#hq!! fluff

[shouyuus]

sfw; fluffy

thinking about sunday morning!kageyama in loose sweatpants and a big hoodie, still a bit groggy from sleep, pattering around the kitchen with his feet bare, humming when you come up behind him to wrap your arms around his waist, turning to glance at you over his shoulder with a lopsided smile even as the moka pot begins to bubble.

“morning… sorry, i didn’t wake you, did i?”

you shake your head, nuzzling into his back. his fingers lace through yours, loose over his stomach. his free hand pulls the moka pot from the stove, flicking off the stove in a fluid motion.

“no morning practice today?” you ask, shuffling behind him as he grabs two mugs and pours steaming coffee into both, the pair of you waddling over to the fridge for milk. he shakes his head, reaching around to maneuver you into his side instead, your arms still looped around his middle.

“no. i told you last night,” but there’s no admonition in his voice. you nod as he hands you your mug, blowing gently at the top before he lets you take it.

you make your way to the sofa, curl up on it with one leg tucked under you, kageyama settling in next to you, close enough for him to hook his chin over your shoulder and breathe you in.

you ask him how he slept, if he dreamt of anything. it’s light, aimless conversation, the kind you partake in when saying i love you no longer feels like enough, so you say it cloaked in other words instead — is the coffee too hot, or, what do you want for breakfast, or, i dreamt of you last night, or, yeah? what was it about, or, i don’t remember but it was nice, or, good… glad that i’m nice to you even in your dreams.

you giggle, leaning into his chest as he takes a long breath, his nose digging into the crook of your neck.

“you’re always nice to me,” you say, taking another sip of your coffee. his cup has long since been finished, sat on the coffee table where his face stares up at the pair of you from a spread of glossy magazine covers.

he groans when he sees you looking at them.

”do we have to keep them out?”

you grin, nodding, “yep. what else will i look at when you’re away and i miss you?”

“you could just call me.”

“i can’t when you’re practicing or when you’re playing games.”

“you can watch me when i’m playing games.”

”and for practices?”

he falls silent, and you by nature that he’s actually thinking about it — you laugh, shaking your head.

”i like them cause it’s another way for me to show you off.”

kageyama makes a noncommittal noise, lifting your cooling coffee out of your hands and setting the mug on the table next to his. he doesn’t say anything but you can tell he’s frowning. finally, he settles for —

“why? i’m already yours.”

you feel yourself flush hot with happiness, leaning back till your head is flopping back onto his shoulder and his lips graze the delicate skin of your neck. a shiver works through you as he tugs you back far enough to settle in his lap.

“you’re telling me you don’t have our picture set as your phone lockscreen just so you can brag to your teammates about me?” you ask, grinning as he sighs.

“no — that’s just for me, for when i…” his voice trails off as he realizes what he’s saying. “for when i miss you…”

you hum, letting your eyes fall closed. and for a while, the pair of you sit there, comfortable in each other’s presence, your bodies the pieces of a long-finished jigsaw, your curves and edges so used to being slotted together that there’s no room for hesitation, no space for doubt.

“c’mon, let’s make some breakfast,” you say, patting his hands, settled around your lower belly, twisting around to face him. you meet his eyes — liquid and ocean-dark.

he searches for gaze for a second, and you feel the familiar crest of warmth washing over your like a rising tide. his thumbs trace tender circles into the skin of your lower back, absent and grounding all at once. then, he tips forward to kiss you, brushing his lips to yours so gently it turns your bones to milk within you.

when he pulls away, there’s the shadow of a smile on his lips; his eyes are bright as a sunstruck sea.

”okay, what do you want to eat?”

[white-poppie]

Tsukishima Kei believes subtle actions speak louder than words ⎯ especially in relationships.

To anyone Kei would seem aloof and cold, but you know that he cares from his little gestures. The way he gently squeezes your hand to reassure you, letting you rest your head on his shoulder, that little relieved smile that makes way on his face when you drop by during his practice sometimes. Him mindlessly massaging your calves ⎯ your legs sprawled over his as he lets you watch whatever sappy romance you want watch when you whine about your day being so bad.

Tsukishima who freezes when you move closer on the couch and peck his cheek during the movie. His surprise slowly dissolves on his face, making way for a soft smirk as he turns his head and looks at you.

"Was that necessary?" he asks, his words almost accusatory, but his tone and expression is relaxed.

"Nope, but I'm trying to get you used to affection." you say softly.

He snorts at your words, “So, you’re planning to slowly brainwash me to become the ideal boyfriend? Or what?"

"I am trying to brainwash you into being utterly in love with me, the ideal girlfriend." you chuckle, rotating your pointer finger in front of his face. "Wish Woosh, Hocus Pocus. Tsukishima Kei will love me forever."

Although he tries keeps up his serious expression, but it turns more into a smile as a wide grin spreads across his face at your silly action.

"You actually want me to say it? That I love you?" He asks, "Is that what the game is?" he rolls his eyes and shakes his head in amusement.

"Maybe?" you whisper out softly and look at him with those hopeful eyes of yours that make him melt.

Tsukishima is silent, just looking at you calmly in a way that makes your heart raise with excitement and trepidation togther.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" you ask softly and he sighs, shaking his head, his eyes softening.

"Of course not, its just...I am not used to it?" He says and you listen to him intently, nodding, urging him to continue. "I just...I don't know, it makes me feel so vulnerable saying it." He utters.

"I just feel like what the point of saying it, when I already express it through other ways, you know?" he says, running his fingers through your hair, calmly. Thats how he loves you.

"I know. you murmur, "I just like hearing you say it." You hum with a pause, looking at him, trying to gauge his reaction. "You don't have to say it if you don't want to, its just that it makes it feel so much real when I hear it..."

Tsukishima smiles, lightly. Thats what he loves about you. You have these ways of making him feel utterly speechless and you do this so effortlessly.

