dearru-rb

[dearru-rb]

upperclassman suguru who spots you briefly on a random day in spring, right as finals are coming up, when you visit jujutsu high to tour.

he finds himself enamored with the lost mouse look you’ve got going on, and admittedly, feels quite guilty about it too. why, you ask?

because that once innocent admiration snowballs into something more akin to obsession.

you’re trailing behind a faculty member with a tote bag slung over your shoulder and worry pinching your brows, too polite to interrupt her monologue.

you’re not even a student yet, and he’s memorized your name in both kanji and hiragana, from a visitor sign-in sheet he definitely wasn’t supposed to see.

you come back once a week—some outreach program for prospective transfer students—always in the late afternoon. suguru makes a point of being on campus those days, even when he doesn’t need to be.

he doesn’t talk to you. not yet. he thinks about it often—conjures up little scenarios in his head where he pretends to bump into you, where he offers to walk you to the library, where you’re shy and grateful and start to rely on him before you even realize it.

he tells himself he’s being patient. being kind.

suguru’s always been popular. satoru’s not-so-subtle complaints slip out every now and then, about how it's undeserved, how it goes to waste because suguru, nine times out of ten, is guaranteed to turn them down.

still, he likes that nobody knows. that when his phone lights up during ‘study sessions’ and shoko teases him about some smoke-show from kyoto being the one who’ll finally win him over, he lets her believe it.

because you—you’re his sweet little secret.

[dearru-rb]

love at first spike!!

pairing: shoyou hinata x fem!reader

word count: 512

warnings: pre-timeskip, sfw!!!, secondhand embarrassment, sho has no rizz, meet cute (meet ugly in disguise), not proof read

author’s note: no comment i don’t wanna talk about it

“hey dumbass, weren’t you supposed to keep score?”

"what?" shoyou answered suddenly, snapping out of his staring. his gaze finally left the spot it had been glued to the last fifteen minutes. you.

"oh my— stop checking her out, the score is supposed to be 21-19," another teammate sighed, exasperated. unfortunately, this wasn't the first time this match. the karasuno girls' team was having a practice match, and in an attempt to 'encourage team spirit', mr. takeda had suggested the boys' team come watch and help out with water while the girls occupied the gym.

hinata quickly flipped the scoreboard a couple times to put up the correct score, trying to focus. just as he did so, you jumped up and slammed the ball down on the linoleum gym floor, your feet landing just barely in front of the service line. he tried to ignore how your jersey hiked up slightly, fixing the score to account for the service ace.

then the whistle blew, the opposition calling for a timeout just as your team was starting to hike up points. classic.

though it was clear that the timeout wasn't going to stop the celebration of your serve, a bright smile sat on your lips as you jumped up and down, the other girls doing similar bunny hops in excitement. it was actually kind of endearing how excited you got, even if you looked as if you'd done it a hundred times before.

after the strategy talk and whatnot, which shoyou had spent fangirling to his teammates about you, he froze up the second he saw you approaching. he felt his heart start pounding in his chest and he really tried his hardest not to look you in the eyes too much.

"sorry, could you pass me my water bottle? uh, to your right," you corrected upon seeing the ginger frantically look around for it, trying your best not to giggle. he managed to hand it to you in an at least somewhat composed manner, smiling nervously.

"oh, thanks—"

"you're really pretty.”

he finally stammered out, and you could tell that it came more from an impulse than a deliberate flirting attempt, though that fact didn’t stop you from feeling a little flustered. shoyou just hoped you couldn't hear his heart racing out of his chest and that the heat on his freckled cheeks wasn't visible. it was, but you didn't have the heart to say so.

“oh thank you! i was thinking the same actually… i need to go back to my team but uhm, here’s my number. if you want.” you managed, obviously nervous but not quite as bad as him. you quickly grabbed a ballpoint pen beside him and scribbled your phone digits down on a spare piece of paper, your fingers brushing his as you handed it over. before the male could respond, you were pretty much already off, your coach lecturing you for being gone just as the final set was about to start.

karasuno ended up winning that game, but in your opinion, the most important win that day happened off-court <3

[dearru-rb]

─── 翔陽 EVERYTHING IS ROMANTIC

hinata shouyou; 1,395 words; smut, d/s dynamics, brat tamer!shou, bratty!reader, fem!reader, light spanking, orgasm control/denial, use of "good girl", sunshine!shou, semi-public sex, bathroom sex, no "y/n", lapslock

summary: getting cheek on a beach day

a/n: in honor of shouyou day here is some sweet brat tamer!shou u__u

< part of the brat collection; go to masterlist

─── 翔陽 "YOU WERE THE ONE who wanted this, remember?”

you whimper, biting hard on your lips to keep from making too much noise. behind you, hinata coos as he soothes a warm palm along the bend of your back, the fingers of his other hand working into your sopping cunt as you fight to stay still.

