#Tsukishima x reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lycheeflavr · 1 day ago

Note

Hiii i js stumbled into your blog and its superr cutee!! I really love your writing was wondering if you were open to wrote about Tsukishimaa? If not, its okay :))

Heiii, first of all, thank you very much, and also thank you for the request <3 yes, of course!! I honestly had so much fun writing this, also I didn't know if you would like some smut as well, so I added a little smutty bonus scene at the end. You can skip it, it doesn't really matter to the story :)) now I hope you have a lot of fun reading this!!

The Bones Beneath 🧢🐠

pairing: timeskip!tsukishima kei x GN!reader tags: slow burn (ish), mutual pining, coworker tension, art & science themes, tsuki being a secret softie, slight angst with comfort, banter & emotional closeness, confessions without confessing, fluff if squint, reader is an exhibit designer/artist, tsuki is an AV tech/paleontology nerd, almost love, quiet longing summary: You were never supposed to get attached to the quiet AV technician helping set up your fossil exhibit. He was there to wire the lights. You were there to make bones beautiful. But somewhere between late-night fixes, museum shadows, and cups of burnt breakroom coffee, something between you began to take shape—slow and fragile and maybe a little ancient in its own way. word count: 5.8k

Tsukishima Kei liked his hours quiet and his fossils older than God.

The museum opened to the public at nine, but he was always there by seven. The early mornings were his: no chattering tourists, no interns asking questions he didn’t care to answer, no toddlers smudging glass with sticky hands. Just silence, bones, and the low mechanical hum of the lights flickering to life row by row.

He walked the exhibit floor with a mug of instant black coffee and a clipboard he didn’t really need. The Tyrannosaurus rex stood tall in the center of the room, jaws frozen in a permanent snarl, ribs exposed like cathedral arches. Tsukishima paused beneath it every morning like it was ritual. One sip of coffee, one glance upward. The bones never changed.

That was the point.

He liked things that stayed the same. Fossils. Labels. Dust motes in the morning light.

At exactly 7:43 a.m., he opened his laptop behind the front desk — not where the general staff worked, but the tucked-away station he’d unofficially claimed. It had the best Wi-Fi signal and worst chair. He preferred that no one else wanted to sit there.

Emails loaded slowly. He sipped his coffee and scanned subject lines. One caught his attention, marked URGENT – EXHIBIT SUPPORT REQUEST. He clicked it without much enthusiasm.

To: Tsukishima KeiSubject: Visiting Artist Collaboration | Exhibit Support

Kei, You’ve been assigned as the museum liaison for our upcoming interactive exhibit, “Extinction Echoes.” The guest artist arrives tomorrow to begin work on the installation surrounding the T-Rex centerpiece. Please provide access and assist as needed — you’ll be their primary point of contact.

Let us know if you have questions. — Ms. Fukuda

He stared at the screen. Then took another long sip of coffee.

Artist, he thought, in the way someone might think pest infestation. They always asked too many questions. They moved things that weren’t supposed to be moved. They cared about aesthetics over accuracy, emotion over science. It made his teeth itch.

He clicked the artist’s attached bio and scanned the page.

You had a list of gallery credits longer than his patience. Installations in Kyoto, Seoul, Paris. Something about “immersive spaces challenging temporal experience.” He didn’t know what that meant and didn’t care enough to pretend. There was a photo of you attached — mid-laugh, head tilted back, paint-splattered hands. You looked loud, even in stillness.

Tsukishima closed the tab with a sigh.

This was going to suck.

He stared at the skeleton of the T-Rex for a while longer, like maybe it would offer sympathy. It didn’t.

Back to his feet, clipboard tucked under his arm, he continued the routine — checking casing screws, labeling touch-up requests in pencil. As long as you stayed out of his way, maybe this wouldn’t be a disaster.

Maybe you wouldn’t talk too much.

Maybe you’d cancel last-minute and spare him the headache.

He doubted it.

The fossils, at least, wouldn’t leave him unread.

The next morning, Tsukishima arrived five minutes earlier than usual.

Not because he cared. Just to set the rules. It was important that people knew their place in a shared ecosystem — especially the kinds of people who used phrases like temporal fluidity and wore too many rings.

The exhibit hall was still empty, the bones calm and familiar in the blue-toned light of early morning. He was mid-sip of coffee, debating whether he had time to finish it before the chaos arrived, when—

“Hi!” a voice called from the far end of the gallery.

He turned, already bracing himself.

You were a splash of color against the muted sandstone walls — all layers and movement. A long, oversized coat in a shade too bright to be taken seriously, mismatched socks barely visible beneath wide-legged trousers, a bag slung across your shoulder like it weighed more than you did. One hand held a battered sketchbook. The other, naturally, clutched a drink in a cup aggressively labeled LAVENDER MATCHA in bubble letters.

He blinked once. Then again.

“You’re Tsukishima, right?” you asked, walking toward him without waiting for an answer. “Sorry I’m early — I just couldn’t sleep last night, I was too excited. This place is incredible.”

He nodded once, clipped and formal. “I know.”

That stopped you for half a second. Then you laughed.

“Oh, cool. Confidence. Love that.”

He didn’t respond. Just turned and started walking toward the control panel, trusting you'd follow.

You did, footsteps echoing lightly behind his. “The bones are even more haunting in the morning. Kind of like they know they’re supposed to be asleep, but they’re still here. I mean, isn’t that sad? In a poetic way.”

“I’m pretty sure the skeletons don’t have feelings,” he muttered without looking at you.

“Well, someone’s a morning person,” you teased, grinning.

He resisted the urge to sigh. “I assume you read the layout brief?”

“I did, but I don’t do great with maps,” you said, flipping open your sketchbook and holding it up like proof. “I just take notes like this. Shapes, light impressions, space planning... it makes more sense to me.”

He stared at the mess of charcoal strokes and layered watercolor swatches that resembled absolutely nothing useful.

“This is your system?”

“Mhm.”

“It looks like a bird flew into a window and died.”

You snorted — actually snorted — and Tsukishima narrowed his eyes.

“Wow,” you said, grinning. “Are you this charming with everyone, or am I just special?”

“I’m not charming.”

“Well, you’re something.”

He stared at you, unreadable, then said, “Let’s get this over with.”

You followed as he walked, still chattering, unbothered by the blank expression he wore like armor. He gave you the tour — exhibit boundaries, restricted zones, lighting rig limitations — and you nodded along, eyes darting between him and the bones above like you were seeing a world he couldn’t.

“This place feels like a cathedral,” you said eventually, voice lower now. “But broken. Like worshipping something that’s already gone. That’s why I want the light to move slowly across the ribs. Like… memory.”

He paused.

The quiet stretched. For a moment, you thought he hadn’t heard you. Then, softly:

“They weren’t worshipped. They were feared. The T-Rex was a predator.”

“Still deserves a little reverence,” you said.

His jaw twitched.

You smiled. “You’re kind of a fossil snob, huh?”

“I’m a paleontologist.”

“Oh, that explains the glasses.”

“I don’t wear—” He stopped himself. Exhaled sharply. “You’re going to be exhausting.”

“I’ve been called worse,” you chirped.

You sat cross-legged on the floor a few minutes later, sketchbook open on your lap, head tilted at an angle only artists and toddlers attempting handstands ever attempted. You tapped your pen against your lips thoughtfully.

Tsukishima hovered nearby, clipboard in hand, pointedly not watching you.

“I think we should try sound too,” you said suddenly. “Subtle—like a low hum. Maybe faint echoing footsteps, like ghosts. Not too literal.”

“That’s not in the budget,” he replied, immediately.

“Not yet,” you shot back, unfazed. “But maybe if I bribe the right intern—”

“Please don’t.”

“No promises, dino boy.”

The silence that followed was immediate. You looked up, blinking. He was frozen mid-step, like you’d just said something blasphemous in a sacred space.

“What?”

“Did you just call me—?”

“Oh. That slipped out,” you said, sheepish. “Sorry. I mean—Kei, right? Or… Tsukishima? Do you prefer one?”

His expression flattened. “I prefer not being called a pet name designed by a cartoon character.”

You grinned, and there it was — the spark. The part you hadn't expected. Under all that sarcasm and sharpness, something coiled and unreadable. Maybe not warmth. Not yet. But interest, flickering low and quiet like the gallery lights overhead.

“Well,” you said, tucking your pen behind your ear and getting to your feet, “I guess I’ll just have to earn it.”

His eyes narrowed. “Earn what?”

“A less embarrassing nickname.”

He rolled his eyes so hard it was practically audible.

You turned, already halfway to the next room, your voice floating behind you. “Come on, fossil prince. We’ve got work to do.”

He muttered something under his breath — probably unflattering — but followed.

Not because he cared.

Just because you clearly needed supervision.

Tsukishima wasn’t sure when it stopped bothering him.

You were in the exhibit every day. That part made sense — you had work to do. What didn’t make sense was how you did it.

You hummed when you worked. Never full songs, just little pieces, shapeless and aimless, like you were keeping yourself company. You talked to the bones like they were old friends. Called the Stegosaurus “Big Spikey Boy” under your breath. Left coffee cups in bizarre places — behind glass cases, perched on light fixtures, one time balanced delicately on the rib of a hadrosaur like it belonged there.

He found himself moving them instead of snapping at you.

That annoyed him most of all.

You sprawled on the floor to draw. Sat backwards on chairs. Doodled stars in the margins of your blueprints. You weren’t messy — you were chaotic. But not in a way that ruined things. You took up space like you belonged to it. Like you’d earned it.

He hated it.

He really, really didn’t.

Tsukishima started staying later under the excuse of “supervising.” In truth, he just… didn’t want to leave. Not when your sketchbook was open across your knees, feet bare, toes tapping the air in rhythm with the music you played from a tiny Bluetooth speaker you weren’t technically allowed to use.

Soft stuff. Dreamy. A little sad. Fuzzy guitars and synths like melted sunlight.

He told you to turn it off.

You didn’t.

He didn’t ask again.

Most evenings, he brought work with him — real work, grant edits or exhibit updates — but he barely touched it. Instead, he watched you in the corner of his eye. The way you moved around the bones, measuring with your hands, frowning thoughtfully at light angles. Talking to yourself under your breath.

And once, when he stayed too late without realizing, he looked up and caught you lying flat on your back in the middle of the exhibit floor.

At first he thought something was wrong — your limbs were outstretched, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling like you’d fallen and simply given up.

Then you spoke, quiet and unhurried.

“It’s beautiful how it still takes up space after all this time.”

He didn’t answer right away. The gallery was too still, the air too thick. It was the kind of sentence people usually said in museums when they were trying to impress someone. But you’d said it to no one. Like you didn’t expect to be heard at all.

His voice came out rougher than intended.

“You mean the T-Rex?”

You didn’t move. Just blinked, slow. “Yeah. It’s been dead millions of years, and it still makes people stop. Still commands a room. Like… it never left.”

He stared at the curve of the bones — the arc of the ribs, the open jaw — and swallowed.

“It’s not really the same,” he said eventually. “This is a reconstruction. Most of the bones are casts.”

“Still,” you said, softer now. “It’s the shape that matters.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. Or maybe he did, but it sat too heavy on his tongue.

Instead, he sat beside you.

Not close. Not touching.

But that was the first time he didn’t go home early.

Over the next week, something shifted.

You stopped asking if he wanted music on — just played it. He stopped pretending to glare.

You started bringing two coffees, not one. Always black for him, always in a plain cup labeled KEI in smudged pen.

He never said thank you.

You never expected it.

You adjusted a lighting fixture one evening, standing on the lowest ledge of the exhibit’s frame. Tsukishima reached out instinctively when you wobbled.

His hand curled around your waist for half a second. Warm. Steady.

You froze. He stepped back like he’d touched a stove.

“Careful,” he muttered.

You smiled. “You do care.”

He didn’t answer. But he didn’t let go as fast next time.

He started reading your notes after you went home.

Not snooping — just... curious. Your sketchbook was a mess of lines and light notations: “bone shadows curl here,” “weight of silence stronger in this quadrant,” “add faint shimmer to mimic breath.”

Breath.

He didn’t know how to explain how badly that word undid him.

You treated the exhibit like it was alive. Not a museum piece, but a memory you could still talk to. An echo with ribs.

