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beneathashadytree · 9 months

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THREE’S A CROWD - TSUKISHIMA KEI X READER X YAMAGUCHI TADASHI

Warnings : NSFW below the cut, this is set after the timeskip, threesome, marking kink, making out, manhandling, voyeurism, exhibitionism, dacryphilia, biting, masturbation, riding & penetration, TsukkiYama is so real in this, reader is gender-neutral!

Genre : actual filth smut

Word count : 1.0K words

Additional notes : This has been in my drafts for 3 years, no joke. Can you tell I love these two a ridiculous amount?

Tip jar if you’d like to buy me a Ko-Fi!

Masterlist

No matter what you do, don’t think of Tsukishima Kei

Don’t think of how cuddling him would feel like heaven on earth, given how his long legs always end up entwined with yours, and how his warm torso would completely envelope yours

Don’t think of how his arms would fit so nicely around you, pulling you closer to him so his deft fingers could trace circles on your hips oh-so-softly

Don’t think of how he has really soft hair that curls with the heat of the summer, or how he laughs real pretty and delicate whenever you comb through those tiny hairs curled at the nape of his neck

Don’t think of how he’d always get that somehow-sweet, half-smile of his whenever he’s asleep, or how he’d subconsciously hum from the back of his throat and tug you impossibly close whenever you shift in your slumber

Don’t think of how he’d trail kisses down your neck, all the way down to your shoulder and slipping off your pyjama’s strap, punctuating every open-mouthed kiss with little sighs and pretty little half-moans, because God, you just smell so good—

Don’t think of how he can’t help the low, “Morning,” he whispers into your skin that’s already painted in hues of red and purple, all thanks to his early morning insatiability

And absolutely do NOT think of how he’s got such a filthy mouth on him, and would always groan out breathy curses whenever he’s fucking you into the mattress, your hair being tugged at firmly in his grip, as long fingers curl around your wrists and pin you down, so you take it so well like you always do

Don’t think of how he would invite Yamaguchi over one night for “a little something in his room”, the promise of wickedness in his amber eyes as he glances back at you, building that tingling anticipation inside you

Don’t think of how he’d get a show out of sitting and watching his best friend of almost twenty years make out with you and run his fingers through your hair like he often did in bed

Don’t think of how turned on he’d be, listening to Tadashi’s little whimpers and seeing how his fingers dig into your thighs, because fuck it, how many times has he not-so-secretly wanted to see him so fucked out, and how many nights has he fantasized of you looking dazed with the pleasure someone else he adored gifted you?

Don’t think of how he would finally curl a dainty finger in his direction, or how Tadashi wouldn’t help fucking moaning out loud, because holy shit, does the blonde look absolutely divine with his pretty cock pulled out and weeping in his palm, and his tongue wetting his soft lips—

Don’t think of how Tadashi would pant and roll his hips in place, as he’s dreamed of feeling every inch of the taller man since even before graduation, and having you in his lap, looking like you’re fucking asking for it, is slowly killing him with sheer unrestrained lust, and has him pushing his leaking clothed cock against your warmth

Don’t think of how it would take less than a second of electric eye contact between the two for them to agree that they’re both desperate for a threesome that you seem more than willing to partake in, if the quivering begs and the tears streaking down your cheeks were anything to go by

And don’t you dare think of how Tsukki would let you watch him reduce Tadashi to a sobbing, writhing mess underneath him, fingers curled around his freckled neck, and the entirety of his flushed chest littered in sloppy bite marks and bruising kisses

Don’t think of how they would definitely put on a show for you, or how the way Tsukki would look straight into your eyes every so often, a divilish glint in his eyes and a smirk on that otherwise-innocent-looking face, just shows that he wants you to see it all

Don’t think of how he’d specifically want you to see how Tadashi’s thighs are trembling with every thrust; want you to hear the string of filthy curses falling from his own lips, because fuck, does his only best friend take him perfectly to the hilt, and with such a pretty face too—

Don’t think of how you’d squirm in your seat, barely able to hide the wet spot of your growing arousal and trying to get any friction to ease that ache inside of you, small whimpers hidden behind the hand covering your mouth, and wishing you were the one Tsukki reduced to a babbling, drooly mess that could feel nothing but the way he was pounding into them mercilessly

Don’t think of how Tadashi had always been looking at you with longing, lustful eyes, wishing he’d feel your damp skin flush against his, wishing your cute lips were wrapped around his hard cock, wishing your hands would grip his arms as he pins you down, wishing your eyes would be trained on him drilling in and out of you like he was a man starved, wishing you’d pull on his long hair and eat the fucked-silly moans straight from his mouth

Don’t think of how despite you weren’t currently doing all of that, the way you were currently looking at the sloppy mess he was in right now—like you did want all the same things sometime down the line—made him cry out your name loud with his verdant eyes squeezed shut and chest heaving with every pant

Don’t think of the fact that that single glance at your wanting gaze would have him unable to stop himself from cumming untouched all over his stomach, even though he knew that Tsukki would later punish him for cumming before he'd given him permission to, or before he’d painted his insides white

What’s that? Are you thinking of it all and still asking for more?

Well, that’s definitely what Tadashi would say between pants, making grabby hands at you, hoping you'd come and sit on top of him, taking his entire length inside you and fucking yourself on his cock—the way he'd always pictured in his filthiest dreams and jacked off to

Taglist: @mrsgiovanna @the-foreigner

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taintedtort · 1 month

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https://www.tumblr.com/taintedtort/742994409435594752/hello-i-was-wondering-if-you-can-do-a-haikyu?source=share

Hello!!! Can you do this request with kenma, tsukishima and suna pls???? 🥺🥺

" WIPING KISSES! "

summary. you wipe their kisses off (pt2)

characters. kenma, tsukishima, suna

warnings. gn!reader, none!

a/n. i love this prompt, it’s so easy to write :P

KENMA

☆ kenma isn’t usually very physically affectionate, but he likes to kiss your hands a lot. it’s simple and quick, and not that noticeable to other people. however, this particular time he kissed the back of your hand, you wiped it on your sweater directly after. he noticed, but didn’t really say anything because he hadn’t thought much of it at the time. but as the day went on, he realized that you were doing it every single time he kissed your hand. he knows you though, and he’s quick to catch on that you’re messing with him. he’s mildly amused at best, but doesn’t really get the point. you’re trying to provoke him, right? it kinda worked… he‘s not necessarily annoyed, but he doesn’t like that you’re wiping them off.

"quit it."

TSUKISHIMA

☆ he notices and instantly scowls at you. it was kind of your fault for making it so obvious though. he kissed your forehead and you immediately wiped it off with your hoodie sleeve, a disgusted look on your face. it was clearly fake and all a joke, seeing as you laughed right after, but he got petty nonetheless. you apologize through giggles when you see his annoyed expression, but he only rolls his eyes. he eventually gives in, like he always does, but you have to make it up to him by kissing him literally everywhere.

"fine then, wipe my kiss off. see if you get another one."

SUNA

☆ he was taking some selfies with you, and he gave your cheek a kiss for one of them. he was sort of rapid fire clicking, so he actually got a picture of you wiping the kiss off directly after. he looks at you with a confused expression, saying something like "the fuck was that?" you wave him off, but he just pulls up the picture he got and starts examining in. he doesn’t say anything else, just looking at you with an expecting look, silently telling you to explain yourself. you crack and tell him it was a prank, just to rile him up and see what’d he do. he rolls his eyes and places another kiss to your cheek, watching to make sure you don’t wipe this one off too.

"you trying to be cute?"

