who’s been keeping me on my toes about my Japanese, and Mai,” Your eyes briefly flicker up to where he’s staring down at you, returning his attentive look with a small smile. “Mai’s parents immigrated from Brazil so, a language barrier has never really been an issue.”

“Oh! So, you guys must be pretty close then?”

You hum again, faithful in your stare to the path ahead of you as you answer honestly. “I’d do anything for them.”

Tooru nods understandingly as he follows your footing down the southern hall of the building, passing the bay area to the outer garden as sun rays flood the trail to your next class. And it’s hard to think to himself as you’re bathed in the morning sun. Dust particles pass like sparkles as your eyelashes become more defined in new light, and you’re a naiad. Mystic, just out of his reach. Filling his head with fuzz as he becomes encumbered by thoughts of you, being beside you, being all over you-

“Senpai,” You pause in front of the door to Nabuya’s morning lecture. You’re a health and fitness major? Iwaizumi must see you pretty often then. “I really appreciate you walking me to my class.”

“Oh it’s- I don’t mind,” He smiles prettily. “I was just on my way to the gym anyway.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Your stare is honied as you gaze up at him.

“The gym’s on the other side of the building.”

Oh.

The weeks that pass, pass with purpose and earnesty. They start with a sugared message, often typed groggily as he tugs his phone out of the charger with a begrudging pull; cursing his morning alarm before skimming his thumb on the message bar where your previous goodnight was. A few hearted messages, a promise to see you later in the morning; and the giddiness he feels as he climbs out of bed. Knowing it’s you that he wakes up to every morning, even if just by a technicality.

He’s early in his jog across campus, earlier even as he swipes a few cafe drinks on his way to his 8 am and waits for you at the door with a sleepy smile. You tell him he’s crazy. He hums that he’s crazy for you. You nudge him as you take your coffee in hand and lead him to the seats you’ve been sharing at the back of the class. Teasing even as you push him away, loving as you sip at his coffee once yours is all finished.

You furrow at the cup he was just drinking from a minute ago, eyeing him inquisitively as you lick your lips. “Where’s the metric ton of creamer you usually dump in this? Are you sure you gave me the right one?”

He shrugs like he’s not lying through his teeth. “I like the way you have it.”

He doesn’t mind the jog it takes from Nabuya’s lecture to his morning practice.

He doesn’t mind the knowing stares. Definitely doesn’t mind the envious ones. Or the way his coach sighs when he starts the freshmen on their tosses a little later than he should. Tooru doesn’t mind the time he gives to you. Shares with you every chance he gets, and spends with you constantly on his mind. He barely notices when he’s zoning out during group conversations on his lunch break, too focused on the profile of your face as you converse with your friends across the cafe. Giggling just out of his earshot but even then he can imagine how pretty you must sound.

Tooru drops his head when his phone buzzes in front of him.

Pretty girl 💕: stop staring <3

He responds in kind.

stop giving me smthing to stare at <3

The way your lips curl over your teeth as you smile across the room makes him feel like he’s won a nobel prize.

He doesn’t mind fawning over you. He doesn’t mind making heart eyes at you as you walk beside him, wiping the sweat off his palms as you reach for his hand to lead him the way to your dorm block, or the way his heart races when you say his name. Tooru. The way your lips briefly curl over the “u” like your kissing it goodbye as you say it. Breathy chirps of thanks and small adorations as he parks you at your door, and the way he breathes in your conditioner as he holds you tight makes you shiver.

Without fail he hums it in your ear before he lets you go. “I can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”

And he means it.

When he misses you on his way home. When your voice hums into his airpods as he studies. When he wishes you a restful goodnight until morning.

He means it.

You hesitate as you push the doors into the gymnasium.

It’s not the first practice you’ve been to but it’s the most important one by far. From the way Tooru talks about it it sounds like it’s all or nothing, but in hindsight he seems to be that way about a lot of things.

His teammates recognize you as you make the few steps it takes to the bleachers, even his coach points you in the direction of where he’s sat his things on the rows closest to the court. The thick veil of acknowledgement is viscous in the humid gymnasium air, and you can’t tell if you’re flattered or fearful of the evil eyes pointed at your back from the seats a well distance behind you.

After all this time you shouldn’t still feel this nervous. It shouldn’t still feel this nerve wracking to sit here and stew in all the feelings of ardor he has for you. Fight the urge to flinch when he acknowledges your presence before he sets and you burn under that flicker of passion that bursts over you like a spotlight. His movements change and he’s energized again. Moving with a vigor even more dedicated than before and you know that’s all because of you.

Which is why he wants you to come to the preliminaries tonight.

Why they want you to come to the preliminaries tonight, if the way Iwaizumi pulled you aside during your health study to make sure your schedule was clear - should mean anything. With the way things are going you’re the piece that guarantees them the win tonight, and you’re not wrong for feeling a little tense at such an amount of pressure. It’s beyond you at this point, being the only different face in the crowd. You’ve stopped biting your nails and losing sleep over the right way to roll your r’s or straighten your back when you bow. Being designated the Gaijin or doubting yourself when people pretend not to understand you. Real, current, monotonous pressures have stopped getting to you. Feeling like an alien has.

Feeling like a fake has not.

Your fingers twist nervous lines in the fabric in your hands as teal ribbons of tencel pass through your fingers smoothly. Creaking somewhat as your grip absently tightens, and it takes a glance at your lap to realize you must’ve reached for his jacket at some point.

He’s in front of you just as soon as the whistles sounds.

