#tsukishima my love

[merelydaydreaming]

three episodes into wind breaker and tell me why i could tell sugishitas va just on his "growl"!

[temeyes]

my darling tsukki!

[iiwaijime]

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

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

wc; 1227

"do you want to get married?"

you blink, thinking you may have misheard.

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

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

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

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

"no? are you joking?"

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

"no, but—"

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

"we arent even dating!" you protest

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

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

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

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

"yes," you blurt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"yeah?" you ask.

"yeah," he replies hoarsely.

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

"yeah," he repeats.

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

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

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

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

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

"let me go!"

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

BONUS BECAUSE ILYGS

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

"no, the fuck?"

"but you were dating, right?"

"no, we weren't."

"how does that even work?"

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

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

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

also tysm @mitskicain s parents for the inspiration ☝️😎

@akaakeis + @smiithys

[nappingmoon]

tsukki has a beloved cat that he talks to about you. has genuine conversations with the little ball of fur that lays on his chest while long, lithe fingers scruff under his chin and over his back. he knows his cat understands, he always meows at the right time and tilts his head when tsukki’s being immature or wrong. when he first tells that cat your name, he seems to purr twice as loud and turns over on his belly, demanding more pets. it seems the little critter has already formed an opinion on you, and tsukishima can’t help but agree.

tsukishima, even nervous and giddy, consults his cat about whether he should make the first move and just kiss you already.

when his lips are finally on yours, his mind strays for just a moment to his cat, grateful for his council, before returning to an overflow of thoughts of you.

[kokokoula]

just a lil thought i have: tsukishima kei isn't great with words, and he knows it. so he sends you a playlist with songs that could convey at least half of his love for you. he keeps the title simple, just your first name, no emojis, keyboard symbols, anything else. the picture is one of the many photos he secretly takes of you. you hate it, but he adores it. he updates the list of songs regularly, adding anything that reminds him of you, even if it's vaguely so. if you ask him about the reason for the playlist, he'll say it's because you need a better taste in music, but in the description, it says, "you're my everything. i love you."

"what do you think about the playlist i sent?" kei asks on the way home, trying to act nonchalant about it, but you notice him fiddling with his fingers. you take one of his hands and clasp it with yours, swinging your arms just a bit.

"it's perfect. i love it." you grin up at him, and he gives you a small smile in turn. he tugs you in towards him and rests the arm you're holding onto around your shoulders, pulling you close.

"the picture is awful though, it'd be so much better if you'd replace it."

"continue dreaming."

"oh, c'mon, kei!"

---

additional note that tsukishima absolutely gatekeeps the playlist and refuses to share its existence to anyone. even yamaguchi only knows about it through your conversations with him.

[kiyoors]

stay

tsukishima kei x reader

warnings: afab! reader, mentions of unprotected sex, unclear relationship between reader and tsukki, kei is bad at feelings

you hear tsukishima shuffling in the bathroom as you lay on his bed.

looking up at his ceiling, you try to figure him out: is he the kind of guy who’ll kick a girl out after he sleeps with her? will he let you stay? should you get dressed and make a run for it while he’s busy?

instead, you stay where you are, only choosing to drape your arm over your face, the crook of your elbow resting over your eyes. you close them. you’ll leave it up to him to decide what he wants to do with you.

would he walk you home if he kicked you out?

eyes still closed, you hear him come back into the room. you brace yourself for rejection and the eventual walk of shame.

the bed dips as he kneels on it, inching closer to you.

you feel him tap the side of your naked thigh, “open your legs,” he says

you do so, choosing not to remove your arm from covering your face until you feel him clean the mess in between your thighs with a damp hand towel. you guess it’s the least he could do before kicking you out— given that most of the mess is his.

he sighs once he’s finished, discarding the rag, eyes still not meeting yours as he makes his way to the dresser across the room.

“you…” he drags the question out as he rummages through the top drawer.

“want a shirt?”

you hum, and he throws it over to you.

he’s pacing the room again, picking up the various clothing items you were each wearing before the night’s encounter.

you see him fold your pants, the shirt you were wearing, and your bra. he picks up your panties and finally, shyly, meets your gaze, cheeks coloring.

he throws these at you, too. you to put them on.

he’s back to his drawers, pulling out a clean pair of sweatpants for himself. the waistband rests low on his waist as he finally, finally, comes back to bed.