And you never once made him feel like he wasn’t allowed in that echo, too.

One night, he walked into the exhibit after hours to find you asleep on the bench beneath the T-Rex.

Your coat was bundled under your head, sketchbook lying open on your chest. The gallery lights glowed faintly overhead, casting soft shadows across your face. You looked peaceful. Quiet. A part of the space now, not just working on it — woven into the silence.

He sat across from you, pretending to read a paper he wasn’t holding. Time passed. Maybe ten minutes. Maybe more.

Then your voice, soft with sleep:

“Are you watching me sleep?”

He didn’t flinch. “You’re not even fully asleep.”

You peeked at him with one eye open. “Maybe I was dreaming about you.”

“Unlikely.”

“Rude.”

He rolled his eyes — but a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, unguarded for once.

You caught it.

“Kei,” you said, like it meant something new now.

He looked up.

“Yeah?”

You blinked like you hadn’t expected that response to come so easily.

Then you just smiled and said, “Nothing.”

He didn’t press. But he stayed until the building closed.

It started with the lighting.

You stood in the center of the exhibit with your hands in your hair, gesturing to the overhead rig like you were conducting some invisible orchestra.

“We could do a soft fade that moves with the visitor — like the bones respond to presence. Just a slow, low shift as people walk through. Imagine how alive it would feel.”

Tsukishima didn’t even look up from his clipboard.

“No.”

You blinked. “No?”

“That’s not what this exhibit is. It’s not a haunted house. It’s not a performance.”

“You haven’t even seen it yet, Kei. I have a test set-up. It’s subtle. Thoughtful. It adds mood.”

“It adds distraction,” he said flatly. “And it compromises the fossil presentation. Light distortions throw off color perception and may damage the casts over time.”

“Oh, come on,” you snapped, heat curling into your chest. “We’re not burning them under stage lights. This isn’t your personal lab. It’s a space for people to feel something. You said you wanted more engagement.”

“I want clarity. Not theatrical gimmicks.”

The word landed hard.

You went still, mouth pressed into a thin line.

“So that’s what you think this is,” you said, voice tight. “A gimmick.”

Tsukishima looked up then. Slowly. His expression was unreadable, but his jaw was set like stone.

“You act like you’re saving them. Like making a dinosaur look dramatic is the same as making people care.”

“And you act like people will care just because you slapped a plaque on the wall and stood under a spotlight!”

It burst out of you, louder than you meant.

“You’re so obsessed with being precise, with being right, that you don’t even see how cold you sound. No wonder no one sticks around.”

The silence was immediate.

You heard it the second it came out of your mouth — the way his face didn’t flinch but froze, eyes going cold and glassy like he’d just flicked off something vital inside himself.

He stared at you. Long and flat.

Then:

“You think people care about your lights? You think they’ll walk out remembering ‘how it felt’ and not just take a photo and leave?”

You swallowed hard. Your chest ached.

“I don’t know what they’ll remember,” you said. “But I’m scared they won’t remember anything. That they’ll walk past bones that are millions of years old and shrug. That all this work will fade into the background because it didn’t shine enough to be seen.”

That cracked something in your voice. The quiet truth beneath the fire.

Tsukishima looked at you for a long moment.

Then he muttered,

“People always care about spectacle.”

And walked away.

You didn’t talk for two days.

You kept your head down when he passed. You played your music softer. Your sketchbook stayed closed, and the second he entered the exhibit, you left.

It shouldn’t have hurt like this.

He wasn’t yours.

But it did. Quietly. Deeply.

Because for all his sharp edges, Kei had made space for you in the quiet hours. Had let you stay. Had sat beside you under fossil ribs while the world turned slow. You’d let yourself think he was listening. That he maybe even believed in some part of your vision.

Apparently not.

That night, Tsukishima stayed late in the office alone. The building was too quiet. He hated how much he noticed the silence now when you weren’t filling it.

He didn’t even mean to open the sketchbook.

It was sitting on your stool, slightly askew, pages fanned like it wanted to be read. He stood there for a long minute before touching it — fingers brushing the paper like he was afraid it might burn.

The notes were messier than he remembered. Half-formed thoughts, shorthand, tiny arrows. But there was a page marked with a sticky tab in the shape of a cartoon bone. He opened to it.

The full skeleton was drawn by hand — not just a diagram, but alive, posed in a way that almost made it look like it was breathing. Lights were sketched in around it, rays tracing the angles of ribs and jaws like sunlight through water. At the bottom of the page, in your handwriting:

I want people to feel like they’ve stumbled into something sacred. Like the bones were waiting for them. Like they’ve walked into a memory older than the Earth they came from.

He stared at the words until they blurred.

He hated how it made his throat tight.

Tsukishima didn’t sleep that night.

He didn’t know how to say it — how to apologize. He didn’t do sorry very well. He usually didn’t need to.

But the shape of your fear haunted him. The way your voice cracked when you said, “I’m scared they won’t remember anything.”

Because he understood that. Too well.

He spent his whole life being remembered for the wrong things. Or not remembered at all.

And you? You wanted your work to matter so badly you were willing to fight him over it. Risk looking soft. Sentimental. Even foolish.

He thought that was brave.

He thought maybe you were brave.

You noticed it the second you walked in.

The lighting rig had changed.

The movement was smoother now, less of a fade and more of a pulse — like breath in the air, like shadow and presence mingling gently along the curve of the fossil display. It responded, but didn’t overwhelm. Subtle. Intentional. Balanced.

And the tech setup? Upgraded. Clean wiring, reinforced bracketing. Your original sketch still hung nearby, but someone had gone over it in pencil — adjusting angles, improving placements.

Your stomach flipped.

There was only one person meticulous enough to have done that.

You found him in the staff lounge, hunched over a mug of black tea and pretending to read a paleontology journal.

You stood in the doorway for a second, then cleared your throat.

“You… fixed the rig.”

Tsukishima didn’t look up.

“It was sloppy.” He turned a page, like the conversation bored him. “I fixed it.”

You smiled despite yourself.

“Thanks.”

“It was bothering me.”

“Right. Of course.” You stepped fully into the room, grabbed your own mug, filled it just to do something with your hands.

The silence that settled wasn’t heavy, but it was strange — like the room didn’t know what to do with the absence of arguing. You sat across from him slowly, letting the mug warm your palms.

Outside, thunder rumbled.

“Looks like the storm’s rolling in,” you said, glancing toward the windows.

Tsukishima gave a quiet hum.

“Museum’s closing early. They already put the signs out.”

You nodded. Another pause.

“I guess we’re stuck for a bit.”

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t leave either.

Rain began to patter against the windows — soft at first, then sharp, like tiny bones clicking against glass.

You didn’t speak for a while. It wasn’t awkward. Just… quiet.

Eventually, you exhaled.

“I used to think museums were holy.” The words slipped out so gently you almost didn’t notice yourself saying them. “Like sacred, somehow. Even the air felt different. Like I couldn’t breathe loud.”

Tsukishima didn’t move, but you saw the way his eyes lifted, just slightly.

“When I was a kid,” you continued, “we didn’t go many places. But my aunt took me to this little natural history museum once. It was kind of sad, honestly — half the exhibits were broken, one of the audio guides just screamed static. But there was this fossil in the middle of the floor. Some ancient sea creature I couldn’t pronounce. And I just… stood there. For, like, half an hour. Didn’t say a word.”

You smiled a little at the memory.

“She asked if I was bored. But I felt… I don’t know. Seen? Like something that big and that old still being here meant I could be too.”

You rubbed your finger around the rim of your mug.

“I just wanted to make something that someone remembered. Even if they couldn’t explain why.”

The thunder cracked closer now. The lights flickered faintly.

You weren’t sure if he was going to say anything. He didn’t meet your eyes. But after a moment, he spoke — quiet and firm, voice low enough that it didn’t sound like performance.

“Then make something that can’t be forgotten.”

You froze.

Your breath caught.

Not because of what he said — but how he said it.

Not dismissive. Not mocking. But earnest.

Like he meant it.

You looked up. He still wasn’t looking at you, but his fingers had stilled on the page.

The storm roared outside.

Inside, something softened.

You didn’t move. You didn’t speak. You just let the quiet stretch — filled with the scent of tea and rain and the unspoken possibility that maybe… just maybe… you weren’t as far apart as you’d thought.

You didn’t expect to cry. But as the lights came up—soft, fluid, breathing in harmony with the slow rise of ambient sound—you felt something tighten in your chest.

It was exactly what you’d imagined.

The fossil hovered like a ghost over time, suspended in silence and reverence. The light kissed every ancient curve, every bone, every inch of its long-buried story. There was a stillness in the room, as if the crowd understood that breathing too loudly might break the spell.

Your piece. Your concept. Alive.

Applause came gently at first. A few quiet murmurs. And then a wave of sound, camera flashes, hushed voices saying your name with excitement.

Someone clapped you on the back. Another handed you a glass of cheap champagne.

“Brilliant work,” one of the donors said. “Unforgettable,” a curator whispered. “You should be proud,” your boss told you, beaming.

You smiled. You said thank you. You tried to listen. But your eyes were scanning the room for him.

Tsukishima stood in the shadows, off to the left side of the exhibit hall, mostly obscured by a pillar. He was still in his uniform jacket, arms crossed, gold glasses catching the shifting light. He wasn’t clapping. Wasn’t even pretending to mingle.

But he was watching.

You met his eyes across the crowd.

There was a pause. A flicker of something you couldn’t name. And then—he looked away.

You turned back to the small crowd around you. Smiled again. Nodded. Said something about collaboration. You think someone took a photo of you mid-sentence. You didn’t mind. This was what you’d worked for.

But you kept glancing toward the pillar. He was gone.

You slipped out not long after.

The night air was sharp and wet, still humming with the electricity of the earlier storm. The exhibit hall door clicked shut behind you, muffling the buzz of celebration.

You found him near the back entrance of the building, leaning against a railing, eyes tilted up toward the cloud-covered sky. He hadn’t heard you approach.

You paused.

He looked taller out here. The pale security light washed over his cheekbones, caught on his lashes. He hadn’t even changed out of his work shoes.

“You disappeared,” you said quietly.

Tsukishima’s shoulders didn’t shift.

“Didn’t feel like standing around.”

You walked over, hands in your coat pockets.

“But you were part of this.”

“I just fixed the wiring.”

You scoffed, half amused.

“You didn’t just fix the wiring, Kei.”

That made him glance at you. Just a flicker of gold through those glasses. And then he said something you didn’t expect.

“It was beautiful.”

Your breath hitched.

He looked away again. Like it cost him something to say it. Like it meant something more.

“You could’ve said that inside,” you said.

“You didn’t need me to.”

You studied his profile in the silver light.

“But I wanted to.”

Silence again. Not heavy this time. Just… tentative. Careful.

Then:

“You’re going to do big things,” he said, like it was a truth he'd known for a while. “And I’ll be here. Resetting lights. Screwing metal into walls.”

Your brow furrowed.

“Is that what you think?”

He shrugged.

You didn’t know what to say at first. Not because you disagreed, but because you’d never really thought about how he saw himself in all this. How he saw you.

You stepped closer.

“Tsukishima,” you said quietly, and the way his name sounded in the dark felt like a confession. “It’s not just mine, you know. That exhibit. It’s yours too.”

“Don’t say that if you don’t mean it.”

“I wouldn’t.”

He looked at you again. This time, for real. Not through the fog of tension or sarcasm or pride. Just… him.

And you almost leaned in.

Almost.

But instead, you stood there — too close, not close enough — breathing in the same sharp air, hearts too loud in the silence.

And when he turned to go, he didn’t say goodbye. Just brushed past you gently. Like the beginning of something, or the end of something else.

You watched him disappear down the long path behind the museum. And for the first time all night, you didn’t feel victorious. Just… full. And hollow.

At once.

A few days pass. The exhibit continues without you. Your name is printed in neat black ink on the display cards, and people wander through, praising your “vision,” your “emotional composition,” your “eye for stillness.” You’re already being emailed about new opportunities.

But the only thing you can think about is the shape of Tsukishima’s silhouette in the silver museum light. The things you almost said. The things he almost said back.

You return one quiet afternoon to pick up the last of your things.

