scribbles

kay's writing blog

[aureations-blog]

(iwaizumi/oikawa)

prompt: "That looks good on you" Iwaizumi chokes. "I know," Oikawa smiles coyly, smoothing down the wrinkles of his red, pleated skirt

"That looks good on you," Iwaizumi chokes.

"I know," Oikawa says coyly, smoothing down the wrinkles of his red, pleated skirt, making them fan out across his thighs. Iwaizumi finds his eyes drawn to the motion, following Oikawa’s hands down and down and - fuck, Oikawa definitely knows he’s staring, the tips of Iwaizumi’s ears starting to burn.

“So what are you going to do about it?” Oikawa smiles, knowingly, and Iwaizumi, Iwaizumi thinks “fuck it”, dropping to his knees and placing his hands on Oikawa’s thighs, brushing against the red fabric, smirking slightly when he catches the flash of surprise on Oikawa’s face.

“How about I just show you?” he says, leaning in.

(2/100)

[aureations-blog]

(iwaizumi/oikawa)

prompt: Oikawa never stopped reaching for the stars and that's why Iwaizumi never stopped believing in him.

Iwaizumi knows that, to anyone else, Oikawa may seem too frivolous, too flippant-

(“How can you stand him, Iwaizumi?” someone asks him one day, eyes flicking over to Oikawa who is, once again, surrounded by a group of girls. “Not really captain material is he?” they say.)

-but more than anyone else, Iwaizumi knows Oikawa.

(His unrelenting determination, the way he is never satisfied with being merely enough, working himself harder than anyone can imagine.)

Iwaizumi was there, after all, at every late night practice, every early morning, every time he found Oikawa asleep at his desk, volleyball strategies strewn everywhere.

(So when someone says to him “I don’t know how you do it”, he thinks about Oikawa’s drive, his passion and that hard-headed stubbornness of his and Iwaizumi smiles.)

Oikawa Tooru never stops reaching for the stars and that's why Iwaizumi (could) never stop believing in him.

(1/100)

[aureations-blog]

sphallolalia + hanamatsu? (also hi)

Sphallolalia - Flirtatious talk that leads no where

“I’ve got a surprise for you.” Matsukawa says, smile smug. Hanamaki’s dozing on his desk, waiting for class to start but he perks up instantly when he spots the box of cream puffs in Matsukawa’s hands. “Thought you’d like them,” Matsukawa smiles, placing them down on his desk and watching him rip the box open in his haste.

“They’re perfect,” Hanamaki sighs happily around his mouthful, “want some?”

Matsukawa leans over to take a bite out of the half-eaten one in Hanamaki’s hand, “I’m good” he says, brushing off the stray bits of pastry on Hanamaki’s cheek just in time for Oikawa, who had been watching them both intensely, to squawk loudly.

“How long has this been going on for?” he exclaims, pointing at the two of them.

Hanamaki turns to look at Matsukawa. “Do you have any idea what he’s going on about?” he blinks.

“Not a clue.” Matsukawa says, watching Oikawa splutter indignantly.

“This!” he says, gesturing between the two of them wildly, “Since when have you two started dating?!”

Hanamaki stares at him. “Uh, we’re not?” he says, “Iwaizumi, please make sure our esteemed captain sleeps more because it seems like he’s started to hallucinate.”

Iwaizumi groans from the next table over and, not even lifting his head off his desk, flips them all off.

“I mean like, the food? The breakfast? The feeding? I mean, I guess it’s not-” Oikawa trails off thoughtfully.

“Not what?” Hanamaki prompts but they never find out as the teacher chooses that moment to walk in and start class.

-

“Is it weird?” Hanamaki asks as they walk home together that day, “that we’re like this I mean.”

Matsikawa shrugs, “Do you mind it?”

“Not really.” Hanamaki says.

