No Context Just Oreo.

An Enemy Hypnotizes Bakugou and He Hurts You (BNHA Headcanons)

*GIF not mine*

A/N: Got outta writer’s block with this bad boy. Enjoy!

Word count: 2138

“Katsuki, this isn’t you! Look at what you’re doing!”

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Red rage burned in his eyes as he raised his sparking hands, both trained on you. 

Gritting your teeth, you settled back into your own defensive stance. Feet planted on the hard cement, you raised your arms across your chest and braced for impact, eyes glancing back and forth to ensure no more civilians were left on the street. 

The sun shone brightly in the sky, soaking into your skin and creating a halo around Bakugou’s blond head, despite which he still looked like a devil. A leer hung on his face as he circled you, a lion waiting to pounce on his prey. 

Pro Heroes were supposed to be arriving any second; after all, this was just supposed to be a simple academy training mission. You and Bakugou were supposed to survey a local villain terrorizing the streets and observe how a Pro Hero would go about capturing him. 

They should’ve remembered who Bakugou was and realized that he wasn’t the type of person to hold himself back from a fight, however, though distantly you assumed they believed you would be able to hold him back. 

They were dreadfully wrong.

“Katsuki, I don’t wanna hurt you,” you pleaded, softening your stance a bit. 

“Cute that you think I’m the one who’s gonna end up hurt,” he sneered, curling his hands into fists. Sweat dripped down his forehead and arms, further fueling the weapons attached to his arms. 

Panic struck you as you realized he had no control over himself and that no doubt he would use those weapons on you, full force. 

There was only one way to stop him before that happened. 

You would have to attack him first, hard. 

“Just remember, babe,” you shook your head solemnly, “I don’t mean any of this, and I would never hurt you unless I absolutely had to.”

Bakugou cocked a brow and curled his lip, hands sparking now more than ever. 

“Oh, and I also don’t forgive you for eating my muffin this morning.”

A grunt escaped him as he flew through the glass window of the restaurant behind him, crashing and collapsing against a table and chairs. You dropped your leg back to the ground, worry taking over your face as you strained to see his form in the dark restaurant. 

“Katsuki?”

“YN!” All Might’s voice dragged your attention away, leading you to watch as he landed on the street a few yards away. “Are you all right?”

Glancing back into the darkness of the restaurant one last time, you pursed your lips and turned, making your way toward the Pro Hero. “I’m fine, but Katsuki got-”

The wind gets knocked out of you just as you try to take another step, a blast of pure heat slamming into you and knocking you to the ground. 

Head smacking against the concrete, you bite down on your tongue hard enough to draw blood. 

“Shit,” you wheeze out as you roll onto your back, blue sky blurring above you. The epicenter of pain is on the left side of your skull and your head pounds with every heartbeat. Whooshes of blood flood your ears and a voice calls your name before everything turns to black. 

“YN. YN. YN!”

A hand pats your cheek gently, urging you to stur. When you continue to refuse, two fingers peel open your eyelid, flooding it with pure light and increasing the headache that had only been steadily pulsing before. 

“Ughhh,” you moan, unable to form words as the same person lifts open your second eye. 

A muffled “pupils are dilating” sounds far off in the distance before you feel your body being lifted up off the hard ground and onto something softer. 

Words like “hospital,” “concussion,” and “serious” filter in and out as you try to open your eyes, even the millimeter you actually obtain being a strain. 

Where is he? You try to form the words but your mouth feels stuffed with cotton and someone shushes you. Even in the blinding brightness, though, you can see him. 

He’s struggling in All Might’s grip, unsuccessfully trying to rip both arms away and barking at every EMT who walks past--who then begins to walk even faster--as his gaze continually glances from them on to you then back. 

Bakugou stops mid-shout and grows still when he finally sees your smallest of movements--the twitch of your fingers, the blink of your eyes, and the mouthing of his name.

Every ounce of fight in his body drains in that instant, and he slumps back against All Might, shoulders and brows drooping as he holds eye contact with you. 

Even in your daze, you wonder why he doesn’t come with, why they won’t let him come with, but that question falls from your mind the instant the ambulance doors are shut and they begin to drive away. 

Two days later, you were released from the hospital. You had a minor concussion and first-degree burns on your left arm, but otherwise you made it out unscathed. 

And during that time Bakugou didn’t contact you once. Not even a lame “Hey, u good?” text. Though technology was forbidden for the first couple days after your concussion, you still snuck out your phone from time to time to call him, text him, anything. He never responded. 

You told him that you were okay, that it was okay. You knew everything that had happened wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t in control of himself. Someone had forced him to hurt you and he’d had no part in it. If he had, he would’ve stopped it, you were sure. 

Nothing. 

All you would get was a little check mark marking each and every one of your messages as “seen.” 

Now that you were coming back to school today, you could finally give him a piece of your mind after that silent treatment. 

First thing you did when you arrived was look for him, but he was nowhere to be seen. People flooded you as you entered, asking if you were okay and how many fingers they were holding up. 

You noticed they were asking all but one question: What happened? 

Although you didn’t necessarily want to answer it anyway, this still piqued your curiosity and just as you prepared your own inquiry Aizawa entered and they scurried to their seats. 

Still no Bakugou in sight. 

The most acknowledgement the weary teacher gave you after your absence was a nod and an unceremonious grunt before diving right into the lesson. 

Though your doctors would blame it on your concussion, you found yourself unable to pay attention. It wasn’t even anger towards Bakugou at this point, but genuine panic that he hadn’t shown up yet. You never even thought to wonder what happened after you were knocked out until now. 

Maybe he got hurt too, or was it possible he could still be hypnotized? No, no way. You saw him recognize you post-knockout. So where was he?

The minute class ended you were out the door and running to the dorms. If Bakugou wasn’t there then obviously this situation was more serious than you thought. 

You hit Floor Four and bounded past Kirishima to the absent blond’s room, pounding on the door with all your might. 

“Katsuki? Are you in there?”

His red-headed friend watched as you knocked, flinching each time the door shook hard enough to rattle the entire level. “YN.”

“Katsuki I swear to God if you keep ignoring me-”

“YN.” He tried again, growing anxious. 

“I’m gonna kick your ass so bad you won’t even-”

“YN.” 

“What, Kirishima, what?”

It took a few seconds to register that he hadn’t said your name the third time. Snapping your head to the other side, you faltered at the sight of the blond. 

Hair ratty and tangled, eyes puffy and sunken, cheeks pale and bloodless. If anyone were to guess, they would think Bakugou was the one who took the beating. 

“YN.” He repeated your name like he was pondering over it. 