Tooru’s smile dips the moment you lift your head. “Uh oh? ‘You feeling okay?”

Your smile’s a little strained as you lift your knees to hand him his towel, following his movements as he takes the seat in front of you. “I’m okay, Tooru. I think my stomach just hurts.”

“It does?” He dips his head to whisper much louder than he should. “Was it the coffee?”

“No, Tooru, not that kind of hurt,” He whines when you pinch his cheek. “I mean, I’m nervous. I’ve never been to a game like this before.”

“You’ve- Oh,”

Tooru raises on his legs again to carefully climb into the seat next to you. All sweat and limbs as the smell of his natural scent and antiperspirant becomes all the more potent from so close, and just being so close to being wholly enveloped by him makes the little hairs on your arms stand.

He knocks his shoulder into yours as he stares at you more fondly than he has any right to. “Yeah, I get that. I know that something like this could be overwhelming,”

“I know it probably doesn’t help that you’ve been kind of pressured to come,” He sighs up at the ceiling. “Iwa-chan can be a bit of a brute even though he means well,”

“But above all else I want you to know that I only want you to come if I know you’re having fun. If you’re enjoying yourself and sharing… How fun volleyball can be if you really put yourself into it. I wanna share that feeling with you. I never want you to come to any of my games thinking you’re obligated to.”

Tooru looks down at you again. His sincerity twists your stomach in knots. “I’d love it if you came. - Obviously. But I’m not gonna make you do something you don’t feel like you’re ready to do yet. I always have you to come back to afterwards. I could just call you when I win.”

You meet his cheeky smile with a long… sober pause.

“Tooru,” And your tongue feels laden when you speak.

“I'm… nervous, because people look at me like I’m your girlfriend,” Your frown falls to your lap as you avoid his eyes. “And I know I’m not.”

The tension in the air that settles is palpable.

There’s a feeling you don’t recognize that forms in your chest as the moment lingers. A dense, suffocating feeling that coats the inside of your ribs like a thick adhesive and crawls along the path to your stomach like wet cement. It makes you feel like you’re too much and too heavy to even lift yourself from the chair you’ve been planted on; even as every fiber of your body begs you to run away and flee. And it’s an ugly ugly feeling. A rotten, no good pang of the heart that makes you reconsider your reasoning for coming to Japan in the first place.

Until careful fingers are coiling right at the edges of your jaw, and lifting you up like you’re as delicate as glass.

“Look at me,” He’s closer than he was before. Close enough to see the reflection of you in his eyes - and you’re everything you’ve wanted to be.

“If that’s really what you’re worried about then we can-“

Someone calls your name from across the court.

The familiar sound of your first name has him straightening his back just as fast as you do as you turn your head to the double doors leading to the hallway. Immediately reaching up to separate his fingers from where they’ve unlatched themselves from your jaw, and the look on your face is akin to being caught in the cookie jar.

There’s a student he doesn’t know - he thinks he doesn’t know, who looks among the both of you with a stare he can’t quite describe. A warning glance maybe, premonitory and chaste - whatever it is, it’s enough to have you sighing out and stepping out of your seat.

You offer him a short squeeze on his wrist as she calls your name again, and drop his hand with a soft mutter.

“…Careful.”

Everything plays out the way that it should.

You stand from your seat as the collective chatter of the gymnasium buzzes into a loud hum. After the last hour and a half being surrounded by a crowd of people whose only purpose in life is to scream and only as hard as they can. Excited hands raw with clapping, and an exuberant college band who plays like it’s their only chance at seeing tomorrow. Your ears have started to ring from the perpetuity of it all. - Everything about this game has been loud, louder even on their behalf that their team won. The air even as it becomes rich and thick is electrified. And even in the glare of that tangent ring, there isn’t a single part of it that you didn’t enjoy whole heartedly.

Seijoh won. They always do. But it isn’t removed from the fact that every time they do it’s more rewarding.

Nekoma is a power house, they’re in the top five in the country. They play with the intention to stalk and then kill. - And seeing your home team go against someone like that, struggle and stumble and win. It feels like a victory won,

It feels like being in the presence of greatness.

|32| 3 |32|

Oikawa stands at the court line with his eyes focused on the ball. He’s drenched with sweat. And his fingers are littered in tape.

“Go! Go! Seijoh! Go! Go!”

“Push! Push! Seijoh! Push! Push!”

He’s tired. This match has gone on far longer than anyone could have anticipated. And each player’s movements have started to fall behind. The crowd wain’s his focus. He’s tired.

“You can do it Oikawa senpai! Let’s go, senpai! Let’s go!”

He should be tired.

“Rrrrrrght!”

Three seconds and he’s stepping forward. His elbows creak when he throws the ball. But he’s no more bothered by that than the way the lights reflect on the sheen of his sweat. And he watches as the sun falls.

“Ooooolè!”

He’s up in the air. He’s a means to keep the earth rotating. The sun will strike the earth and there will be no more.

“Whack!”

The ground shakes.

“Service Ace!”

You’re the first face he turns to when he wins.

It’s your arms he seeks out after a win like that. His sweaty body that presses against yours with such an unfeigned need to be grounded by you, that you squeeze him back on impulse. He’s so overcome with glee that he vibrates. That his hands tremor and his breath shakes, and what little he can do to calm himself down is tuck his head into your shoulder and exhale.

“God, thank you.”

You figure he needed you there more than he let on.