"Okay." he says, his ears getting a tiny bit red. You want to point it out, but you bite your tongue to not ruin the moment.

"I love you." he says, his hand resting over your head and a you can't help the bright smile that makes its way on your face. Hearing it out of his mouth almost makes you flustered. You can't help but giggle and bury your face in his chest.

"I love you too."

- FANFICTIONS  —HAIKYU!!

[chimielie]

“You have crazy eyes,” Oikawa says offhandedly, setting a glass down and leaning hard on a wooden table, long legs crossing over each other elegantly.

“I do not,” Iwaizumi retorts. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Mhm,” Oikawa pushes his head into the other man’s line of vision, dodging as Iwaizumi unfolds his arms to make an attempt at pushing him away, his gaze locked on the other side of the deck all the while. “Nothing’s happening, that’s why the vein in your forehead is about to pop. You’d think he’d notice the big dumb guy staring at him this whole time.”

“I’m not going to dignify that with a response,” says Iwaizumi, casually posing his arm to rest on the table, open palm up.

“Maybe he has noticed and he’s just ignoring it?” Oikawa squints, dropping his (prescription, but don’t you dare tell anyone) sunglasses down his nose for dramatic effect. “A braver man than me, then.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Iwaizumi says, but his fingers twitch, not quite a fist and not far from being one. His eyes are an olive orchard burning. As Oikawa said: crazy.

You are: oblivious, blithe, gorgeous. The tops of your shoulders are sun-warmed and you’re swirling a glass of red in your hand, the contented lilt of your smile familiar to him after many nights watching your favorite wine stain your lips. He sees you sway a little, your eyes popping wide as you realize all too quickly that you might be a little further past tipsy then you’d thought, and the bastard you’re talking to puts his hands on you. One on your shoulder, one on your waist to steady you.

Hajime’s always had a penchant for parkour when he’s drunk, and you and he have been taking sips of each other for days now. He slams a palm down on the hard wood, momentarily airborne as he jumps over the table and cuts through the other people standing around to get to you.

“Hey,” he says, grin looking a little feral as he watches the hands on your waist come off. The guy’s movements are jerky, looking at him like what the hell, man? Iwaizumi has no idea why.

“Hi, Haji,” you say, your lips curling into a warm smile. “This is Naoto. He’s from the same place I am, actually.”

“Cool,” Hajime says, extending a hand to shake like he learned at networking mixers at UCI. Naoto stares at him for a second and then takes it cautiously, wincing as Hajime crushes his fingers in his best arm-wrestling champ grip. “Good to meet you.”

Naoto clearly does not think it is good to meet him. He steps back upon release and makes a rushed goodbye to you, citing a group of friends he suddenly needs to find urgently. You smile and wiggle your fingers at him vaguely, already far more focused on the sun setting over the waves past the terrace than you are on whatever is happening between the two of them. Hajime steps up behind you, sliding a hand over your waist, his palm covering the surface area touched by Naoto. You put a soft hand over his, stroking slowly over his calloused knuckles, and hook your other arm back to tug him forward so he’s pressed against your back, bending so he’s cheek-to-cheek with you, watching the water undulate.

“You havin’ a good time?” His voice is a little rough from the clear liquor he and Oikawa were drinking paired with the effort of keeping his voice quiet, his concern just for you.

“Yes, sir,” you say, taking another sip from your glass. You hold it across your chest and he wraps his fingers around the delicate stem, putting his mouth right over the print yours left. “You?”

“Of course,” he says. “It’s beautiful out here. I think Shittykawa got sunburnt on the beach, though.”

“His fault for being pale,” you wave your left hand dismissively. He wants to pin you like a butterfly, your wrist arched gracefully against the darkening sky. “He has all those fancy skin creams to stop it from flaking, too.”

He feels a little bad for abandoning his best friend, but when he turns his head to check on him, the other man has reunited with Makki and Mattsun, who are all clustered together while taking photos of the two of you. Oikawa’s features specifically are spelling out something very smug and that will be very annoying for Hajime later. Iwaizumi concludes that he will probably survive thirty seconds without direct entertainment from him.

“He gets bad flush, too,” he thinks aloud. “Maybe it’s nothing.”

“See?” He hums and rubs his thumb over your top where he’s holding you with the right hand, soothing circular patterns. He can almost feel you purring. “I can always tell when you’ve started drinking for the night because Kawa gets red and you start running around and climbing things.”

“I don’t,” he protests, but it dies in his throat. You shake in his arms as you laugh.

“You always do. You tried to climb up my balcony once, remember? You said you could beat the elevator up.”

“I would’ve done it if security hadn’t come out,” he grumbles. You take your glass back and put it on the railing. It’s perilous, but Hajime doesn’t say anything. If it spills over your outfit, he’ll follow you back to the room and help you change.

“When I met you, I didn’t expect you to be the crazy type,” you say, turning so your lips brush his skin as you speak. “You seemed so steady compared to Kawa.”

“Only crazy about you,” he says. You sigh happily and melt back into him. He exhales slowly, a controlled breath, and wonders how a bastard like him got so lucky.

[airybcby]

જ⁀✦ today, tomorrow, and every dumb day after that

( atsumu miya x reader )

♡ a/n — fun fact! the color code for the grey i used is the same one that starts osamu's and ends atsumu's :)

♡ word count — 1k

♡ content — atsumu miya x fem! reader, wedding, fluff, cutie stuff, not proofread.

♡ synopsis — Atsumu Miya used to think marriage was overrated. Until he saw you walk down the isle, then maybe it wasn't so bad.

── .✦ i surrender who i've been for who you are

Atsumu Miya had been crying since sunrise.

He wasn’t sobbing or anything dramatic (yet), but his eyes had been suspiciously glossy all morning — when he woke up, when he brushed his teeth, when Osamu handed him coffee and muttered, “You better not ruin your stupid face before she even sees you.”