You heard a door click and turned to see Kirishima gone, disappearing into his room. Glancing around the hallway, you realized it wasn’t exactly the perfect place to have such a serious conversation and gestured for Bakugou to open his door. 

The second it was closed, you turned back to him and threw him a dirty look. “Why didn’t you respond?”

He stayed quiet for a second, looking you up and down, up and down. His mouth opened and closed like a fish gulping, and you took the time to notice how bloodshot his eyes were. Then, finally, he spoke. “Are you okay?”

Anger swelled at his dismissal of your question, but before you erupted you noticed something. Though Bakugou’s hands twitched at his sides, every time you moved closer toward him he would inch away. 

Taking a deep breath, you moved another step closer, startled when he took one back. 

“Why are you…” you trailed off, struck by his apprehension. 

“Are you okay?” he asked--no, he insisted. When you responded “yes” he nodded slowly and clenched his jaw, turning away. “That’s good.” Instead of facing you he began to fiddle with his desk chair, rotating it from side to side. 

You step closer, reaching out your hand to touch him and sighing when you see his shoulders tense. It hurt to see him like this, avoiding your every touch like it would give him the plague. “Why?” you whispered sadly.

“I read all your texts, you know.” He turned around and leaned back on his desk, propping himself up on his hands. When his eyes met yours, you saw the crimson was filled with pain. “You said it wasn’t my fault that you got hurt, that it was someone else. Someone else burned you, knocked you out. Someone else hurt you. ” He swallowed roughly. “But that’s a lie.”

“Katsuki, no it’s not-”

“It is, YN!” he snapped, pushing off his hands and pacing “I’m the one who hurt you! I used everything I had against you, to purposefully hurt you.” When he stopped in front of you, his cheeks were puffed and red, a muscle in his jaw twitching. 

He was angry now, pissed off but you knew it wasn’t at you. It was at himself for something he couldn’t control. 

You hated it when he was like this. 

Quickly, before he could flinch away you grabbed both sides of his face and pulled him in, close. He wriggled in your grasp, even preparing to wrench your hands off with both of his own on your wrists before you raised a brow. “You really wanna do that?”

Hesitantly he dropped his arms to his sides and gave in to your hold. The muscles in his face relaxed under your touch, and you started to brush your thumbs over his cheeks with a small smile. “Katsuki,” you leaned your face in closer, “the only thing that hurt me during all that time was you ignoring me. Did you know that?”

“YN, I was just trying to-” Before he could finish you yanked his forehead down to press against yours, effectively shutting him up. 

“Did you know that?” you repeated, slower this time. 

He rolled his eyes and pressed harder against your forehead. “No.”

“Look at what I’m trying to tell you, Katsuki. The only time you ever hurt me, the only time you ever caused me pain, was when you ignored me after I was injured.”

“I’m…” ever so slowly he let his hands trail up to your hips, settling there and squeezing for just a second. He closed his eyes and let out a soft breath. “I’m sorry.”

Your mouth twitched. “Sorry for what?”

“Come on, YN, don’t-”

“Sorry for what?” you laughed, tugging him back in after he tried to pull away. 

Apologies, especially of the genuine kind, were rare for Katsuki. In fact, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d even heard those words fall from his lips. 

But here they were, some of the hardest words to ever say, laid out for you and you only. 

Bakugou’s gaze travelled up your face, pausing on your grinning lips before continuing on to a permanent stop on your eyes. His own lips perked for a second. 

“I’m sorry for ignoring you after you were hurt.” 

Carefully, like you were a china doll, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close. His body was harsh but warm against yours as he leaned his cheek against your hair. 

It was sweet. The sweetest you’d ever gotten out of him, but…

“God, you are one awkward hugger.”

“Don’t test me, YN.”

Darling Traps Them in a Room to Escape (Yandere Haikyuu!! Headcanons)

*GIFs not mine*

Ushijima and Oikawa Version

Sugawara and Kuroo Version

Tendou and Hinata Version

A/N: Man have I been wanting to write so bad lately. Here’s a lil thingy cuz I’ve really been into the thought of yandere hcs these past couple days. Enjoy!

Word count: 1996

Bokuto Koutarou:

Sobs ring throughout the apartment as you dig through nightstands and other drawers in sight. 

“YN please don’t do this to me! Please, please just let me go so we can talk about this!”

A lump formed in your throat as you shuffled through pens and papers faster, hoping, dreaming that you could make a noise loud enough to block out his cries. 

For a man who had been serious enough to plan your kidnapping for months, he certainly seemed quite immature when it came to that plan backfiring in any way shape or form. 

You’d only been searching for bobby pins for a whopping five minutes and in that time Bokuto's managed to wail his voice to pieces and give you a headache. You’d compliment him on the newfound talent but you felt it would excite him too much. 

“Bokuto, shut up will you?” Frustration had you wanting to rip your hair from your scalp, and Bokuto’s constant howling only made the idea more tempting. 

You know the words struck a chord when he gasped from within the closet. Silence followed, with only the occasional sniffle to keep you company as you rifled through the bathroom. A small whoop escaped your lips when you located a small package of bobby pins Bokuto had no doubt purchased on your behalf. 

A thousand times over did you thank your old habit of boredly watching lock-picking videos on YouTube--who’d have thought it would actually be useful?

“So… you don’t love me anymore. Is that it?”

You sat crouched next to the front door, scratching the rubber ends off the pins when you choked on your own spit at Bokuto’s question. 

“I- what?”

“Please, YN, think about what you’re doing.” If his voice earlier had been an elephant, his voice now would be a mouse. Soft, whispered, gentle.

Heartbroken. 

“I’ve been thinking about doing this for a while now Bokuto.” You swallow and return your gaze to the lock, pressing the bobby pins into the keyhole with pursed lips. “The only one who hasn’t been thinking about what they’re doing is you.”

“So you’re just gonna leave me here.” Ah, you were wondering when the waterworks would return. “All alone? Did you ever even love me?”

Delusional. The poor boy you had liked in high school was now so, so delusional. Insane enough to kidnap you from your home, and crazy enough to think you had been okay with it. Six months of unreturned affection should have told him otherwise, but it seemed Bokuto was a lost cause all the way around. 

You kept your lips tightly shut, focused more on each click of the lock than whatever grief-stricken words were leaving Bokuto’s mouth at the moment. 

“You didn’t?” His voice was clogged with unshed tears. “Not even for a moment?”

Maybe once.

“I’ve loved you ever since I first laid eyes on you, YN.” His voice returned with a new vigor, quiet all the same and yet with new undertones of will. “I know you feel the same way.”

Slam!

An involuntary squeal left your lips at the sound of the closet’s door tearing away from its hinges, crashing to the ground with an ear splitting bang. 

