Oikawa as the Boy Who Wouldn’t Grow Up, and Ushijima who stumbles into Neverland on one strange, unforgettable night.
“Do you believe in magic?”
Ushijima frowns, shakes his head.
Oikawa laughs, proud and pretty.
“Let me prove you wrong, then.”
Oikawa takes Ushijima’s hand in his, small and warm, grip gentle but firm. Bathed in something luminous that Sugawara had called pixie dust, Ushijima and Oikawa start to float, ascending into the moonlit sky slowly but surely, as if they weighed no more than a feather.
Wakatoshi has known the realities of arranged marriages from a tender age. His parents’ marriage, as loveless as it is enduring, is one of convenience.
That’s why, when it was decided that Wakatoshi would marry Tooru,
a prince from the House of Aoba Johsai, Wakatoshi knew, more or less, what to expect. He’d been prepared for this. He must be strong for it would be a marriage that is cold, lonesome, and unhappy; they would be partners, but only in the most detached, distant sense.
Wakatoshi is hardly the sentimental sort of fellow, but he can never forget the first time he fucked Tooru. It’s easy to remember, to be taken back to that moment, because Tooru still feels as tight as the first time Wakatoshi had taken him.
He doesn’t know how Tooru manages to make the initial slide so satisfying every single time, but Wakatoshi certainly isn’t complaining.
“Tooru,” he groans when he bottoms out, which always requires a moment of pause.
Wakatoshi is much bigger than every single one of Tooru’s past lovers.
He’s long enough that Tooru feels him in the back of his throat before he even bottoms out, thick enough that Tooru has to use both hands to completely encircle his girth.
Ushijima, arranged to be married to a woman he barely knows, meets stunning and single Oikawa, their wedding planner.
The attraction is instant. It’s dangerous, like a lit matchstick in a forest.
To his credit, Oikawa keeps his distance. There is always space between them. But his glances, brief as they are, linger like the touch of a hand that Ushijima aches to hold.
Wakatoshi’s self-control is slipping, and Tooru is to blame.
“Toshi-nii, you feel so /good/,” Tooru moans as he rolls his hips in fervent, fluid motions that have the older alpha groaning.
Here’s the thing. Wakatoshi had always been protective of Tooru. When they were younger, he found himself playing the part of the knight in shining armor, even when Tooru himself was no delicate princeling and was capable of fighting (and starting) his own battles.
Oikawa has been patiently waiting for Ushijima to realize that their relationship has never been purely physical.
Their arrangement wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a way for co-captains and stressed-out college students to blow off steam.
Something simple, something casual.
But right from the beginning, Ushijima had made that impossible.
At the recommendation of their doctor, Wakatoshi purchases a hammock for Tooru, his heavily pregnant mate, when sitting begins to leave the omega feeling restless and uneasy.
* Note: In this universe, omegas are intersex. Words like cunt and pussy are used.
It’s a strange thing, Tooru thinks, to be held so close that he feels every breath Wakatoshi takes, and to still feel as though they’re oceans apart.
It’s clear in the way Wakatoshi looks at him when he thinks Tooru isn’t aware of the eyes tracing his silhouette.
He thinks that Tooru will leave. After three months of seeing each other, Wakatoshi is still waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Oikawa,” Kuroo says as he approaches Oikawa’s seat. “I didn’t know you went to Shiratorizawa.”
Oikawa, who had been resting his head on his folded arms, straightens up and shoots Kuroo with an icy glare. He’s still groggy from the night he had, but he isn’t so tired that he’d let such obvious lies slide. He opens his mouth to protest—
Ushijima’s face gives him a lot of trouble working as a pediatrician. Children generally don’t respond well to his stern features. He reminds them of a parent, perhaps a strict teacher, someone they might expect to be scolded by.
Patient, polite, and perceptive, Ushijima is among the best pediatricians in their town. But kids don’t care about that when you look the way Ushijima does.
Some are neutral about him, neither pleased, nor fearful, and that’s about as good as he could hope for.
Oikawa never would have imagined that his night would turn out like this. Who’d have thought that he’d be riding the goddamn mechanical bull, with Ushijima right under him, keeping both of them steady as they swayed?
It started with a dare.
“I bet the two of ya can’t stay on that thing,” Atsumu had said, drawl stronger now that he was tipsy, or maybe it sounded that way because Oikawa /himself/ was tipsy.
Aug 28, 2022 • 7 tweets • 3 min read
/ personal
The first time I listened to Paradise in 2018, I burst into tears. Listening to it again, after having started therapy, is an emotional experience. So much of what I learned through my doctor is reaffirmed in the lyrics. But these stand out:
open.spotify.com/track/1YO4xJXh…
Stop “running” for nothing. Stop “running” for others’ sake. Make meaningful choices that won’t cost you your well-being.
Aug 25, 2022 • 34 tweets • 5 min read
#ushioi — nsfw, omegaverse, age difference, “pup” as a term of endearment, slight praise and breeding kink
Tooru has been on the receiving end of a few comments since he started dating Wakatoshi, a younger alpha.
“Will your pup be coming, Tooru?”
Tooru whips his head towards Issei, who is looking at Tooru with his familiar lazy grin. Their friends have yet to arrive at the restaurant, and Tooru supposes that the alpha would be teasing Tooru to pass time.
“Aoba Johsai’s Crown Prince is involved with their baker.”
Kei narrows his eyes at Tadashi as he prepares his materials for the day. How his friend manages to gather gossip from neighboring kingdoms is beyond Kei’s concern and understanding.
It’s not the first time the thought crosses Tsukishima’s mind, but it’s the first time it lingers long enough to leave a bad taste in his mouth.
Or maybe it’s the cheap beer that’s ruining his palate.
(Oh, who is he kidding? No, it’s not.)
When you take in the way Oikawa and Kuroo are standing—how their bodies are turned to each other, the easy confidence in Kuroo’s posture and the unmistakable grace in Oikawa’s—it’s hard to deny that they make a good-looking pair.