“Then it’s fine isn’t it?” Matsukawa says, reaching out to grasp his hand. “We’re fine whichever way we want to be” 

[aureations-blog]

iwaoi + autolatry

Autolatry - The worship of one’s self

“Tooru! I’m done, where are yo-” Hajime stops. There, sitting on the edge of their bed, is Tooru, staring into the closet like it holds the answers to the universe.

He blinks. Tooru’s still there, staring.

“Tooru?” Hajime ventures, “What are you doing?”

“Iwa-chan” Tooru whines, eyes wide as he pouts dramatically, “What am I going to wear?!”

Hajime mentally sighs, watching exasperatedly fond as Tooru flails his hands around, complaining about one thing or another.

“Oi, Shittykawa,” he says, ignoring Tooru’s whine in protest of the name, “you know I think you look cute in anything, so just pick something and let’s go”

Hajime smiles as he leaves the room. He doesn’t need to turn around to know that Tooru’s turned the most adorably satisfying shade of red.

[aureations-blog]

Concilliabule for the seijou 4 or iwaoi !

Concilliabule - A secret meeting of people who are hatching a plot.

“Wow” Hanamaki grins as he walks through the gym doors half an hour before practice starts and finds Iwaizumi there, wrestling with a banner.

“You’re late” Iwaizumi snaps, glaring at him. Hanamaki ignores him, still giggling at his dust-covered appearance.

“What time did you get here? Where’s Oikawa?” Hanamaki asks, taking pity on him and pulling the banner off him.

“An hour ago. Fucking Oikawa ran off somewhere after dumping this banner on me.” Iwaizumi grumbles and before Hanamaki can comment, he hears a chuckle from behind him announcing Matsukawa’s arrival.

“Does your back hurt, Iwaizumi?” Matsukawa says, joining Hanamaki in trying to untangle the banner.

Iwaizumi blinks, thrown by the non-sequitur,  “No? Why?”

“Oh it’s nothing,” he grins, “I just though it must hurt, being wrapped around our captain’s little finger like that.”

Iwaizumi swears at them as they laugh at him, just in time for Oikawa to waltz in through the doors, a chocolate cake in his hands.

“Makki! Mattsun!” he says, “You two are late.”

Hanamaki rolls his eyes, “Who decided to text us in the middle of the night, telling us to come to practice tomorrow two hours early?”

“But Makki!” Oikawa whines, “It’s Kindaichi’s birthday!”

Matsukawa rolls his eyes, “You do realise he’d be happy with anything his beloved senpai gets him?”

“Matts-” Oikawa starts before getting cut off by an angrily approaching Iwaizumi, still tangled in the banner, “Iwa-chan, no! Don’t! I’m going to drop the cake!” he shrieks before all four of them dissolve into chaos.

(The surprise goes off without a hitch, Kindaichi blushing and tearing up, even when covered in chocolate cake)

[aureations-blog]

Anagapesis + iwaoi get rekt m8

Anagapesis - The feeling when one no longer loves someone they once did

He’s sitting at the next table, when Tooru spots him, talking animatedly with the person sitting next to him, beer sloshing over his mug, movements endearingly the same.

A few years ago, Tooru thinks, that person would’ve been me.

He watches as Hajime laughs loud and bright, exposing the long line of his throat as he throws his head back, a sight Tooru is intimately familiar with.

No, Tooru muses, a few years ago, it would’ve killed me that I wasn’t that person.

He watches the scene for a few moments more, smiling softly.

He turns away.