“umm,”

you take this as your cue to leave, sitting up and moving to the edge of the bed, searching his room for your phone, your keys, your wallet.

“i tend to run pretty cold at night,” he begins, clearing his throat, “do you want an extra blanket incase-

“are you leaving?”

he cuts himself off when he realizes you’re collecting your belongings, your pants already in hand, waiting for you to put them on.

you feel like a deer caught in headlights. your mouth falling open into a soundless oh.

“you want me to stay?” you ask him, unsure

immediately, tsukishima gets defensive, closing himself off, “i mean, no one’s forcing you to.”

he looks away, and you feel like hitting yourself with a hammer repeatedly.

“text me when you get home.” is all he says, still not meeting your eyes.

“tsukki-”

“what.” his tone is harsh. he’s furiously picking at the skin around his cuticles.

“i-i want to stay,” you tell him, nearing him where he is sitting on the edge of his bed. while he still pretends to be upset, he’s readily parting his legs for you to nestle in between them, burrowing his head in your stomach as you stand in front of him, your fingers immediately moving to scratch his scalp the way he likes. his hands gently cup your ass, bringing you closer.

tsukishima breathes in the scent of you and him mixed together through his shirt. you’re good to him. too good sometimes.

the truth is he wants you to stay in his bed (and his heart, and his life) forever.

“call me kei,” he tells you finally, softly, “s’the least you can do after asking me to cum inside you.”

“kei,” you say, smile on your lips, savoring the syllable, “can you get me an extra blanket?”

he huffs, pulling you down to lay beside him, “you won’t need one after i’m done with you.”

[nobieka]

that moment when your friends who hate physical touch show physical touch :

[courtesanofdeath]

Tsukishima Kei ☾

dedicated to @peskyfirefly ♡

[panukkie]

So ive been watching golden kamuy

[cucumbernimbus-58]

rises from the ashes of back pain to offer this, only to get hit by a clown car

Part 1 | Part 3

[gyllenekamuy]

[owlyflufff]

and if I cry?

[temeyes]

megane-kun problems

[chaosemmie]

streamers

[thoughtssvt]

uchiyama kouki 🤝 characters who don't talk much but bodies everyone

man i love uchiyama kouki his voice is just so buttery mfff

[kokokoula]

when it comes to you, tsukishima finds himself being protective of you without even trying.

he hears your worries about the same friend for maybe the hundredth time, about how they got mad at you for something incredibly harmless and for you being you. he rolls his eyes at your friend's overbearing insecurity and their lack of taste in people as he seemingly reads his book. he had suggested you find a better friend, but you insist they make you happy. he scoffs at that. he himself already makes you happy, why would you need someone else who can't even give you half the joy he does? he doesn't say that though, instead he insists in turn that he comes along with you the next time you two meet. he can already imagine yamaguchi surprised at him for volunteering to go to a social gathering.

"you won't scare them off?" you make him promise and as much as he wants to make them feel sorry for ever hurting you, he sighs and promises. on that day, he stands right behind you, keeping an eye out for every single interaction you have with your friend. you introduce kei, and his looming expression doesn't change. he sees their uncomfortable smile and avoiding of his gaze, and couldn't help but smirk. you nudge him with your elbow, and tsukishima ruffles your hair. "don't worry, pipsqueak." he says, keeping his voice low.

tsukishima isn't a fan of any sort of pda, but throughout the entire time, he makes sure to have some sort of physical contact with you. it could be an arm around your shoulders, or just rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hand. the last thing he wants is you feeling anxious about your friend, despite you assuring him you were perfectly ok. you know his well intentions, and at the end of the day when your friend has left, you treat him to strawberry shortcake.

"what's this?" he asks as he digs his fork into the cake. you intertwine your fingers with his free hand.

"just for you being, well, you." you grin and he melts like he always do when you smile at him. he gives you the first bite.

"you're gonna be the death of me, love."