Tooru’s vision is rose tinted when he declines your suggestion to celebrate with his friends to walk you home. He’s gentlemanly and cautious of the way he follows your heels as you pass through the threshold of the main building, throwing his jacket over you when you shudder from the cold. And all the feelings he’s had - has had, feels just a hair width from tumbling over the melting pot. Wanting you, having you, loving you. Seeing you so duly stuck to his side like you fit there and it’s all he can to stop himself from pressing his lips against yours.

He’s in love with you.

And you know that.

Your eyes are true to the trail ahead of you as you silently walk the path that leads to your dorm block. The quiet is kind to the crunching sounds your footsteps leave against frozen grass and dried twigs, cold blues in the falling sky that turn fall pinks into winter purples, and chill drafts into brisk shiversome winds. Your hands are ice cold from chilled over sweat. Clenching and unclenching at your sides as you work yourself through familiar nerves, and a weight in your chest that becomes more habitual as you let these feelings linger.

At the sight of your dorm room placemat, your eyes start to water.

Tooru slides the arm he has comfortably wrapped around your shoulders down the arm closest to him, and holds your wrist through his jacket with the kind of faith you give to someone you know will treat you kindly. He uses his thumb to peel the fabric covering your hand from his until he’s rolling circles on the back of your palm. And when he turns you to face him, you know what he’s going to say before he says it.

“Hey,” Tooru cranes his neck until he’s parallel with your eyes. “I wanted to talk about what you said yesterday.”

You don’t respond.

He interprets the way your lips quiver as nerves. “I know we’ve been toying this line for a while, and as much as I’ve tried to be upfront with my feelings,” Tooru exhales. “I can see how it’s hard to take any of that seriously.”

“I should’ve considered what it might have felt like being looked at a certain way, and expected to be a certain way, but never having a name for what’s been going on between us.”

He fishes your hand out of his jacket sleeve as he meets your misty gaze with every bit of love he can manage. So focused on how you look in the moonlight to register the sound of you fishing your keys out of your pocket.

“I love you, you know. I’m in love with you. I wanna be yours more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

“So, I don’t-“ He exhales shakily. “I don’t wanna just be your friend. I don’t want people to look at you like you’re my girlfriend, I want you to be my girlfriend. I want you to be mine.”

And you’re everything he’s ever wanted as he intertwines his fingers with yours. “Please, be mine.”

Your silence is stale.

“What was her name?”

“Hm?”

“What was her name,” You whisper numbly. “The girl you slept with before me?”

Tooru looks disjointed as he shakes his head. “What?”

“Tell me her name and I’ll give you an answer.”

“I don’t-“

“It’s simple,” You all but hiss this time. So sudden that it jolts him back like you’ve flicked an exposed nerve. “You should know the name of the last person you had sex with.”

He reaches for you like you’re already moving back as he tries to pace himself against the sudden change in atmosphere. So taken back by the unfamiliarity of it all that he grasps for the first thing that’ll make him safe.

You avoid his hand as it tries for your bicep.

“W-…Where is this going? What are you-“

“I mean you courted her,” You slide your hand out of his. “For six weeks,”

“Let her watch your practices and walk you home when it got too late. Texted her during class,” And it’s like watching all his worst fears fold in front of him as you slide his jacket down your shoulders. Nightmarish when you press it firmly against his chest.

“Brought her coffee and split your milk bread with her. Made her feel pretty,”

“And special,” You back away. “And irreplaceable,”

“Baby-“

“Tell me her name and I’m all yours.”

He doesn’t remember. How could he? When all that’s been spinning around in his head is you. Since meeting you barely anything else has mattered. Getting out of bed in the morning, going to his classes, following on your heels and indulging himself in every whiff he can get off you like it’s the only thing moving him forward. Since meeting you he’s been lovesick. Rising on his toes to reach at everything he’s possibly wanted in his life - dangled over his head and just out of reach. Fixes and scratches itches, he’d go celebate if he could just have you. Be with you. Why should he care about some girl he fucked before-

“Mai Souza.” You hiss finally, and it hits him like a ton of bricks.

He’s frantic as he tries to stop you in your efforts to step into your dorm room, desperate as he pleads for you. But you’ve blocked him out, and your tears are bitter as you turn to him from your open door.

“You don’t get to hurt someone like that. You don’t get to use someone until you get what you want, and drop them like it’s nothing.”

Tooru shakes his head. “Please… I-“

“If not Mai, what about Ayumi? What about Yoshiko-senpai from cheer? Michi, Yūka, Chihiro? Where’s their confession?”

The doorknob clacks in your grip as your hands shake. “How am I supposed to know that by being your girlfriend I won’t get burned too? When you’ve squeezed everything you wanted out of me. When you’re done.”

You regard him with a look of disgust that finally breaks him into fine pieces. Rooted on your doormat as winter dusting starts to fall over his head and the tears in his eyes start to run hot streaks down his cheeks.

“I hope when your next fling asks you what my name was,” You start the motion of closing the door.

“- You remember.”

#*sees a character that i love with my entire heart* im gonna hurt him ❤️#no beta we die like men #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa x you #oikawa fic #oikawa angst #oikawa x y/n #oikawa toru x y/n #oikawa imagine #oikawa tooru #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fic #haikyuu angst #hq #hq x reader #hq oikawa #hq angst

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iisasarcasticlittleshite · 1 year

Text

Comfort Mini Series (Pt. 3)

Megumi Fushiguro

You winced as you accidentally slammed the door a little too hard behind you. There's every possibility that your boyfriend would be asleep, given his dumpster fire of a schedule (not that yours was much better).