[squirreltastic]

Send me a word and a character/series/pairing and I will write a drabble:

Cheiloproclitic - Being attracted to someones lips. Quidnunc - One who always has to know what is going on. Ultracrepidarian - Of one who speaks or offers opinions on matters beyond their knowledge. Gymnophoria - The sensation that someone is mentally undressing you. Tarantism - The urge to overcome melancholy by dancing. Autolatry - The worship of one’s self. Cagamosis - An unhappy marriage. Gargalesthesia - The sensation caused my tickling. Capernoited - Slightly intoxicated or tipsy. Lalochezia - The use of abusive language to relieve stress or ease pain. Basorexia - An overwhelming desire to kiss. Brontide - The low rumbling of distant thunder. Agelast - A person who never laughs. Wanweird - An unhappy fate. Dystopia - Am imaginary place of total misery. A metaphor for hell. Petrichor - The smell of dry rain on the ground. Anagapesis - The feeling when one no longer loves someone they once did. Malapert - Clever in manners of speech. Duende - Unusual power to attract or charm. Concilliabule - A secret meeting of people who are hatching a plot. Strikhedonia - The pleasure of being able to say “to hell with it”. Ayurnamat - The philosophy that there is no point in worrying about events that cannot be changed. Sphallolalia - Flirtatious talk that leads no where. Baisemain - A kiss on the hand. Druxy - Something which looks good on the outside, but is actually rotten inside. Mamihlapinatapei - The look between two people in which each loves the other but is too afraid to make the first move.

[aureations-blog]

( iwaizumi/oikawa )

prompt

“Iwa-chan,” he hears and he looks up, dizzy and disorientated. Oikawa stands before him, the setting sun lighting up the flicks of his hair, messy and perfect like the rest of him. His eyes are serious, intense, the way they look before an important game and they’re focused on Hajime as if he is trying to bore into his very soul.

Something that tastes like dread crawls up his throat.

"Iwa-chan," Oikawa says again, words light, tone playful but there's something in his eyes that makes Hajime's breath catch in his throat, makes it dry and painful, his voice unable to speak.

"I'm sorry, Iwa-chan," Oikawa continues and he's smiling wide and fake, the way Hajime hates the most for all it's forced unnaturalness on Oikawa's features, "But I'm just, so tired. I can't do this anymore, Iwa-chan" he says and Hajime feels the ground beneath his feet start to shake.

"I tried so hard," Oikawa is saying and Hajime can't breathe, he wants to scream, why, what, his head barely parsing the words slipping out from Oikawa's mouth, "And I know you did too, we both tried so hard to love each other but-". Oikawa's laugh is a bitter thing, curling into Hajime's gut and hooking, pulling until he feels his blood, his life, spill out on the cold, concrete floor.

"I guess we just weren't meant to be, Iwa-chan" Hajime shakes his head, trying to tell Oikawa that he's wrong, that he's mistaken, that they were meant to be, the way they fit into each other so perfectly, the home he has, that they both have, curled up in each other, not knowing where one ends and the other begins but Oikawa looks at him, cold, hard and unforgiving, the way he does to many on the court and says, "I tried so hard to love you, Iwa-chan but it's destroying me, like it's destroying you."

Oikawa shakes his head, his feature tinged with sadness that Hajime feels to the bone, "It's okay, Iwa-chan. I'll always love you but I can't be in love with you any more."

Hajime reaches out, trying to catch him, feeling the ‘them’ slipping through his fingers, crying out, calling until his voice is hoarse, until all he remembers is Oikawa’s name but somehow never reaching him, never…

Hajime startles awake, hands cold and clammy, still reaching out for something that will never be in his grasp. He looks over to his bedside table where the second button of his uniform sits.

He throws it away.

[aureations-blog]

( oikawa/futakuchi )

prompt

His lips are red, Tooru notes, and when Futakuchi sticks his bottom lip out, full and enticing in a playful pout, he can see the shine of gloss smeared perfectly across them.

The corner of his mouth quirks upwards when he notices Tooru staring. “What are you looking at?” he smiles, teasing and coy, those lovely lips of his curled into an infuriating smirk that makes Tooru want to kiss it off him.

Instead, Tooru moves closer, rubbing his thumb against Futakuchi’s bottom lip as they part unconsciously for him. He watches Futakuchi’s soft exhale as Tooru lifts his thumb up, tongue darting out to taste cherry.

“You,” Tooru murmurs, his voice a low rumble.