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cr4yolaas · 1 month

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for lovers who hesitate — tsukishima kei

synopsis: you find your old academic rival at your new job. every bone in your body says it’s fate, but everything else seems to be stopping you.

notes: puking cuz idk how i feel abt this one. i worked on this all thru out my trip and there was a lot of scrapping and rewriting and deleting the entire thing and rewriting it again, but i think this version is the best i could get it to. i <3 tsukishima kei

tags: fluff → angst → fluff, self-indulgent long fic, reader smokes, reader has trauma w/ their parents, mainly fem reader oriented but gn pronouns used, reader has self-destructive habits, themes of self-doubt from both, tsukishima is probably ooc, slow burn but not really, the most awkward love confession ever, mitski rdr x radiohead tsukishima (sorry), proofread but not really

tsukishima kei, for once, was at a loss for words.

there you stood beneath the bright green foliage, your face marred by the heatwaves of the sun and still all too familiar. he thought, for a moment, that he had the wrong person — you had taken on a rougher appearance, but his body, heart, and soul still recognized you. and yet, he couldn’t bring himself to speak to you.

where had the last decade gone?

he coughed into his fist and walked past you, feigning ignorance to your arrival. when you followed after him with a keycard of your own, he found himself flustered.

no words were exchanged. he was playing the silent game with you, although he quietly hoped you would say something first.

and thus, he continued his shift as usual, with the added oddity of you shadowing him alongside his boss. he just couldn’t find the proper words to place on his tongue, nor the right gestures to show that he did want to talk, he just didn’t know how to.

but truthfully, what was one supposed to say in such a situation?

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

you believed that tsukishima hated you. and you wouldn’t blame him.

when you applied for this job, you had no expectations going into it, save for the hope of a higher salary and a lighter load than your previous job. what you had not anticipated was to stand face to face with the man you swore to hate in your youth.

a sliver of hope embedded itself within you; an overwhelming desire to perhaps refurbish a long lost relationship had taken root. but when he looked away so persistently and spoke not a word to you, that sliver dissipated into meaningless sand.

you continued your work as best as possible. it was a routine job — set up the displays for the day, guide whatever visitors came around, and leave in the afternoon. but when a certain blonde was sneaking glances at you and somehow always in your vicinity, it proved to be easier said than done.

you were too afraid to admit that his presence was refreshing. that, in the midst of the mundane and borderline unhealthy cycle you had formulated within the past handful of years following graduation, he had proven to be an odd factor; he stood as a disruptor to the routine. it was unwelcome. and even still, you craved it and more.

tsukishima kei had always been a constant in your life. you just didn’t expect him to reappear so soon, so suddenly.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

it was a wednesday. an uneventful shift had come to an end. and just as you rid yourself of your work attire, a verbal invitation to a work party was sent your way.

the prospect of it was almost laughable. you were under the impression that the body of employees in a museum would be too reserved to host parties such as this, and you were quickly proven otherwise. thus, you accepted instantly.

as soon as you sat down, you regretted it just as quickly.

the moon had just barely begun to hang bright in the sky, and yet the table was already full of drunken coworkers that you hadn’t seen before. loud chatter filled the room, as if this table was the only one in the establishment. it was overbearing.

before you could take even a sip of your drink, you excused yourself under the pretense of needing to use the restroom. instead, you escaped outside, the gentle breeze reestablishing your senses and reeling you back in.

he was also there.

“oh,” he exclaimed softly. his eyes drifted away from yours, the warmth of his cheeks illuminated by the dim lamp above. oh was the first word he had ever spoken to you since graduation. you nearly laughed.

“hello,” you offered quietly, still testing the waters of conversation. your gaze fell to his fingers, slim and cherry-kissed and blemished, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “um… i didn’t expect to see you here…?”

tsukishima laughed lightly at your tone, as if to conceal his own anxieties. “likewise.” he watched as you pulled out a cigarette, the stick meeting your lips like it were more than natural. “did you come all this way to stalk me? or to follow me? after all those years of silence?” he teased, although a tinge of bitterness dripped from his words.

you shook your head aggressively. “no, no, i just…” you bit at your lip for a moment before continuing. “i’m taking a break from my actual job. i needed to wind down before i return.”

tsukishima hummed at your response, evidently oblivious to your lie. he looked at you for a moment too long, his eyes grazing over each alteration and unfamiliar feature. he could not help but admire you in this light — the soft strings of moonlight in contrast with the neon signs glaring against your complexion painted an image he hadn’t seen in ages.

for the first time in a long time, tsukishima kei thought you were unbearably pretty.

what he didn’t catch wind of was your nervous shuffles and your incessant skin-picking as you stood beside him. he didn’t realize that the cigarette was a distractor, a tool to pull you back in. and he failed to acknowledge the stutter in your voice as you spoke to him, for it hadn’t crossed his mind once that you thought he disliked you. not that it would matter to him, anyways.

it’s too soon, he thought to himself. this is stupid, he argued. i’d mess it up if i did anything reckless, he reasoned. all of which were excuses to fight against the overwhelming reality of his vulnerability.

you turned your head away, the extended silence whittling away at whatever confidence you once bore. tsukishima watched with framed eyes and a calculative stare, as if scrutinizing each and every action you took. unbeknownst to you, it was the exact opposite of that.

the soft call of your name from inside the bar pulled your attention away, much to his dismay. he witnessed your frame disappear through the doors, your eyes flitting towards his so quickly he might’ve imagined it.

this was foolish. tsukishima decided that much. but despite his claims of how stupid it was, he was getting reeled in faster than he could pull out.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

despite how hard he tried to display his ignorance, tsukishima was caring at his core.

silent glances exchanged between shifts morphed into small conversations shared whenever possible, as if the tension that previously barred you from interaction had dissipated into nothingness.

at some point, he dropped off a neatly wrapped bento box to your desk, the fabric littered with small dinosaur doodles.

“what is this?” you questioned, an amused lilt to your voice. you failed to notice the way pink rose to his ears, too enamored by the intricate arrangement of veggies and rice.

“don’t think anything of it. i just had leftover food and didn’t want to waste it.” the excuse slipped through his lips as if it were truth, earning him a soft smile from you.

there were butterflies whipping their wings against his ribcage so aggressively they might have bulged out from his skin.

eventually, you invited him out for a walk to the convenience store nearby during your break. and after that, it became routine. with an umbrella in one hand and his wallet in another, tsukishima walked with you down the street to buy onigiri and sandwiches and sometimes a sweet treat nearly every day, and that shared hour became his favorite part of work.

it was silly.

you sat beside him in the booth, your blistered hands carefully unwrapping the plastic from your meal. to your left sat a can of soda. and to your right, he was there.

“i need to stop living off of these,” you complained while motioning towards the onigiri in your grasp.

tsukishima shook his head. “what else would you eat?”

“your bento boxes,” you commented absentmindedly, your bites becoming larger as you neared the center of the rice. “i liked it, when you gave it to me that one time. you should make it again.”

he looked away, his chin resting atop the sweat of his palm. slowly, he turned towards you. “it’s just a bento box. surely you can handle making one.”

“oh, shut up!” you laughed while shoving him lightly. “the fact that you can even make one is shocking. all you have in that head is volleyball and shit.”

“our old test scores say otherwise,” he quipped. the shift in your eyes left a bitter taste on his tongue.

“whatever,” you muttered before leaving to throw out your trash. a pit grew in tsukishima’s stomach.

the blonde mustered the last of his resolve and made an offer. “i’ll teach you how to make one.”

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

of all the things tsukishima was bracing himself to see, a thinly-walled apartment that was less than well-maintained was the last thing he was prepared for.

you came out from your bedroom in clothes that were far more casual than his, your hair disheveled and your steps uneven. “sorry for the mess,” you uttered while bending down to pick up a hoodie sprawled across the floor, alongside a plastic bag that looked empty. he could only watch in awe.

he placed his bag down on your counter before arranging the ingredients, each brought from his own home. the clatter of your rushed cleaning echoed behind him. and when you finally stood beside the man, he could not contain his grin.

tsukishima decided to hold his tongue. instead, he opted to gently guide your hands through each step, the perspiration collecting on his skin a stark contrast from the rough texture of yours. he realized how little you knew, despite your insistence that you were more than knowledgeable in what you were doing — it showed in your unstable cutting and your hesitance when preparing the pot for boiling — but he refrained from commenting, in fear of disrupting the peace he’d constructed.

on the other hand, you were horrified.

to admit that you were inferior to him in yet another aspect uprooted the envy you had burrowed deep within yourself, and you were terrified of letting it overspill. he was so calm — at least, that was what it looked like — and you’d be damned to ruin it.

mitski’s soft hums reverberated in the background, your shaky chopping filling in the rest of the noise. it was almost satirical — the solemn melodies coated your bare bones and rendered you silent, a strong juxtaposition to the warmth exuded from the closeness of your skin to his. neither of you did anything to interfere, save for an earlier comment from the man questioning your music taste.