A canine whine greets you in the pitch dark of your home as his demon dog paws at the light switch and trots up to you, gently wagging its tail as it pushes its passive head under your palm, forcing a weary smile to your face.

Megumi always leaves one of his Shikigami out to greet you when he gets home before you do, part of you wonders if he does it so he won't feel so alone in the house you bought together.

After impatiently waiting for you to kick off your shoes and shed your outer layers, the hound drags you to the kitchen by the cuff of your sleeve, pointing his nose to the oven, where leftovers sit, ready to be warmed.

You rub the dog's ears appreciatively, knowing he won't let you go to bed without eating. You have to admire your lover's control of his technique, over the years he's gotten powerful enough to doze through his Shikigami carrying out commands, even simple ones.

Or maybe the damn dog's gained sentience beyond what his master's orders are, who were you to say?

Either way, the black hound rests his chin on your thigh as you sit at the kitchen table and eat your lukewarm meal, you don't dare risk the microwave at this hour of night. If Megumi hadn't already been awoken by your door slam, that siren of a thing would certainly do it.

Once you'd eaten as much as you dared on an unsettled stomach, you let the dog lead you to bed, already half asleep on you feet, head pounding with the day's madness.

The room is dark, but your eyes get plenty of time to adjust as your canine escort leads you to your own dresser, where your sleep clothes sit waiting for you.

Once changed, it's your body's own autopilot that leads you under the covers and holds out a hand to give the dog one last affectionate pat.

'Good boy, sleep well.' You husked groggily as the hound licked your wrist before dispelling into your lover's familiar shadows.

You snuggled into the covers, weary of rousing Megumi, but he turned, and wrapped you up in his arms, pulling you snuggly against him without so much as a word.

You hadn't seen each other since early that morning, felt like a lifetime ago. The moment his warm, masculine scent hit you, you collapsed against him, melting as the pounding in your skull finally subsided.

His long fingers found their way into your hair, untangling knots and rubbing your scalp in slow circles.

'You good?' He murmured, words slurred with sleep.

'Yeah, are you?'

You felt the gentlest kiss pressed to the crown of your head before he pressed the warmth of his cheek against you, his body soft and relaxed against yours, melting into you just as you melted into him.

Safe, at last. Safe under the covers, away from curses and monsters and circling vultures, safe from all the madness that haunted you beyond the haven of his arms.

A tear slipped from your eye, taking with it the day's exhaustion as you welcomed sleep calmly, breathing in your lover's scent.

'I'm always good when you're here.'

Part 2: Kuroo

Part 1: Oikawa+Gojo

#jjk fluff #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen megumi #fushiguro megumi x reader #comfort mini series

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seijorhi · 2 months

Note

I can only imagine the deliciously murderous thoughts going through Oikawa’s mind when Heisuke told him to let go of the reader :)) I’m guessing they took a bit more time killing him than the reader’s adoptive parents ;) for that and you know, thinking that he could ever replace them :))

think kill bill sirens and you're pretty much spot on

#but no actually #no time to drag it out like he would've liked #places to be #long lost foster siblings to fuck #you know how it goes #rhi answers #fic asks #oleander

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white-poppie · 2 years

Text

Baby, I am scared!

Content warning: blood, crying(a lot of it), death, imprisonment, miscommunication (Teratophilia?), over-drinking of blood (is that a thing?), Dub-con (not nsfw however.) Genre: SUPERNATURAL! AU: The characters as mystical creatures (multi), ANGST

🎶 : "As the hours pass, I will let you know. That I need to ask; before I'm alone." --After Dark, Mr Kitty

His heart ached for you, to have fallen for such a pitiful creature, but alas! Mortals rarely ever know, how to contain their desires.

He could never be by your side, you knew that! Why are you crying in front of him then?

The fat tears that rolled down your face, almost made him reach out and comfort you, but he stayed, as still as a statue.

"I am bound to this place," he said, "you know I cannot leave. Find someone well, someone human,"

His last words made you flinch. His stoniness broke when he saw your response. His monstrously, huge hands reached out to caress your face.

You closed your eyes to devour the feeling--nothing pricked your skin. You carefully opened your eyes and as soon as you did, you wished you hadn't, an echoing wail left your throat piercing through the walls like the cupid's arrow.

The first rays of the sun had turned him back to stone.--the way it was supposed to be.

(Megumi, Hawks, Aizawa, Illumi, Near, Iwaizumi, Bokuto Mattsun, Makoto, Shinichiro, Muto, Kisaki, Kakucho, Wakasa, Shion, Takeomi) As a GARGOYLE

🎶 : "I don't want to be afraid, the deeper that I go, It takes my breath away."--House of Memories by Panic at Disco

"You have to run, you have to go!" He shouted, his voice reverberating beautifully across the walls of the cave, you were entranced, even when he wasn't using his magic.

"They'll take you hostage if they ever see a human with my kind!."

His blue tail glimmered under the faint moonlight, scales shining like pearls deep under the sea. He was the sea. He was ancient and he was the last of his kind.

"Go," he yelled ever so melodiously, "run before the catch, you and never come back!"

"I can't- I love you!" you screamed.

"I don't!" he growled, eyes turning green as you fell away from the water source, "leave Y/N, don't make me use my powers on you."

"You wouldn't- you promised," your voice cracked as you pleaded.