It’s raining again.

The museum feels different in the daylight—less mysterious, more skeletal. You walk past school kids and bored parents, past tour groups and sleepy guards, toward the side hallway that smells faintly of sawdust and old lightbulbs.

He’s at the workbench. Same posture. Same headphones. But you can tell he saw you come in—his hands falter for just a moment before resuming whatever careful task he’s pretending requires all his focus.

You clear your throat anyway.

“Hey.”

No reply. He’s sanding something. Aggressively.

You smile to yourself and set down your tote bag, beginning to gather the few things you left behind. A notebook. A print draft. The sweatshirt he let you borrow when the AC broke one night and you stayed too long.

He still hasn’t turned around.

You don’t push it. You just take your time, folding the sweatshirt with unnecessary precision, letting the silence stretch long enough to sting.

When you finally zip your bag and sling it over your shoulder, you pause in the doorway.

“Thanks,” you say, voice quiet. “For everything. The project… it only worked because of you.”

For a second, you think he’s going to ignore you.

But then, still facing away, he mutters:

“The bones were already there. You just made them louder.”

You blink.

And then you laugh. Soft, surprised.

“Getting poetic, dino boy?”

He finally glances at you. The corner of his mouth lifts just a little.

“Don’t get used to it.”

You take a step closer, a hand still gripping the strap of your bag like a shield.

“Well. It was nice hearing you say something beautiful for once.”

“I’ve said a few beautiful things.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

A long pause. He looks down at the thing he was sanding. Then back at you.

“Come back sometime,” he says, casual but not really. “The fossils get boring.”

Your heart stutters. He doesn’t even flinch.

You tilt your head, grinning now.

“You mean you get boring.”

“That too.”

And it should feel like a joke. It should feel like nothing. But it doesn’t.

You both hold each other’s gaze for a second too long. Not quite smiling. Not quite speaking. Just letting the moment breathe between you—thin and fragile and unbearably loud.

You take a breath.

“I might come back,” you say finally. “Just to check on the fossils.”

He nods once, slow.

“Sure.”

You don’t say anything else. You just walk past him, the hallway stretching out ahead. But this time, your steps are slower. This time, you hope he’s watching.

And he is.

When the door closes behind you, he exhales like he’s been holding his breath for days.

NSFW bonus scene 🧢🐠 (female reader)

It starts with silence.

You’re standing just inside the workshop door, bag dropped, rain sliding down the windows behind you. You don’t know what made you come back — not really. You just knew the thought of leaving felt more like a loss than a choice.

He looks up. His brows twitch in confusion, but he doesn’t say anything.

So you walk up to him. Slow. Careful.

“Do you want me to stay?” you ask, barely above a whisper.

He swallows, throat working.

Then, simply:

“Yes.”

The word lands heavy. So much more than yes. Yes, I missed you. Yes, I thought about it. Yes, I don’t want this to end yet.

You kiss him.

It’s awkward, at first — all angles and hesitation. He doesn’t move right away, like he’s still computing what’s happening. But the second you breathe his name, something gives. His hands come up, hesitant but firm, catching your waist and pulling you closer like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

The kiss deepens, slow and uneven, as if he’s learning it in real time — a little desperate, a little stunned. His glasses nudge your cheekbone. His breath shakes against your lips. You slide your fingers into his hair and feel the shiver roll through him.

“You’re sure?” you murmur.

He nods, eyes locked to yours.

“Yeah. Fuck—yeah.”

You're on the workbench within minutes. It's cluttered and dusty, but neither of you care.

His mouth is at your neck now, hungry in a way that feels new — like he's been holding back for weeks, months. His hands are firm where they grip your hips, but his touch is almost reverent, like he's afraid to take too much all at once.

“Been thinking about this,” he says against your skin, low and wrecked. “You. That night you fell asleep in the AV room. The way you said my name.”

You exhale a shaky laugh.

“You’re such a freak.”

He huffs, presses a kiss to your collarbone.

“You like it.”

You do. God, you do.

His hands slide under your shirt, slow and searching. You lift your arms, and he helps pull it over your head with surprising care. His fingers brush over your chest, your stomach, reverent and unsure.

“You’re allowed to look,” you tease gently.

He does — and the way he looks at you makes your whole body flush.

“I’m not great at this,” he admits quietly. “Just... tell me if I mess something up.”

Your heart pulls. You cup his face and kiss him again, slower this time.

“You’re not messing anything up.”

When he finally touches you in earnest, it’s a little clumsy — he’s clearly overthinking, too aware of your reactions, too in his head — but it’s sweet. Honest. Every movement feels like it means something.

You guide his hand. Help him find the rhythm. And once he gets it—once he really sees the way your breath hitches and your hips shift—he gets bolder.

His mouth finds your chest. Then your stomach. He murmurs something against your skin, but it’s too quiet to catch.

You tangle your fingers in his hair and gasp when he finally pushes your underwear down and touches you properly — one finger, two, slow but insistent.

“Fuck, Kei—”

That’s what breaks him. Your voice like that. His name like that.

He presses his forehead to your shoulder, still working his fingers inside you, lips parted as he groans softly into your skin.

“Want you,” he says, low and ragged. “I—I wanna feel you. All of you.”

“Then take it,” you whisper. “I’m right here.”

It’s not fast. He makes sure you’re ready. Makes sure you’re looking at him when he finally pushes inside, like he needs to see you fall apart for him.

You breathe his name again and again, and every time you do, he fucks into you a little deeper. A little harder. Still holding back, like he's afraid of hurting you. But you can tell he’s close — his body trembles against yours, his breathing fractured and tight.

When you come, it’s with his name on your lips, your fingers digging into his back, your legs tight around his waist. He follows right after, buried deep, biting down softly on your shoulder to muffle the noise he makes.

He doesn’t move for a long time.

Just breathes with you. One hand tangled with yours, the other resting over your heartbeat.

“You still want me to come back?” you whisper after a while, voice hoarse.

He lifts his head. Meets your eyes.

“Only if you plan on staying.”

authors note: I absolutely loved writing this!! I hope I stayed true to tsukis character and I also hope your happy with your request! :) reqs are still open and very much welcome! ly all <3

#tsukishima kei #kei tsukishima #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima fluff #kei haikyuu #kei tsukishima smut #anime #tsuki haikyuu #request

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st4rgirllv · 12 days ago

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Who would've thought Tsukishima Kei would end up with someone sooo high maintenance

“You didn’t like the coffee?”

You blink at him over the rim of your cup, dramatic and unbothered.

“It was lukewarm,” you sigh, “and I specifically said two pumps of hazelnut, not three. Why would I want my latte to taste like a scented candle?”

Tsukishima stares at you. Blinks once. Then mutters, “Unbelievable,” before turning back toward the counter.

You watch him—back straight, jaw tight—as he walks back up to the poor barista and orders another one. The right way. Exactly how you like it.

He acts annoyed.

But he didn’t hesitate.

When he sits back down beside you, he drops the cup on the table with a little more force than necessary.

“There. Your Majesty.”

You beam. “Thank you, peas—uh, Kei.”

He glares. “I don’t know why I even put up with you.”

You stir your coffee slowly, innocently. “Because I’m pretty. And because you like it when I make everything difficult.”

You expect him to snap back—something dry and cutting, something biting.

But instead— “...Yeah.”

It’s soft. Barely audible. But real.

You freeze. Your eyes lift to meet his.

He’s looking at you like he always does—flat, tired, unimpressed.

Except this time, his eyes sparkle. This time, his gaze flickers to your mouth just for a second too long.

“You’re serious?”

“Don’t push it.”

“You like that I’m needy.”

He sighs, exasperated. “I like you,” he mutters under his breath, then immediately regrets saying it out loud.

You grin like it’s your birthday.

“I knew it. You’d totally start a war for me if I cried hard enough.”

“I’d totally start a war if it meant you’d shut up for five seconds.”

“Aww, Still sounds like love, Kei.”

You sip your coffee—finally perfect—and pretend not to notice the way his ears are red all the way to the tips.

ᯓ★ Two posts in one day?!?!?! WOAH | Masterlist

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq #tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima haikyuu #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima fluff #tsukki

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creati-bunny · 4 days ago

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HOW TO KISS YOUR BOYFRIEND

YOUR INEXPERIENCE WITH ROMANCE AFFECTS YOUR COURAGE TO DO THE FIRST MOVE. By God’s graces, you were lucky to be the only person who receives romantic attention from Tsukishima Kei, who is commonly known to have little interest in anything; Kei knew that there is a first for everything, and right before he goes to college, he wants to experience what being in a relationship would feel like with you.

It is not his first time to be in one—but being in one with you makes it a little special.

And as to not disappoint his expectations, you find yourself huddled up inside your dorm, buried in your heavy comforter with a laptop in front of you. The brightness illuminating from the screen serves as the source of light that hits your face—your face was so focused, your fingers working non-stop to find the perfect tutorial.

🔎 how to kiss your boyfriend

🔎 kissing tutorial

🔎 how to kiss properly with tongue

One of the videos shown to you advised you to enclose your palm, and put your lips on the side. The woman in the video is practically telling you to make out with your own hand—you cannot help but feel off. The next video interests you as it was shown with a partner.

“Start with slow, gentle kisses and skip the tongue and the teeth—for now,” the woman speaks with a gentle smile on her face while the man beside her looks between you and her expectantly. They show you the way by pressing their lips together, no tongue yet. “Stay at a manageable level of saliva. Slobbery puppies are the last thing you want your date to think of you,” your eyes sparkled, knowing you can do this; of course, you were curious about the next technique. You fast forward the video, skipping the couple just meshing their lips together like dolls.

“Now, try French kissing,” you gulped, hearing her words come out of her mouth. Anticipation brewed inside you, your eyes focused on the screen. “Slide the tip of your tongue inside your partner's mouth and gently move it against the tip of his or her tongue.” They were making out in front of you, tongue swirling around her partner’s tongue—her hands were gripping the man’s shoulders to set the mood, hinting for more.

The radiation from the laptop starts to irritate the nerves all over your eyeballs. You can feel your head aching from the lack of food in your system. Droopy, unfocused, and worried are all what you feel at the same time—how the hell were you supposed to practice kissing Kei when all the videos that you have watched are practically making you look like an idiot?

However, you did not notice that your own partner just arrived in your dorm and caught you watching an unexplainable video of a couple kissing. Tsukishima looks at your unaware form in confusion, “What are you watching so intensely—?”

You screamed loudly, shutting down your laptop, almost throwing it out of the window. You glared at him, your heart beating erratically fast; you felt your stomach drop when you could hear the woman’s voice still continuing with a slight sound of smacking lips together. “Try deeper and harder strokes—!”

Tsukishima scrunches up his face in accusation, already thinking the worst and formulating a remark. “Are you seriously watching porn?”

You interjected immediately, “No!”

Kei puts the In N’ Out doggie bag on top of your desk, before shamelessly opening your laptop. He scans the unfinished tabs and titles on the screen with his golden-brown eyes under his glasses, before he lets out a snicker, not failing to irk you. “Pfft—!”

“Kei, shut up!” You buried your face on the pillow, not caring about hygiene on your face anymore. Kei’s snickers became the aggravating laughs you hate when he teases you—Tsukishima could not breathe from the comedic situation.

He keeps snickering, “You seriously do not know how to kiss?” Tsukishima relishes in the embarrassed look on your face, as you try to save your face by scowling.

“Oh, and you have?”

“As a matter of fact, I did,” he proudly admits with a grin.

You feel annoyed and a bit jealous that he already shared his first kiss with someone. You bit back your lower lip to hide your frustrations, not wanting to worsen your humiliation any further. “Whatever.”

Tsukishima grips the fat on your cheeks with one hand before leaning in closely with a teasing, handsome grin. “If you want to learn that badly, I can teach you.”

Your eyes softened, feeling a bit down and insecure at your inexperience. You gaze at his lips before going back to his eyes. “I do not want to disappoint you. It may not be your first, but it is certainly mine, and I—ouch! What the hell?!” At the latter part of your statement, he begins to pinch your cheeks—harder at that.

“…” Pinch. Pinch.

“Stop that!”