Bokuto stood in the doorway, black and white hair in disarray as an emotion swam in his golden gaze. You couldn’t put your finger on it exactly.

Perhaps it was anger. 

No.

Maybe sorrow?

Nope.

It was…

“YN.”

Each step he took toward you matched your heart as it pounded, his legs making quick work of the distance as he bounded toward you. Strong arms yanked you to your feet before pulling you off the floor completely. A hand under your knees and one on your back, Bokuto hauled you bridal style back to his bedroom without so much as a grunt of effort. 

The emotion. It was fear. 

Pure, unadulterated fear. 

Fear made tears trail down his cheeks, made his fingers tremble and twitch as he held you, made his heartbeat so quick you could hear it pulsing next to your ear. 

“I can’t stand the thought of losing you, YN.” Back to the bedroom. “I love you too much.” To the same bed you’ve been stuck to for months. “And I know you love me back, baby.”

No matter how much you twisted and struggled in his grip, he still managed to lock the cuffs on each one of your wrists, forcing your arms up and above your head with your legs free and kicking on the mattress.

Not again.

Quickly, Bokuto straddled your legs, restricting their movement while he ran a hand down your face. “I know you love me too,” he whispered once more, dazed eyes taking in your face. 

Those two bobby pins sitting just in front of the door, along with the rest of them, would no doubt be disposed of. Knowing the bad memory that came attached to them, Bokuto would have no qualms about burning every last bobby pin on Earth in order to terminate such a reminder. 

“No, no,” he shook his head at himself. “I know you love me. But maybe you just need a reminder that I love you, baby.” 

His eyes brightened at the thought at the same time yours widened. 

“No-”

“Shhh,” he pressed a finger over your lips, a smile now taking over his face. “Was that why you tried to leave? You thought I didn’t love you anymore?”

“Mmm!” You wriggled and shook against your restraints, not willing to acknowledge just how useless the fight was. 

“Don’t worry, YN. Of course I still love you!”

His eyes darkened. Then his tongue peeked out to run over his bottom lip. 

“But I’ll happily show you that if you still don’t believe me.”

Kageyama Tobio:

Trapping Kageyama in the bathroom was hard. Even harder than you expected. 

However, with one swift kick to his behind, he stumbled inside just enough off balance that you could yank the door shut and slip the chair under the knob before he had time to right himself. 

“YN!”

Since then, he’s been silent. Or, silently fuming. Every few seconds, you heard a huff or a grunt or a growl. It appeared he was none-too pleased to be locked up. 

Huh. Wonder how that feels.

And yet, you could find no devices to help you escape. The only furniture that even seemed strong enough to use as a battering ram was either too heavy to move or was currently stopping your kidnapper from escaping. 

Nonetheless, you kept searching. 

No keys held in obvious places. No sticks skinny enough to pick the lock. Nothing. 

Kageyama wasn’t the only one with a temporary vow of silence--even you knew not to poke the bear during a time like this. Over the last few weeks, you had learned that a silent Kageyama was worse than a loud one. 

Right now, he was a ticking time bomb behind closed doors, which meant you had to get out now or never. 

Do or die. 

Should he somehow escape to get back to you, you had no doubt you were in for some serious payback tonight. Though Kageyama had never laid his hand on you before (even while he held you captive), you had a feeling he would lose that level of restraint once your five minutes of fame were over. 

Which meant you had to escape some way or another. 

There were no windows in the house that weren’t either barred or made of glass even a bullet couldn’t get through, so those weren’t an option.

The front door… it seemed plausible. Battering ram or not, there wasn’t actually too much to it aside from a lock and chain. Maybe your own brute force was the best way to go. 

Pain erupted through your shoulder after the first attempt. Then the second. 

Third, fourth, fifth. 

Crack!

The hinges began to splinter from top to bottom, and you knew the next hit would be your last. 

Stepping back farther this time, you readied yourself for impact before-

“YN.”

Kageyama’s voice, still muffled through the door, was firm and loud. 

“I will come after you.”

You stopped in your tracks, gulping at the thought. 

“Y-yeah? I’d like to see you try.”

He huffed before you heard a thump. 

“Just don’t do anything stupid while you’re out there, okay?”

“You best believe I’m gonna-”

“Be safe, dumbass,” he hissed. 

Your heart twinged. Oh.

You wanted to hate him for everything he’s done. You really did. But… you couldn’t find it in yourself to do it. Before, when you were just the average boyfriend-girlfriend couple, things were great. When he started getting more possessive was when you worried, and when he locked you up was when you panicked. 

But it was only now that you remembered this was still the boy you loved, to some degree. 

“I will… asshole.”

Kozume Kenma:

Kenma was never affectionate. 

In fact, he hardly ever touched you. In the soundproof apartment he had you trapped in, he usually minded your space, so much so that you even wondered why he bothered with you in the first place. 

Maybe you were going crazy yourself, but you couldn’t stand it anymore. Aside from the occasional forced cuddle or hug, Kenma didn’t ask for anything of you, only that you didn’t leave. 

It was some kind of mind game he played with you. When you realized he was manipulating you into breaking away from all of your friends and family, he also realized you noticed. 

And so, he locked you up to… just keep you around?

You were sick of it. Done. Tired of the mind games. 

So while he finally let you off his lap so he could take his habitual bathroom break from gaming, you shoved his rolly chair under the door and began the search for the key. 

If I were a lazy psychopath, where would I keep my keys?

“YN, are you really doing this right now? Come on, I was in the middle of my game.”

Of course that was all he could think about. Standup guy, that one. 

“There’s a simple solution to this, Kenma. Just let me go and you can go back to your goddamn video games.”

“YN, I don’t… I didn’t want to let you go just yet.”

“What am I, a dog? You’re a freak, Kenma, just tell me where it is!”

“YN, please, can’t we just talk about this?” His voice was no different than usual, soft-spoken and untroubled as always. 

You hated it. It was like he had the situation all under control. 

Well, he did but you didn’t like to think about that. 

“Kenma, please, can’t you just see this from my point of view? I don’t understand why you keep me trapped here 24/7 for no reason! Can’t you at least tell me why?”

He stayed silent for a second, then you heard a small clink. 

A key slid out from under the door, all the way out to the tips of your toes. 

Your jaw almost dropped at the sight. That was all it took?!

“...Why?”

Why? Why take you away only to let you go so easily? Why hold you captive only to rarely be around you? Why did he do any of this?

“Because. Because I know someday you’ll come back to me.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Because you’ll never be the same after me. And one day you’ll realize the only one who ever really cared about you was me.”

You open your mouth to respond, only to find yourself at a loss. 

Without another word, you slip through the door, gripping the key with all your strength. 

He’s wrong… isn’t he?