"Promises are mere words when you are few of the last of species," he shrugged, "Besides, I am not doing this for anything, as baseless as feelings, I just pity you, I am stronger than all the men in your town combines, I'll escape, but no way, I'll help you if you get trapped."

"You...are a monster!" you cried out, stumbling away from the rocks.

A monster, huh? He could live with that. The faint shouting of the pirates was audible clearly, maybe if he submitted himself, they would be kinder, gentler, nicer...less monster-like.

He laughed tearfully, staring at the moon. Humans are truly the real monsters.

(Gojo, Getou, Bakugo, Kurapika, Oikawa, Kageyama, Izana, Mitsuya) as a SIREN

🎶 : "And God knows, I'm not dying but I bleed now, and God knows, it's the only way to heal now."--My Blood, Ellie Goulding

"I am gonna kill you, I am gon' fucking kill you, I can't do this!" he rasped, but the desire in his voice and quiver in his eyes was fixated on your neck.

You pitied him, he had been resisting for so long. He was hungry and tired. The sleeplessness in his drooping eyes and weakness in his flail arms clearly showed it.

"It's okay, you can drink a little, I'll tell you when to stop," you whispered.

His eyes lit up a little, yet he was cautious," really?"

You pulled down your top a little to expose your collarbone, "I trust you."

As soon as the statement left your lips, he was plunging his fangs into your flesh, he groaned in delight at how sweet you tasted, energy coming back to him and his ears rang with a carnal desire: more.

At first, it felt like a mosquito bite, painless, but slowly your body started to feel cold. Pins and needles accompanied the feeling of helplessness and your voice died in your throat. You patted his back to warn him about the blood loss, but he was too drowned in ecstasy to care.

Black spots danced in your vision as you whispered again to stop until you fell limp in his arms.

His eyes snapped open as he wiped the blood off his chin, his impotent sobs echoing through the walls of the cathedral. After that he made sure to get you to a medic.

That was the last you will see of him. Hundreds of years have passed and yet every time he drinks blood from a passerby, he is reminded of your cold body. Who knew a blood-sucking freak like him could bleed in pain?

(Yuuji, Nanami, Mikey, Chifuyu, Daichi, Tsukishima, Kenma, Izuku, Denki, Kirishima, L, Hanma) As a VAMPIRE

🎶 : "Who's that I see walkin' in these woods? Why it's Little Red Riding Hood"--Lil' red riding hood by Sam The Sham & The Pharaohs

You had no idea how, but you had tamed the big, bad wolf. But tonight he wasn't acting obedient.

"Yeah? You are gonna kill me? Put a silver bullet through my heart, make it quick!" he growled, his already large form, looking ginormous as you shrank in fear. What had irked him? Only the heavens knew.

"I-I wouldn't dare," you squeaked, your voice betraying you.

"Oh, please, I heard your little first talk about our kind, and you didn't disagree," he laughed, betrayed.

Your eyes widened as you remembered your loud-mouthed friend spewing nonsense that you were ignoring, "I wasn't-."

"I bet after I left you must have said something like, 'Oh how someone like them? The transformation, the primal drive, the bestiality? If I could kill them, I would!"

"I would never, I love you! I wasn't even listening to her!" you shouted angrily.

"Spare the explanations," he shouted, "I had trusted a human once, I was foolish to trust again." You knew the scar on his hand was a reminder of his distrust towards humans, and yet you pursued him, when he finally opened up to you, the house of cards came toppling down.

His intent was murderous so the best decision was to crawl away.

He regretted it. He wished he hadn't let his fears control him--maybe you wouldn't have been named a witch by your townsfolk. On that day you were there to tell him about how your friend had seen you with him and how the church knew.

Your silent cry of life was never heard. All you wanted to do was to live...

( Toji, Baji, Kazutora, Shion, Draken, Kuroo, Akashi, Chrollo, Mello ) As a WEREWOLF

Tags: @rintaroubby @nanaseishiro, @akumicchi, @oikawatoorupdf @denkis111, @jazzylove,@lordmypantsaresocool, @futuristicallykawaiiturtle, @kristaline2dmensimp, @repostingmyfavs, @innerpurple, @katsukichu, @renster05, @navaratna, @sakinotfound. @nanaseishiro, @thegrayladyislookingforyou

╰┈➤ Book order details (Request Rules) ╰┈➤ Special customers(Taglist)

Also Check out: L'appel du vide

Synopsis: Your husband, Hanma Shuji is dead! You team up with Tachibana Naoto, Chifuyu Matsuno, Ryuguji Ken and Mitsuya Takashi, you go on a journey full of betrayals and twists. Can you find out what really happened to your husband?

Requests are open (*3*) Reblog/like to give the author a hug (´;︵;)

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bauern · 2 months

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10 characters, 10 fandoms

tagged by @mauraeyk 💖

edwin paine (doom patrol)

linda martin (lucifer)

tsurara oikawa (nurarihyon no mago)

stede bonnet (our flag means death)

mal oretsev (shadow and bone)

kaname kuran (vampire knight)

crowley (good omens)

ryn (siren)

lucienne (the sandman)

beth kane (batwoman)

tagging: @jackietaylors @torturedpoets @elinordash @rogerhealey

#tag game

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mrs-nubenueve · 2 years

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contention of pride (bokuaka | ~3K words): a siren!au where a siren must end themselves if a sailor on the off chance resists their song. faced with a song-resisting bokuto, the siren akaashi must contemplate a difficult decision.

Who could resist him — fair of all that he was?