Kei cannot help but have a cuteness aggression with how you’re acting right now. It did remove his stress and tiredness because of you. “You’re rambling again, for no reason.” He pokes your nose in amusement, as if he wasn’t the reason you’re stressing out, making you sulk at his carefree attitude.

Your boyfriend leans in, his warm breath fanning over your lips—the previous teasing and unserious facade he had was gone and shifted into something more flirtatious. The air around you suddenly becomes hotter and intimate, him leaning against you while both of you are on the bed. “What are you doing?” You stuttered.

“What do you think?”

This was too much for your heart—he looks too handsome, he smells so good; you were at a loss for words. All you two have been doing is holding hands, cuddling, kissing on the cheek and forehead. On the lips? You made a point about how you do not know how.

“C’mere, I’ll show you how,” he whispered softly, his eyes already focused on your lips. Tsukishima takes off his glasses before he pulls you on his lap. His hands rest on your hips, wanting you to get comfortable—he coos at your flustered expression, knowing this was far more intimate than cuddling.

Your heart is beating too fast; you cannot speak. You do not even hide how much you look stupid right now. Tsukishima is having the time of his life; he’ll have this as one of his memorable moments. Kei leans in, taking his sweet time before pressing kisses on your jaw—Tsukishima knows how to make you melt to give in.

You lean your neck back before your lips are inches away from each other. Kei whispered teasingly, “You do not even know how to close your eyes?”

That ticked you off, “Fuck off.”

You roughly press your lips on his firmly. He slightly opens his mouth to lock his lips with your lower lip. Tsukishima rubs his fingers on your hips, guiding you patiently as he winces when he feels your tongue trying to invade his mouth already. “Damn, are you a puppy? You need to relax,” he mocks you while grinning on your lips—and it is the thing you’re afraid of before you try to pull away.

“I’m sorry—”

Kei didn’t give you the chance to pull away, completely locking his lips with yours. You let out a whine, embarrassed at initiating a French kiss; and he looks so hot giving you guidance. “I’ll guide you, so stop squirming,” Your breath hitched, seeing his expression darkened—out of delight and desire.

Tsukishima hummed pleasantly, sensing that you were adapting better to the kiss. He mumbled, “Open your mouth,” You followed his words with no complaint before you let out a muffled gasp when you felt his tongue slip inside your mouth, swirling around the tip of your tongue. You squirmed when the kiss became more intense, letting out a breathy whine when he took control of the kiss—you tried to nibble his lower lip, making him let out a noise that fueled your ego.

“Tch, don’t move too much. You might start something you’ll never finish,” he demanded with a husky voice, wanting you to stay still on his lap. You stopped breathing and moving in response to what he said.

The rhythm of the kiss started off awkwardly, yet it became the most amazing one that had you wrapping your arms around his neck like your life depended on it. You two were now making out; he shudders when he feels your fingers rubbing his nape. He grips your shirt tightly, wrinkling it within his grip.

You two broke off the kiss to catch your breath. A string of saliva leaves between your lips. You stared into his eyes, already aching for more, but he was controlling himself. You licked your lower lip. The heat in your lower stomach burned hotly, finally experiencing the magnificence of kissing someone you’re interested in.

Kei smirks at your dazed expression, “Now, was that so difficult?”

You huffed in response, knowing you had thoroughly and sincerely enjoyed it. Tsukishima pecks your nose, mocking you while grinning lazily. “Let’s do it again.”

image is by @Freaka_LoonyZ on X || credits to wikihow for the kissing tutorial

#creati works .ೃ࿐#tsukishima kei #tsukishima kei x reader #no beta we die like daichi #anime x reader #anime fanfiction #tsukishima x reader #kei tsukishima x reader #kei tsukishima #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu #anime #anime fluff #tsukishima kei x you #haikyuu tsukishima

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aosawako · 7 hours ago

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Don’t cry

Kei Tsukishimaજ⁀➴

➽────────────────────❥

Tsukishima was in the midst of comforting you. Despite you claiming you were fine, he could see right through you. Furrowed brows, breathing shallowly with slightly parted lips, glossed eyes. You weren’t fine.

He was very observant of you, of the behaviors you exhibited subconsciously. So, he was aware of the fact you would excuse yourself to cry in the restroom any minute now instead of crying to him.

Kei didn’t take it personally but it was his job as a boyfriend to take care of you wasn’t it?

He pried with precision, not wanting to make you feel even worse. It seemed like you were a word away from breaking. Proceed with caution.

“Is this about that girl you told me about? The one that was supposedly kind and you thought you could trust her with one of your secrets?”

Tsukishima thought he asked too directly the moment your lip quivered, a shaky sigh escaped you. Too busy trying to stop whatever tears might escape, you didn’t notice his hand slip around your waist. He scooted closer to you, looking at your bedroom wall.

“I just thought—It’s not like I’m mad, I’m just disappointed she would tell someone else.” You leaned back into his touch. Usually he would tease you about that, but not right now.

Kei wasn’t the soft type, but surprisingly he was with you. Though he still made fun of you and all, it wasn’t like how he would with other people.

“Don’t talk to her anymore, simple. Also you can tell me these things instead of people you met five minutes ago.”

Maybe you were accepting it, taking your boyfriend's advice to heart. It was bummed you out, you were excited to make a new friend.

“Are you okay?” He tilted his head down to take a peek at your face. That was where he made his mistake, he forgot a rule.

Rule #1 When someone is about to cry, don't ask if they’re okay. They will cry, hard.

You fought it for a moment, before it just poured out. Tsukishima tried to fix the mistake, albeit the damage was already done.

He just sighed, slapping himself mentally. Kei pulled you into his lap patting your back. How could one comfort and scold at the same time?

Kei held you there, letting your tears cover his shirt. Listening to your incoherent slurred words as if he could understand. Once you quieted down he started to lecture you in the gentlest way he could.

Ruffled your hair, flicked your forehead, then kissed it because he felt bad. “Don’t share anything personal just because you think the persons nice idiot.”

Tsukishima didn’t care. He wasn't phased at all….

That's why once he realized you had fast fallen asleep, he took a long stare at you. His finger smoothed the skin between your eyebrows, bringing them back to normal. They looked too sad for his liking.

Your cheeks were tear stained too, he just swiped his thumb across your cheek. He didn’t like seeing you sad, but he loved your face.

#tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #kei x reader #hq #haikyuu tsukishima #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #hq fluff #fluff #kei tsukishima

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zyxoxox · 6 days ago

Note

iced coffee + popping boba + 🌷🐈‍⬛🪼

syn: your boyfriend, TSUKISHIMA KEI, has a lot more experience in cooking than you.

tsukishima kei x reader // college setting.

// event !

"if you zone out with the potatoes on the stove, they are going to burn."

you snapped back into the world, to notice a slightly crisp odour in the air. the potatoes! you scrambled around, looking for the spatula, but it was nowhere in the vicinity. at this rate, you'd be eating charcoal!

"allow me."

a shadow fell over you, and you could feel someone press up against your back. turning over, you found it to be tsukki, who had the missing spatula in one hand, a book in the other.

you still between him and the stove, he adeptly reached over and flipped over all the potatoes. their bottoms were slightly charred, but overall salvageable.

"thanks, tsukki," you said, leaning back against him. he was much taller than you, so you tilted your face up to look at him. he was upside down at this angle, and it made you giggle.

"this isn't for you," he said, ignoring the very obvious cue for a kiss. "i don't want this flat to burn down to a crisp. i value my kitchen very much. and my life."

you pouted. "don't be like that," you huffed, swatting his arm. his deadpan expression didn't change, but he still kept you between him and the stove while he finished the dish you started.

"there, all done." he tossed the pan a couple times before emptying it into a bowl. "bring it inside."

the book from earlier was still in his hand, and he'd already continued reading it. pressing a quick kiss to your head, he left, heading back to his room to wait.

had he come out just to help you? how did he know you needed help? were the potatoes really burning that bad?

all were questions you'd never find answers to, but you didn't need to either. mundane things held romance, and tsukki never lacked in neither.

#zyx’s boba matchups >>#tsukishima x reader #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima kei #tsukishima kei x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu tsukishima

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munchiei · 14 hours ago

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HAIKYUU! Boys;

♡ You Fall asleep on them for the first time

Part; 1/?

Includes;

Kageyama, Tsukishima, Hinata, Kenma, Kuroo, Bokuto, Oikawa

♡ Kageyama Tobio;

Setting: Studying at his place. You drift off mid-notes, head tipping against his shoulder.

Kageyama is hyper-focused on the textbook in front of him— until he feels a weight slump against his arm. At first, he thinks maybe you dropped something. Then he hears it: the soft, steady breath of someone completely out cold.

He turns his head slowly. Your face is tilted toward him, eyelashes fluttering in your sleep, mouth parted just slightly. His heart stutters.

What do I do?

He stares ahead, tense as a drawn bowstring. He doesn’t move a millimeter.

There are a hundred thoughts racing in his brain, but the loudest one is:

You fell asleep. On him. Willingly. Trustingly.

He’s never been good at emotions, but something about this moment makes him want to freeze time. His ears are red. His heartbeat is insane.

After a few minutes, he carefully reaches for the corner of a blanket and drapes it over your shoulders. His hand lingers a second longer than it should.

He doesn’t study another word. He just sits there, still as stone, quietly hoping you won’t wake up too soon.

♡ Tsukishima Kei;

Setting: Movie night at your place. You knock out halfway through the film.

You’re on the couch beside him, wrapped in your own blanket, feet curled under you. Tsukishima’s half-watching the screen, half-rolling his eyes at the cheesy dialogue.

Then your head slips softly against his bicep.

He stiffens.

“...Seriously?” he mutters.

You don’t reply. You’re completely out. Breathing slow, peaceful, drooling just slightly (cute, unfortunately).

Tsukishima doesn’t move. He doesn’t breathe. His brain short-circuits for a full five seconds before it kicks back in with full snark:

This is ridiculous. I didn’t sign up for this. Why would they—ugh.

But his gaze softens despite himself. You trusted him enough to fall asleep next to him. He’s not used to people being that... unguarded with him. It makes his chest ache in a weird, annoying way.

After a moment, he adjusts your blanket—gently—and glares at the screen like it owes him money.

Still, he struggles to keep down the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

Maybe I’ll stay a little longer.

♡ Hinata Shoyo;

Setting: Park bench after a long walk. You lean against him without thinking.

The sun is warm, and you’ve been chatting and laughing for hours. It’s late afternoon, the kind of day that makes your limbs heavy. You’re mid-sentence when your head drifts sideways and lands softly on his shoulder.

Hinata freezes.

He physically freezes. Like statue-level, wide-eyed, jaw-hanging-open kind of still.

You. Are. Sleeping. On. Him.

Cue internal screaming.

“What do I do?! Do I move?! Is this a dream?! Why is my heart doing that thing—OH GOD.”

But somehow, despite the panic, he doesn’t move a muscle. Instead, he looks down at you. Your face is relaxed. Peaceful.

His whole chest melts.

“I must be doing something right,” he whispers to no one.

Hinata sits perfectly still, grinning softly to himself, until his arm goes numb and he nearly passes out trying not to disturb you.

♡ Kenma Kozume;

Setting: Playing video games together on the floor. You fall asleep mid-match, curled against his side.

Kenma doesn’t notice right away. He’s deep in focus, thumbs moving quickly, eyes locked on the screen. He’s saying something— asking if you want to switch controllers— when he glances over and sees your head slumped onto his arm.

Your eyes are closed. Your breath is slow. You’re out.

He stares.

“...Oh. I see.”

His first instinct is to pause the game, not because he’s freaking out (he is), but because suddenly nothing else feels important. Your head is warm where it touches him. You trust him— him— enough to fall asleep like this.

He adjusts his posture so you’re more comfortable. Then he sits quietly, letting your hand rest against his thigh. The room is so quiet he can hear his own heartbeat, and maybe, just maybe, he leans his head slightly toward yours.

No one’s ever made him feel this calm and this nervous at the same time.

♡ Kuroo Tetsurou;

Setting: Library study session. You doze off at the table and slump onto his shoulder.

Kuroo’s mid-sentence, whispering something about mitochondria being the powerhouse of the cell, when your head tilts and lands on him with a soft, sleepy thud.

He pauses.

Glances down.