(“then what do you listen to?”

“… radiohead.”

“wow. as if that’s any better than mitski.”)

tsukishima found himself smiling at your pride in your creation. messy, yes. but within each ingredient lay a remnant of him, and that was enough.

a stream of small talk emerged into you sitting on the couch together. the music dimmed down to white noise and an old romcom that had only two star ratings played on your TV, the poor quality adding to the humor. your legs leaned against his beneath the blanket. and there was peace.

tsukishima knew what it was. he knew what this would blossom into, and he could only hope and pray he didn’t mess it up in some way. your quiet yet crude commentary disappeared into the tender air, and he remained silent, as if absorbing each syllable that fell from your lips.

it was so quiet, and so vulnerable, and so delicate that he felt like he was going to explode.

he didn’t question it when your head fell onto his shoulder. he didn’t make fun of you when your colorful reviews on each scene turned into sleepy ramblings. and he didn’t say a word when you dozed off against him, your whole body against his.

instead, he looked around. he took note of the dust collecting on the cabinets, the water marks on the windows, the clothes and food and plastic scattered all over your living room, the dead plant on the shelf, and the half-empty pack of cigarettes sitting on the arm of the couch. it was all a far, far cry from the cleanliness and stability of his own home, and yet, he thought to himself, this is so like them. and he thought, i could live in here, if it were with them. and again, he thought, this could be a home.

tsukishima kei was of the belief that he did not have a type. but as he observed your house and reflected on its singular (?) inhabitant, he figured that this was his type. his type was your quiet laughs and your sharp remarks and your wrinkled clothes and the scent of cigarettes that always seemed to cling to you. his type was you.

he exchanged one last glance to your sleeping figure before getting up and leaving you to rest. not without wrapping up your lunch for tomorrow, and not without a small smile on his lips.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

hell came to you on a thursday morning — the day following whatever had happened between you and tsukishima. you hadn’t put on your uniform just yet, and your belongings sat outside of your locker.

your boss scrambled into the office, his brows furrowed and his larger hands closing the door as quickly as he could without slamming it. the sweat that collected between his wrinkles shined beneath the dim lights. his breaths were haggard and rushed and shallow.

for the first time in a long time, you felt fear.

“there’s people who want to talk to you outside,” he whispered. “they want to talk to you now.”

there was no one else in the building. no one other than you, your boss, and the people who were so adamant on speaking to you.

so why was it so loud as soon as you stepped out?

the eyes of your mother came into your vision first. then, the stare of your father. and finally, their faces blended into one large picture that made sense.

“what the fuck are you doing here?”

withered hands slammed against the table. you watched the papers and the dinosaur trinkets rattle. “that’s no way to speak to your parents.” you could feel it — the air seeping out of your lungs, depriving you of breath; the trembling in your palms; the cloudiness in your peripherals. you could hear them, but you couldn’t hear them. at some point, their vocabulary was solely financial, and at another point, it grew cruel and violent, akin to wild dogs gnawing away at your skin. you didn’t know where it was going. the hastened footsteps of an unidentifiable coworker neared, and the shaky breaths of your boss behind the door grew louder and louder.

you needed to leave.

your feet led you away before your mind could. the yelling softened, until finally, the only sound was the chirp of birds and the whirring of cars.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

tsukishima didn’t see you for a week. he didn’t hear any mention of your name, didn’t find your face in a crowd, didn’t feel the vibrations of your voice against his chest. you had disappeared, and no one told him why. it wasn’t until your name didn’t show up on the schedule that something clicked.

it was cruel. you were cruel, he decided.

tadashi sat on the couch while his roommate leaned against the counter. the hum of the air conditioning blinded the blonde’s senses.

“i don’t fucking know what i did,” tsukishima groaned into his palms for the twentieth time that night. “they just left. they quit and i can’t even contact them because i was stupid enough to not ask for their number or email or anything. i don’t- i don’t fucking know, ‘dashi, i don’t.”

“i’m sure they had some good reason,” his friend attempted. “i don’t think they’d do that if it weren’t within some sensible limit. it was fucked, yeah, but… i don’t know. i think they’ll come back when the time is right.”

it was tiring. it was tiring to be left alone not just once, but twice. and it was tiring to have it hurt so much more the second time.

tsukishima ran a hand through his hair. “it’s so stupid.” another groan spilled from his tongue. “i’m so fucking tired of this.”

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

this was just about the fourth job you had applied for.

the museum could no longer be a part of your routine — instead, it morphed into loud nights and bustling men and the clinking of glass; it emerged from quiet and gentle tours around dinosaur exhibits to noisy cheers and yelling and the more-than-occasional bottle thrown at your head; it turned into pure, devastating loneliness.

it was compact. it was suffocating. it was overwhelming. it was everything the museum was not. but you could not return there, no matter how much you ached for it.

you were avoiding him. avoiding everyone.

a gentle nudge from a blurred face reminded you that your shift was over for the night, coupled with an apology for the gash that formed on your head from another drunken man who had no outlet for his anger other than you. with heavy steps, you trudged back home, thankful for the week’s pay and the free food and drinks.

it was quiet.

the lights were off, and the LED numbers on the microwave read way past midnight. a dull pounding resided in your chest.

just the other day, it was so vibrant. you were alive, and so was he, and it was going well. but it was wrong. you realized that much when your parents came to remind you, and you realized it again as you quit the same day.

the thumping in your chest spread to your head, and your back met the wall with a force that was sure to upset your neighbors. carefully, daintily, you slid down, your body reaching the floor gently.

you missed him. but it was wrong.

that night, for the first time in a long while, you cried.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

tucked away in a small alley in sendai resided an establishment with only three tables and a bar that was worn down from years of use. and behind it, tsukishima found you.

he was only out for a walk. at least, that was what it was until his feet brought him elsewhere and he stood face-to-face with the most suspicious of buildings. and when he saw you, it felt as if all the anger and guilt and distress that riddled his bones and flesh and blood withered away, as if it hadn’t coalesced within his veins over the past month.

before you could hide, his hand snaked around your wrist, his touch light yet desperate. “can we talk?”

talking entailed bringing him back to your apartment. and by extension, it included him witnessing your house somehow being worse than before.

tsukishima found himself sitting on the floor with his back to the couch, and you found yourself sprawled across said couch. he picked at the blisters on his fingers before quietly asking, “why did you do that?”

he could hear your nervous habits — the shifting, the fidgeting, the harsh lip biting. “i don’t know.”

“bullshit,” he muttered under his breath.

you turned over onto your side to face his back. “my parents found me,” you explained meekly. improper guidance leads to destructive tendencies. tsukishima kei, in his high school years, was deemed your only obstacle to complete succession — always a few points ahead, a few questions ahead, a few steps ahead — and your poor influence from youth only fueled such a fire. and so, you felt that it was reasonable to loathe him. your judgement was clouded beyond repair.

tsukishima listened. he listened to every detail, every portion of your retelling of each segment of your childhood, and your teen years, and your silly hatred for him. he listened to you talk about what you did after graduation — how you got into a good university but dropped out and hopped between a multitude of jobs (thus proving your claim at the work party to be a lie), and how you were constantly escaping from both the stress and your parents.

he listened so intently that it was overbearing. you didn’t tell him that. instead, you talked and talked and talked until you sculpted him into someone who knew your entire life, as if he were there from the beginning.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered through stubborn tears. you hated it — how exposing it was, how you had practically dumped everything onto him in one go, how you couldn’t help but beg for forgiveness in the end. most of all, you hated how easily he gave you his forgiveness.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

tsukishima didn’t leave your house at all that week. you found no energy to complain.

in the morning, you’d find him cleaning whatever disaster you left behind, whether it was the pile of laundry on your bed or the collection of full trash bags next to the front door or the food (or rather, the lack thereof) in your fridge. he was silent all the while, and that hurt more than any berating he could have done.