“I’m fine,” Atsumu grumbled, rubbing at his eyes. “Shut up.”

“You’re gonna cry like a baby the second she shows up.”

“Am not.”

“Right.”

In the room down the hall, you stood in front of a mirror, veil tucked behind your ears, fingers slightly trembling as you smoothed your dress down for the millionth time.

“You okay?” your maid of honor asked gently.

You nodded. “Yeah. I just… I think I’ve been waiting for this for so long, and now that it’s here…”

“You’re scared?”

“No,” you said, soft and certain. “I’m ready. It’s him. It’s always been him.”

Atsumu was practically vibrating by the time the coordinator came in to line him up.

“First look in two minutes,” they said. “Face the window, okay?”

Osamu gave his brother a pat on the back and stepped out. 

Atsumu walked toward the wide, sunlit windows, suddenly more nervous than he’d ever been before a game. 

His palms were sweaty. His knees felt like jelly. He couldn’t stop smiling even though his chest was threatening to explode.

And then—

Footsteps behind him.

Soft. Slow. Each one a countdown to a forever he still couldn’t believe he’d gotten so lucky to have.

You touched his shoulder.

He turned.

And the moment he saw you — dress shimmering in the soft light, eyes warm and a little teary, mouth forming his name — he broke.

“Atsumu,” you whispered.

He covered his mouth, voice cracking. “God, you’re— you’re so beautiful.”

Tears slipped down his cheeks before he could stop them. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t gonna cry yet,” he choked out with a watery laugh. “But look at you. I don’t— I don’t even know what to say.”

You reached up and brushed a tear from his jaw. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“I love ya,” he said, like a confession. “I love ya so much it hurts.”

By the time the ceremony started, Atsumu had mostly composed himself — or so he claimed.

He stood at the altar, fingers laced in front of him, shoulders high with tension.

Osamu stood nearby, pretending not to be smug.

The music started. Everyone stood.

And then— there you were.

Veil pulled delicately over your face. Eyes locked with his.

The second your smile broke through — soft and radiant, just for him — Atsumu’s lip wobbled.

You were halfway down the aisle when he lost it.

He covered his mouth with one hand, shoulders shaking. 

He tried to blink it back. He tried so hard.

But it was you. And that smile was the one he’d dreamt of since high school. 

That walk was the one he thought about every time he looked at a wedding magazine in the grocery store, pretending it wasn’t his guilty pleasure.

And now it was real. Now you were walking toward him.

He sniffed loudly. A few people chuckled. Osamu handed him a tissue without a word.

When it was time for vows, Atsumu didn’t even try to read off the crumpled paper in his pocket.

“I was gonna be all prepared,” he said, eyes locked on you. “Had this whole speech. Practiced it in the mirror, even made Samu listen to it twice.”

You smiled. He grinned.

“But I threw it away ‘cause… none of that even comes close to what I feel lookin’ at you.”

He took a breath. His voice trembled.

“I’ve loved ya since the moment ya laughed at me for fallin’ in the gym that one time. And I knew it was over for me when you offered to help me up and then made fun of me for twenty minutes after.” He took a breath.

“You’ve always been sunshine and smart comebacks and everything I ever wanted. I talk too much, and I feel too big, and I mess things up sometimes— but you… you never made me feel like I was too much. Ever.”

His eyes were glassy again.

“And I promise, from today ‘til the end of the world, to love ya loud. To love ya stupid. To love ya like it’s the easiest thing in the world — because it is. Because it’s you.”

“I promise to love you today, tomorrow, and every dumb day after that.”

You were already crying before he finished. You tried to read your own vows, but your voice cracked, and you laughed through your tears.

“Atsumu,” you whispered, “you are chaos. And loud. And ridiculous. But you’re also the most passionate, kind-hearted, ridiculous man I’ve ever met. And I love you for all of it. I promise to dance in the kitchen with you, to laugh at your bad jokes, to hold your hand when things get hard. You’re it for me. You’ve always been it.”

When the officiant finally declared, “You may kiss the bride,” Atsumu gave everyone the biggest, dumbest grin on his face before kissing you.

The kiss was soft and a little shaky. His hands cupped your face like he was scared you’d disappear.

“She’s mine now!” he cheered to the crowd, wiping his eyes with his sleeve as you laughed.

Later, during the reception, after the food and dancing and cake, Atsumu found you outside in the quiet.

He slipped his hand into yours, swinging them gently between you.

“Can’t believe ya actually married me,” he said, watching the stars.

You looked up at him. “You say that like it wasn’t the easiest decision I ever made.”

He looked at you like you hung the moon. Then, tenderly, he took your hand and pressed your ring to his lips.

“We really did it, huh?”

“Yeah, ‘Tsumu. We did.”

And he smiled.

And he cried again.

But this time, he didn’t bother to try and hide it.

airy writing stuff that's not bllk? CRAZY!!

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⋆.˚✮ 2025 ©airybcby ✮˚.⋆

[omiomi-kyun]

01:54 a.m. — night walk

“i'm sorry?”

tsukishima fiddled with his fingers while avoiding your gaze. he rubbed the back of his neck while looking at the lamp post few feet away from you.

“are you really inviting me over at your place?”

he pursed his lips as he nodded his head.

after almost six months of dating while taking everything slow, he's finally ready to share his safe space with you. both of you are finally starting to lower your guard around each other; ready to take your relationship to a-whole-nother level.

“um... so, uh... should i bring something over? i mean, should we pick up something to eat before...” you let out a nervous laugh before looking at him. “i've never done this before.”

tsukishima looked into your eyes with a smile. He grabbed your hand before pressing his lips againdt your knuckles.

“we could grab something to eat or we could just order later.” he held your hand closer to his chest. “we could also eat first then head straight to my place.”

“that sounds awesome!” you said before looking at the well-lit street you're taking. “we could do the former if you're not that hungry yet, the latter if you are.”