That statement wasn’t rooted in fantasy, fiction, or falsehood, but simple truth. He’d a sharp, elegant countenance and sleek body. Freckled with enticing gold, a gleaming tail like rare precious ivory rendered all the more shining by the pitch-black scales that lined its side. And to accompany it all, a smooth, low voice so lovely it traversed the realm of sound and caressed its listeners with the softest tingling touch. The poor seafarers could never one day lord a viable victory over Akaashi, not in reality nor their dreams.

Of his shoal, he was even relatively successful. Though he lacked the tenaciously lucrative bloodlust and gold-stealing materialism of Oikawa-san, he found his hunts surpassed the numbers of his other ever reliable, albeit mischievous senior Sugawara-san. And many younger sirens — the most surprising perhaps being the likes of prodigy Kageyama-kun — looked to him for wide-eyed, earnest guidance on matters such as location scouting and song selection. As part of their community, he knew his worth and felt faith in his own skill; they would not starve now, and he could teach the younglings the necessities to ensure they would not starve in the future.

So, when a ship with a titanic hull and proud sails entered his field of vision and inched nearer to him, he didn’t feel an ounce of trepidation. He ascended onto his isolated cove’s low sea stack to sing in the human-indecipherable language of the ocean’s profundity and mercilessness. A beautiful, if haunting, song.

It did not take long for the massive ship to anchor and for a dinghy to approach his direction. Scooting forward on the sea stack, he worked his voice to a crescendo. He could not help if a more-experienced siren would consider the song’s progression rushed. At the prospect of a meal soon, his fangs began to ache from hunger, and he hoped to feed sooner rather than later. But, as the dinghy neared, a spike of confusion pierced his otherwise clear head.

On the little boat was not a pack of sailors. That would’ve presented no issue, as almost all sirens knew how to maneuver a man and their shipmates. They had to, as rarely did their quarry travel alone. No, on it, instead, was a lone sailor with no other boats behind him.

The sailor was a broad man with a crown of odd white hair and tanned skin. The rowing of oars set to rippling his loose shirt’s fabric — Akaashi noted, in the short time he’d been allowed to, that there was a part of him always in motion, like his arms that strained against the ocean’s mass, his chest that rose and fell with every breath. Though a look close to rapture did decorate his features, it hardly came across as siren-song-induced rapture. His bright eyes trained on the shocked-motionless, shocked-silent siren appeared too alert for that, too lively. No detail about him, not a thing, eased Akaashi’s burgeoning dread.

“Hey hey!” The sailor addressed him as soon as he was in hearing distance — never mind Akaashi’s superhuman projection ability — following his ship’s example and anchoring efficiently, quickly. Without further preamble, he gave Akaashi his full attention by shooting him with that bright, curious gaze and confessed, “I’ve never seen a siren up close.”

Stunned beyond belief, appetite subsequently dissipated, Akaashi’s dazedly articulated response, delivered just above the intensity of a murmur, could not be anything more than a seemingly casual carrying-on with the sailor’s sparked conversation: “No, you haven’t.” He then crouched low on his sea stack, bracing his forearms against the rock as if the new stance would do anything against the large sailor if he chose to attack with brute force, and added, “You would surely no longer have life.”

Yet here he was in defiance of all odds, un-affected by the siren surely meant to feast on his flesh, blood, and bones.

Had Akaashi ever seen a man like this, up-close and un-enthralled?

“Does that mean” — and the following he said with far too much amusement, bearing in mind the reputation of his company’s species — “you’re going to try to kill me?”

Akaashi uttered no reply but did not cease in his scrutiny of the sailor. For the first time in his life, his song had not worked. So un-touched was his so-called prey by him that he could even make light of Akaashi’s hunt. Affront could not come close to accurately encompass the emotion that sped his heart’s beating, that engulfed it.

He felt as if the sun above them began to beat on him a little too hard, a smidgen too specifically, as if it chose for whatever reason to target him with its unkind rays in this very instant. But Akaashi, Akaashi was intelligent, and he knew that wasn’t the case. He comprehended that what he felt was not the sun’s wrath but his own shame flooding his face and painting it red.

“Well, good luck with that — I’m undefeated!” Whatever that meant. A threat, perhaps?

Akaashi, brisk as lightning, raised himself on his hands and pushed himself back into the water. This man, whoever he was, held too much of an advantage over him — to an unfathomable, impossible extent. Akaashi ought to swim away. But…

“Oh!” He heard the excited exclamation from beneath the shallow water above his head. “Your tail!”

His tail. A prized, prized attribute of his that no human had the privilege of looking on twice. With the sun at its zenith as it was, he could imagine how the scales’ paleness reflected its rays. And though Akaashi did not feel that he paired well with vanity, he didn’t doubt for a second the magnificence of the sight. Never had any man lived to tell the tale of it because they never survived him. If they did —

Abruptly, moved by a flood of anger, he surged upward and glared at the offensive sailor in his pathetic little boat, making sure to keep his tail submerged. A small part of him urged him to try and lure the man into his clutches through other means. His voice may have failed him, but maybe he could employ — sensuality. If he was fascinated by his tail, what else could he be charmed by?

But, no, he should not have to. Therein lied the entire issue, the source of his malcontent. He should not have to resort to the obvious, blundering carnal.

His voice alone, the most potent weapon in a siren’s arsenal, should have done the trick.

The man bent low, willingly getting closer to Akaashi for some god-forsaken reason, as if an enraged man-eating monster was not within reach. He demanded like a spoiled child pestering their exhausted parent to keep playing in the seaweed forests, “Bring your tail out again!”