If your still adding people to the reborn tag list, may I be added plz?👉👈

Yep! You’ll be on the taglist (btw, I love all the lil comments you leave on my posts🥰🥰)

Hello 👋 😊 I want to let you know that I love your work. I mean I absolutely love it! Hearts all the way from the moon and back- Like, damn, you’re amazing. I especially liked the Yandere Garou one, because, like- How could one not? But the others are just as great! So thank you for giving us all this content ;)

YOURE AMAZING TOO I PROMISE!!💜💜 only amazing people would so kind to personally write messages like this, so thank you so much☺️ I’m glad you like my writing (especially yandere Garou bc he’s👌👌), and I hope you know your kind words made me really happy!!

The darling escape scenarios are sooo good, I love this series 😭 the fact that bokuto was afraid above all else hurt me even though I know he’s so messed up LOL but the kags and kenma scenes really surprised me! my heart usually sinks when the yandere gets out and captures reader again but this time it sank in a completely different way, watching the emotional manipulation working into reader’s thoughts 👁👄👁 I always hope for reader to succeed in escaping though, so I hope they did make it out and got away for good 🤞thank you so much for writing these fics, they’re always so fun to read!

😭😭this is so sweet!! I’m really happy you enjoyed the post as—ngl—I wasn’t really feeling too confident about posting it. The positive reviews it has been receiving in just a few short hours makes me want to write so many more though💜💜 thank you so much for this, and thank you all for the support recently🥰

I promise there is plenty more yandere content to come😌 and I’m glad you enjoyed the way I write them😚

So uh heheh funny story

I started this blog (much like the others) when the quarantine hit. Obviously, that’s dying out now, and life is returning to normal. School has started back up, jobs are starting to rehire, and especially in my personal life, everything is back to a full churn.

I may not be the most committed writer of a blog on tumblr, but I wanted you all to know that I will do my best to write when I can. This may be once a week, or maybe not even for months. I will try to bust out my requests when I have the time, but from now on, I guess you could say this blog is “on hiatus.” Thank you all for the support I’ve gained in the recent months, and I wish you all good luck in returning to your normal lives💜💜

-Oreosmama ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ ∫

Voicemails After the Breakup (Haikyuu!! Headcanons)

*GIFs not mine*

A/N: I pity the fools who ignore this a/n bc WARNING, these are hcs without those stupid bullet points bc I have suddenly emotionally decided that they fucking suck. Anyways, I hope y'all enjoy the light angst, for all those survivors who are still vibing in this fandom. Enjoy!

Word count: 1968

Tooru Oikawa:

“I’m totally and completely over you.”

That’s how the message starts. 

Part of you wonders if you missed something, or accidentally skipped ahead. It’s so immediate, like Oikawa could barely wait for the beep before tearing into you. Like he needed to spit poison the second he had the chance. 

And it’s one of those biting remarks that he wants to let fester—for a while, evidently; he doesn’t say anything else for another five minutes. 

All that follows is a loud thud, like he’s thrown the phone away from him. And then footsteps, like he’s pacing, pacing, pacing back and forth, trying to think of more scathing words by burning holes into his carpet. 

You hit a point where you think you should delete the message, maybe try and not care about whatever else he may or may not say after waiting for so long. You nibble on your nails and tug at the snarls in your hair. You pick four pieces of lint off your sweatshirt and seventeen more off the blanket draped over your lap, and you know how many there are because you line them up and count them afterwards as you wait, anxious, listening to your ex-boyfriend’s panting. 

But a small rustle stirs at that five-minute mark, right against your ear. And a sniffle. 

“Fine.” Oikawa’s voice cracks. “You win.” 

You suck in a breath. 

“What do you wanna hear? That I miss you?” He sniffles again, then scoffs bitterly. “That I miss you so fucking much I can’t sleep at night? That my bed is so fucking cold now I can’t even stomach sleeping in it? That every girl I see I automatically compare to you because I have to—I just fucking have to, all because she’s not you. And it makes me sick.”

His chuckle is sour and crackles harshly into your eardrum. “Am I stroking your ego enough, sweetheart? Because you win. You fucking win.

“I want you back.” 

He sighs, and it sounds like he’s rubbing his forehead. 

“I need you back.” 

More beats pass in the silence. More sniffles, too, but stretched out, like he’s trying to steady his breathing. 

You don’t think it’s helping him any. As you wipe the cuffs of your sweatshirt underneath your eyes, his voice returns, thoroughly raw and wounded. It squeaks out of him, barely above a whisper. His voice is so loud and tender, like he’s cradling the phone against his cheek. 

Your hand against his warm cheek, curled over that pink skin, fingertips inches away from brushing through those soft strands, wiping tears. That’s what you wish it was. 

“I didn’t know…” 

A shaky breath. You hold yours in return. 

“I didn’t know anything could hurt this bad.”

He swallows thickly. 

“Those last few moments after you left—I thought that would be the worst of it. When you just walked out. And I keep seeing you do it, over and over and over, in my head like I can’t help but torture myself with it.

“I never knew it would get so much fucking worse.”

He whimpers a little, and your heart constricts unbearably. You tear at the damn thing buried underneath your sweatshirt, massaging the skin like it can soothe that phantom ache. 

Oikawa must hate you. Maybe he hates you like you hate him: not because of the breakup, but because you can go for weeks without seeing him, holding him, kissing him, and everything still hurts like that last time. 

“Thing is, I could’ve sworn you weren’t always in my life. It’s been two years. Only two years. And yet I can’t remember a damn thing before us. It feels like it was always us. Some fog, and then you, and then everything afterwards. Everything that was us.”

“And I hate that we had it so good, YN. I really do. Because missing you has been the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

The frustration in his voice is familiar, a sickening sense of deja vu around it, and you latch a hand over your mouth at how vividly the image comes to you: Oikawa tearing his fingers through his hair, teeth gritted, cheeks flushed and shiny. Like when he lost a game, but different somehow. 

Like this was something he didn’t even know he could lose.

He’s crumbling in a way he doesn’t know how to stop. That ugly part about having something wonderful and new—the moment it’s gone, what the hell are you supposed to do then?

“I just—Goddamnit, I can’t stand how badly it hurts anymore. I can’t,” he cries, desperate and aching, like his hand is fisting at his heart. You can hear the breath hitching in his throat, the hiccuping breaths after his sobs. You can hear every tear, feel it against your own cheeks, a soreness building at the front of your skull. 

Too many tears. Your body is screaming at you, too many fucking tears. 

But it’s him and he was yours and you were his. 

Were. 

You were his. 

You had no idea how much that single thought could make your entire chest throb. 

Oikawa inhales, and it makes your heart race against the thick wall caging it in, squeezing against it. 