“you're not hungry yet?”

you shook your head. “after hearing your invitation, i feel like i'm all full.”

you wouldn't trade the moment you were sharing with tsukishima at the moment for anything else.

GRUMBLE

or maybe you'd trade your stomach for a full one.

“let's eat first, then!” he said after chuckling. “we could grab some snacks afterwards.”

“sorry 'bout that...” you murmured while nuzzling your face against his arm.

you felt his warm hand against your cheek before he tilted your head up. he pressed a warm kiss against your forehead with a smile.

“don't worry about it,” he reassured.

“thank you, kei-kun.”

“you're always welcome, love.”

you continued to walk towards the bustling street where several restaurants are lined up on both sides.

“so, where shall we eat?”

[mymegumi]

PRETTY BOY MANICURES ෆ KAGEYAMA TOBIO

⠀ note: don’t look at me idk

kageyama’s really trying not to flinch—he is.

it’s just that his hands are extremely sensitive and you’re handling them so gently that it’s a bit like sensory overload for him—the feeling of your skin on his, the way you’re carefully holding his fingers as if they’re delicate, and the intensity of your gaze on your task. it’s both physically too much for him, and emotionally it’s a lot to handle as well.

his hands are his pride and joy, they’re what help him further his volleyball career and he’s always taken really good care of them. some might even say he’s focused too much on taking care of his hands, but he’s never even regarded opinions he deems unworthy to have any sort of weight to his life.

when you asked if you could paint his fingernails, he adamantly refused. he had volleyball to worry about, and while the polish wasn’t directly on his fingers, he was worried they might upset his carefully measured equilibrium. you’d been a bit downtrodden, but you’d understood and he’d loved you all the more for it. so, when it was summer vacation and he was technically in off-season and the matches were fewer and far between, when you asked him again, he’d agreed.

which is how he finds himself with you sitting across from him, holding up two small bottles of nail polish in one hand—one black and one white—with your other hand carefully inspecting his hands.

“which color?” you ask, shaking both of the bottles in front of his face. he’d already done his normal routine to file them down and trim the excess nail length, but you’d been happy to sit behind him and rest your chin on his shoulder to watch.

he shrugs. “i don’t care.”

“okay, well you have to pick one.” you combat, holding the bottles closer to his face and making him lean back slightly with a very slight smile. if you were anyone else, he’d have already changed his mind on this.

“i don’t really care. pick what you want.” he insists, hand resting on top of the both of yours to lower them out of his field of view. he hated when you blocked him from looking at you, even unintentionally.

you huff, leaning back away from him but back in again, as if you couldn’t stand to be even a foot apart from him. “but what if you hate the color i pick?”

“you picked it, so i couldn’t hate it.” he says, and he means every word of it. just the sight of it would remind him of you, so it’s not as if it’d be a bad choice all together.

“sweet talker.”

he furrows his brows together. “no, i’m being honest.” he’s been working hard on his honesty and candidacy on the court, so it’s been reflecting back a bit in his personal life as well.

“i know you are.” you smile, uncapping the black nail polish and holding his thumb steady in your hand. “makes you even sweeter.”

then, you stop talking for a bit, focused on making sure none of the nail polish ends up on his cuticles, and if it does, scraping it away with your own nail. you’re slow, steady, and methodical with your movements and kageyama is, for all intents and purposes, mesmerized by you.

there’s a sort of gracefulness to what you’re doing that he’s never really considered before—the movements to know how to manipulate the paint and then also how to make it lay flat.

he likes watching you concentrate because you’re sticking your tongue out and he thinks it’s adorable that you do that. it might be unconscious, just like when you open your mouth into a cute little ‘o’ shape when you put on your makeup, but he kinda wants to let you do his nails more if he can see it again. he likes watching you, because he finds that he’s always discovering something new about you. something that makes him fall harder and harder every time.

it takes time, doing his nails, and when he thought you were done, nails completely saturated in black paint and a look of accomplishment on your face, he’d wanted to move to hug you.

“hey!” you cry, hands reaching out to grab his wrists suddenly. “you have to let it dry, tobio.”

“how long will that take?” it’s been twenty minutes since he got to hold you and he’d getting antsy.

you think for a second. “probably five minutes, to make sure the coat is dry, but then i have to add the second coat, and then the top layer.”

he furrows his brow. maybe he hadn’t thought this plan through at all.

[sorry-moots]

Clever… Boy?

pairing: tsukishima kei x gn!reader tags: reader insert, characters are adults, fluff, no pronouns used, no use of y/n, reader likes jurassic park cw(s): none

so just pretend with me for a second that you work at a boba shop right next to your college campus, yk the kind that sells boba tea and then random little desserts and pastries

you’re doin your thang when this giant blond saunters in with the most displeased, unimpressed visage a human could possibly muster

but he’s wearing a jurassic park t-shirt which has you perked up in an instant

“Hey, nice shirt! I like Jurassic Park, too,” you greet him, showing off your own merch.

The blank look doesn’t leave his face. “That’s not from Jurassic Park, it’s from the Jurassic World trilogy. Those movies were just a money grab.”

Surprised he noticed, you let out a nervous laugh. “No, literally, have you seen Jurassic World Dominion? Half the movie is cameras panning between some unfortunate reptile and Chris Pratt making aggressive eye contact with it. I just bought the merch because it was cute…” you trail off.

Had you been focused on his face, you would have seen the way his lip quirked up at you. “A velociraptor’s a velociraptor, I guess.”

“Yeah!” you agree, lighting up. “Anyway, what can I get you?”

he visits the shop every monday, wednesday, and friday between classes. these are the days that yamaguchi has tutoring but this is a total coincidence. totally not a decision made to avoid sharing your time and attention with another man.

on mondays and wednesdays, he orders earl grey boba milk tea, but on fridays he asks if you have strawberry shortcake (the answer is always no)

“Why doesn’t a shop like this have strawberry shortcake?” he scoffs. “You have vanilla, chocolate, coffee, red velvet, you even have tres leches.”