Sees your face—peaceful, cheek squished against his shoulder, lips parted slightly.

And melts.

Internally, he’s a puddle. Externally, he smirks.

“Well... didn’t know I was that boring, but I’ll take it,” he murmurs.

He adjusts his arm so you don’t strain your neck. There’s a tenderness in his eyes that few get to see.

You’re asleep—on him. Which means he can look at you as long as he wants.

He brushes a strand of hair from your face, fingers gentle. “You really shouldn’t fall asleep next to guys who like you this much,” he whispers, voice almost reverent.

He doesn’t move until you wake up— and when you do, he just grins and says, “Enjoy your nap? You drooled a little. It was adorable.”

♡ Bokuto Koutarou;

Setting: Sitting beside him in the gym bleachers. You drift off against his arm.

You’ve been watching him run drills, tired from the long day, head bobbing slightly with each blink. Eventually, without meaning to, you lean against him and fall fast asleep.

Bokuto stops stretching mid-arm raise when he notices. He blinks down at you. Doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe.

Then:

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god— Y/N fell asleep on me???”

He’s elated. He’s blessed. He feels like someone handed him the moon and said “hold this.”

His voice drops to a whisper when he talks to the others. “Guys. Guys. Look. Look at them.” He’s grinning so big it hurts.

But he doesn’t move. He doesn’t yell. He just lets you sleep, heart bursting in his chest, cheeks pink with happiness.

He gently— so gently— lowers his arm around your back so you don’t slide off.

“You can sleep on me anytime,” he whispers, his usual exuberance softened by something tender.

♡ Oikawa Tooru

Setting: His living room couch, post-practice hangout. You fall asleep against his shoulder.

He’s used to being the one who steals hearts, not the one whose heart skips like this.

One second you’re scrolling through your phone, head bobbing with exhaustion. The next, your body leans into him and you’re out— warm, soft, trusting.

Oikawa glances down, mouth parted, stunned.

And then the most absurd thing happens: he blushes.

He actually blushes.

“Oh...” he whispers. “You’re so cute like this.”

He adjusts his position with slow, almost reverent movements. If someone saw him now, they wouldn’t recognize the dramatic Oikawa they know. There’s something quiet in his expression now—affection, wonder.

He doesn’t take a single selfie. He just... looks at you.

This is what he wants, he realizes. Not the attention. Not the compliments.

This: someone safe beside him. Trusting enough to sleep against him.

He reaches for the blanket with one hand, careful not to wake you, and tucks you in.

“You really did me in, didn’t you?” he whispers, more to himself than you.

Aaaah! First post done!

Thank you so much for reading! Part 2 coming soon, my requests are open!! Love you all!

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soongaa · 2 days ago

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#tsukishima kei #oikawa tooru #miya atsumu #sugawara koushi #kageyama tobio #ushijima wakatoshi #sakusa kiyoomi #haikyuu #tsukishima x reader #oikawa x reader #atsumu x reader #sugawara x reader #kageyama x reader #ushijima x reader #sakusa x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu moodboard

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kokokoula · 4 days ago

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sypnosis & tag: you see tsukishima's childhood room for the first time. established relationship. it's fluff this time.

a/n: i really wanted to go back to my roots because i refuse to show that i've been overtaken by horniness. i blame it on the depression. i had this fic rotting in the drafts since last year, and i'm so happy to finally be done with it and share it with you guys.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

you step into the small world that was kei's encompassed by four walls, gaping at everything around you.

"it's just my room, don't make it such a big deal." tsukishima remarks, his ears red.

"hush, let me admire in peace."

the first thing you notice is the number of dinosaur figures neatly displayed on the shelf on the wall. you know a few facts about each type now, thanks to tsukishima's rants. like how the stegosaurus actually had a tiny brain, and that the parasaurolophus used its crest to help with communication.

although you never did have an interest in the extinct reptiles, you can listen to him go on about them for hours. how could you not, with that glint in his eyes and the slight upward curve of his mouth? you giggle, thinking of how the cool and 'indifferent' tsukishima kei is secretly a nerd at heart. a nerd who you ultimately fall for.

you shifted your attention to his organised desk, with books propped up on the table supported by a book stand holder. you run your fingers through the spines. natsume soseki, osamu dazai, murasaki shikibu...

"you really liked the classics, huh?"

there are a few books on paleontology and dinosaurs, too. expected.

"they were alright. some of them were for literature class in school." tsukishima answers, resting his weight on the table. you take one of the books out from the stand and flip through its yellowing pages. words are highlighted and underlined, and notes written in what you recognise as his ever-so-neat handwriting on sticky notes pasted onto the pages. you're about to close the book until something catches your eye.

"did you just call the character a loser?" you laugh, bringing the book closer to your eyes to properly examine it. tsukishima tips the book down to see it for himself.

"oh, right. and i still stand by my case."

you shake your head before putting the book back to where it was.

his older pictures are framed on the wall, like the many others hung around the house. the oldest photograph in the room, you assume, shows akiteru teaching a much smaller kei volleyball. he has that same focused and determined eyes during a match now, just that with childlike wonder. the photo instantly becomes one of your favourites of him. you immediately unlock your phone to access the camera.

"i didn't say pictures were allowed." your boyfriend plucks the device out of your hands. you groan.

"please? just one? i already missed out on the small and innocent version of you."

"it's a no." tsukishima pockets your phone in his jeans pocket. "if it's with you, it's bound to be exposed to the public."

"whatever, i can ask akiteru to send a picture to me." you huff.

"i'll kill him if he does so."

you eventually reach to the last framed photograph, with tsukishima in his karasuno jersey, gathering around with his teammates for the shot. first year tsukishima is lankier with thicker framed glasses, and without the bangs. he still has that resting bitch face though, another thing that has never seemed to change. tsukishima gave you a death look when you pointed that out to him.

your imagination starts to run, picturing a younger kei with his shorter haircut, how he's studying at his desk, or reading one of those books you saw. you think of your counterpart, maybe pouring over homework beside him, or more likely, pestering him as he does so. you smile to yourself at the thought of it.

"do you think we would still end up together if we met in high school?" you wonder aloud.

"who knows?" tsukishima shrugs as he sits on his old bed. he takes your hand and pulls you into him, away from the photos. "it doesn't matter anyways."

you meet his soft gaze, the kind he only gives to you. you hope that among all the things about him that stays the same, the way he looks at you will be one of them. he really is yours, you think, all of him. the boy who is fascinated by dinosaurs, the boy who disses on people (both real and fictional), the boy who will never stop loving volleyball... he glances at your lips, subconsciously licking his own, and you don't hesitate to close the gap between you two.

kei is right. it doesn't matter if you'd ended up together earlier, because you get to have him for yourself in the end.

----

the both of you continue lounging on his bed until his mother calls.

"lunch is ready! come eat while it's still hot!"

"coming, ma'am!" you answer. you instantly got up and tug on his arm to follow suit.

"what, are you that hungry?" he says but complies.

"no, i just don't want to keep your parents waiting." he can tell by the look on your face that you're still nervous about having them like you. it's kinda nice, that you genuinely want to be close to his family. he sighs and flicks your forehead.

"you'll be fine." in any case, his parents were excited to meet you before you came, constantly on his back about bringing you over. they'll no doubt accept you with open arms.

tsukishima shuts the door to his old room as you pull him along out to join his family; he steps out of the past, and follows his future.

#my longest fic woohoo #which is not saying a lot #but woohoo #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima kei #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu x reader #tsukishima x you #tsukishima kei fluff #tsukishima x reader fluff #haikyu x reader

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lostazuree · 6 days ago

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WELL HELLO THERE!!

Really nice to meet you btw!

I wanted to ask for some hq smut. Short thingsies or hc are ok for me! I want the Wedding night, like, no brutal fucking, genuinly making love to fem reader.

I really really want Oikawa n Tsukishima and if you feel like him too, i would love Sakusa too

THANK U SM OMFG 🫶😭

⚝₊˚𖦹౨ৎ— Wedding Night.ᐟ ♡

⚝ Haikyuu!! Boys x Reader!

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: Wedding night love making! -NSFW, Praise, soft smut, fluff-ish, penetration, light cussing.

ꜰᴇᴀᴛᴜʀɪɴɢ: Oikawa Tooru, Tsukishima Kei, Iwaizumi Hajime, Kuroo Tetsurou, Miya Atsumu, Kageyama Tobio .ᐟ

𖦹 ᴏɪᴋᴀᴡᴀ ᴛᴏᴏʀᴜ .ᐟ

This man was beaming the whole day, wider than ever before, too quiet, like one wrong word and he might wake up to an empty bed for the end of his dream. He was a giddy schoolgirl when he saw you in that dress, wanting to cry when you walked down the aisle. He couldn't wait for these guests to leave, so he could have you to himself.

When you both reached the room, he lifted you up and twirled you around, grinning in not the usual charming way, but a more genuine, boyish way as he whispered, "God, finally, finally. I can't breathe!" He settled you down on his bed, laying you down while his lips were latched to yours, he mumbled in a few praises about how good you looked, how lucky he is to get to call you his wife now as you both giggled over things previously unsaid, and how he's now acting all sappy. He lied you down on the bed, unzipping your dress.

"You looked so, so stunning tonight, I forgot I was even there, angel." He hummed, looking at you with a faint smile as he took a moment to admire you, hands trailing down every inch like he's been dreaming of this for too long, in that moment, I believe he'd want to drop his teasing & cocky persona for the moment, (Do not get used to it) He's thanking to whatever supreme deity there is above, because this is his greatest win in life.

He makes it his goal to make this as good as possible, to pour his soul about just how much he loves you, in ways his words would fail to express, he wants to show you just how much. Leaving faint lovebites on your neck he's sure to get swatted for in the morning, his mouth trailing low, and hands even lower. "Tell me to stop when it gets too much.", oh, sweetheart. He's practically fawning over you, eyes darting everywhere as he pulls your thighs apart, tip sliding against your entrance, soon lowering himself into you, slowly, like he wants you to feel every inch of him, giving you time to breathe. "Y'know, I really lucked out in highschool." He hummed in your ear, voice laced with something you couldn't pin down. He was enjoying this, these little ministrations were getting to him. Praises, praises, & praises as he's cupping your breast, lightly pinching the nipple while your eyes roll back. He's just giddy, slow yet deep thrusts delving into you while his hands caress you and hold you down, your hands tangling in strands of his hair, tugging him closer, his cock hitting your spots repeatedly, unhurriedly, hands pinning yours to the bed when he picks up a steadier pace, while he's kissing you over and over again till you fall apart on his hands, "T-..Toru..", absolutely thrives on sounds. "On it." Doesn't give you a chance to complain as he pushes himself deeper, not rough, just slow. His thrusts soon falter when you two near, eventually releasing. Will hold you and cuddle you to sleep afterwards, whispering in your ear how he's once again that lovesick second year who fell for you. He plops down on the bed breathlessly beside you. "I promise to love you and cherish you whole heartedly, forever, even if death do us part, and I'd love you now and forever, until the next life I get to share with you." No way did this idiot just recite his vows again after ...sex?! "Toru, you fuckin' dumbass.", "Just makin' sure, wifey." and he chuckled, for this is what he wants to wake up to everyday, for you are the win for everytime he lost in his life. -And honestly, you wouldn't have it any other way.

𖦹 ᴛꜱᴜᴋɪꜱʜɪᴍᴀ ᴋᴇɪ .ᐟ

He really didn't care that it was his day as well. It was yours. He really couldn't care less about the wedding guests, if he'd be asked to recall his favourite parts of the wedding, there won't be a single face other than yours in his head.

The whole ceremony, he looked nowhere but you. And finally when the 'lousy guests' as he says, were gone, he couldn't wait to get you. He's smiling, watching you twirl around in your dress, showing off how pretty you looked. "Of course you did, I picked that dress." He looks at you with such a fond little smile, grabbing you by the hand as he pulls you on the bed with him, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. "You looked jaw-dropping." he included while you loosened his tie, exchanging a few snarky remarks about how you just can't get your hands off him.