“why are you still here?” you asked him one night. you had finally moved from the couch to the bed, and tsukishima couldn’t be any prouder. (any movement at all was enough to be proud of, he felt). “you shouldn’t want to be here.”

you watched him heave a heavy breath as his shoulders drooped. “because i want you,” he admitted, his voice unmistakably tender and soft and ridden with a youthfulness that he unearthed from deep within himself. “i want to be with you and i want you to be happy and i just want us to be happy together, for once.”

he spoke of his affections so fluently, as if he were born to share them with you. and still, every bone in your body was whispering otherwise.

even so, tsukishima promised that he would be willing to wait. even if it meant watching you down an unreasonable amount of beer at an unreasonable hour.

he promised to sit through it all with you, even if it meant listening to you call his name out in long, drawn-out tones. even if it meant hearing you confess your long-harbored affection for him. even if it meant hearing you say that you never told him, not even in high school, because you felt like you didn’t deserve to tell him.

tsukishima didn’t understand.

he failed to comprehend how you didn’t feel deserving, when his whole body, mind, and soul was bound to you; when, in the depths of the night, he’d burn pink in the night at the mere thought of you; when he was so uncharacteristically smitten for you. he didn’t get it. he didn’t think he ever would.

not that he said anything about it — at least, not in that moment. not when you were inexplicably drunk, to the point where you couldn’t move a limb without tumbling over.

but, without a doubt, he went to bed with a stupid grin and a berry-kissed face.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

it took another couple of weeks before tsukishima would see you at work again. you entered through the doors as if you never left, and he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be excited or neutral or anything else, because his guts only knew tenderness with you at that point — all the fake ignorance and stubbornness and denial had been cast aside.

you basked in a shared silence in the locker room, until you finally admitted that you were, in fact, healing. to some degree, at least. you asked him to come over again under the pretense of seeing how clean your house was. you detailed every segment of your life, from when he last saw you to your entrance into the museum, including how you made yourself breakfast for the first time in forever and how you drank a cup of water almost every day. and he was so overwhelmingly proud, so much so that it spilled over and he couldn’t contain himself.

“i love you,” he blurted out, his rushed admission cutting off your rambling. you whipped your head towards him, but he was looking everywhere except for you.

“what?” you exclaimed.

“i said i love you. i’m in love with you. what don’t you get?”

your jaw hung open, just like that of a fish. “wait- what the fuck?” much to his amusement, you jumped up and began pacing around the room. “i like- well, i guess, love,” you paused, the vocabulary uncomfortable on your teeth. “you too, but like- what the fuck? who told you that?”

“you did.”

“what?”

tsukishima kei was laughing. he was laughing at you, and yet, you weren’t as angry as you expected to be. he was laughing, and all you could do was relish in the noise.

“so,” he hummed delightfully, an amused smirk on his lips. “am i still coming over?”

you (begrudgingly) agreed. again, he laughed — this time, at the heat rising to your face.

𝜗𝜚 ｡ ˚.

through the cracks between your blinds, silk strands of sunlight crawled through, a soft reminder of the morning. beside you, a mountain of warmth lay, with his glasses still on his face and his hoodie misshapen on his body.

tsukishima was always the first to rise. he would wait for your eyes to flit open gently before getting up and making breakfast, despite your protests that your food was probably better than his. he never listened.

the splatter of coffee into your cup served as the only noise in the room, save for the dull noise of the morning news on the TV and the cars passing by outside the window. you watched intently as the blonde set up the table, his lip drawn in a tight line but his eyes shimmering with contentment. “eat up,” he spoke quietly as he took a seat in front of you.

tsukishima kei was, by no means, a cruel person. he was just a little rough on the edges and occasionally didn’t quite know how to say things without being mean. but as he sat with you, eating breakfast made by him in your shared apartment; as he pressed a fleeting kiss to your forehead before leaving to change, ignoring your groans about the remnants of syrup on his lips; as he drove you to work as the sun settled in the sky; you realized he was simply a man in love.

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renardiererin · 6 months

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kei tsukishima as your marriage counselor who asks your toxic husband to leave the room cause he isn’t letting you answer any questions and then ends up fucking you raw and senseless on the therapy couch 🤭

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souichieatr · 7 months

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meeting their teammates

with suna r. tendou s. tsukishima k.

a/n: i think i'm going through suna withdrawals guys

suna

suna had texted you before practice that he forgot his water bottle and he'd rather die than drink the water fountain at the gym so you decided to surprise him with a water bottle from the corner store. opening the door as quietly as possible but still making a loud squeak, peaking your head through, the manager of the team turns their head to you. running to you so the practice isn't disrupted.

“hey there, what can we help you with?” they say sweetly with a smile.

“i'm sorry to interrupt, i was just wanting to drop this bottle off for suna rintaro , he forgot his” you say, holding the bottle up. they nod their head turning their body to face the coach, the manager makes a gesture with their hands and the coach nods. the coach yells that the boys could take a 15 minute break.

“suna rintaro could i get you here for a second” the manager yells for your boyfriend. hearing the mocking “ohs” makes you giggle. suna drags his feet as he walks to you two making eye contact with you he perks up a bit.

“hey what are you doing here?” he asks quietly as he pulls you into a hug.

“i got you- can't b-breathe rin” you try to say but sounding more of a wheeze as he squeezes you. chuckling at your reaction he lets go and steps back.

“hm?”

“i got you this” you say trying to catch your breath handing him the bottle. his manager laughs at the gesture as they walk off. he grabs the water bottle making sure to graze his fingers against your soft hands.

“WHAT YA GOT THERE SUNA RIN?” a voice starkes you both from behind him. leaning your head to the side to see who it was. “ohh is that a gift suna?” he says again.

“what if it is? jealous?” suna says turning around to face the blond, turning back to you. “this is atsumu” he says as you nod your head.

“hi im y/n” you say, reaching your hand forward as a friendly gesture.

“THIS IS YER GIRLFRIEND?” atsumu grabs your hand and shakes it, “he talks about ya all the time and he rarely ever talks” he talks as a small circle of guys form. suna hesitantly introduces everyone as they all welcome you in the gym.

tendou

he's asked you so many times to come to one of his volleyball practices and meet all his teammates. you've met ushiwaka a handful of times as him and tendou hang out a lot. you had forgotten you left your headphones in tendous backpack and before practice he'd told you to stop by to pick them up. let's kill two birds with one stone he had said. approaching the metal door you try and shake the nerves off.

“you wanna open it or just have us burn out here?” you hear someone say as they snicker, startled you turned around.

“you could use some color so you can stay” you say as you smile at him.

“you're no fun” he says pouting but he quickly leans down and kisses your cheek. “would you like me tan?”

“i'd still like you if you were bald”

“you must really love me” he says wrapping his arms around you, leaning down but a gasp from behind you makes you stop. tendou looks up and starts to hold back a laugh. “yes goshiki?”

“oh uh im sorry for you know-” goshiki stutters, letting go of tendou you turn to the boy.

“hi im y/n you're goshiki?” you say giving him your hand as you smile at him.

“goshiki this is my partner” tendou says ushering goshiki closer to you two. goshiki shakes your hand giving a weird look to your red haired partner.

“he talks a lot about you! he's really proud of the progress you've made” you say as tendou whines. goshikis eyes widen as you start to look at tendou with a smirk.

tsukishima

he'd forgotten his sports glasses at his desk he had texted you when he got to practice complaining that he had left them. sneaking back into your homeroom and grabbing the glasses from the desk you make your way to the double doors leading into the gym. opening them and peaking in a couple guys you've never met look at you but you spot yamaguchi and he too looks over. his eyes widen and he tilts his head to the side. you assume that's his way of asking why you're there. holding up your boyfriends glasses he nods his head and he jogs to the other side of the court to the coach. the couch says they can get some water and you watch yamaguchi approach tsukishima and points at you, watching yamaguchi’s hand you and tsukishima make eye contact. walking to you at a fast pace he scoots the two of you outside.

“you better have a good reason why you're here” he says, shutting the door behind him.

“oh hush i didn't come here to embarrass you i thought you would want these” you say gently holding the glasses in your palm as you stretch your arm out to him. he looks at your hand and widens his eyes then smirks.