Akaashi, once more, ignored him. He spat back, just as demanding, “Are you deaf?” — a silly query born of his tried, confounded mind.

The man blinked, paused the childlike manner in which he’d been rocking and thus his ever-occurring motion. “Do you think we’d have gotten this far talking, if I was?”

“Did you not hear me, then?” Akaashi attempted a different line of questioning, desperation bleeding into his tone, now. There was no question that this man could resist him — only, how?

“What,” the sailor shot back. He straightened and looked to his left and to his right, like his visuals influenced the quality of his hearing. Perhaps that was the case, but what that be enough to explain his composure? “Hear what?”

“My…” Akaashi could not believe their conversation. “My singing. Didn’t you hear it?”

“Oh, that. Yes, I heard it,” he answered, and only then did concern flash over his bold features. His hand came up to shyly rub the back of his neck. “I came here to ask you to stop, actually. You’re making my men want to jump ship, and I really can’t have that happening. We’re almost to our destination.”

“I…” He was at a complete loss, truly. “And you? You didn’t want to jump ship?”

“No,” came the reply. For all its simplicity, Akaashi might as well have asked him if he felt cold on this cloudless summer day. The sailor continued, “I have too much to live for, and getting eaten by a siren would, well, ruin my ‘live’ plans.”

Akaashi’s expression fell and likely took on an awfully pitiful look. The sailor said, as an afterthought, though not to console him judging by his serenely shut eyes, “But your voice is lovely! I don’t think I’ve heard one like it before.”

The man didn’t think — not even knew, for certain — if he’d heard a like voice.

Akaashi would have to beach himself on some isolated bay, now. Or tether his limbs to the bottom of the ocean and let himself drown. Maybe he could find a sharp rock there and plunge it into his torso instead, and let it be done that way. He could not provide for himself or his family; he could not face them now, with this stain on his pride; he was nothing.

To take his own life, to keep his faith secured in his own hands, would restore onto him a modicum of dignity. He just had to ensure that the sailor did not successfully assail him. If he did, and if he managed to plunge a weapon into him, Akaashi would lose all semblance of said dignity, and some. What would his shoal mates say if they found his body skewered on a sailor’s sword? He couldn’t allow it. Regardless of how large or strong this particular sailor was, somehow, he’d have to evade him if he chose to become violent.

Anxiety lapping at his heart like playful waves that were all too quick to become the stuff of tsunamis, he unconsciously began to swim in small circles. The tic didn’t escape the sailor’s notice, it not exactly meeting the criteria to be dubbed subtle. He tilted his head and asked the siren, “What’s wrong?”

“‘What’s wrong?’” Akaashi could not help but sneer, misery coloring his diminishing ire. “You are. Leave me be, sailor. Go back to your ship.”

The sailor opened his mouth to say something, but hesitated, his large hands coming up to grip the dinghy’s edge. He eventually posed the query, “Will you sing again?”

“No,” Akaashi retorted weakly, his eyes averting to the dark water engulfing him below. The dark water he’d have to surrender himself to, forever, in spite of his young age. How could this have happened? Through his gradually-processing despair, he steadied his words, “No, you don’t have to worry.”

Anew, the sailor hesitated with his words. “How do I know you won’t?”

Akaashi spared him a glance. His distress over the safety of his shipmates took precedence over any other sentiment, at least on his visage. The furrow of his brows was deep, as was his frown — it had to be authentic. He’d not appeared that way regarding his own safety, here, in the siren’s turf. If all was to end for Akaashi soon, did it matter what he told this ostensively honest man? “It is as you said, sailor. You are undefeated. I’m not.”

The sailor’s face loosed up, somewhat, his brow quirking. “So, you’ll just let us go, because…because I could hold out against you? Sirens have honor codes? Stuff like that?”

“I suppose that’s what you can call it.”

“What will you do now, then?” He leaned past the dinghy’s edge to peer closer at Akaashi’s face, a rapidly-forming, unwise habit of his, his short-lived hesitation gone. Akaashi would be able to claim the same, shortly. “Keep practicing? How does a siren ‘practice’, anyway? Do you try your singing on the fishes?”

The fishes — how ridiculous! Akaashi replied, brusque in tone, “What I do does not concern you.”

It was the man’s turn to say nothing, and for a reason that Akaashi could not grasp, he chose to stare at him with an inappropriate fondness. Not a cloudy, lustful one, like so many humans before him, but one that had no right existing within the context of their situation. How could a man who’d asked him to spare his friends look at him as if he, too, was a cherished companion?

“You know,” the sailor began, too conversationally, as was his wont. “If I were to lose, at anything — not that it’s happened or it ever will — but if I did, I’d train so hard that I’d never lose again. It’d only ever be a one-time thing, my loss.”

Akaashi scoffed. As if this mortal man’s silly honor could compare to that of a siren’s. What honorable act, on any account, had a man in their lifetime committed? He countered, “You sound as if you want to fall prey to me, sailor.”

“Bokuto,” the sailor, swift like a riptide, said. “Call me Bokuto! And no. Like I said, I’d much rather not be siren food. But you seem really upset about what’s happening.”

“Do you know,” Akaashi answered, ensnaring the pesky whim that’d been swirling about in his mind. He couldn’t deny that the sky was blue, and likewise, there was an undeniable pull to this man that he could not figure out — as if, as if hewas the siren, and, Akaashi, his hapless victim. “What happens when a siren’s prey resists their song?”