“i — i didn’t want —”

“no? hm…” he makes a light, contemplative noise, his pace slowing ever so slightly, but enough to make you clench, your hips pushing back to seek his touch once more. he tuts, giving your ass cheek a small smack that echoes lewdly around the empty bathroom. “thought you did… with the way you were acting on the beach earlier…”

you glance up into the water-stained mirror, your vision hazy. behind you, hinata’s brows are ever so slightly furrowed, his hair a wind-tousled mess, but there’s a sharpness to his eyes as he looks up to find you watching him, cocking his head a little, the frown smoothing out, replaced by a bright smile — almost as if he weren’t finger-fucking you in the handicap stall of a public restroom. and sure, the place had been a bit out of the way, but you’re all too aware that he’d left the main door unlocked, leaving the possibility of being found out slithering through you, coiling in your gut till you’d been dripping down your thighs.

“i wasn’t acting… like anything…” you try to sound indignant, but it’s hard, when you can barely stand up straight, and you’re so desperate to feel his fingers deeper inside you that you almost whine when he reaches down to flick at your clit. your knees shake; hinata chuckles, looping his free arm around your middle to steady you, nearly lifting your feet off the ground as he pushes you harder against the sink.

“really? you didn’t mean anything when you asked me to put sunscreen on your back?”

“i — i just forgot —”

“i reminded you in the car.”

“mm — mngh —” your head drops into your arms as his fingers pull out of you suddenly, and there’s the faint shuffle of clothes before you gasp, feeling the tip of his cock nudging at your already abused pussy lips.

“ah… you’re so wet baby…”

“shou…” you whine, wiggling your hips, but your only answer is another soft smack to your other cheek.

“mah… i told you that you’d get a reward if you were good today but…” and though he tries to keep his voice steady, you can hear the ragged edges to his breathing, the harshness like a metallic undertone to the way he speaks and you know without having to look that he’s got that dark, almost light-less look in his eyes — the kind of look he gets when he’s so focused, the rest of the world simply falls away.

“you really wanted to get punished, huh?” he asks. and the jarring dissonance between his bright voice and the words he’s saying sends a frisson of shivers down your spine to pool in your gut, twisting torque-tight as he slowly eases his cockhead into you.

you let out a tiny, abortive whimper as he teases you slow, pulling out before ever really thrusting in, till the head of his cock is so covered in your juices it squelches with every movement he makes.

“mm… wanted to play some beach volleyball today…” he muses, almost to himself, his fingers digging into the plush of your hips as he tugs you back onto his cock — a quarter, halfway, almost there but —

“shou, please —” you hiccup, voice cutting off as he tugs out again, leaving you clenching and empty.

“aw…” he leans forward to press a kiss to your shoulder, nosing into the bend of your neck with a soft sigh, “you always sound so pretty when you beg…”

your eyes squeeze, your whole body thrums like a too-tight violin string, primed to snap —

“nnnghph!” you let out a startled noise as hinata fucks forward in a single, fluid motion, slipping in so easily you’d be embarrassed if it weren’t for the pleasure that courses through you at finally being stretched, finally being filled.

“th-there’s a good girl…” he says, the hitch in his breath tempered by the base gravel in his voice as he starts to slowly fuck you proper. fingers slip into your hair, tugging your head up slightly to meet his eyes in the dirty mirror. it takes a second for your gaze to focus, pleasure sparking along the edges of your vision in tiny white dots.

hinata shoots you a lopsided grin before leaning forward again to hook his chin over your shoulder. like this, you can feel every inch of him, his stomach tensing into a formidable six pack of abs against your spine as he thrusts into you, deep, working deeper every time.

your knees really do give this time, but he catches you before you can slip out of his grasp and he holds you to him, working you over his cock like a life-sized toy, his lips parted as he murmurs into your ear —

“g’nna be good for me, yeah? isn’t that nice? feels good, right? yeah… i f-feel good too — fuck — mm… you’re squeezing so tight — ah — are you gonna come already? but i haven’t even gotten started yet —”

he gives your head a tiny shake, the sting of your hair on your scalp making you moan. and in the 3-stall bathroom, if anyone were to walk in, there’d be no mistaking what you’re doing, nothing to cover up the lewd sounds of skin on skin and panting breaths, and the way you can’t help but whimper every time his cock kisses up against your cervix.