“didn't know you cared so much” he says taking them.

“don't make me trip you-” the door opens, pushing tsukishima closer to you, he grabs you gently, pushing you back so you don't get hit.

“TSUKISHIMA YOU BASTARD SNEAKING OFF TO MAKE OUT WITH YOUR GIRLFRIEND?” a guy with a buzzcut started shouting and followed behind him was the rest of the team.

“YEAH TSUKISHIMA YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED” another one shouted this time with dark hair and one strip of blond.

“we're not making out and if we were it really woulndt be any of your business” tsukishima says with a sigh still not turning around to face his team.

“cmon tsukishima at least introduce us” another guy asked his jersey saying ‘1’.

“yeah tsukishima you don't want to be rude” a guy with gray hair said. tsukishima sighed again, turning around slowly with a deadpan expression.

“sorry tsukki i tried blocking the door” yamaguchi said with an awkward smile. you laugh at the interaction between all of them seeing your boyfriend in trouble was quite funny.

“hi im y/n i'm a first year” you say moving from behind tsukishima and giving them all a wave. most of them waved back and offered a welcoming smile. the two boys that shouted hid behind the guy with the number 1 jersey on and were just watching you.

“okay you all introduced yourselves and y/n has to g-” tsukishima was cut off.

“yeah glasses? not going to introduce your girl to your coach?” a blond guy in sandals stepped out. tsukishima glared at him and sighed again.

not proofread

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leti666bigboss · 1 year

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featuring: the majority of karasuno

genre: crack mainly

warnings: cussing

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weathertheraine · 7 days

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I feel like I’m seeing shrimp colours rn

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wonderoustime · 8 months

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pairing: tsukishima x gn!reader word count: 376 words genre: fluff content warning: two curse words a/n: it's like 3am when i'm writing this and i have to get up at 9 to catch my flight ;-;

"stop doing that..."

"huh?" you look up at tsukishima, surprised at the noise bringing you out of your reading daze. "did you say something?"

tsukishima turns away from you to the black screen of the tv, his finger tapping nervously on his book. he feigns a cough, but you just narrow your eyes at him. you don't believe that one bit and you know he knows that.

he audibly gulps, face reddening. he clears his throat before saying, "i said, 'stop doing that'."

you close your book, place it on the couch, and scoot toward his spot on the couch, the thick fleece blanket falls onto the floor. his gaze follows it as he awkwardly tries to avoid the awkward embarrassment he feels from his thought and how your knees were touching each other.

"stop doing what, kei?" you ask, concern lacing your voice. your eyes slightly widen as you think back to everything that you were doing when he first asked you. maybe you were unconsciously reading aloud? kei had always hated that... or was it something earlier that he just brought up now? oh god, was it about the doodle on his lunch note? you really should've stopped doing—

"stop being so fucking cute all the damn time. makes me wanna kiss you silly," tsukishima's pitch increases slightly and his volume decreases by the end of his sentence. his gaze quickly flits towards your lips for an instant. a hint of deep desire momentarily leaking through.

"m'sorry ke— wait what?"

tsukishima groans, exasperated, "don't make me repeat myself."

"ah." you appear surprised for a second, before settling back into your normal expression. cheeks the slightest bit warm, your smile morphs into somewhat of a smirk. "why hold back? i'm all yours, love~"

his eyes widen, then darken with desire as he quickly rushes to close the gap. your laugh at his prompt movements muffles with his lips capturing yours.

you drop your hands from their open-for-embrace position as you fall into a fit of laughter at how dumbfounded tsukishima is. too bad for you since the tides turned after he speedily captured your lips, with a hand wrapped around your waist and holding you in place and muffling all sounds coming out your mouth.

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h3yl4dies · 2 months

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𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐲𝐮𝐮 𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐇𝐂𝐒!

Type of writing : Headcannons & fluff

Pairing : tsukishima x reader, kenma x reader, akaashi x reader

Admin's note : tysm for 60 followers! Love you babes! I also might do a part two for this!

Warnings ; none (literally just fluff bro)

❥ 𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐀

He isn't the type of guy who has any love interests, he finds it kind of boring at the start until he met you!

You were mostly the one who confessed instead of him

He might seem like a brave mf but actually.. Sometimes he might need courage if he actually wants to confess

Most likely confessing over texts/messages since he couldn't bring himself to confess in public or irl 😭

His love language is definitely act of service & quality time

I can headcannon that you and him would have studying dates, arcade dates and bookshop dates!

His nickname for you is "shorty" or "pipsqueak" 💀

If you want to go to have a date with him, I would suggest to go to a intimate quiet relaxing place

He will definitely share you his Spotify playlist

Listen to music while cuddling in bed<3

He isn't a big fan of PDA btw, but if your close with him enough.. He may allow you to hold his hand

(Off topic) speaking of hands.. His hands are veiny and slim 😍

❥ 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐌𝐀

He is definitely more shy than tsukishima

Same as tsukishima, your also the one who is most likely to confess

Honestly I also feel like he doesn't have any love interests at all since he is mostly stuck at playing with his phone

Date ideas are probably arcade dates & cat cafe dates!

He doesn't have any nickname for you, he would just call you by your name

There are some rare occasions that he MIGHT call you "baby" or "angel"

Love language is definitely physical touch

When you can't sleep at night, he will help you to fall asleep by cuddling with you<3

Kuroo is definitely the third-wheel lmao

Idk why but I feel like the both of you would plan to raise a kitten together like a loving happy family! <33

Also not a fan of pda 2.0

But doesn't mind it anyway

❥ 𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈

OMG GUYS GUYS GUYS HE'S A GENTLEMAN I SWEARJ

Honestly, the both of you would either confess to each other tbh

He's a bit socially awkward but he's still caring and loving!

Date ideas are feeding the ducks near by a pond & Art Museum dates

Relationship nicknames are "Babe" "baby" "love" "my love"

Love language is physical touch & acts of service

He likes to gift you your favourite flowers in a Boquet!

He also like to gift you a meaningful necklace or an heart-shaped chocolate box<3333

Please don't hurt him he's such a gentleman

Will study with you and tutor you if your struggling with your studies!

Loves it when you visit him during his practices

He doesn't mind PDA, probably a bit of a fan?

He does hugs you quietly or hold your hand in public though but he isn't really that much of a fan!

He doesn't mind it as long as you are comfortable with any!

Admin note 2 : thanks for reading, if I am done with the part two, I will link it here below!

➩ Original Masterlist

➩ Haikyuu masterlist

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rensukei · 1 year

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nsfw utc (m!masturbation, lovesick kei :( poor baby. wc ~900)

roommate!tsukishima who slowly but surely gets comfortable around his pretty new roomie, gaining a small sense of security in the little apartment that you had so meticulously decorated into a cozy home.

roommate!tsukishima who gets home after a long practice, lazily throwing out an "i'm home", hoisting his volleyball bag onto the hardwood as you race to greet him at the door, a smile adorning your beaming face as you welcome him back.

roommate!tsukishima who tries to ignore the comfortableness and intimacy the domesticity you've kindled into his life brings, never admitting out loud how much he loves the idea of being able to come home and not be alone—something he's missed so much during his time in college.

roommate!tsukishima who pined over you for so. long. months went by as his feelings started to develop—the very feelings he so fervently ignored in an effort to keep things the way they are—until he reached a breaking point.

roommate!tsukishima who tried his best to hide it, but with the way you looked so cozy in your loungewear around the shared space every night—he swears you'll be the death of him one day. as easy as it is to relax for someone in your presence, it's not easy being your roommate. at least not for kei. he'll be sitting on the couch across from you, catching himself wondering if your skin would feel as soft as it looks underneath his calloused palms.

the slightest movement of you against him is enough to leave him a mess. the nape of his neck rages a violent red as he attempts to gulp his excitement down as he curses himself in his head. c'mon, man; all she did was bump your legs. fuckin' pervert. get your shit together. he may be scolding himself through the process, but he can't stop the way his mind wanders to a place where he finally confesses to you and takes you just the way he likes it, you being such a good girl sittin' pretty on your knees for him.

he'd make you feel so good, have you reeling in pleasure just off his fingers. he can't help but wonder how you'd feel under his grasp, the sheer presence of him on top of you enough to render you speechless.