“Would you, perchance, like to order vanilla, chocolate, coffee, red velvet, or tres leches?” you asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“This is a serious failing as a business to cater to the demands of its clientele.”

“Want me to tell the boss?”

“Just give me the vanilla cake and the usual.”

once he’s become an official Regular™ and you’re trusted with the display case, you abuse your power. for good obviously.

As he walks in, your eyes are trained on his face and you can actually see the excitement shine in his eyes for all of three seconds before he scowls at you.

“Did you really print out a picture of a strawberry shortcake and tape it inside of the display case? How much time did you waste photoshopping that? Isn’t this a health code violation?”

“Aww, I can’t believe you figured it out so quick!” You expected him to see through it at some point, but not instantly. “I guess you really are a clever… boy?”

“Don’t ever say that again.”

“Clever guy? Clever dude?”

“I’m giving you one star on Yelp and mentioning you by name.”

“WAIT NO MY BOSS READS THOSE”

a/n: please shoot me if someone has already done this if you liked this maybe try this other thing i wrote? it has the exact same premise

[rinsramenshop]

Hiii- if you want can you do a req? I currently have a hoarse voice from getting a bit sick- can I get a fic where Osamu being surprised about their s/o's change of voice? Like he just learned about them feeling slightly under the weather. Something from smooth and cool to hoarse and deep voice- no pressure for writing this. Thank you!

hi love! i will absolutely write this, i just got over the cold that’s going around. i hope you feel better soon! i also hope i went in the right direction…

the rustling of the blankets along with the coughing coming from your shared room told Osamu you’re awake. quietly tidying up the kitchen from making your in-bed-breakfast, he quickly strolls into the room. he places the tray next to you, slowly opening the curtains in the room. “g’mornin love, how ya feelin?” he asks, settling down next to you. he places a kiss on your forehead, “let’s get some more food in yer system, yea?” you nod your head, glancing at the food next to you. “thank you samu,” you say as your voice cracks. he lets out a small chuckle, handing you a strawberry. “what’s so funny?” you ask, confused as he laughs. “just yer voice sounds like mine, are ya feeling okay?” he asks. you shrug your shoulder, “just a little funk, can you get me some medicine?” he nods, getting off of the bed slowly. “i’ll be back, i’ll be your personal nurse.” he says, strolling out of the room.

[aztecbrujeria]

Thinking about the way your dishes are mismatched, thrifted from the local donation centers, and they sit drying on the rack as you look out the kitchen window. Smiling as you watch him chase your little one with her bright bows in her hair. The squealing and the sounds of the mythological monster “Fe-Fi-Foing” carried with the early morning breeze.

The smells of breakfast and coffee still linger beside you on the stove while the smells of morning dew and earth come in. Here in your perfectly chaotic small home, where the old washer shakes, the fridge hums on covered in macaroni art, and the little slice of heaven seems to shine just right through the dusty windows you desperately need to clean.

Here you never thought you’d stand as a woman…a wife…a mother. All the sacrifices you had given of yourself and dreams seem worth it. Smiling and feeling your heart swell you let the soapy dishwater keep you in the moment when your big lug of a husband catches your little gremlin and they fall down in the grass laughing hysterically.

“This is heaven.”

Toji, Sukuna, Capitano, Sylus, Nuevillette, Zhongli, Kafka, Cyno, Guts, Captain Obi, Konro, Benimaru, Chosito, Yuji, Megumi, Bakugo, Izuku, Kirishima, Shoto, Dabi, Daichi, Kita, Osamu Miya, Ushijima, ichigo, sanemi, Genya, Gyomei, Tanjiro, Inosuke, Sephiroth, Edward Elric, Alphonse Elric, Adrian tepes, Trevor Belmont…

[admiringlove]

[21:15]

.

.

.

"ugh, what is that smell?" you groan, scrunching up your nose as you open your front door and head inside. it's been a long day at work, and all you were looking forward to was a relaxing takeout meal and some much needed alcohol. you cover your nose with a handkerchief as you walk into the kitchen. and see hinata shōyō throw a pan into the sink.

"did you see that?" he asks meekly. your eyes soften, but a teasing smirk takes over your lips as you lean against the wall and cross your arms over your chest, "see what?"

he's turning the faucet on as he says, "i wanted to make you dinner. i even called omi-kun for help. then i went to the living room to watch highlights of the old game between the ejp raijin and the sendai frogs because atsumu said we should use one of their techniques in the next season so i got all excited. then i smelled something burning."

you let out a breathy chuckle as you walk up to him, wrapping your arms around his torso as you close your eyes. then, you mumble, "you don't need to cook for me, shō. you could've ordered take-out. that would've been fine."

"but i wanted it to be special. you've been working late this past week and you would've been tired. i screwed up dinner and now we have nothing to eat."

you peer up at him, but he avoids your gaze until you cup his cheeks and force him to look back. you hum, "how about we cook lunch together tomorrow?"

"you don't have work tomorrow?" he asks, eyes big.

"it's saturday," you giggle, "i have the day off."

"i lost track of what day it is after our last game," he rubs the back of his neck guiltily. and you laugh even harder as you get on the tip of your toes and press a peck to his cheek, "what do you want to eat?"

"tomorrow or right now?"

you give him a look, and he says, "pizza."

"good choice," you chortle, before giving his lips a peck and going through your work bag to find your phone, "i'll order breadsticks too."

"the ones with cheese?"

"the ones with cheese."

"thank you!" he groans happily. you narrow your eyes, "hey, you're the one who fucked up dinner."

"the wounds are still fresh, honey. don't wound me."

"want me to make up my vicious verbal attacks with cuddles?"

"and jurassic park?"