Futakuchi’s smirk widens as he moves closer, pressing himself against Tooru, until their bodies are slotted together, hot and perfect. “Yeah?” Futakuchi breathes, and he’s so close, close enough for Tooru to feel his words against his mouth, just out of reach.

“Yeah,” Tooru says, his reply lost as he presses his mouth against Futakuchi’s, nipping and licking at the smooth cherry gloss, smudging its perfect shape across the delicate bow of his lips before delving deeper. He loses himself in the heat of Futakuchi's mouth, slipping his tongue inside, tasting cherries, sweet and addicting.

Breaking away for a moment, Tooru takes the chance to look at Futakuchi, flushed and panting slightly, reaching out to run his fingers lightly across his open mouth, red and kiss-swollen.

"You have such a pretty mouth, Kenji-kun," Tooru says, his fingers sticky with gloss. "It would be such a waste," he continues, trailing his fingers down Futakuchi's neck, leaving trails of messy, red gloss, "to feed it only kisses. Don't you think?"

At this, Futakuchi rolls his eyes, "I'm not sure what you mean, Oikawa-san," he replies, deliberately biting down on his bottom lip. Tooru chuckles, gripping his jaw with the palm of his hand, slipping two fingers firmly into Futakuchi's mouth, gloss sloppy and ruined. He watches as Futakuchi sucks on them lightly, his tongue flicking to reach the web of Tooru's fingers, coating them with saliva, wet and messy.

Running his other hand up the length of Futakuchi's back, Tooru grasps the back of his neck, leaning in to nip at the sensitive skin of his ear and feeling Futakuchi shiver against him.

"I'm sure you do," Tooru murmurs, as he pushes Futakuchi down gently, removing his slick fingers from Futakuchi's mouth, watching as his lips fall open for him, waiting, the perfect invitation.

[aureations-blog]

( oikawa/shirabu; prompt: teasing )

Oikawa Tooru may be a talented setter and admittedly okay looking but unfortunately he was also a bit of an asshole. In fact, he was a lot of an asshole, with a stupidly pretty mouth that would not shut up. Honestly, there's only so long that Shirabu could stand his bullshit for before telling him to fuck off. Or fuck him. Probably both.

Actually, that was probably his mistake, Shirabu thinks as the cold metal of the lockers press uncomfortably against his back, the older boy looming over him, grinning.

"I didn't know you thought my mouth was pretty, Shirabu-chan," the other boy says, with a gleam in his eyes that’s decidedly not good for Shirabu’s health, “Or that you had such a mouth on you.”

He is infuriating and Shirabu almost considers telling him to fuck off again. Instead, he fists his hand into the front of Oikawa’s shirt and pulls, crashing his lips to Oikawa’s, reveling in the way his mouth falls open in surprise. Shirabu nips harshly on his bottom lip before slipping his tongue inside Oikawa’s mouth. The asshole even tastes smug, the mocking curve of his lips that Shirabu can feel against his, cloyingly sweet, like the almost taste of honey, yet with underlying bitter notes. Shirabu really shouldn’t find it as appealing as he does, pressing in closer to Oikawa’s addictive heat, his eyes sliding closed reflexively.

Shirabu starts when he feels fingers in his hair, trailing down to play with the soft hairs at the nape of his neck, and palms, calloused and hot on the side of Shirabu’s face, angling his mouth upwards. Oikawa kisses like he plays volleyball, thorough and intense, licking into Shirabu’s mouth, making him let out a reluctant moan.

And then suddenly, he stops, breaking away completely, leaving Shirabu cold and wanting.

"Well," Oikawa says brightly, as if he hasn't just spent the last ten minutes with his tongue down Shirabu's throat, "This has been fun and all but I probably should be going. Wouldn't want people to think you're associating with an asshole like me, right?"

His grin grows wider and he throws a, "Until next time, Shirabu-chan!" over his shoulder as he leaves the locker room.

A trail of cursing follows him out.