"tsuki," you wave you hands in front of his face, "hello~? you okay?"

the innocent and genuine look of concern on your face is almost embarrassing considering the situation. if only you knew.

"y.. yeah, i'm alright," he huffs out, "i'm going to my room."

and he we are again, the blonde stuck alone with only his thoughts and pants that are way too tight for comfort. he wonders why he continues to torture himself like this—is he into this or something? or does he genuinely not want to ruin the dynamic that you've worked so hard to cultivate over the time of your shared residency? whatever it may be, the situation is still the same. tsukishima kei is hard from his pretty little roommate who sits right outside his door, unknowing as to why he left the communal space.

sitting back on his bed, he carefully undoes the zipper of his jeans as his cock twitches at the thought of you—you who carries on with your life like nothing's happening with just a thin wall separating you from the profanities going on.

god, what he'd give to just kiss your stupidly attractive face. as much as he act like he isn't, he's a sucker for some soft romantics. he'd probably melt at the feeling of your hands coming up behind him, sliding from the back of his hips and up under his shirt. the thought alone is enough for his dick to be painfully hard.

the pink tip leaks precum as he caresses the head, sighing in relief at the feeling. thoughts of you flood his mind, guiltily fisting his cock with the most salacious images of you playing like a picture show in his mind.

he hisses as he picks up his pace. the sharp exhale that follows causes his head to fly back onto the pillows behind him, his glasses long forgotten on the sheets next to him.

he's a sight to see. a gorgeous one, at that—he may be an asshole, but he's a pretty asshole. his hair is unkempt and messy as his eyes squeeze shut while movies of you play behind shut eyes, impatiently stroking his length as his high gets closer and closer.

maybe you know whats going on. maybe your head is flush up against his unlocked door as you listen to him jack off while strangled whispers of your name fill the room like a prayer. maybe you're just as desperate as he is. he'd never know, though—not until you finally open that door.

his climax finally reaches him as cum shoots out onto his bare chest, toned abs tensing under the hot slick. the post-high guilt catches up to him soon after.

i really should stop doing this, he sighs, rubbing his eyes in annoyance as he gets up to clean his mess.

one day, it'll be your hands on his pretty cock, pumping your hands as you look up at him with all the adoration in the world. one day, that'll be reality. only time will tell.

#tsukishima kei #tsukishima smut #tsukishima x reader #x reader #x f!reader #hq #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #tsukishima headcannons #tsukishima hcs

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obliteration-onearth · 9 months

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[ not a romantic; tsukishima kei ]

he most definitely is not a romantic so.. whoever does these sweet little gestures for you is most certainly not your boyfriend.

ANTI ROMANTIC KEI WHO:

- scrolls on pinterest sometimes and suddenly finds something he thinks you'll like

- sends dumb messages with mean petnames like, "hurry up squirt. i'm outside your house"

- bought matching dinosaur onesies because you thought the two of you would look cute wearing it

- doesn't like double texting and needs reassurance that it's cute for him to do it

- eventually learns about all your quirks and grows fond of them despite displaying a mischievous demeanor by teasing you for them

- thinks you're cute when you hug him

- doesn't get flustered easily but bullies you when he does to make it less obvious

- may think some of your favorite foods are gross but buys them regardless when he's picking out snacks to bring to your house

- says that he's busy but helps you study and revise for your exams anyways

- says that he's the reason you passed even though he's mighty proud of you

- doesn't let you win any games at first but when he sees you sad, let's you win at least one to lift your spirits

- sends you the middle finger emoji after saying something so sickening sweet to even out the balance and to keep that reputation he has ( wouldn't wanna go to soft, he thinks )

- gets annoyed and then just turns away while being crimson in the face when you tease him for being soft

- finds it cute when you do romantic gestures for him but sometimes tell yamaguchi like "yeah, i got a cool girlfriend" or some shit

- says you're being weird for toying with/wearing his glasses and finds it hilarious when you say you feel dizzy ( catches you and tells you to be careful if you fall though )

- apologizes when you say you feel offended by something he says, thus making him write a mental note not to do it again in the future

- loves when you lay atop him whilst hugging him, your head nestled into his neck as you scroll on your phone

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omeumi · 9 months

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haikyuu boys as things ive seen/done as a HS volleyball player:

sakusa borderline verbally assaulting someone for using his jump rope without permission during conditioning.

bokuto hitting a ball directly into the ceiling in such a way that it tore some of the instillation. (yes, we still make fun of the guy who did it.)

atsumu posing proudly when a coach calls his name, only for it to be for some absolutely foul criticism.

hinata running full force into the ref podium beside the net to make a pass, promptly knocking over the entire podium.

kageyama letting the gym door shut without thinking and accidentally locking out half of the team in the rain.

tsukishima - idk how to format this one, but that one time i texted my teammate i was going to be late and he responded "ok? what does that have to do with me? i dont care." (yes, im still very hurt.)

yamaguchi being told by a coach that he needs "confidence classes."

(thanks for reading, i have... so many of these...)

(part two here)

#haikyuu #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu hcs #sakusa kiyoomi #bokuto koutarou #miya atsumu #hinata shouyou #kageyama tobio #tsukishima kei #yamaguchi tadashi #volleyball #omelette drabbles

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taintedtort · 22 days

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Hihii...!!! i really love ur HCs and i wanted to ask if you're comfortable with these types of character writing, what r ur headcanons on kenma, kuro, tsuki n maybe suna would act when they're drunk ? like would they be a bit different than their usual self ? sorry to ask a lot but im more curious on ur thoughts on kenma ;; .. write whatever u can, idm ! thank u ehehe have a good one ! >_< <3

" LET'S GET DRUNK! "

summary. they’re drunk lolz

characters. kenma, kuroo, tsukishima

warnings. afab!reader, drinking/alcohol, post timeskip!!!^^

a/n. yesss i love kenma, many thoughts on him!! he’s my favorite!!! didn’t add suna because i don’t really know his character that well :( added a kenma bonus to make up for it tho!

KENMA

☆ i think he’d be a sleepy drunk. he's out as soon as his head hits any soft surface— maybe even before! i feel like he also acts grumpier, mumbling complaints when you wake him up and try to move him (he was passed out on your shoulder in the car, you have to get him to bed!)

☆ his face gets kinda pink, like he’s blushing. he’s pale, so it’s more noticeable than it would be on someone else. his eyes get droopy and his face sort of relaxes, so he looks mean and tired.

☆ he stubbles slightly, but he surprisingly manages to maneuver himself pretty well for a drunk person. just don’t ask him to do a cartwheel or anything… he couldn’t even do one of those while sober.

☆ he doesn’t drink often, so he’s a light weight… plus he’s skinny and on the smaller side, so he doesn’t have to drink much to get a buzz. he’s usually responsible though, but sometimes he celebrates too hard (with a bit of a push from kuroo)

☆ he doesn’t get any more talkative, but he’s less filtered that normal. i don’t think he’d be too flirty or mean, but if he got drunk enough he may compliment you a couple times.

BONUS:

☆ the type to get so drunk he forgets who you are. you come find him to pick him up after someone called you, and he’s face down on the table. you nudge him, trying to gently guide him to stand, but he’s immediately swatting you away, grumbling about how he has a girlfriend.

"leave m' alone— got a girlfriend already," he slurs, raising his head to drunkenly glare at you. his eyes narrow further when you laugh.

"kenma… i’m you’re girlfriend," you tell him, always finding it a bit amusing when he gets this drunk. he’s not too much of a hassle though, since he usually knocks right out when you get home and tuck him in.

he's silent for a moment, just staring at you up and down. he wears the same expression he has whenever he buys a new video game, excited and in awe.

"really…?" he asks, a hopeful tone in his voice. now that he’s looking at you… you are really pretty. he really hopes you're his girlfriend.

"yes, really. i’m gonna take you home, okay? cmon," you urge, gently grabbing his arm and helping him stand. he complies this time, his eyebrows raising.

"we live together?" he questions, the situation just getting better and better to him.