"i am so in love with you," he giggles, walking over to you and kissing your lips softly. you smile into the kiss, leaning against him. a sigh leaves your lips, and he frowns, "what's wrong, hon?"

"nothing's wrong, i'm just exhausted. and seeing you at the end of the day is the best thing that happens to me," you tell him. shōyō grins, as if you've stroked his ego, "i'm glad to be of service."

"no seriously, seeing you is like a free therapy session," you joke, giggling breathily. he takes your hand in his, interlocking your fingers. then he whispers, "come on. let's go get you in some pajamas and watch movies on the couch. then we'll makeout and fall asleep there too."

"that sounds like such a solid plan," you laugh.

"free therapy session?"

"free therapy session."

© all works belong to admiringlove on tumblr. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

kinda short but based off this request.

[sincerelyhunnybee]

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊secret snowflake gift for @rinneverse₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

a/n: posting the secret snowflake gift i did in a mutual server. wishing all my followers and mutuals a wonderful and blessed new year c: enjoy!

iwaizumi hajime x gn!reader (sfw, mildly suggestive at the end)

‘what the fuck do I do?'

he’d been bouncing his leg up and down for the last 15 minutes contemplating how he would approach this situation. 

it’s New Year's Eve, and international student iwaizumi hajime is a nervous wreck. he had been invited to a small get-together by a friend from his sports injury class last semester. his friend knew about the crush he’d had on you for the last 5 months and thought it would be a great opportunity to get you guys just a little closer. hajime kept shifting his eyes to his watch and then to the acquaintances on the other side of the room, absorbed in their respective conversations. 

“hey,” the greeting snaps him out of thought and his eyes meet yours. 

“is this seat free?” you ask. he quickly nods, hurrying over. you sit down on the small couch, sitting closer to him to make sure others have room to sit. your knees touch and his face only gets warmer; the sweater he wears feels incredibly uncomfortable.  

he clears his throat, “y-you look great tonight.” he offers a small smile at the end of his compliment.

“thank you so much, i didn’t think much of it before leaving but it seemed to match good enough.” you glanced over at his outfit, which looked simple yet styled so well. the dark colors contrasted well with his piercing green eyes. “i can say the same for you too.”

the well-received compliment ends up shaking off the anxiety for hajime and conversation flows freely between you two. topics like school, hobbies, and friends are brought up with jokes and playful jabs mixed in. each word that leaves your mouth has him only falling harder for you. ‘shit,’ he thinks to himself. ‘they’re so fucking perfect…’  

“do you wanna get a drink?” you ask, hoping to get away from the noise around you. he nods, stands up, and offers his hand to you. warmth brushes your face, and you take his hand and stand up too. 

in the quiet sanctuary of the kitchen, you both enjoy the ridiculously sweet concoctions the host made for everyone to enjoy. you both give each other glances here and there whilst people-watching.

the noise in the apartment increases as the tv volume is raised, shifting your attention the clock reads “11:58 pm”. the time runs and people begin to count down 60 seconds. hajime's hand slowly grabs at the one by your side. startled you quickly face him, he looks nervous but adorable. 

“i…i like you, like a lot.”

you hear the start of ‘10…9…8…’

“and i didn’t know how to tell you, because you’re amazing and--” he knew he was rambling but it didn’t matter anymore.

‘5…4…3’

the smile on your face grows.

“just kiss me, dumbass.”

hajime blinks, and before he can say ‘huh’ you lean in, taking his lips into yours. from surprised to relaxed, his eyes flutter shut and his hands go to your waist, holding you lightly and enjoying the kiss as you both hear cheers and the noise of fireworks going off in the background. 

you pull away and giggle, “happy new year, Hajime.” 

still stunned, he can’t seem to find his words for a few seconds, “This is going to be such a good year...” 

laughing at his comment and dazed expression you take his hand and pull him with you, walking towards the bathroom down the hall. he follows you and looks around nervously but no one notices you two as they are all engrossed with the festivities of music and dancing. the bathroom door is shut and locked and you both look at each other, basking in the silence and tension. 

this time, Hajime is the first to make a move, grabbing your face and kissing you with the passion you’ve heard so much about. tongues dance and hands roam over each other, feeling bold you kiss down his neck and move lower, kneeling on the floor until you reach the waistband of his denim pants, teasing the button with your index finger.

his stunning eyes meet with yours from above, hooded with lust, you give him a wink, “If you let me, I can make the start of your year so much better.”

thx for reading and here's to 2024 <3

[shouyuus]

Softest Haikyuu headcanons?

alright HERE WE GO

"there's nothing so savage as falling in love, nothing so soft as forgiveness."

ft. kenma, tsukki, tobio, hinata

kenma --

that he lets you braid his hair sometimes, when he's idly playing a phone game or something, his laid back in your lap, the phone resting on his chest, his hair splayed out between your fingers as you run them through, tugging one strand over the other, you humming some old commercial jingle as he flicks through the motions of the game

tsukki --

that he reaches out to hold your hand first, almost always, at first only when people aren't watching but it becomes second nature enough that he does it without even realizing it; he'd do it in the middle of a sentence, sassing an old teammate out when you're all out to dinner, his fingers tangling with yours, daichi's eyebrows jerking up as he grins

tobio --

that sometimes, he likes to be little spoon, because doesn't it feel wonderful to let go and be held, and that sometimes, he'll curl into the shape of you, tuck his knees up and drag your arm across his middle; you'd smile and kiss the middle of his back, the nape of his neck, nuzzle into the baby hairs there, close your eyes and let your lashes flutter against his skin, whisper to the night that you'll always be there for him, no matter what

hinata --

that he loves the sound of your laughter, more than he ever has the words to say (and he's never been super good with words) but it makes his stomach go woosh, and his heart to battabatbat and something inside him squeezes so hard he almost goes lightheaded every time you laugh; he wants to sink into the sound, to cup it in his palm and tuck it into his pocket, wants to record it and play it as the background music to the rest of his life and he thinks that if only he can make you laugh like that all the time, he wouldn't need any other happiness in the world

[chimielie]

pretty damn close

summary: Suna x F!Reader. he picks you up.

wc: 1.3k

cw: none. reader is having a bad night for unspecified reasons and suna makes her feel better by being his weird aquarius self

a/n: i think i may be more attracted to suna’s car than i am to suna because i feature it so often

It’s a bad night. The stars are hidden behind a thick haze of city smog, the honking of cars is obscured by the thick ringing in your ears. Your knees touch through the rips in your jeans as you shiver, trying not to think about the germs on the sidewalk.