“i — i’ll be good — please —” you hiss as he presses a flat palm over your tummy, pushing in as he thrusts, making your head go hazy with pleasure as he grinds against your g-spot over and over again.

“yeah? y’promise?” he asks, giving your shoulder another kiss.

you nod, desperate, half-mad with want as heat starts to gather at the base of all your limbs.

“g’nna be good for the rest of the day too?” he asks.

you nod again, harder this time, keening at the feeling of his balls smacking against your ass. your thighs feel sticky, and you can’t really even feel your toes anymore, but you don’t care. you’re so close, so close you can already feel the pleasure tingling at your fingertips.

“good — then let’s get back out there and catch some waves!”

you make a choked sound as hinata pulls out and gives your ass a quick smack, grinning as you stare wide-eyed at him from the mirror. your cheeks are dark, your hair a mussed up mess, your bikini bottoms dragged down around your thighs.

hinata slates you a curious look, a devious smile playing at his lips, even as he pulls up his swim trunks and reaches down to help you tug your bikini bottoms back up. his fingers are gentle and sure as they always are.

“w-what?” you ask, twisting around, hoping, praying that this is just a sick joke. you can still feel the orgasm swirling inside you, but the familiar heat is receding by the second, and all hinata does is tug you in for a chaste kiss.

“i told you, if you’re good for the rest of the day, you’ll get what you want. now c’mon — i wanna catch the surf-lesson and then grab a game of pick up beach volleyball after!”

he reaches down to lace your fingers, pulling you with him as he pushes out of the bathroom stall and out all the way back onto the blinding light of the mid-day sun. you’re still a bit wobbly, but he loops an easy arm around you and tucks you into his side.

“and who knows,” he whispers, glancing down at you shell-shocked face, “you might even get a present in the car later if you’re really, really good for me, hm?”

taglist: @yaoduriaa @ominouslywritinginmyhead @naomihatake @cheesypuffkins87 @crispynutella @unriding @fennecnco @jkj33w10 @ryzheling @ally-all-around @arahiraaai @katiekawls and my shouyou truthers: @shoyosh @neiptune @dearru @mikiruie @mosskissed @megapteraurelia

[dearru-rb]

020. cats, chaos, and courts — hinata shoyo.

cw: smau. gn!reader. yachi is a mutual friend. cats a/n: why are smaus so hard to made </3 i hope you enjoy! requested by @tangerinelovr <3

taglist (open. ask to be added <3): @tangerinelovr @oligbia @megapteraurelia@iwantfoodpleasebuymefood @dira333 @kcandyliciouss

© deardaichi | everything here is written with care — please don’t repost, copy, or alter my work without permission.

[dearru-rb]

tsukki & 12pm? ♡♡♡

writing/warmup game closed!

tsukki; 12pm --

"surprise!"

"... why are you sitting on the floor of my office?" tsukki blinks at you, a tiny frown carved between his brows as you grin up at him from on top of a checked blanket splayed out on his austere museum back office, the bright yellow of your dress nearly blinding set against the light wood and muted walls.

"we're having a picnic!" you chirrup up at him, motioning to the wicker basket full of finger sandwiches and two fully packed bento boxes.

"you... do realize that i'm not the only person who works in this office, right?" he asks, glancing at the two other empty desks in the room. you nod, humming as you pull a bottle of what looks very much like chilled aloe juice from seemingly nowhere.

"sure! but they're out having lunch outside, so it's just the two of us for the next..." you glance down at the watch on your wrist, "forty-two minutes -- now c'mon! otherwise the soup's gonna get cold!"

you produce a small soup tin from the basket as tsukki finally drops down next to you with a soft sigh, sounding somehow both resigned and amused.

"here you go," you hand him a small bowl of soup and spoon that unfolds, clicking into place as you plop it in to is steaming bowl. he watches with muted fascination as you snap open your own spoon and pick up the remainder of the soup.