“I need to see you.” 

He says the thought like it’s just slapped him across the face. 

“I need to go see you, I—I have to.” 

He mumbles to himself unsteadily, like he’s rocking back and forth. Debating, really, what he’s supposed to do, if he should do it at all, if it’s right after everything.

You should probably think he’s wrong.

You probably shouldn’t be curled over your phone, eyes wide, mouth open, not making a fucking peep. Waiting to hear what he’s going to do. 

Maybe—just maybe—you shouldn’t be telling yourself that as the voicemail counts down to its final seconds, if he decides he’s not going to go to you, that you’ll definitely be going to him.

“I can’t just sit here. I can’t stay in here, without you. This isn’t right, I—”

Your breath hitches when you hear the frantic jingle of keys. 

Then the sound of a door slamming. 

His footsteps racing down his apartment’s stairwell.

A car engine revving. 

“I need to see you.” 

And the voicemail ends. 

_________________________

Satori Tendou: 

The message begins with a scoff of utter disbelief. 

“Is that what we’re doing now?”

He pauses, almost like he thinks you’re going to respond. 

“Heard from someone that I suddenly have syphilis. Yesterday, I had herpes though, so I guess I’m gonna have a tough week.”

A rustle like he’d shaking his head, like he can’t fucking believe it. 

“And sure, okay, I figured that’s fine. You can say all that shit, and it won’t really stick because everyone knows it was us and that it’s you and you’re hurt.”

He sighs. 

“But I saw it, sweetheart. I saw it.” The phone whines like he’s adjusting it against his face, and his voice is suddenly lower, darker. 

“You don’t get to have it both ways, you know. You can’t spread all that shit—all those rumors about how shitty everything was and how we didn’t have anything going for us—and then turn around two days later wearing my sweatshirt. And you don’t get to wear that necklace I gave you for our anniversary and then run away from me the second you see me. That’s just not fair—you’re not playing fair anymore.”

Something swishes around like loose clothing, and a large huff greets your ear from what must be Tendou collapsing into a seat. When his little sounds become quieter, that relentless humming and the excitable clicks of his tongue against his teeth, you figure he must have put the phone on speaker and balanced it on his knee like he always did. Mid-conversation with Ushiwaka, he always used to spin his phone with those long fingers, or bounce the damn thing up and down against his frantic leg. 

And the voicemail came through late last night, one of those dead hours where the only ones awake were Tendou, his scrambling thoughts, and the moths flitting back and forth outside his glowing window. He was always awake, always thinking, always doing something. 

When you’d first broken up, after one long, wrenching fight where you’d both lost your voices and the frustration welled so high you just couldn’t breathe anymore, you’d been thankful for the idea of sleeping soundly for the first time in months. 

You’d been wrong. You weren’t even sleeping anymore; just long, slow blinks where your phone screen would magically turn from 3:45 a.m. to 7:25 a.m., and in five minutes you’d have to get up and slug your way through another day. 

Tendou had been the same. Those naturally wide eyes sagged under the pressure, and the curve of his spine had deepened like he’d been hauling the lack of sleep everywhere he went. 

He must be sitting at his window now, at this moment in his message, pale skin aglow with wispy tendrils of moon. And he’s calling you. And he saw everything you’d done. 

“Not fair. Not fair at all,” he whines, teasing. Always, always teasing, and if you hadn’t heard the slight cripple in his voice on the last word, you’d have gone on thinking he viewed it as one big joke. 

You’re sure he heard the same thing you had—that he couldn’t keep acting like it was all fun and games. His usual, cat-like smile surely fell into a pert little frown, pale lips twisting like he’d sucked on a lemon. 

No fun, no fun, no fun, he must have been thinking. 

“Ya see, I thought we had a little deal,” Tendou drawls. “You’d talk smack and start dressing all pretty just to spite me, and then–and then I’d go ahead and delete all your pictures and put your name as ‘Bitch’ in my phone. And in, like, two weeks, we’d just be two ships, whoosh, whoosh, passing each other on the high seas of life, ya know?”

He breathes a ghost of a laugh. 

“But, sweetheart, you look like shit.” He chuckles for real this time, and it’s disgustingly hollow. “I’m not even kidding. Like someone ran you over three times every morning—it’s horrible, really.”

You curl into yourself even further, and you’re smiling, grinning, lips peeling with how much you’ve cried and how little water you’ve drank after. You hate him; God, you hate how he can make you laugh and cry at the same time. 

“But that’s okay, I’ll give you a pass just this once. I haven’t deleted your pictures yet, so I botched my end of the deal, too.” Tendou tsks his tongue. 

“I won’t go easy on you, though. Here–here, how’s about this: for every day you stop wearing my clothes—because they look horrible on you, sweetheart; really, you’re painful to watch—I’ll delete one of your pictures, eh? That means, in about–uhhdivideby365daysinayearignoringleapyearbullshit–ah, seven years, I’ll have held up my end. S’that good with you?”

You lean your head back, letting the tears flood your hair as he chuckles to himself. 

“Fuck it,” he says after a pause. Hopeless. Breathless. “Fuck it.” He must be gnawing on that pale lower lip, biting and nibbling until it bleeds. Because he lets something go to sigh again, and he must have smacked his head against the wall, and then you think he sniffled. 

“I still want you. I’ve always wanted you. And I’m tired of missing you and wanting you. Doing both hurts too much.”

Tendou soughs.

“So I’m still your Chicken Tendy, baby. Always. And I’ll be here when you're ready, syphilis and all.”

Love Me Through the Phone (Bokuto x Reader) (NSFW)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: After Bokuto leaves for an away game on Valentine’s Day weekend, you’re left to handle the day’s pleasures all on your own. There’s just one little problem--nothing comes close to what Bokuto could give you. Luckily, he offers a solution, and though it’s completely out of your wheelhouse, you find yourself desperate enough to give in.

Warnings: smut, phone sex, mutual/guided masturbation, dirty talk, slight praise kink, slight dumbification, edging (if you squint), (gentle) dom!Bokuto

A/N: Happy belated Valentine’s Day! Here’s a lil gift from me to u that I’ve had stuck on my mind for a while. Yes, yes, I know, I ain’t great at writing smut, so if someone else wrote this prompt w/ Best Boi Bokuto™ uhh… *cough cough* sendittomeplsnthx. Enjoy!

Word count: 2731

        “So… what are you wearing?”

        “Jesus Christ,” you break off into a laugh, picking up the phone. 

        “Nah, nah, c’mon, I’m serious. We gotta start somewhere.”

        Still shaking your head, you lean back on the bed once more, propped up on a few pillows but otherwise completely reclined. “Fine, fine, but anything else like that and I’m gonna have to leave you to your hand.”