But soon, he's the one who can't get his hands off you. Pushing your dress off your shoulders, he's visibly taken aback by the view, audibly swallowing as he whispers in, a few praises that sound foreign to his own ears. He's not a man of many words, but he'll gladly fill your ears with praises if he gets his fill of you. Leaning in, he kisses your lips, before those kisses trail down your neck, to your chest, like he's trying to engrave every inch to his brain through his lips. You hummed something about him taking credit as usual, hands tangling in his hair, and he smirked. He lays you flat against the bed as you two bicker about how your life turned out here from your highschool days, giggles and chuckles turning into moans, gasps and whimpers as he's into you, pulling out- not all the way before going back in, slow, considerate. "Back then I never knew why you stuck around, but I guess, now you're stuck around, forever.", "Willingly. Ring off or on." you muttered out breathlessly with a smile. And he gives you such a childish, sheepish even, grin. "I suppose that's right, You never stopped being cheesy." He leaned in to kiss you before you could make any sounds of protest at his reply, his kiss deep and passionate like he's been meaning to pour confessions worth a decade into it. He retains his pace, slow, deep thrusts into your aching cunt, holding your thighs stable in his hands when he feels your body shaking, walls clenching around his length, he bites his lip, letting out a shaky exhale as he kisses your forehead.

"Mhm..you're doing such a good job, darling." His voice is so uncharacteristically soft, like he's trying to reassure both you and himself that it's happening really happening, his eyes never leaving yours. And after a while, his pace and rhythm falters, he grunts, tilting your head up as he presses another kiss to your forehead while you both come undone. He holds you in his arms, hands running through your hair as he whispers some breathless promises that you both are too hazy to remember, "You've no idea how much I've dreamt of this, Mrs. Tsukishima." and that comment doesn't just make you giddy, but also him.

𖦹 ɪᴡᴀɪᴢᴜᴍɪ ʜᴀᴊɪᴍᴇ .ᐟ

It's one of those rare times you've never seen him in a rush, one of those times where he's patient, happy, like he's genuinely filming this whole day in his head, filming you in his head, because he knows he'll never live this day again.

He stayed back, waving those guests off, making you wonder whether if this was even the same man before he scooped you up in his arms, carrying you to the room with the widest grin you've seen on him. "God, you look so pretty, I can't take my eyes off of you." He chuckled, crashing his lips with yours as he set you down on the bed.

"Hard to believe I bagged a wife, one as pretty as you, love." He rested his forehead against you as you began to loosen his tie, his hands slowly, carefully undressing you like he's unwrapping a present, which is true, after all, you are kind of one, to him. He took a moment to admire you, his calloused hands hovering over your skin hesitantly before you pulled him closer and he got the message. His hands now roaming over your body like he's analyzing a court, his eyes focused, but soft, his lips dragging themselves from your lips to your neck as he bit down, leaving marks on places he'd be very proud of, later. He's so sappy as he positions himself between your thighs, the faintest tint of pink on his cheeks as his tip rubs against your folds. This is the softest you've ever seen him aside from the day he dropped juice over himself while confessing to you back in highschool. He's looking at you the whole time, gouging your reaction as he pushes inside you, slowly. His eyes are so wide and dreamy, panting softly before he buries his face in your neck, his rhythm never faltering. "You've made me the happiest man alive, baby. I'll make sure I return the favor. Everyday." and you can't help but giggle at his giddy behaviour, It's hard to believe he's the same Iwaizumi, who's now a blushing, sappy mess while he's rolling his hips against yours, hand clenching the headboard, veins rippling in his arms from just how tight his grip is. But all of that just makes you fall in love with him more, after all, what's a better feeling than being confessed love to, over and over again while you're struggling to think straight from just how big his cock is?

His pace doesn't falter too quick, it's his goal to get you to orgasm, but you know he's close when he's grunting a little more, the veins on his dick twitching as he's panting. Eventually, after you've both been milked dry, he plops down on the bed, pulls you on his chest, his big arms circling you whole as you whisper, "Haji, baby, I love you too." and he grins, hands caressing your hair, until his sappy mode turns back on. "You make my days far more bearable. Thank you, darling.", he's blushing the entire time, praying you don't see him so flustered because he doesn't even know why he is. But he knows, he wants to stay like this for the rest of his life.

𖦹 ᴋᴜʀᴏᴏ ᴛᴇᴛꜱᴜʀᴏᴜ .ᐟ

He's so uncharacteristic, donned up in a suit and blushing like a maiden when you stood infront of him at the altar, hands unstable and fingers fidgeting, his mind was reeling with words unsaid, grinning at you like he did for the first time he laid his eyes on you.

"I'm still mentally not here, it's unfair how beautiful you looked." He smiled, cupping your face as he joked, in order to retain some semblance of his breaking composure, he could frankly cry from just thinking that he's married now, that too, to the person of his dreams. He pushed himself off the wall, placing a chaste kiss to your lips, which soon turned deeper, more passionate as he lifted you up in his arms and placed you on the bed, climbing over you with the widest grin you've seen on him. Not the cocky grin you're used to, but more like a lovestruck expression you see on kids when they get a crush. Boyish, unfiltered. His hands travel across you body, undressing you slowly, his breath hitching when you undid his buttons. He slid the dress off you, his eyes trailing, eyeing you up and down appreciatively.

"You're gawking like a damn virgin, Tetsu." You teased him, he chuckled as he lied you down impatiently, his touch leaving trails of heat in their wake. "I can't help it. You're too, too pretty for your own good." he kissed your cheek, hands cupping your soft mounds as he squeezed them, hands spreading your plush thighs. "And hey, I'm allowed to gawk at what's mine." He mused, whispering in your ear, hands caressing your thighs softly, like he's mapping them inch by inch with his hands before he parts them, positioning himself in between, his tip pressed right against your entrance. "Push me away when you feel like.", he reassures you before his cock slides inside your pussy, slow, deliberate, stretching you out while your nails dig into his shoulder, clawing at his chest. He looks at you, eyes locked on the your face, both to check how you're feeling, and admire it. "Y'know...you kinda blessed me before the priest did." He grinned, sheepish at his cheesy jokes, which, sure, sound insufferably corny, but are sincere. He holds you down, lavishing you with kisses, hickies as he tells you just how proud he is, how incredibly lucky he must've been that he's at this point in life. You don't know which point though- the relationship or the current ongoing sex, but you were fine by both.

He continued his thrusts and sheepish praises, his hands occasionally caressing your body so it wouldn't be too aching for you, your moans and gasps making his eyes roll back, his breathing heavy and ragged when your fingers tangled in locks of his hair, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to your lips when he felt your pussy clenching around him more desperately. You were close, so was he. Still, he rode you through your orgasm, and took a moment to admire how you looked beneath him. "You're the hardest, yet the best thing I ever had to win over, but I'll do it all over again. In every life." He whispered against your neck, arms trapping you in his embrace as you two bantered about his cheesy antics. He looked at you and thought to himself, about just how blissful his mornings are going to be, starting from tonight.

𖦹 ᴍɪʏᴀ ᴀᴛꜱᴜᴍᴜ .ᐟ

Atsumu was a self-assured, confident man, until your wedding day. He was freaking out, all emotional and hyper when he saw you, dolled up for him in a white dress, and when you stood infront of him at the altar, he'd already shed a few tears from just how enchanting you looked, from how you were now gonna be his.

You had to calm his brain down, because oh boy, was he a teary-eyed, giggling mess who couldn't stop hugging you with those big arms of his, refusing to let you go. "Jesus, 'm god. 'tis real, yer' real!" his eyes were shining, hair fallen over them. He had the silliest grin on his face, it was like his hands had a mind of their own, ad he just couldn't bring himself to stop kissing you. After a long smooch-session, he plopped down on the bed and pulled you over himself, his calloused yet careful fingers brushing strands of your hair away, so he could meet your eyes. "Yer' m' wife now, can ya believe that? Hell, I can't!" and you two giggled over a few things that lead to one another.

Soon, he flipped you over, his mellow eyes scanning your face while you fiddled with his tie and buttons, sliding his shirt off, letting your hands roam over his broad, built figure. He hummed in content, pushing your own dress down as he left feather-light, hot kisses over your body. Neck, chest, collarbone, stomach, just wherever his lips could land. "Yer' so, so pretty, I wonder how I landed ya." He whispered, his tongue soon circling your nipple and his fingertips drawing patterns across your thighs. "..'Tsumu-", you croaked out, and thankfully, he took the signal. His hands now parted your thighs to a good distance, positioning himself between your legs as he wrapped them around his waist. "Sweetheart, hold on tight, 'kay?" He whispered in your ear as his cock made contact with your glistening folds, his fingers twirling strands of your hair around them, the other hand holding the head board.

And with those words, he finally lowered himself inside your entrance, bit by bit, savoring the moment as you clung to him, a sputtered string of incoherent praises leaving his lips at how good you felt, how desperately your hands tried to hold onto his sturdy shoulders when he picked up his place, though by only a notch. His hands caressed whatever part of your skin they landed on, soothing you while you arched into his touch. Not long after, you were spent. And he once again cradled you in his arms. "Baby, yer' gonna marry me, right?" he whispered, and you looked at him incredulously, "..'Tsumu, we just got married, today." and he was quick to retort with a wide, enamored yet sheepish grin, "Again, for good measure." and at that, he knew he fumbled so many things, but today, he made a decision worth a blissful lifetime.

𖦹 ᴋᴀɢᴇʏᴀᴍᴀ ᴛᴏʙɪᴏ .ᐟ

The ever quiet, maybe even stoic and aloof individual is so, so close to his breaking point, he can't focus on anything else aside from how angelic you look, so much so, that he almost forgets that he's the one marrying you, and he's not here to watch.

He isn't quite at all, giggling and blushing like a dopey, intoxicated teen who had his first taste of alcohol. His hands are unable to keep themselves off you as he backs you against a wall, peppering your face in kisses, "It's impossible for me to convey just how much I waited for this.." He trails off as he locks his gaze with yours, leaving a fluttering kiss to your lips. "..for you." He continues sheepishly as he scoops you up in his arms, cradling you against his chest, whispering sweet nothings like a prayer as he sets you down on the bed. His hands slowly tugging out your accessories and the laces of your dress, letting it fall apart as he stared at you with wide eyes.

"Oh, god, wake me up. Wake me up." He mumbled under his breath as his hands finally made contact with your body, his touch light and reverent. "You're awake, Kags." you couldn't help but tease him at his flustered reaction, and he just frowned at you, cheeks still tinted with a faint pink as he narrowed his eyes at you, clicking his tongue in faux annoyance, "I know that.", but his frown softened when you chuckled, pulling him over you, his fingers brushing strands of your hair away from your face. "I really must have done something praise-worthy that I ended up with you.", he whispered meekly while you continued teasing him that you too, didn't know how you fell for this brooding introvert. "Oh please. Shut up." He grumbled as he pushed your legs apart, feeling the skin with his fingers while his teeth grazed over your neck and chest, leaving streaks of faint red wherever they touched.

He took a few deep breaths as he lined up his cock against your dripping cunt, taking a moment to look at you, before he slowly pushed himself in, waiting for you to adjust to him. "You look so pretty like this." He whispered in your ear, his cock throbbing as you moan next to his ears. But really, he's been doing a fairly well job keeping his cool as he resumes his thrusting. His hand holds your thigh to steady you, the other under your waist as you arch your back. He's close, really close, but so are you. So after a euphoric orgasm from you two, he pulls you close to him, he's silent, his hands caressing your body before he let's out a whisper which sounds like he's holding tears, "Thank you, love."

A/N: I hope my blatant favouritism for a particular character in this wasn't too obvious, lmao.

Sorry if it's toooo long, I just poured my heart and soul into this. (๑•﹏•)

(Couldn't include Sakusa because I have slight trouble writing for him)

Thank you for reading!

Likes and Reblogs, and your opinions, would be highly appreciated! 🎀

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aryaryxoxo · 1 month ago

Text

These Haikyuu men have been secretly watching the cute sports reporter from the sidelines for a while now, always catching glimpses of her interviewing players after matches. So when he finally gets to be the one she’s interviewing? Oh, he's blushing hard.

He’s trying his absolute best to answer all her questions seriously—maintaining eye contact, throwing in a few jokes to impress her—when suddenly, bam! His rascal of a teammate dumps an entire gallon of cold water on him as part of their post-game tradition… but it splashes all over her too.