"it's red miso, your favorite," you say, glancing up.

tsukki watches you blow on the surface of the soup for a second before taking a careful sip. a smile tickles at the corners of his lips, a tremor of something he's long since learned to recognized as affection unfurling inside his chest like the petals of a night-blooming flower, fragrant to the point of pungence. he clears his throat and takes a slow sip of his own soup. it warms him down to the length of fingers and the tips of his toes.

"so," he says, after a brief moment of amiable silence, "what's the occasion?"

you regard him with those eyes of yours, and in the soft, diffused light casted in from his south-facing windows, they glimmer like so many dusk-lit fireflies.

"no occasion!" you say, polishing off the rest of your soup with a contented ah. tsukki leans forward to wipe a thumb along the corner of your lips, collecting a stray drop of soup there. you lick at the place his thumb had pressed, persephone's blush rosy on the high of your cheeks.

tsukki wipes his finger, a tight something caught in his throat. he looks down at his own half-finished soup, his reflection in the rippled surface, a tenderness spreading through him that he's somehow always associated with you. it is this, he thinks, that makes him understand why a lord of the underworld might break heaven and earth for a single taste of spring.

"i just wanted to see your face," you said, putting down your soup tin and reaching for one of the finger sandwiches. you break it in half with delicate fingers and offer him half. when he reaches for it, you tug back slightly, a devious gleam in your eyes.

tsukki sighs before leaning forward, opening his mouth. you pop the bite of sandwich on his tongue and he tries not to shiver at the way the cucumber and cream melt into the soft white bread, the way your fingertips barely skim the edge of his lips.

"good, right?"

tsukki nods, "mm... yeah. nod bad."

you seem to preen beneath his words, and he feels heat creeping into his own cheeks even as he ducks his head, reaching up to fiddle with his glasses. he almost tries to stop himself at the sound of your tinkling laughter.

"you always do that when you're nervous."

he grunts, shrugging, "you're very good at making me nervous."

"even after all this time?" you ask, voice slinking up at the end with a tease.

tsukki sighs, "unfortunately... it's an affliction that doesn't seem to dull with time."

you laugh, delighted at his answer. he glances up to see you grinning, and it's this more than anything that propels him forward. you squeak, your lips salty with miso against his.

you're breathless when he pulls away, one lens of his specs slightly fogged with your heaving breaths.

"hm," he glances down at your wide, glossy eyes, your parted, kiss-slicked lips, "that doesn't get old either, it seems."

"y-yeah? i mean --" you swallow, reaching up to tug gently at the hairs at the nape of his neck. his knee bumps into the wicker basket, the gentle clink of silverware ringing like warning bells, but he's long since been passed caring.

if his soup spills, so be it. if the rice goes cold, then he'll have it cold.

"mean... what?" he asks.

you bite at your bottom lip; tsukki quirks and eyebrow.

"w-we haven't really kissed that much over -- mmphf!"

tsukki grins, tugging you closer on the thin checked picnic blanket, the fabric scrunching beneath you.

"yeah? you don't think so?" he asks, now hovering above you. there's a lance of sunlight falling like a bar of gold across your cheek.

your lashes flutter; the dust motes dance in the slantwise light like tiny fairies caught in resin. you give your head a tiny, abortive shake.

tsukki hums low in his throat, lets his lips lilt up into a signature smirk as he cocks his head.

"well, we'll just have to fix that then, won't we?"

[dearru-rb]

[staggering to my feet and wiping a single perfect drip of blood from my mouth] i have to get back on my bullshit. no matter the cost

[dearru-rb]

As dookie the anime is, I like how they draw isagi sometimes. Like. Someone abandoned their dog here, please bring him home, he has the face of a neglected dog

[dearru-rb]

on watching a parent age

i saw somebody say “what if you’re gone and i haven’t become anything yet” and basically that broke me on a random thursday evening

[dearru-rb]

˚✶ * crinkled eyes w/ hinata

m.list / wc: 400

    "don’t you have practice today?” you look up towards hinata, hand over your eyes, protecting them from the bright rays of sunlight. 

  hinata, your own little ball of sunlight, stands with his hands on his hips, feet digging into the hot sand. a smile rests on his face as he looks back down at you. “i ran down the beach since you said you’d be here! plus practice ended,” he peers down to his running watch, beads of sweat on his skin, “ten minutes ago.”

  “and where’s your bag and- well and your stuff?” you question, one eye open as the sun beams down around his head like a halo.