        “I promise, now c’mon. Tell me.”

        “Seriously?”

        “One-hundred percent.”

        You purse your lips, debating a little. You can feel how much you want it--want him--and when you shift your hips, you can almost feel it soaking uncomfortably against your clothing. He’d texted you minutes ago with a proposition after learning of your predicament last night. 

        You’d wanted him so bad, but that alone wasn’t enough. Bokuto was off at an away game, and the distance--plus it being Valentine’s Day--only made things worse. You’d tried so hard, even trying to imagine his hand in your own’s place, even his tongue. It was just not enough. 

        Though, Bokuto didn’t seem to know how to handle the situation either. 

        “Fine, fine. I’m, uh, I’m wearing that little dress you like-”

        “Yeah?”

        “-and those silk panties you almost tore that one time.”

        “Really?”

        “Fuck no. It’s a Monday--I’m wearing sweats and a tank top, and I’m pretty sure there’s at least two rats making babies in my hair.”

        “Well at least someone’s getting some.”

        “Kou!”

        “Sorry, YN!” Bokuto whines, his voice crackling through the line. “But come on! Take this seriously.” He pauses, silence flooding your room.

        “Just… let me help you.”

        Your thighs subconsciously clench at the tone. It’s so familiar it’s like they’re preparing to be spread apart. 

        The place between your thighs is soaked by now, far more stirred than you’re letting on. The fact that your voice is still steady surprises even you at this point. 

        “You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

        “Don’t be, baby. Just lay back for me, will you?”

        “Okay.” Gnawing at your cheek, you make the choice to place Bokuto on speaker, setting him down just beside your shoulder so you can hear his every word. At this point, you’re on your back, head lain on a pillow and hands dancing along the strings of your sweats.

        “Comfy?”

        “Yeah.”

        “Good.” There’s a few shuffles over the phone, and when Bokuto’s voice returns he sounds a little out of breath, a little strained. “Good. Okay.”

        “Okay,” you nervously parrot, not really sure what else to do with yourself. Slowly, you’re beginning to gather that neither of you have done this before. Despite Bokuto sounding so confident earlier, he now seems reduced to the same anxious, aroused mess that you are. 

        “All right, now just…just follow my lead, okay?” 

        “Mhmm.”

        “I want you to go slow, no matter what I tell you. Don’t speed up until I say.” His orders, simply the thought of their implications, leave your fingers twitching closer to your arousal. The need to touch yourself was beginning to leave a yearning that ran rampant through your veins. A single spark filled your stomach with heat. 

        “Okay.”

        “Good,” he exhaled. “Now touch yourself.”

        You almost choked on your spit. “Wh-uh, I mean,” your gaze traced along the ceiling frantically, desperately trying to distract yourself from the burning in your cheeks. “Like, where?” 

        Your question had slipped out without a second thought, and when Bokuto chuckled, the flush spread to your chest. 

        “Maybe you’re right,” he pondered. “Let’s go slower than that.” A huff, then his voice returned, excited. “All right, I got it. Think of me, all right?”

        “Kou, I already tried that.”

        “I know, baby, I know. But now you can actually hear me, and you don’t have to imagine a thing. Leave it to me.”

        You were grateful he accepted your timid silence as approval. 

        “Okay, so… think of me touching you, right? Like I’m right there in front of you, baby, and I’m just running my hands all over you-”

        “Kou?” you cut him off, blindly picking at your fingernails. 

        “What’s up? You wanna stop?”

        “Can you touch yourself too?” And it’s when he falls silent that you realize how awkward that sounded. “Ah shit, I-I mean, like, I just kinda felt awkward doing it alone and like I felt like if you were doing it too I’d feel better about it and-”

        “God, YN, you thought I wasn’t doing that already?”

        “What?” 

        He scoffs, and shame begins to sour your anticipation. 

        “The second you said you were touching yourself to the thought of me, babe, I was at it. You seriously thought I was gonna sit here and just let you play with yourself while I’m over here just listening?”

        “I mean, a little…”

        “Shit, YN. I let you tie me up once and suddenly you think I like being blue-balled.”

        “Well…”

        “It was one time!”

        “Whatever, Kou! Can we just…get back to what we were doing?”

        “Fine, fine. But we’re discussing this later.”

        “Okay, okay. Just get on with it, will you? Please, Kou, I…” you pause, body once more growing aware of the situation between your legs. “I need your help.”

        “I know, babe.” Bokuto gulps, taking a second to relax himself once more. You’re busying yourself with fiddling with the bottom of your tank top now, tempted to just lift off the damned thing along with the rest of your clothes. 

        But you’re a little curious if Bokuto would mind that.

        “All right, sweetheart. Like I said, follow my lead.”

        You hum. 

        “I want you to imagine me there, right on top of you, baby. Think of how I’d push your shirt up, how I’d run my hands up your sides. Do that to yourself for me, will you, sweetheart?”

        You listen and copy his words, running your hands underneath the cotton hem and brushing your fingertips along your hips, just as Bokuto had done so many times. 

        Well, it wasn’t perfect. But his voice certainly helped. 

        “Go up higher, baby. I want you to hold those pretty tits of yours.

        “God, I can almost feel ‘em in my hands. So soft, always wanna keep my hands there. So fuckin’ pretty.”

        “Kou…” You do as he asks, but it’s not enough. You want more, now.

        “I know, I know. But remember, sweetheart, I said we’re taking things slow tonight.”

        “But-”

        “Now touch yourself. Imagine my hands playing with those cute little nipples of yours, baby. Make ‘em all tight and perky for me.” Hesitantly, you follow his lead. Your fingers draw circles, tug and caress like how you remember he would after long days. How his hands would yank off your shirt before palming and squeezing and stroking. Some days he was really mean, and your hips shifted at the thought of the dark marks he would leave scattered along your chest. 

        “Feel good?” His voice is breathless, and you’re a little uncertain of whether that means your soft moans had somehow passed through the phone line despite how much you’d suppressed them. Though, Bokuto did like you loud. 

        “So good,” you pant, hands still toying almost torturously. “But I want more, Kou, please.”

        “Fuck, baby, I ever tell you how cute you are when you beg?”

        “Kou…”

        “Fine, fine. But you know I’d play with your pretty tits longer than that. From now on, let’s go at my pace.”

        Fuck. You knew Bokuto had a pace, but when it came to nights like these, it was slower than you’d expect. Though most nights Bokuto jumped you and kept at it like a rabbit, there were just some days where he dragged things out, usually just to hear you beg for him. An ego boost, or whatever. Like he needed it. 