"we do," you confirm, another giggle leaving you. it doesn’t really hurt your feelings that he doesn’t remember, you find it more amusing and entertaining than anything.

"… im so lucky," you hear him whisper under his breath, looking at you as you guide him to the car.

KUROO

☆ he'd be a funny drunk i think… a bit of a handful, and is entertaining at first, but eventually gets annoying. his emotions kind of double when he’s intoxicated, and he’s also kind of erratic. really energetic after his first few drinks, but if he’s extra drunk, he’s more emotional.

☆ his eyes get a little watery, but that’s about it. he actually looks more lively while he’s drunk, because he makes more facial expressions.

☆ he can’t stand straight at all, especially if he’s had more than a couple drinks. needs support to walk, otherwise he'll fall. he’s heavy though, and puts majority of his weight on you, so sometimes you end up falling anyway.

☆ he can handle his alcohol pretty well. takes him a few drinks to get a buzz, but he doesn’t usually stop there. mostly drinks to celebrate things, or at parties. never drinks alone, that’s just boring and sad to him.

☆ probably asks you random stupid questions like "what number am i?" or "what animal would i be?" (follows up that second question with "would you still love me if i was that animal?")

☆ i think he’s more talkative, but he speaks faster and his words are kinda jumbled, so it’s hard to understand him sometimes. he gets a lot more sappy, constantly complimenting you and telling you that he loves you (he does that all the time already)

"y're sooo pretty, love you s' much."

TSUKISHIMA

☆ not that much different than when he’s sober, honestly. he gets more mellow, surprisingly, though it might be because alcohol makes him a little sleepy, similar to kenma. he isn’t quick to fall asleep, but he’s not energetic and jumping around.

☆ his face is more relaxed, which makes him look even more intimidating and mean. his eyes get a little red around the edges, but that’s mostly it.

☆ stubbles quite a bit and holds things for support. if you try to help him, he’ll snip and you and complain that he doesn’t need your help to walk. (he does, and eventually gives in and leans on you a bit when he almost falls on his face)

☆ also a lightweight. doesn’t go drinking unless he’s invited, and even then he’s usually the designated driver. on top of that, he hates being hung over, and he hates throwing up, so he rarely gets super drunk. kuroo tries to persuade him sometimes, but the most he gets his a little tipsy.

☆ probably gets into debates with people about certain topics that he likes, arguing with them about facts and opinions. he usually wins. even when he’s drunk, he’s still quick witted.

☆ he fights you on everything, insisting he’s fine and "not drunk" whenever you try to help him. you end up ignoring his complaints and just assist him with changing and getting into bed anyway. he’s asleep pretty quickly, especially if you run his back/scalp.

"i don’t need help— i'm not even that drunk!"

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cr4yolaas · 2 months

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second best (pt 2) — iwaizumi hajime

notes: at last, the heavily requested part 2 to this fic !! i really hope it met a lot of your guys’ standards — i tried my best to take as much of your requests into account ^_^ i rlly dislike m the flow of this … but hopefully u guys still enjoy LOL

tags: angst → (bittersweet?) fluff, depressive episode (reader), swearing (once), a longgg process of grief and healing and whatnot, alcoholism (only briefly), roommate! tsukishima, best friend! oikawa, tsukishima does NOT have feelings for you, not proofread and quite long

taglist (incl. everyone who asked for a pt 2 !!): @altumsomnum @gennaray @romanticandupsetting @multi-fandom-fanfic

it was tuesday.

a frigid air pierced your limbs and left you to rot away, with the windows shut tight and the door locked. there was no mistakening the dark bags hanging beneath your eyes or the flakes of skin peeling from your bottom lip, nor the soft pleas of your stomach or the iciness of your fingertips. you basked in eternal slumber and silence and darkness and whatnot, save for the ticks of a clock that was 14 minutes behind and the hum of the air conditioning.

you were not frightened in the slightest. the warning signs plastered on your flesh were no great concern, and you could not fathom the idea of having to function again. it was horribly consuming.

with a groan, you released yourself from bed, your legs trembling under the mere weight of the air. you avoided the collections of trash and clothes splayed across the floor, being careful not to disturb the peace that had formed over the past handful of weeks. the sight of the kitchen was much more refreshing.

you were locked in stasis. contrary to the comfort these walls once provided, they now served as a a form of imprisonment, designed to allow the grief and the sorrow and the anger and the guilt to coalesce and spill over. it was terribly suffocating — you wished to escape.

gently, you poured a cup of water (not that you drank more than a sip, anyways). a thought passed your mind.

you needed to leave.

sendai was a home you could not find solace in anymore. gone was the youth encapsulated in the mountaintops and the hidden pathways and the convenience stores, and no longer could you feel at ease when faced with the neighborhoods you familiarized yourself with as a child.

your new apartment was shared with an old face — one you had only seen glances of in high school, notorious for his glasses and upfront attitude. he bore no hesitance when taking you in. instead, he was grateful for your presence, as if splitting the rent with him had taken off his life’s burden off of his shoulders.

he was quick to set ground rules — laundry days were on saturdays, trash needed to be taken out on sundays, the dish washer had to be clear at the end of the day, all groceries were shared, so on and so forth. you weren’t sure if you could keep up.

it took one week for him to actually conversate.

“why did you come back here?” he questioned, with a tone that implied he knew of you for years upon years (which would be false).

you picked at the skin of your lip. “why do you ask?”

“no reason. just curious.”

in a burst of energy, you recounted the tales of your past life, one of love and youth and joy; of the old apartment, of your past hobbies, of hajime. his gaze was so distant that you weren’t sure if he was listening at all.

in return, he expressed brief apologies and turned the story to himself — he discussed his volleyball career, his teammates, how he felt somewhat disconnected from his high school friends. he did not care to mention the exhaustion riddled into the pores on your face nor the weakness of your voice. that was all you needed. a conversation, not comfort.

only an hour later did he remind you of his name — tsukishima kei — and it was only then that you realized you had moved into an apartment without taking any precautions whatsoever. he laughed when you informed him of the situation.

this was not yet a home, but it was a house. and that was sufficient.

a month had passed before tsukishima forced you to get a job. he was clearly not a fool — at some point (you couldn’t tell when), he realized you were paying off your share of the rent with your life savings, which irked him ever so slightly.

“do you plan on moving out and dying on the streets when you run out?” he complained, despite the concern laced in the fluctuations of his voice.

you began working at his former high school coach’s family store. the owner himself was welcoming — he didn’t question your circumstances nor your physical state, and merely mentioned in passing that he was “given a token of appreciation from a prized student.”

and so began the cycle. on weekday mornings, you would depart for work and tsukishima would leave for practice. occasionally, he would pack you lunch (“only because i had leftovers,” he’d say) or leave a can of coffee on the counter for you. you would work at the register until the amalgamation of students died down, and once you were left with an empty store, you would take a break and go on a walk (as requested by your boss). then, you would return in the afternoon to serve the same population of children, handing them their ice cream and their sandwiches and whatnot. when they all disappeared, the coach would let you free and dismiss you with a “good work today, let’s do it again tomorrow.”

returning home was your favorite part of the schedule. a majority of the time, tsukishima arrived later than you, leaving you to your own time until he came home with dinner and a drink.

it was a monotonous cycle, but enjoyable nonetheless.

“i’m cutting off the beer for a month,” tsukishima exclaimed one warm summer night. you left your room to see him collecting unopened bottles and discarding them in a trash bag with little regard. you could only frown.

“those are all going to waste, we haven’t even opened them,” you groaned.

there was no response from the man as he continued to clear the apartment of any alcohol, akin to a parent cleansing their child’s home. before you could protest any further, he shut the door behind him and the crashing of bottles against one another could be heard beside the building.

tsukishima re-entered the apartment with empty hands and furrowed brows. “what’s up with the shitty face?” you asked from the couch.

he clicked his tongue at your comment and bore no response, instead letting his eyes wander to the screen in front of you. the morning news was playing, as usual. and yet, it was so wrong.

the screen flashed to a familiar face, one clad with a slight grin and sweat spread over his skin. his hair had grown slightly and his complexion had darkened, evidence of his labor. but most of all, he looked happy. his eyes screamed with a passion you hadn’t seen before, and despite his haggard appearance, he seemed to be content.

you did not see tsukishima rushing to turn off the television. you did not see the screen turn black, and you did not hear the noise diminish. you did not see tsukishima’s face adjacent to yours.