  “heiter said he’d drop it off at the apartment for me, and i have my wallet in my pocket. meaning, we can grab some ice cream after this,” he plops down next to you in the sand, one hand reaching around to rest on your hip.

  pursing your lips, you lean into his touch. you’d never classify hinata as clingy, at least not in the traditional sense. he gives you plenty of space when you need it, but there are times when he just can’t give up the energy you expel. the feeling he gets when he sees the sun shining on your face. or how the waves reach your feet and your nose crinkles by how cold it is.

  “well, then i’ll need to borrow this, since you’re here,” you reach your hand up, grabbing his favorite baseball cap off his head, hair springing back out as his hand runs through it. 

  grabbing a few seashells with your free hand, you set them inside the cap, making sure to brush any remaining sand off. they’re of different shapes, sizes, and colors. so unique like a fingerprint, all so beautiful to you. “like you don’t need to ‘borrow’ it every other day,” hinata shakes his head, while not necessarily shaking his smile.

  “you know you love it,” you glance over at him, rubbing another seashell free from sand.

  he keeps his eyes on you, even as you look away. the lines that form at the corners of your eyes, how they squint as you try to clean off every grain of sand. doing it so carefully as to not damage his hat, his favorite due to being a gift you had given him. bits of your love in everything around him. 

gen taglist: @nnnyxie @sippn-the-tae @pinkopalfrost @silkloom @megapteraurelia @dazqa @lale-txt @solzscribblez @bluemailhiot @hyunteru @kameyyy

[dearru-rb]

i love this panel because this is definitely how isagi gets when he’s jealous. just bitterly and childishly mumbling to himself and reassuring himself that he’s better.

"yoichi? i'm going out!"

isagi looks up from his phone, brows furrowed and posture straight in confusion. "huh? where? you didn't tell me we were going anywhere?"

you seem none the wiser, just putting your keys into your pocket and fixing up your appearance.

"oh, i'm sorry, i thought i told you. kaiser's in japan for a bit, so i offered to grab lunch with him." you say.

"kaiser?"

"yeah..? kaiser." you repeat, now even more confused than him.

you ask innocently, "did you want to come?"

did he want to come? did you mean "did he want to chew on a fully barked log?"

yoichi reasons it in his head. he and kaiser have been on better terms since the blue lock project finished. he doesn't completely hate him; he would even say they're healthy rivals!

but still, what business does kaiser have in japan? why does he need to have lunch with his lover? clowny mcstupid-face can probably get a reservation in tokyo wherever he wants but nooo, he has to come snatch you up. is he so inconsiderate that he doesn't realize you could be busy?

maybe he pissed off ness on the flight here. that sounds like him. and now he's come crying to you, asking for advice on how to fix his relationship from someone who actually knows how to communicate. and you're just so considerate, you accepted. yep, that's it. just you being the kind, angelic, and caring person he fell in love with. he just has to make sure that doesn't charm kaiser. that guy knows better than to mess with isagi after being demolished in the semi-finals last season. oh, that was funny, he might watch a clip of that later—

"yoichi?" you break his train of thought. "what are you mumbling about?"

"huh?"

a vibration from your back pocket interrupts you from inquiring further. you check your phone and curse under your breath. "agh, i'm running late! i told him not to come early!"

"i'll see you later, babe! i'll bring something back for you, okay? love you!"

you close the door and isagi is still sitting there on the couch, frozen and face flushed as he realizes how much of a maniac he must've looked like throwing a childish fit out loud.

fin.

[dearru-rb]

hinata and 12.30pm pls !! only if you want to ofc :))

writing/warmup game closed!

shouyou; 12:30pm --

"shouyou! over here!"

shouyou grins as he adjusts his cap and jogs over the warm sand towards you, ducking under the freshly set up beach umbrella and reaching out to hand you a large drink with a tiny paper umbrella tucked into the ice.

you smile, leaning in for a long sip.

"thanks," you say, clinking your glass against his pocari bottle. he takes a long swig. you take the chance to admire the sharp lines of his profile -- the years have been kind to him, and the once slightly awkward pipsqueak of a high school boy has turned into a sturdy (if still not very tall), sun-kissed bundle of well-coordinated muscle with freckled cheeks and a bright, beach-ready smile.

he tugs off his shades and tucks them into the loose collar of his tanktop.

"looks like they're gonna do surfing lessons in a few," you say, jerking your head towards the cluster of boys loitering by the water's edge tsukishima's gangly frame jutting half a head above everyone else, daichi's voice booming over the crash of the waves as he tries to keep the peace.