        “Slowly, sweetheart, bring your hands down to your thighs and spread ‘em, nice and gentle--you know how I’d peel ‘em apart.” He broke off into a grunt. “And t-then stroke the insides of your thighs, baby.”

        “Kou?”

        “What’s up?”

        “Do,” you clench your jaw, telling yourself to get over the embarrassment by now. “-Do you want me to take my clothes off?”

        “Fuck, you still have any on? Why?”

        “Oh.” You took that as a cue to tear off your tank top and sweatpants, a little ashamed by the eagerness with which you did it. That feeling only grew when you squirmed out of your panties, catching a glimpse of the glistening stain left on them. 

        An idea hit you, and though you knew it would only make you flush more, you wanted to hear his reaction.

        “Kou?”

        “Are they off?”

        “My panties are soaked.” 

        The reaction was instant. 

        “Jesus–fuck,” Bokuto hissed under his breath. You heard something akin to skin on skin as his cursing hitched, and a strangled groan filled your ears. 

        “Fucking tease,” he rasped when he finally seemed to stop himself from going too far. There was a tension in his voice that warned you he wanted revenge. “Put both hands on that wet little pussy, sweetheart. For that, I wanna hear it.”

        Finally. The second your dominant hand made contact with your swollen clit, your hips jerked up without volition. “Sh-it.”

        “Nu-uh, YN. Keep them there. Two inside, one on your clit. Nice and slow.”

        It was hard to keep a steady, controlled pace. Your hips kept bucking, your back kept arching, and the two fingers Bokuto had ordered deep inside you weren’t reaching that little spot he seemed to have memorized like the back of his hand. 

        The lone index finger you kept circling your clit wasn’t doing your sanity any favors. The muscles of your thighs began to tremble in sheer desire of some actual force, a little muscle behind the action. 

        “YN,” Bokuto’s tone was low, warning. The second you’d sped up your hands to meet your needs, Bokuto could hear your closed-mouth whimpers growing higher. 

        “Kou, please.”

        “Hands off, baby. Completely.”

        “Wha…” you opened your mouth in protest, reluctantly pulling two soaked fingers out of your weeping hole and forcing your hand away from your clit. 

        “I told you to listen, baby. And now that’s all you get to do.”

        “Kou, what-”

        “Ahh, shit.” You slam your mouth shut, biting your lip at the delicious moans echoing through the phone. “Fuck, so good.”

        Bokuto’s strained groans come quick and in between pants. You’re positive there’s a sheen of sweat covering his forehead now, his arm flexed and taut as he strokes himself. 

        “YN, baby. ‘F-Feels so good.”

        “Kou,” you plead, gaze a little unfocused as you listen to his moans while forcing your hands to stay at your sides. You feel yourself twitching, clenching around nothing. 

        “Fuck, wish I was inside you right now.” Throaty moans now filter through the crackling line, so loud you wonder if the neighboring apartment can hear--not that they shouldn’t be used to it by now. “You’re always so fucking tight, sweetheart. Always so wet and tight on my cock.”

        “Kou please, let me-”

        “Hold on. Just a little more, baby--fffuck. Know you wanna touch yourself. Spread your legs for me, but don’t touch.”

        You peel your knees apart once more, frustrated to no longer have any friction to work with. Your hips roll desperately, but it accomplishes nothing but making you more desperate. You can feel your arousal dripping down, now, soaking into the sheets. 

        “You remember before I left, sweetheart? Remember how I fucked your pretty little brains out? Never seen you like that before, so pretty and crying over how good my cock felt inside you.”

        “Yes, Kou, yes! Please, just let me-”

        “Said you couldn’t walk the next day. Said I fucked you so good you couldn’t feel your legs, baby. You feel ‘em now? All spread apart and just fucking shaking? If I fucked you right now, sweetheart, you think you could even think straight?”

        “No, Kou, fuck I need you so bad.” You threw an arm over your eyes, the other digging into the sheets as you waited and waited for permission. 

        “You only got your fingers, and you can’t even use ‘em. All you got is me, the thought of me fucking into you, turning your pretty little brain into mush. Making you feel so good all you can do is cry. Baby, I still got those scratch marks on my back.”

        “Kou-”

        “Just a few more days, sweetheart, and I’ll have you making new ones. For now though, I suppose I could let you play with yourself.”

        You almost cried out in relief, hands darting down to your aching, sopping hole, feeling as it drenched each fingertip with ease. 

        “Three fingers inside. I know you can take it. Pretend it’s me warming you up for my cock, baby, stretching you out and having you dripping all over my fucking hand.”

        He’s right, it is a stretch, and you almost whimper when you press your fingers up and against the little pleasure center deep inside you, fingertips just barely brushing. 

        “Your little clit hurts so good, doesn’t it, baby? You’re being so mean to it aren’t you, rubbing hard circles into it.”

        He pauses, breaking off into a drawn-out groan of your name. 

        “I don’t care. Go faster.”

        And you do, and he’s right, and you just can’t bring yourself to care as you press harsh patterns into your clit, struggling to pump your fingers at the same time without losing pace completely and frustrating yourself. 

        “That’s it. Say my name, baby. Scream my name while you play with yourself. Couldn’t do that by yourself, could you?”

        “Kou--fuck!” You clench your eyes shut, arching your back harder as you speed up your desperate ministrations. Heat gathers at your clit from the friction, and your slick is practically gushing now, loud and pornographic.

        Bokuto certainly got what he wished--there was no way he couldn’t hear how wet you were. 

        “You can only touch yourself with my help, can’t you? So fucking good to me, baby. So pretty playing with your tight little hole like that. Dirty little thing.”

        “God, fffuck,” you whimper, back arching when your gushing finally reaches its peak. 

        “You coming?”

        “Y-es!”

        “I wanna hear who made you feel this good. Who made you play with your own little pussy so good, baby?”

        “Kou! Yes, Kou!”

        “Good girl. Good fucking girl.” Bokuto moans one last time, loud and guttural, and the slick of your fingers brushing and kneading your clit becomes too much. Your legs, spread wide and strained, shake with the effort as your back arches against the pillows behind you, head tossed back and mouth open in a silent gasp. 

        Bokuto soothes you on your way down, small “I love yous” and “so good for mes” traveling over the line. When your body finally stops twitching, you lean over and snag your phone, turning it off speaker and pressing it to your ear. 

        “Thank you, Kou,” you hum softly, lethargic and exhausted. “That was so much better than last night’s shit show.”

        “I’m so relieved, baby.” He pauses, humming. “And glad to know you can’t seem to come without me.”

        “Yeah, well, good thing you’re coming back soon. This was good, but…” You sit up, staring at his side of the bed, a little unkempt from you rolling over to it in your sleep night after night. “I wish you were here.”