He immediately turns to his teammate like, “Are you serious right now?” before scolding them on the spot. “She’s working! What is wrong with you?” he snaps, before turning to her, flustered and apologizing profusely. “I’m so sorry about that. Get her a towel. Now.”

When they bring it over, these Haikyuu men takes it himself and gently starts wiping the water from her face, mumbling something like, “You okay?” while giving her a small, nervous smile. He doesn’t even realize they’re still being filmed.

Trying to save face, he grins and says, “How about this—let me make it up to you. You can write an entire article about me… over coffee?”

Later that night, he’s sprawled out on his bed, still in his team hoodie, phone in one hand and a lazy grin on his face as he watches the viral clip of himself smiling like an idiot while gently dabbing her face with a towel for the tenth time. The comment section is wild—some are teasing, some are shipping, and some are dead serious about wanting to see them together.

Then his phone pings.

You: how about tomorrow lunch time? 😊

Hinata, Atsumu, Bokuto, Sugawara, Kageyama, Oikawa, Tsukishima (i have favoritism), Iwaizumi, Kuroo, Daichi, Tendou, Kenma, Ushijima (i have favoritism part 2), any other hq men you love

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realcube · 2 months ago

Text

AT THE SAME DAMN TIME! *.°★* 。

hot with hq duos !

ft .. all timeskip! hinata + oikawa // osamu + suna // yamaguchi + tsukishima // bokuto + atsumu

tws && tags .. nsfw, vaginal, threeways (mmf). hookups, anal, fingering, breeding k!nk, size k!nk // handjobs, oral (m receiving), praise, general mess // handjob, fingering, anal, degredation, praise // oral (m receiving) , degredation, daddy kink, semi-public sex — minors dni!

HINATA & OIKAWA wanted to have fun together during their time in rio, and naturally, that entailed hitting up local bars and clubs during the night. and who were to condemn them if that led to bringing a sweet girl back to their hotel rooms? it’s part of the culture, after all. however, the issue lay in the fact that they both had their eyes set on the same woman — and neither of them had any intention of compromising.

alas, their joint stubbornness is what led them to their current situation.

the three of you would drunkenly stagger back to their hotel rooms — while they feign being helpful and wrap their arms protectively around your body under the guise of stablising your inebriated form. but in actuality, they were probably far worse off than you, and would often lose their own balance while handling your hips or lower back, which would then lead to you tripping over too.

eventually you reach their hotel rooms, and due to the fact oikawa lost his keycard at some blankened point during their escapade, it was hinata's room that you all ended up stumbling into.

even while on the lively streets or during the brief intermission in the silent elevator together, the three of you were inappropriately close; leaving slopping kisses on any pieces of exposed flesh and grabbing at parts of each other that could only be described as intimate. thankfully most pedestrians were more involved in their own business, and any onlookers that did notice your PDA were far too drunk to care.

and the affection was only accelerated as soon as you stepped foot into the privacy of hinata's hotel room. almost instantly it became a hot mess; an entanglement of limbs and appendages, furiously trying to get as close to each other as possible.

of course they were more focused on you than each other, and you tried to pay them each and equal amount of attention. thus your clothes became the immediate victims of both their scrutinies, and were torn and ripped off your body urgently by the various hands wandering over your supple figure. for the most part, you let your eyes drift shut and your mind cloud over while their big hands saturated your soft skin, occassionally flicking your nipples or pinching your clit. four hands on you at once.

however if you paid attention, you could tell whose hands belonged to whom.

oikawa was positioned closely behind you, to the point where you could find his firm abs against your back and his breath tickling the crook of your neck. his hands were slender and expert, and his touch was far more playful. fondling your tits or teasing your sensitive clit; all of which he would use as fuel for his growing erection, that you could feel growing against your plush thighs, even through the fabric of his pants. whenever he would elicit a cute moan from your pretty lips, you could feel him huff a chuckle into your neck.

hinata's hands were a bit smaller, but much faster and more keen. he was stood in front of you, and seemingly couldn't decide what he wanted to do. he'd engage you for a deep kiss for around ten seconds at a time, and just before it would get too heavy, he pull away to shift his full attention back onto your body. allowing his daring touch to slip behind you and fully grope your ass, or sink between your legs and excitedly finger you. he was a bit erratic, you could never tell what he was going to do next, and you liked that.

this trite foreplay, however sexy, didn't to satiate them for long though. soon, they became hungry for more of your intoxicating figure.

oikawa was the first one to make a move. while you were sandwiched between the boys, hinata's fingers were knuckles' deep inside your hole, thrusting into you over and over, while squelching noises filled the room. his lips were connected your delicate neck and he was sucking harsh hickeys into your skin. that, in combination with oikawa's arms snaked around your waist so he could rub your clit, was enough to have your knees buckling under you and a lewd string of moans pouring from your heart.

since your mind was clouded with pleasure, you hardly noticed the disappearance of oikawa's stiff cock against the back of your thigh. he shifted away slightly, but only so he could pull his cock free from the confines of his pants with one hand. with the other, he gathered all your sticky arousal from your clit and between your thighs, in order to lubricate his dick until it had the perfect glossy sheen. then, without wasting anymore time, he jammed himself right into your tight asshole.

"nghh—fuck— ahh!" you choked out a broken chain of moans and profanities at the abrupt intrusion. although you'd be lying if you said you weren't into it — which you kinda gave away when you began subconciously grinding back against his fat cock, wanting to urge him deeper inside you despite the fiery pain. it stung so good.

"too big for you, huh?" he hums as he peppers soft kisses across your shoulderblade, "sadly we can't all be fun-sized, so you're just gonna have to take it, baby." you can feel him chuckle to himself lightly against you.

"fun-sized." hinata tuts; thankfully he is too drunk to take it personally and will probably forget that snide remark come morning and the memory will be replaced by a splitting headache. still, he felt the bubbling need to impress you and prove himself. plus, he didn't realise he was allowed to insert himself without a condom, but if oikawa was doing it, hinata was sure to dive in as well.

like everything else he does, he was quick to whip his cock out and slip himself between your plush thighs. using the abundant wetness accumulated around your glistening folds to facilitate his enterance into your tight cunt.

"how's that?" he wasn't exactly his 'fun-sized' as oikawa proclaimed, thus taking his entire cock within your homey walls was not easy by any means.

"mmph, too much.." even with all your natural lubrication, you could feel your twitching walls have to stretch and pull to contain him, and he continued to ram his dick right the way inside you.

"c'mon, (y/n). that's it. ta— shit— take it."

but once you finally managed to keep him all inside, it felt ineffably good. both of them would thrust into you at their own pace, angled upwards which led to your tits constantly bouncing at the impact. with both your holes entirely saturated by their thick cocks, there was no spot inside you left unstimulated. hence, it wasn't long before your legs literally gave out from under you, but thankfully you had two pairs of strong arms to hold you and keep you upright for as long as they needed to use you for.

"gunna.. uhh— mph!" you groan. due the mass amounts of overstimulation, it wasn't long before the growing knot in your abdomen erupted all over hinata's dick, and your very first orgasm had you squirting all over his length.

this obscene display, along with your convulsing walls and pornographic moans was enough to fuel his first climax too, and he spilled his hot seed into your constricting cunt. "d—damn, s-so fucking tight!" he pulled out as he did so, hence some of his cum remained deep inside you or plastered to your sticky walls, while some of it painted your folds and dripped onto the hotel floor.

even while all of this was happened, oikawa's steady and rough pace never relented. he continued ploughing into your ass even as hinata stood for a moment to catch his breath and get hard again, but hinata — as well — immediately buried his fingers into your pussy to replace the absense of his dick.

with a bit more longevity, oikawa's first climax occured a few minutes later, as alluded to by his increasingly brutal pace into your puckered hole. basking in the snug cling of your walls, he remained inside you and planted his hearty load deep into your ass.

this warm sensation flooding your insides was enough to prompt your second climax, which had your legs shaking and your holes gripping onto oikawa's dick and hinata's fingers for dear life, rendering both of them unable to move. not that oikawa intended to anyway, he stayed stationary in your ass until you had thoroughly milked him dry, only then did he pull out.

"shit," he heaved.

"ready to go again, pretty?" newly erect hinata asked innocently, subtly aligning himself with your sticky enterance before you even managed to focus your eyes on him.

"shoyo, we'll switch, huh?" oikawa mused, idly rubbing your raw hole with his fingers. hinata nodded at the idea and hurriedly switched places with oikawa.

now in front of you, oikawa admired your fucked-out expression, and your wet lashline, "pretty girl, aren't ya? even after two loads." he pressed his lips againsts yours for a fierce kiss, during which he wraps his arm around your waist and guides you forward, so that you land perfectly on top of him as he stumbles back onto the hotel double bed.

hinata eagerly follows the two of you, and while you are laying on oikawa, he positions his cock by your ass.

after that night, you learned your lesson about getting in bed with olympic level athletes. the expensive booze and nice hotel rooms might be tempting, but their stamina is unmatched — you just about had to open your third eye to be able to keep up!

OSAMU & SUNA hadn't seen each other in so long. hence, when osamu invited suna to visit him back in hyogo, they had a lot to catch up on. due to his busy schedule and distant location, suna wasn't able to visit his hometown very often and shockingly, had never even been to onigiri miya. naturally, that's the first thing osamu wanted to show him when he arrived.

and how could osamu show suna his store without introducing him to his favourite worker?

your knees ached against the cold tiles of the backroom. the bleak, damp area where osamu would keep stacks of crates and cardboard boxes filled with random crap he bought in bulk — it was cramped and there wasn't enough room to swing a cat, but you make it work.

osamu and suna stood over you, gazing down in amusement as they watched you eagerly pump their fat cocks with each of your hands, simultaneously. your face wound in concentration, as your head bobbed back and forth between the two men's dicks; either licking the tip or taking a substantial amount into your mouth for a quick suck, then hastily retreating and servicing the other — lest either of them feel neglected.

but they could count on the fact that each time you'd give their girthy shaft a lick or pop their buldging tip into your mouth, your gaze would promptly flicker up to their faces, seeking approval in the form of a smile or a nod or a moan.

it was disgustingly cute how desperate you were for validation.

osamu even aknowledged your attention-seeking with a low chuckle, rasping out in a hushed voice, cautious not to let slip a moan from your furious hand-work on his cock, "good girl, ain't she?" even as he spoke to suna, he's eyes never parted from your needy figure below him.

and suna was the same; entirely fixated on you as he gritted, "y—yeah.." when you switched to licking his length and lapping up the salty precum leaking from his tip, he leaned down and cupped your chin with his strong hands, "mgh— fuck. can i- take her home?" what was supposed to be light-hearted joke, came out more as a staggered breath. a plea, even.

osamu tangled his fingers into your hair, and used his grip on your head to slowly guide you back towards his cock, smiling warmly as you gracious accept his whole length in your mouth again and begin frantically sucking. "hm, how's that sound, (y/n)?" he hums, greyed eyes locked with yours, "wanna go home with suna?"

he pushes you even further into his cock, and they both chuckle under their breath when you try to respond but all that ends up coming out is a muffled 'mmph!'

however, the vibrations of your lips against his cock are enough to send him hurtling over the fast-approaching edge, and osamu reaches his climax while buried in your mouth. just as he tips into his high, the waves of sharp bliss coarsing through him causes him to relax his grip on your hair, allowing you to finally jerk backwards and gasp for air.

although, these two occurences happening in tandem only leads to a sticky mess. his first couple spurts splash all over the lower part of your face, from your upper lip to your chin, and thus dripping down onto the breast area of your origiri miya uniform. as you continue to pump both their cock's with your tight-fists, any cum after that was angled directly into your agape mouth, to prevent any further disarray.

but what you weren't prepared for, was this obscene sight to cause suna to reach his own orgasm shortly after. so while you are still focused on osamu and trying to lick his tip clean of any remnants, suna — with nothing but a muted groan for a warning — furiously ejaculates all over the side of your face and hair, making you even messier.

being the behaved girl osamu trained you to be, you pumped him through his orgasm too and tried to gather as much of his bitter seed in your mouth as you could, but your efforts were in vain. you had been completed soiled with their sticky cum, and once he had finished, you had to wipe it away from your eyes before you even dared look up at them both.

their loads mixed together on your bruised lips and chin, stained your previously prisitine work shirt, and dripped from the loose strands of your hair. they had left you entirely dishevelled; it was so hot.