"wah... sounds like fun!" shouyou laughs, leaning back further on his elbows, wiggling his toes in the warm sand by the edge of the beach blanket. you cock your head.

"not gonna join?"

he leans over to steal a sip of your drink, humming happily as he does; his arm brushes against yours and you try not to shiver at the tingling heat it sends skittering through your veins. he blinks up at you with honey-glazed eyes and a crooked smile.

"i will if you come with me!"

you purse your lips, feeling that ever-familiar tug behind your navel, the air-kissed prickled of goosebumps as they ripple along your skin. this close, you think that you can count every single freckle that dots the bridge of his nose, the high of his cheeks. you can see the faint tan line in the shape of his shades and the fine granules of sand caught in his tangerine hair.

his skin smells like salt and coconuts.

"promise you won't let me fall?" you say, reaching out a hand as if for a handshake.

shouyou jumps to his feet, his smile like the midsummer sun --

"can't promise you that --" he reaches down to wrap his fingers around yours; you feel the hardness of his calluses against the soft of your palm as he pulls you up, tipping you forward into him, even as you lose your balance and topple right into his chest, his other arm banding lightly around your waist.

"-- but i promise i'll always catch you when you do."

[dearru-rb]

𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮. — hinata/gn!reader

✧ notes: fluff fluff FLUFF. best friends to lovers. mutual pining! hinata is very whipped. both are adults & implied drinking (nothing too detailed). sort of confession? yeah hinata has really been stretching it out for YEARS.

perhaps…perhaps hinata should've expected this.

hinata loves you. you in your loose-fitting blouse and all perched up in his couch, colors of your socks coincidentally matching with his, your candid lopsided smile and starry eyes that are somehow lustrous in this cold night. milky moon bathing you through his half open window. hinata loves you in your wine hues of your cheeks, you're slightly tipsy but sober enough that your words aren't slurred, yet. he thinks it's majestic how you tread your fingers through your hair and heave a sigh after a long road of exploring back to the years way behind, and you laugh in disbelief when you muttered. "has it really been that long?"

hinata believes it has been long, long since there lives a flourishing, aching sense that spreads wide in his chest, something he'd been accustomed to, but not actually fully accepted. not because he despises this growing feeling, but because there's never really a point for him to dive such unfamiliarty, something that's new and terrifying, because it has been long for the both of you to practically know each other, long enough that he can proudly say you've been a huge chunk in his life and him being a huge chunk in yours, long enough to be your best friend, an anchor and incomparable. there's no point in it, he thinks, to walk down a path with no undos and no map to guide on.

and, yet. "yeah, it has." he chuckles, soft and hushed and completely soaked in adoration. it's been too long since he sat down and brought himself to talk it out within, too long ever since you decided to go out of state and travel from one place to another, too long since he stands still and he watches your life play out as you move forward to a direction he feels he cannot live up to. too long since he've been like this, and somehow the familiarty of being your best friend is slowly gnawing him inside and out.

and now, your smile turns warm, hinata thinks you're glowing. your eyes drift to some faraway distance, head in the clouds, he permits the lull of silence in welcoming arms. the exhale that leaves his lips are out of dwelling. he grins as he hears you settle for an exhale as well, only that it's more of a long sigh that sounds slightly dramatic.

he turns to you, as he does so, he's speechless as he caught you pulling out a pendant underneath your clothing, he hadn't notice it since now, it glimmers against the pooling moonlight. it's a pendant he gave you before you depart, before he decided to bring out the words he wanted you to know but his hands got clammy and his throat choked the last courage he had mustered, so he just placed it in your palm and give it a squeeze, a small 'bye' that's withdrawn and pained, his robotic wave as you bid him farewell. 3 years, it's been 3 years, he reminisces. he never would've thought he'd see you wear it.

he stares as you twiddle it with your thumb and index finger. you began, "it's like bringing a part of you with me, you never actually left." you blink to look at him, and soon he finds no amount of words can ever fit to this…beauty, to you, to how he can see his reflection in your eyes, to how it's peppered in stardust, to how your lips lift to another smile, to how he's lovestruck and to how he is drunk-dazed the moment you open your mouth to utter the words:

"thank you, sho, you're truly something."

air is coughed out of his lungs. he breathes out, his expression crumbling into something more…aching, yearning.

oh, he's had enough of it.

and so he's here, the three words heavy on his lips from carrying the weight of his feelings, heavy from all the doubts and second guesses and taking one step forward and then stumbling two steps behind.