The scent of a cigarette floats through the air. You don’t smoke, but you could.

Before you ask the stranger for a light, a car pulls up in front of you, braking loudly through the miasma.

You put a hand on the door handle and pull yourself up, waiting for the click of the lock’s release before you pull it open and slide inside.

“Hey,” Suna says, and you chatter your teeth together in response.

He reaches over and turns up the heat in his car three notches. You sigh and drop your shoulders at the rush of warm air that comes through the vents, tucking your legs up as he speeds away from the potential of a nicotine buzz.

“Can we go to your place tonight?”

You expect a side glance or a questioning tone. You have a defensive answer prepared, brushing off your growing discomfort with your roommates, the way their eyes track you as you lead him through the common area to your bedroom. You don’t want to field their assumptions tonight, the ones you know they make because of the smudged eyeliner around his waterline, the black swoop of his hair, the careless way he walks, his center of gravity pulled back toward wherever it is he wants to be that is never, ever where he is.

“Sure,” he says, like it’s nothing. Maybe it is. Maybe the little world you occupy, your mini-lanterns dangling from the ceiling and tchotchkes lining the windowsill, can expand outside its limits.

The lines of Shizuoka’s road shine bright white under his headlights, toothpaste and baking soda strips against the asphalt. You twist your head so you can see the sky out the window and try to take a deep sniff of his car door’s lining without his noticing. Teak and gasoline, you like this smell so much you imagine it when you’re at work, when you’re walking to the grocery.

“This was our first time calling, you know,” you say to the stars.

“Was it?” There’s a little frown in his voice. “No way, we’ve gotta have called before.”

You shake your head.

“I checked my call log, and I never clear it.”

“Huh.”

“Huh,” you echo. “And I don’t like calling, so that’s probably why. I feel so awkward.”

“You’re always awkward,” he says.

“Not true!” You try to punch his arm, but you’re still pressed up against the window so now you’re lying across his passenger seat, twisted into a bow. You graze his sleeve. “I’m whimsical. On the phone, I feel like I’m in a business meeting.”

“I am not a business-y person,” he says.

“No, you’re really matter-of-fact,” you respond. Your punching hand is limp at your side now and he reaches over, picks it up and shakes it side to side like it’s something dead. He folds his fingers over yours and you stay carefully still. “I can see it in another universe.”

“Then in that universe you must be an heiress,” he says. “I’ll seduce you for your money.”

“I hope you’re not doing that now,” you say, wrinkling your nose. “I don’t make half as much as you, with tips.”

“But you’re so high-class,” he says, in a terrible tone that makes you suspicious that he’s making fun of you. You stick your tongue out and blow a raspberry, ladylike. “And I’m not seducing you.”

It’s true. Suna comes over, toes off his big boots made bigger by their chunky soles, sits on your bed and plays games with you. He eats all your snacks and he puts his hands up under your shirt, but just to trace his fingers over your skin in patterns to feel your stomach flip. He calls you a masochist but he never does anything about it.

“But you told ‘Samu I was your girlfriend,” you say, a whine that’s really a needle, sliding into his pressure points.

He throws the car into reverse and you cling to his hand, startled. Suna parallel parks in one try, showboating bastard, and gets out of the car and opens your door before you’re finished putting everything that spilled out of your purse on his floorboard back into it. You get out and he finds your hand again, but changes his mind and exchanges it to flatten his palm against the small of your back, burning a hole through your thin t-shirt.

You cross your arms and let him guide you into the building. His doorman is a blinking red button on a keypad that needs, counterintuitively, to be pressed if you want it to open. You poke his side, but he’s too well-trained by your boss and his twin brother, too hard to provoke. You don’t try very hard; you don’t like bothering Suna, you just want him to get tired of not telling you his secrets.

Suna’s apartment is enclosed behind a grey door marked 221. There’s no welcome mat, and inside isn’t welcoming either. He has nondescript dark grey furniture facing a big TV you can see your reflection in, sucking in your cheeks and pursing your lips. Behind you, he’s miming clawed hands and a snarling bite into your neck. When you turn to him, he’s very busy adjusting the way his keys hang on their hook.

“I didn’t say that,” Suna says, leading you to the kitchen, which has a butcher block island you’d like to kill him for. He opens his fridge and hands you a chilled bottle of water, a bar of dark chocolate with a bite taken out of it. You don’t like the texture but you take it to be polite. “I told ‘Samu you were my soulmate.”

“I just don’t feel like those two things are distinct,” you say. “I also really like being made aware of it when I’m in a relationship.”

“We’re not in a relationship,” he says, putting his hands on your hips and hoisting you up onto the counter, you bending your knees and pushing to help him out a little. “I’m still working on that.”

“When’re you gonna be done?”

He puts his face in your chest, cheek against your heartbeat. You flush, lean your head on top of his, slide a hand into the gap between the collar of his shirt and his neck, your cold fingers raising goosebumps but garnering no other reaction. Annoying, annoying, annoying.

“When you’re not having a bad night,” his voice is muffled by your shirt. “But soon. Just be patient with me.”

“I’m not having a bad night anymore,” your face, twisting into a scowl, says otherwise. “And I’ve waited a bunch of lifetimes. How soon is soon?”