“Other than they save themselves from becoming dinner?” Bokuto, in a fashion that, oddly enough, came across as entirely innocent, snarked. “No. It’s not like you wanted to tell me, either.”

A fair point, Akaashi grudgingly, non-verbally admitted. Well, he’d tell him now — now, that there was little point to anything.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi intoned, blunt and unequivocal, “you resisted my song, so custom dictates I must now take my life. I’ve failed as a siren and have no reason to continue on as one, anymore.”

The stillness from moments ago freshly overcame Bokuto, an unnerving thing to see. When he broke that stillness to raise his hand, Akaashi assumed he was about to clutch his heart, dramatically pained, or hide his face away in commiserating sorrow. Instead —

He slapped his knee and laughed, so deeply and boisterously he precariously shook the dinghy, “Good one!”

Consequently, Akaashi felt as if his body was converted into stone. Heavy, prone-to-sink, unwelcoming. Bokuto’s none-the-wiser laughter lived on for a considerable while, and when it died on his lips, it did so at the behest of Akaashi’s deadpan expression. A look of plain horror was fast to overtake his features. He gulped, “You don’t mean that, do you?"

“I mean it, Bokuto-san,” and though it may have been an embellishment, he tacked onto his statement, “more than anything I have ever said.”

“That’s horrible!”

“No, it’s what I’ve to take to heart. It’s what I must do.”

“No!”

“How can you say ‘no’? You, who can’t seem to stomach the thought of defeat? You should understand.”

Bokuto sat back on his haunches, brows furrowed, a perfect picture of frustration. For what reason, anyway? It was not as if he knew anything about Akaashi beyond superficialities. He possessed no reason to mourn his loss. Face contorted with the effort of concentration, Bokuto explained, “That — someone resisting you shouldn’t count as defeat! Real defeat is taking away your own opportunity for a future. To do better, later on. If you do — that — you’re keeping yourself from overcoming defeat! You’re letting yourself stop there, at defeat.”

“That is not how it works,” Akaashi affirmed, quick to deflect the man’s logic but unable to still the shaky quality of his ever-failing voice, this time. If he genuinely wanted to, he supposed he could begin to acknowledge Bokuto’s reasoning. It wouldn’t be a difficult task. It was not at all a convoluted train of thought.

Even so, it was one that could not be further from his teachings — teachings that, for centuries, the merpeople have lived, thrived, by. He shouldn’t entertain the foolish sailor nor the poison that spewed from his mouth. He couldn’t let himself be shaken from this. And so easily, too.

A whisper — and who would’ve guessed that a man like Bokuto could whisper — burst the bubble of his treacherous musings, “Don’t you want to live?”

Of course he did. That was a stupid question. However, what he wanted didn’t matter, not like the ruination of his pride mattered, or the pride of his species. That is what any self-respecting siren would claim.

“What I want doesn’t matter,” he said aloud.

Real defeat is taking away your own opportunity for a future.

Without a proper goodbye, it seeming unnecessarily reckless, he began to swim away from Bokuto and, most crucially, the human propaganda he rambled. His face he did not fully turn from him — to catch Bokuto, naturally, in case he grew tired of Akaashi’s physical well-being and opted to do something about it.

“Wait!” Bokuto cried out. Fortunately for Akaashi, he stayed seated in the dinghy. A hopelessness that not even the siren let underlie his own speech throughout their conversation’s duration imbued his yell, “Are you going to do it?”

To do better, later on.

He envisioned a smug Oikawa, handing to him all manner of shiny trinkets he’d snatched off his prey that he felt would suit Akaashi’s tastes best, and Sugawara’s rapid-fire gossip he’d impart as, for presentation’s sake, they trimmed the overgrown kelp from their home’s nearby field, and Kageyama tapping his shoulder to get his attention so that he could ask whatever question burned the tip of his tongue.

Simple scenes with a single commonality: that which he’d miss.

And then there was the experience of one who for all intents and purposes should not matter. The one who he did not need to visualize in his mind’s eye in any capacity, whatsoever. The one who, if he wanted to see him, he need only flip around for a better view of: this sailor who, for all intents and purposes, bewitched a siren.

Sea-eyes met sun-eyes, not an action that Akaashi intended to transpire, but also not an incident he could faithfully condemn.

You’re letting yourself stop there, at defeat.

“I’ll be coming back this way in about a month’s time,” Bokuto proclaimed with his arms crossed over his chest, an intense look burning in those irises like ichor, all traces of hopelessness vanished. So powerful he felt in that instant that, whatever he said, Akaashi suspected would come to pass. His intensity promised nothing less. “I expect to see you again.”

Akaashi hadn’t a clue what to say to that but felt compelled to hold his gaze.

Several long moments passed before he finally turned fully away and delved headfirst into the ocean to completely submerge himself. If he let his tail flick upwards into the air while diving, he wouldn’t disclose that detail to a soul. And if he found his heartstrings charmingly plucked by the delighted gasp he heard afterwards, he’d not disclose that to anyone, either. As for himself, to himself — that was a more so muddled, jumbled matter.

After all, who could resist him?

#fic #au #siren au #haikyuu!!#bokuaka #akaashi keiji #bokuto koutarou #tw sui ideation #ambiguous ending #my bad if it's a little cheesy there at the end...#i was in like....pre-write mode when i did this lol #pls let me know if there's a typo anywhere btw #if you read any of this — tysm <333 #q

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