"i love you."

he says with desperation dripping ever so slowly, when he blinks and sees your face falling into one with pure shock, his hand is quick to slap to his lips. it flew like clockwork, natural but half-not. did he really just said that?

your smile is gone and you're wide-eyed. but he sits still, the world stills, he lets it, he lets the words sink in deep. another moment passes and he notice your eyes rapidly blinking, as if it's stinging. it soon follows a quiet sniff, gentle and continuous streams of tears, and a gasp as you mutter, "you…what?"

this time, it's a little more certain, rolling off his tongue with each syllables fitting into a serious glint as he reach for your hands, giving it a long squeeze. "i love you."

it did in a sense, you chuckle, gradually turning into a hearty laugh that reverberates from your chest. you stumble for a bit, finding it unreal, as if your brows creasing together and a slight shake of your head as if trying to wipe off a dream isn't any indication. "shoyo, i love you."

you squeeze his hand just as much. "took you long enough."

hinata never expects much. especially not from you, but maybe, he should've been more selfish. he brought your hands to his lips, greeting each knuckles with kisses, grazing over your fingers as he tenderly place it on his warm cheeks. he chuckles, entirely enamored. "thank you, for waiting for me."

for simple words, it can carry the weight of hinata's big heart. he can't recall how many times he said it that night, and he doesn't feel the need to. the spark is always bright in the way he giggles after whispering it in your ear, after carrying you to the bed and snuggling against you, body warmth so comforting as it lulls you both to sleep, the spark is there but its mellow and its gentle. and when dreamland comes to pick up the both of you, the last thing he sees is you and your cute smile, before closing his eyes, and letting himself selfishly wish that tomorrow, he wakes up with you on his side.

✧ notes: (i hate my writing here) anyways i wanna kiss hinata so bad heh. also can u tell i love writing fluff, and friends to lovers trope. i hope ur not tired already LMAO but i promise my next work will be a little different :] proceeds to be inactive for the next few weeks

✧ a little tag: @yuquinzel ♡

© kyoghurts ★ reblogs & likes are well appreciated!

[dearru-rb]

You thought I was done with Shikamaru, huh? Hohohohohoho 🤭

[dearru-rb]

teasing hinata is a team sport too 😜

all credits to the artist @skyellux on ig & tumblr

[dearru-rb]

for the msby black jackals, it’s very easy to tell when atsumu miya is in a bad mood.

maybe it’s how they’ve all gotten to know each other better or maybe it’s the amount of time they’ve all spent together since the very first day, but by now, they can all tell, just by atsumu’s little quirks and whims, when the setter’s feeling particularly … grumpy.

“did’ja forget how to serve all’a sudden?” the blond barks in the middle of the court, cutting the practice match short as the ball hits the ground loudly.

sakusa bites back at him, eyes squinted, “did you forget how to set?”

atsumu’s been like this all morning.

ever since he entered the gym doors and hinata greeted him their usual morning “hellos”, he’s been nothing but a grumbly, mumbly mess, glaring at everyone who got at least two feet near him.

they figured its just one of those days.

usually, they’re able to work around it, eventually snap him out of his horrible demeanor and bribe him back to his usual tsumu self with a couple of jokes here and there.

but today, nothing is working. he isn’t budging at all. not even meian could get through to him with how loud his sulking is getting.

and it’s bothering everyone on the team.

“so, when are we gonna call reinforcements on this?” sakusa mutters to shoyo, the two of them watching their blond headed friend from afar, observing - not so discreetly - as he sits alone on the bench, somehow still managing to look annoyed at the floor.

they wonder if he’ll yell at that too.

“i don’t wanna get yelled at again.” hinata grimaces, his shoulders dropping wantonly as he recalls the last time he called for reinforcements.

after all, the reinforcements: you, did warn all of them the last time it happened that you would very much rather not be involved in any of this should it ever happen again.

( the last time they called you in because atsumu was apparently being unreasonable, not only did you reprimand atsumu for terrorizing the team, but you reprimanded everyone else as well for even dragging you into it. )

hinata nudges sakusa, “you make the call, omi.”

and sakusa breathes in deeply, “… no.”

the rest of the morning feels horrible for everybody. an obvious damper in the air as no one is feeling energized or static enough to proceed with the rest of the day’s practice.

if it wasn’t so sunny outside, hinata swears, he could hear thunder and lightning flashing so dramatically.