“When I’ve cleaned my bedroom,” he says. You can see into the room if you look left, a sliver of spare, clean space just like the rest of the apartment. “And when I stop being scared that I’m gonna screw it up.”

“I see,” you say thoughtfully, tapping your fingers against his neck in a staccato beat. “The relationship or the asking?”

“Asking,” he says, and then, very quiet, “you make me nervous.”

“That’s silly,” you laugh, “I’m half as scary as you are. You’re like a black hole. I’m just, like, a rock or something that got pulled in.”

When he pulls back to look at you, Suna’s eyes are haloed with a bright ring of yellow-grey lustre, a pinprick of pupil expanding to swallow the universe. There’s something crackling all around you, the buzz of atoms getting closer to combustion. He’s not actually touching you, but you can still feel it.

“Nah,” he says. “If you were anything, you’d be stars.”

[qardenofeden]

“kei, do you ever think about how strange it is that we've never fought?” you ask, limbs tangled with his as you cuddle on his bed.

it’s 10:03 PM and you’re doing your best to fight against the chilling, icy atmosphere of tsukishima’s room. for some reason, he likes to sleep like a vampire.

“do you want to?” he offers with an arm wrapped around your shoulders. tsukki doesn’t even open his eyes when he responds, too sleepy to entertain another one of your late night overthinking sessions.

“no,” you say calmly, “but we’ve been together for 7 months. we must either be like, the greatest couple of all time or the exact opposite.”

you feel his chest rise and deflate against your head as he lets an overly dramatic sigh.

you knew tsukishima kei wasn’t one for pda. hell, it was one of the things you loved about him. he knew how to make you feel loved without having to scream it to the world.

like that one time on one of your first dates, when you had accidentally fallen asleep on the soft grass of the park while waiting for his weekend practice to end. you woke up with a hand massaging your scalp.

“how long have you been waiting there?” you giggle, rising from your slumber as you rub your eyes awake. he pulls away, casually avoiding your gaze. “why didn’t you wake me?”

kei only shrugs, “you looked peaceful.”

or that other time you got sick for a week and couldn’t make it to school, so he immediately visited you as soon as you got better and brought his backpack with him.

“i got two copies of all the homeworks due next week, so you don’t have to ask the teachers for them.” he unpacks his notes and fishes out two pens from his bag before turning to you. “come, i’ll teach you everything you missed.”

your teachers praised you for how responsible you were, and told you how much they appreciated that you took the initiative to study.

yeah, you totally did that.

or like right now, and all the other nights you’ve spent at his place. because unbeknownst to you, tsukishima kei sets up his bedroom every single time you visit. he tidies up, cleaning even spots that you would never think to look at. but most importantly, and tsukishima knows this routine by heart, he turns the a/c to the highest setting so you’d be forced to cuddle against him underneath his sheets.

“the former,” is all replies with, and you scoff, rolling your eyes.

“but seriously though. how lucky are we to never have fought even after seven months.”

tsukki sighs again, before reluctantly revealing, “we don’t fight because i make it a point to always agree with you.”

you’re taken aback by his words, sitting up slightly as you look him in the eyes, though his are still closed as he tries to focus on sleeping.

“...huh?”

“idiot,” he teases. maybe he thinks calling you names will cover up for how unbelievably sweet he’s being right now, “why would i want to argue with you?” he shifts, trying to subtly move his face away so you don’t see him fully.

“but i can’t always have my way, you know. a relationship should be 50/50, right?”

“not ours.” he presses your head back against his chest, and you hear his heartbeat fasten a little. “you’re the boss.”

BONUS: “and you’ve never paid in your life anyway. you don’t believe in that 50/50 bullshit.” “hey!” “i don’t even know what your wallet looks like.”

@kokokoula this one’s for u <3

[omiomi-kyun]

3:20 a.m. — movie night

the silence in your room as you watch another movie from kiyoomi's watchlist made the mood cozier and more intimate.

you rest your back against the headboard while sat between your legs; leaning his body against your chest as you play with his hair.

you even placed some gentle kisses against his temple which made him turn his head towards you—showing you how a kiss should be like.

sakusa would smile between each kisses before nuzzling his face against the crook of your neck. you could feel his warm breath against your skin as he breathes calmly.

then, he would look up at you while grinning before planting a quick kiss on your lips before looking back at the tv screen.

he would hold your hand throughout the movie while kissing your knuckles during some scenes that made his heart flutter.

no words were needed to explain what you both feel during that time—because the warmth and intimacy between the two of you was enough to know how you both feel for each other.

[kiyuhai]

Iwaizumi Hajime, who, when he first saw you in the crowd of Oikawa’s fangirls, knew he wouldn’t have a chance– not when you were into Oikawa. 

Iwaizumi Hajime, who stared in shock when you separated from the gaggle of fangirls and headed over to him, shyly handing him an envelope, and a cold bottle of water. 

Iwaizumi Hajime, who stumbled and stammered over his words, but nevertheless was able to mutter out a thank you. He replayed the smile you gave him that day over and over again. It became a problem when he got distracted during practice and got hit by the ball.

Iwaizumi Hajime, who, when he saw you again, was determined to not ruin this chance and struck up conversation, leading to him walking you to class, which eventually became routine. 

Iwaizumi Hajime, who didn’t bother correcting Matsukawa and Hanamaki when they teased him about his crush on you, and only muttered a small “soon”, when they asked him if you were his girlfriend. 

Iwaizumi Hajime, who confessed to you right before a match, and got your response at the end of it, with a kiss on the cheek and a cold bottle of water next to him. He had frozen in place, and ignored all the teasing the team and his friends were giving, only focused on the shy smile on your face and the blush that spread on your face, unaware of the same blush and smile on his face. 

Iwaizumi Hajime, who waits for you at the end of the aisle years later with a watery smile, and eyes full of love.