"what a cute mess." osamu wipes a bit of his semen off your chin, and held his finger in front of your mouth. you promptly opened up and licked it clean, a small whine escaping as you do so. "good girl. think you can go again?"

you pout up at him, silently, and osamu stroked your cum-stained cheek, while suna slumps against the wall and tries to catch his breath, "c'mon, suna won't be here for long. he's going home on friday." osamu bargains, but you don't seem to waver at that. so instead, he propositions, "i'll buy your favourite pretzels next time i go to the wholesaler."

now that piques your interest, and you nod enthusiastically to show your agreement. at which, he bend over and places a firm kiss against your forehead, while cupping your chin, "there's my angel." he rasps, "my employee of the month."

YAMAGUCHI & TSUKISHIMA paid extra to be roommates in college. little did they know, the fee they paid only guaranteed that they would be put in a room together, and not that no one else will be in their dorm with them. and that's how they met you.

thankfully you were chill though, the three of you got on quite well. there were two rooms in the flat — tsukki and yams shared one, and you got the other one. another girl was supposed to move into your room but she ended up dropping out. which was probably for the best, another person's presence might've disturbed the very delicate relationship the three of you have.

which basically means, the two of them are bests friend and they both think they are fucking you behind the other's back.

you knew you were into both of them at the same time, and at any point you could've pulled the plug on the whole charade and come clean, but you love the thrill of it. how tsukishima would ghost his fingers over your clit under the table while you all ate dinner together. or how you'd attempt the world's fastest quickie with yamaguchi whenever tsukishima would step outside of the flat for ten minutes to smoke. and how your heart would race in your chest as you both are half-naked, scrambling to get your clothes on when you could hear tsukishima's keys jaggling in the door.

thankfully you made it just in time, and tsukishima was way too tired to notice that you were wearing a karasuno hoodie and yamaguchi was wearing your lace cami.

regardless, you managed to keep this ploy going for almost a year. but as they say, all good things must come to an end. and that day came in the form of the night after your final exam for the semester, and the three of you were celebrating by boozing in your flat.

you started in the kitchen, making all sorts of concoctions out of the drinks you had splurged on. every single thing you made tasted vile and had around 60% alcohol content. you'd throw a splash of orange juice into a jug of everclear, pour into fancy glasses and call that a cocktail. cheers!

next, you migrated to their bedroom to do shots off the radiator. truthfully, you all calmed down a bit by then. each of them were sat on their own beds, and you were sprawled on the floor in the centre. you each had your own beverage and would sip it casually while recollecting on this last semester at college.

finally, once it got dark outside, you stumbled into the living room and plopped yourselves down in front of the tv to watch the bachelor and play a drinking game. however, around three episodes in, you were all so wasted you could hardly look at any more alochol, and were more absorbed into the show.

or, at least, they were. you were in a predicament. sandwiched between two cute guys on the couch, but if you were to make a move on one of them, the other would undoubtedly notice and that would spoil your entire shenanigan that you spend the whole year honing.

but fortunately, you were far too drunk to care.

without thinking much of it, your left hand moved slyly, hidden under the dark, towards yamaguchi's elastic waistband, playing with his drawstrings idly. his uncertain gaze met your own — and if it wasn't for the fact his better judgement was nullified, he would've immediately jolted away from this situation. but for some reason, he stayed docile and doting as you slipped your hand into his trousers to handle his hastily growing erection.

your eyes remain locked to each other, until tsukishima must've finally noticed the suspicious motion out of the corner of his eye, as he sits upright and yells, "what the hell are you—" evidently he was going to call to question you pumping his best friend right beside him on the couch, but you were quick to shut him up by snaking your other arms behind his neck and pulling him in close for a passionate kiss.

he's stiff and apprehensive at first, but it doesn't take long for him to melt into your touch, and your kiss gets so heated you're basically moaning into each other, lips weaving together fiercely and only parting for brief gasps for air.

of course yamaguchi noticed this too, but he was so out of it, he couldn't find it in himself to care — with the fuzzy drunk feeling, and the salacious stimulation from the friction of your palms against his cock, he was on cloud 9 and there was nothing that could bring him down. if anything, the sight of you and his best friend making out only turned him on more.

tsukishima's hands began to wander as you kissed; fondling your tits and pulling the neckline of you tanktop down so he could roll your pebbled nippled between his fingers. "tsukki.." you whined into his mouth, and he only glared down at you through his foggy glasses. "i need you inside me.."

before tsukishima had a chance to respond, yamaguchi must've overheard your request and thought it was directed at him, as he grabbed you by your hips and lifted you onto his lap, where his firm cock stood against his abdomen. you squealed slightly as this happened and held onto tsukki's shoudler for stability.

momentarily, their goals aligned simultaneously and both of their hands gripped onto the top of your pyjama pants and began tugging them down urgently; tsukishima working on getting your right leg out while yamaguchi did your left. and before you knew it, your bottom half was entirely bare as you were slumped back on yamaguchi's lap.

you could feel the imprint of yamaguchi's dick on your lower back and it was incredibly stiff. it was a miracle he had the patience to reach forward and massage your damp folds. tsukishima did something similar. he was sat beside you and it didn't take long before you both started kissing again, but this time it was less feverish and more gentle, fleeting even. and his fingers were glued to your cunt too, but unlike yamaguchi, he was nothing but an agitator. he'd pinch your clit and tug at your labia and tease your sopping hole, all while chuckling lowly into the kiss whenever he would elicit any kind of irritated reaction from you.

"ow, kei.." you moaned.

yamaguchi also noted what his friend was doing and huffed, "leave her alone, tsukki.. be gentle.." you pout and gently nod in agreement with yamaguchi's statement, and tsukishima simply rolls his eyes.

in contrast to his previous proclaimation, yamaguchi utilises his hold on your hips to hover you over his lap slightly, allowing him enough space to navigate his cock towards your puckered asshole. you're so absorbed in your kiss with tsukishima and his fiendish touches on your cunt that you don't realise what yamaguchi is doing until he's already sunk his throbbing tip into your hole.

your face contorts to reflect the lewd stretching sensation he's brought upon you and a whiny moan is ripped out of your throat. " ta— adashi!"

tsukishima is able to infer what's happened from your shriek-like moaning, and an amused smirk spreads across his lips, "what happened to being gentle?" he commented sarcastically, and you're too overcome by the conjestive sensation of yamaguchi's cock worming into your tight ass to even bother pay tsukki any mind. but tadashi did glare daggers at him on your behalf.

yamaguchi cradles your waist in his hands and tenderly rubs your supple skin, attempting to relax you to aid your hole accepting the rest of his length. "almost there, that's it." he muses quietly into your ear as you slowly fit more of him inside you. and with one last deep breath, you're able to reach his base. "there we go." yamaguchi praises.

"ngh!" you groan in triumph, chest heaving at the mental energy took just to try fight against your restrictive walls. but oh, it felt so rewarding to win.

tsukishima clicked his tongue, leaning back against the couch while his hand lazily made it's way between your thighs and inserted it's digits into your slobbering hole. so wet that your juices were foaming around his knuckles, as he curled them inside your pussy.

although he was silently jealous that yamaguchi was the one who was balls-deep in you, he couldn't falt his friend for taking the initiative. plus, it meant he got the pleasure of watching the erotic show that was your facial expressions while trying to take dick; your eyes would screw shut and your pretty lips would press together in discomfort, and your perky tits would bounce around when you would constantly shift yourself to angle his cock better inside you, but clearly all your efforts were futile.

but now yamaguchi wasn't doing anything. he wasn't taking advantage of the oppertunity like he should be. he just laid there like a dead-fish, in tsukishima's eyes. but what kei wasn't seeing, was how yamaguchi was revelling in the unreal sensation of your ass clinging onto him. even without stimulation it was enough to get him off and get him high.

but tsukishima was just bored. even if his fingers were buried in your cunt and your lips were peppering kisses on his neck. so he had nothing better to do than turn the tv back on with his spare hand.

and that's how the three of you spent a considerable portion of the night — with your ass cockwarming yamaguchi's throbbing erection, and tsukishima's fingers terrorising your poor pussy.

and of course the next morning was spent cleaning absurd amount of alochol, cum squirt and other bodily fluids off a couch that didn't belong to you.

BOKUTO & ATSUMU were both slumped on the bench after a long day of training with the MSBY jackals. it was especially intense and laborious today as they have a big game tomorrow, so the pressure is truly on. the two of them were both sat, sipping their water bottles and cooling down while talking about their upcoming match, until their assistant manager approached them.

"how are you feeling about tomorrow, guys?" you ask cheerily, holding their volleyball under your arm.

they glance nervously between each other; a strange sight from two men who are usually confident and upbeat. "uh.." atsumu starts, avoiding eye-contact by means of looking anywhere else.

"could be better." bokuto finishes his teammate's sentence with an awkwardly wide smile.

"awh, yeah. it's a lot of pressure, huh?" you chirp, and if it were coming from anyone but you, it would probably be patronising. with an innocent tilt of your head, you inquire, "anything i can do to help take away some of the stress?"

bokuto and atsumu both stare up at you with wide-eyes, and then turn to each other in unison.

what you had in mind was more to do with preparing their meals or helping them take their equitment to their car, but their idea works too.

in the jackals changing room, they had you bend over in between them. bokuto was sloppily pounding into your pussy with his monster cock while you were leaned over just enough that you were able to suck atsumu's dick at the same time.

at first it was a very strenous position, but eventually they ended up doing all the work. your knees just about went limp as soon as bokuto jammed his full length into your wet cunt, so he had his arm hooked under your abdomen to hold you up. to the point where your feet were basically hovering milimeters above the ground.

meanwhile, atsumu kept a firm grip on your hair and ensured you were slurping up every last inch of his cock. he'd grind into your face, enthralled by the way you were forced to deepthroat him and would moan lewdly into his base, "shit! good girl." he roared in pleasure. and since he towered over you, he was easily able to lean over and plant a harsh smack on your ass, with a hearty chuckle.

bokuto watched the jiggle and with a goofy smile plastered on his face, "yeah, good girl," he repeated, landing another spank right on your other ass cheek. however, he doesn't know his own strength at times and his slap actually stung, which caused you to instinctually gasp with atsumu's cock in your mouth.

and that really seemed to do it for him.

"what a naughty slut for daddy, huh?" he gritted, cradling your chin in his hands, "tryin' to impress me or something?"

tears prick at your lashline as you gaze up at him innocently. but there's nothing innocent about the way he shoves his cock into your mouth, or the way your tits sway as bokuto thrusts manically into your pussy.

"nasty bitch.. wanna impress me?" something about the way you feign purity really turns him on though, and that's what prompts him to keep an iron hold on your hair, even as he reaches his climax. "swallow it all like a good whore." he grits with a crazed smile. groans stumble off his tongue as spurts of his hot cum lauch down your throat, and you do what your told and swallow it all, not that you're given much of a choice.

"y-yeah.. just like that. fuck yeah, drink it all up, (y/n). drink it up for daddy." he grumbles with his head tossed back in ecstasy. all the while, bokuto is still relentlesly piercing into your tight cunt, basically splitting you in half with both his pace and his length. the twitching veins of his cock rub deliciously against your spongy walls, and are sure to send you over the edge any second n—

"uh, excuse me."

hm. perhaps it was due to atsumu's obnoxiously vocal orgasm, or bokuto's loud and passionate moans, or perhaps the sheer volume of the squelching noise eminating from your soaked pussy, but none of you were able to hear sakusa approaching and entering the msby jackal changing room.

thus, he was stood awkwardly by the enterance, staring at your current circumstance.

"uh, kiyoomi.." atsumu heaves, trying to focus his eyes after the post-orgasmic haze. "want to join?"

"always room for another bro." bokuto chimes in with a innocuous smile.

sakusa shuffles his feet slightly, wavering between staying and confronting the situation or just heading straight for the door like this gut wanted him to. but when he catches a glimpse of your cute face, still stuffed with atsumu's cock, and your ass in the air, grinding against bokuto's chest, that is enough to win him over.

"sure.."

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