“hey. let’s go outside,” he muttered before moving to pull you up and out of the house

a delicate breeze washed over you both. the sun began to kiss you goodbye, and the noon crept up in its wake, leaving both of you in the dark.

“he looked so happy,” you whispered. “i don’t know what i’m doing wrong.”

you watched tsukishima light a cigarette in your peripherals, his lighter evidently battered and marred from heavy use. he made no move to offer one to you. “you’re not doing anything wrong,” he spoke firmly, although you could tell he was struggling to formulate the right combination of words in his head. “he’s just… going along a different path.”

“it should’ve been us on the same path. i feel so stupid. he’s gone on to do such great things, and i… what am i doing?”

tsukishima didn’t push the conversation any further. you were grateful.

a week had passed before tsukishima told you he had gotten you a new job, one deeper in the city. on an early sunday morning, he presented a uniform and badge to you, your name imprinted on both. the effort made you smile.

at some point, a new cycle formed. the museum was a far cry from the run down family store, and tsukishima taught you how to welcome it with an open mind and open arms. he never did mention the exact reason for the new occupation, nor did he tell you why he was so adamant on enforcing routine in your life. nonetheless, you appreciated it.

the mundanity that your new job encapsulated was slightly more enjoyable than that of your former job. exploring the concrete rooms filled with statues and paintings and whatnot was a sufficient way to pass the time. every now and then, you’d catch your roommate detailing a specific sculpture to a curious visitor, the scene contrasting his typical behavior. not that you would ever mention it to him, though.

a new routine was not unwelcome, but it did not feel impactful anymore. you still burned blue in the night, your bones aching with reminiscence over a lost life. your hands and legs still knew tokyo; they still knew the morning commutes and the bustling cafés and the chirping crosswalks and your own home, one that had been so devastatingly haunted by grief. your heart still knew the morning calls and the evening texts and the handfuls upon handfuls of promises made on once solid territory, and yet, you knew to return to it was to betray yourself.

you missed iwaizumi hajime.

rather, you missed the life that you formulated in his presence, opposed to the shambles you had grown comfortable in now that you were back home. tsukishima had carved a clay pot for your worn soul, and yet you could not help but yearn for the comfort and stability and routine you established in a past life.

the soft padding of feet echoed outside your door. soft strings of light streamed under your door as your roommate entered the kitchen, his actions indiscernible as he maneuvered about carefully. you decided to step out to greet him.

a startled tsukishima turned around to face you. “what are you still doing up?” he interrogated, albeit not in offense. “it’s late. we have work tomorrow.”

“but i don’t want to go to work. i want to go home,” you protested. you felt childish all over again — the thirst for selfishness was one that could not escape you, even now. an overwhelming desire to be in control of your own life.

tsukishima furrowed his brows. “to tokyo?” you nodded. “okay… then let’s go to tokyo.” he paid no mind to the slanted smile that transformed your lips, instead opting to turn away and fill up his bottle. “but why?”

“i need to escape,” you sighed, as if releasing a burden that had been lingering for a moment too long. “i need change. i just- i feel so stuck. i need to live.”

he merely hummed in agreement before uttering a comment about your poor sleeping schedule and ushering you back to bed.

tokyo was a city of hopes and dreams and noise. the shift from sendai’s cicada lullabies and whispers in the wind to the incessant chatter and obnoxious roads of the city was significant — any pedestrian would notice the irritation on you and tsukishima’s faces.

the inn he picked was small, yet slightly more comfortable than your current abode. the owners were kind and your neighbors were quiet, save for the occasional drunk couple. it was a life you remembering living, but not one you yearned for any longer.

in the night, you would both visit various attractions and markets and restaurants, with tsukishima insisting on paying for your meals (“as thanks for getting a life,” he argued). for that handful of days, you bore a smile that you weren’t sure would grace your lips ever again, for there was an adolescence in the evening activities that mended the remnants of your spirit. you felt whole.

on the last day, you brought tsukishima to a ramen house nearby the inn and promised to pay for the meal. it was a tuesday, again.

for reasons you could not discover, that appeared to be one of the busiest nights for the establishment — moments after you had settled, a line began to form, and the tables were crowded with families and friend groups and dates alike.

amidst the composition of metropolitans stood a man you wished you didn’t have to see. as if it were punishment, he locked his eyes with yours, the shock in his complimenting your dread.

you watched as he excused himself from his group while ignoring the cheers and shouts about him “shooting his shot.” tsukishima observed in tandem, seemingly reading the situation from a distance despite sitting right across from you.

you noticed the bold athletic trainer embroidered onto his chest, and the fitted red shirt he wore that matched those of his team. beads of sweat compiled on his forehead — you weren’t sure if it was from the density of the room or his exhaustion or anxiety. a small part of you hoped it was the second option.

“hey,” he began. “can- can we speak outside?”

you could not help but oblige.

hajime seemed to have developed an obsession with fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. you noticed the frayed strands on a spot that aligned perfectly with his hand, and you nearly laughed.

he coughed into his fist before rambling. “i’m sorry. i know you definitely don’t want to see me, and it’s not wrong of you at all to feel that way, but i just- i’ve thought about you- no, i think about you every day up until now. i know i don’t deserve you at all, and me being here is probably super upsetting, but-“

“hajime.”

the way you called his name seemed to deteriorate him and his principles. you finally felt otherwise.

“i really, really, didn’t want to see you at all. i don’t even want the thought of you to pass my mind. i’ve built a life outside of you and i’m tired of you interrupting it.” you witnessed his heart, mind, and body freeze simultaneously.

“i- i understand that, i know, i’m sorry. i’ve been- i’ve been reflecting a lot recently and i’ve known i was horribly in the wrong and i’m ashamed to have done nothing about it, and i know this sounds really, really dumb but i wish i had just stayed with you for that extra day because- because i don’t think i can go any longer without you now that i have you here, in front of me. could we- can we at least… keep in touch?” he seemed to speak without limitations, akin to a leaking clay pot. he was distressed, evidently. but you no longer saw his face and thought of guilt and love and yearning; you held no space for him.

you shook your head gently. “hajime, i don’t want you in my life anymore. you achieved your dreams, and i’m working on finding mine. that’s how it was meant to be.”

if not for the small lamp above the two of you, you would not have noticed the tears spilling onto his face. you bore no sympathy — with a goodbye and a small wave, you left him in the alley with a heavy heart and saline tears.

to witness him before you had awakened the truth riddled in your sinew and bloodstream: iwaizumi hajime was no longer a necessity. a truth that had cowered away beneath guilt and fragility and shame had uncovered itself, and for once, you breathed a full breath.

oikawa seemed so vibrant on the other side of your screen, the argentinian sun kissing his skin almost perfectly. “…i miss you lots!! i’ll visit soon, maybe, and we can catch up and maybe go get coffee and then debrief and then…” he trailed off with an aloof grin, his words spilling out from your phone and reverberating around the living room. tsukishima stood in the kitchen, the sound of his deliberate chopping and washing contesting oikawa’s voice. “but anyways, i’ll see you soon! byebye!!”

you waved goodbye and hung up, leaving only the noise of your roommate’s cooking. a loud groan left his lips in the midst of his mixing, followed by a complaint about how irritable your friend’s voice was. you could only laugh.

gentle strings of moonlight spilled into the apartment through the kitchen window, the songs of the evening falling upon both of you and your shared comfort. tomorrow was your off day, granting you both an opportunity for an actual meal. tsukishima (begrudgingly) agreed to make your favorite dish, with the request that you’d make his favorite dessert next week.

“thank you for the meal,” you whispered. tonight would consist of good food and a relaxing night, and tomorrow would entail a day of rest and a weekly reset, along with another call with oikawa. with marred hands and a porcelain heart, you had managed at last to craft a solid life — steady health, steady friends, and a steady routine.

you would no longer be second best to anything, and that was sufficient enough.

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