        “I know, baby. I wish you were with me too.”

        “It’s so lonely without you.”

        “I know. I miss you.”

        “Plus I finally found out where you hid those handcuffs after that night.”

        “Goddamnit, YN, just throw those fucking things out! I’m not getting blue-balled again!”

You Use the Safeword (Haikyuu!! Headcanons)

*GIFS not mine*

Kuroo and Kageyama Version

A/N: I’ve got like a million ideas for these, so just be prepared. (PS: someone needs to tell the star wars writers to get some yandere kylo ren out here😤 like yall im thirsty)

Word count: 1269

Bokuto Koutarou:

He’s the type to spring to the other side of the room the second he hears the word “Chumbawumba” fall from your lips. 

It’s a mewl and whimper all wrapped in one that swiftly and harshly rip his heart in two. 

While you crush a pillow against your chest to try and assuage the pain, a wave of horror dawns on Bokuto’s face. He’s watching every move you make to ensure you’re still actually breathing just as the first tear slips. 

Soon, it’s not alone as he starts bawling, his whimpers and sniffles leaving his face a damp, mucus-drenched nightmare.

“Oh Bo...”

“YN I HURT YOU!” 

You could physically watch as that fact ate him up from the inside out. First, he crumpled to his knees, and then he hugged them to his chest. Muffled sobs echoed around the room louder than your cries of pleasure ever had, leaving you to wallow in pity as your boyfriend beat himself up. 

“Bo, I’m okay, I promise.”

It’s a struggle at first, but you still attempt to ease yourself off the bed. Bokuto’s ears perk and his head raises but the second he spots you reaching out for him he springs to his feet.

“NO!” Tears start falling even faster when he notices how you flinched at his cry.

“Please, YN,” he continues, voice lowered, “I don’t want to hurt you again.”

Pursing your lips, you try to take another step but he presses himself harder against the door, hand scrambling for the knob. Just as he finds it, you pounce on him, snatching his wrist and yanking it towards you.

“YN wait-”

“Shut up,” you huff out, gripping him even tighter when he starts twisting and tugging his arm. Without missing a beat, you yank the hand towards your body and press it just over your heart.

His fingers are cold against your hot, sticky skin, but that doesn’t stop you as you watch his expression, waiting for a reaction. 

“...Why?”

“Because Bo,” you roll your eyes and press both hands over his own, “my heart is still yours, no matter how many times you get a little rough in bed.”

He’s silent as he studies your hands on his, even more so when he raises his other to wipe the saltiness from his cheeks. 

“I... I never wanted to hurt you, YN. Not in a million years.”

“I know, babe. And that’s what the safeword is for,” you gesture back to the bed. “Remember? We came up with it so you wouldn’t accidentally hurt me, and that’s all that was--an accident.”

He sniffles once more before nodding. “Okay.” The hand on his own cheek transferred to yours with a hesitancy you had never felt before. When his fingertips met your skin, he sighed in relief, cupping the side of your face and running a thumb just over the rosy apple of your cheek.

You smile and press a kiss into his palm. “All right, how about we watch a movie instead?”

“I don’t think-”

“If you go out and get my favorite candy, I might just give you forgiveness cuddles.” His eyes glowed with anticipation. 

As always, Bokuto was only willing to accept your kindness by working for it; he never thought he deserved it otherwise. That’s why the second you suggested the offer, he zipped out of the room in only his boxers and T-shirt.

“I’LL GET YOU ALL THE BOXES, BABY, JUST YOU WAIT!”

“Bo, don’t forget-”

“SHIT, MY SHOES!”

Tsukishima Kei: 

He knows it before you even whisper “ginger shrimp.”

Your lips formed into an “o,” but not a good “o.”

Tsukishima’s eyes widen before he turns away, climbing off you and reaching for his glasses. They clatter to the floor and he leans down to grab them, trembling hands unfolding the lenses and pushing them up his nose. 

“I’m sorry,” he grunts. His voice is hoarse and quiet; less scathing than you had ever heard it. Even in a moment like this, you wish you could see his face but his back is turned toward you completely. 

“Tsukki...”

“I’m going to... go get you an aspirin and a glass of water. E-excuse me.” 

Shock encompasses your face the second you hear your boyfriend--your overly-critical, always-sarcastic boyfriend--stutter for what must have been the first time in his life. 

You don’t bother to point it out though because the door is already closing behind him the minute you shake yourself out of the daze. 

His bedroom is silent, but not the comfortable silence you and him are both used to. It’s painful and awkward and worries you about whether Tsukishima will even bother talking to you for a while. 

You can’t even hear a sound in the rest of the house because the atmosphere is so dark and heavy. A lump forms in your throat and you glance at the clock. 

Ten minutes.

Ten minutes have passed since he said he would leave to get you a painkiller. It didn’t even hurt anymore at this point, and truly what surprised you the most was how hard Tsukishima took it on himself. 

You decided to go investigate after another five minutes ticked by. 

The hardwood floor left a flood of chills racing up your body as you tiptoed through his room and out into the hallway. With only his thin sheets to keep you covered, you sneaked down the stairs and padded into the kitchen.

No luck.

His white blanket dragged along the floor as you traveled past the small opening into the living room, finally spotting your boyfriend.

Long fingers tangled into blond hair as his back curled over, elbows stuck on his knees while he cradled his head. 

You chose to stay silent and not disturb him, instead making your way over and plopping onto the cushion next to him on the sofa. He raised from his position and turned to you, eyes snapping open. 

“Sorry, I didn’t get your-”

Your arms wrapped around his neck as you twisted your body to trap him in a hug. The sheet slipped down your body but you didn’t bother adjusting it, not when there were more serious matters to handle. 

“YN...”

“Shut up,” you dug a hand into the nape of his neck, shoving his face into your collarbone. “I’m fine, you doofus. You didn’t kill me; I’m not as fragile as you think.”

You felt his jaw clench against your chest before he huffed, not-so reluctantly returning the hug with his arms around your waist. 

The living room was silent for a moment, just you and Tsukishima soaking up each other’s presence in the early midday hours with only the birds outside to keep you company. His skin was warm and bare against yours, but, unsurprisingly, his fingers were colder than ice. 

“I told you that was a bad idea, you know.” And there it is. 

At least it was nice while it lasted. 

Tsukishima pulled away and glanced your body up and down in what he must’ve thought was a discreet way. 

“It sounded like fun, you know. At least I thought you would’ve liked it.”

He set his jaw. “If it meant you never getting hurt again, I’d say we should stick to vanilla from now on.”

“Aww, but where’s the fun in that?”

Okay yall, hear me out:

Iwaoi x reader

—thank you for coming by to my Ted Talk