“obviously we’re all not feeling great this morning.” meian starts, addressing everyone on the team as they all huddle around each other. “some more than others.”

atsumu sees the pointed look his team captain gives him. he does his best to look to the side and ignore it.

“but, regionals are coming up, and that means i need everyones heads to be in the game.”

atsumu knows he hasn’t been the best teammate today, but can they really blame him? he wasn’t just picking on them for no reason. the serves really were weak and the timing and the tempos of the plays were just plain subpar.

if he was in a good mood, then fine, sure, maybe, he would have relayed those criticisms better, be gentler and nicer.

but tough shit, because today, he’s not.

today, he is in an awful, horrible, terrible mood, and the team’s below-average play was just making everything worse.

“so, why don’t we all take a break?” meian’s voice cuts him out of his slump, and for the first time all morning, his shoulders pick up a bit in anticipation. “how does thirty minutes sound?”

thirty minutes sounds great – fantastic, even.

but not for him to take a break, no - no way. there’s absolutely no time for that.

because right now, as meian speaks (so awfully slow, atsumu thinks) you are currently 15 minutes away from his gym stadium, tucked away in an opera theatre with one of your classmates, watching a performance you’re assigned to write an essay on.

and usually, he’s cool with things like that, it’s normal for you to go on university trips with your friends. your major takes you all over japan for the amount of assignments it has you accomplishing, after all.

but for some reason, this time he’s not. this time he can’t be cool with it.

this time it gets under his nerves so much that it just about makes him want to explode at a wall.

this time you aren’t with the friends he’s met before. this time you’re with someone new, someone assigned to watch the show with you, and it’ll be someone he’s never met, just the two of you there, in the theatre, in the dark, alone.

he’d yell at a floor if he could.

now, he isn’t a jealous person. he really, really, really isn’t.

and when you both left the house this morning, he’d given you a kiss on the cheek with his usual sly grin, an i love you to start the day, and a promise that he’d pick you up when he can.

but the second you left his sight, it was like it all suddenly hit him.

you. a guy. alone. in a theatre.

you were basically going on a date.

and that puts a very, very awful taste in his mouth.

“alright you rats,” meian sighs as he takes a look at the team he’s talking to, no one seemingly paying attention anymore after the minute he said ‘break’, “be back in thirty. i mean it.”

and that was all the cue atsumu needed to hear. one second he’s breaking from the team huddle, and the next he’s bolting out the door.

“be back in thirty or it’s diving drills for all of you!”

atsumu glances on his wristwatch as he runs, he’s got about thirty minutes on the clock and you’re about fifteen minutes away from him by foot. he didn’t bring his car today and really, just from the practice alone this morning, his heart rate is already up by a dozen.

he can’t afford to slow down now. so, he’ll just have to run faster.

this is fine — better than yelling at the floor, at least.

“so, how about that performance, huh?”

you look up from your watch as your classmate’s voice cuts through your thoughts. he’s standing to your right, awkwardly distanced, but a decent amount of feet away that he’s not so close.

is it bad that you don’t remember his name?

“it was okay.” you give him a polite smile, scratching your cheek in instinct as you make polite conversation.

“i thought it died down a bit during that final part though.”

“i noticed that too,” he gives you a smile back, “it did lose momentum.”

the conversation is very polite, quiet, riddled with pointless small talk to make up for the painful awkwardness wafting in the air.

you’ve got half a thought in the back of your mind to make up some lame excuse to just suddenly leave and go, but you still kinda feel a little bit sorry for the guy for being stuck with you on this project.

(plus there was that whole forgetting-his-name thing that something tells you you should feel guilty about.)

curse you, randomly assigned project partners.

despite having shared classes with mr. nameless over here and seeing him around campus a handful of times, the two of you never really interacted until this morning when you both met up for this theatre watching project.

you’d mentioned it to your husband in passing, and halfheartedly expected him to make a fuss about it, especially when you told him that it’d be another guy you were partnered with, but much to your surprise, he’s taken it pretty coolly ( a feat you weren’t aware he was capable of ).

now though, as the show just ended and the two of you wait in front of the theatre for the next bus to arrive, the air is filled with a thick awkward silence that you hope when the bus does come, it goes in the complete opposite direction of where he’s headed to.

you’d almost feel bad for the guy for having to withstand such awkwardness if it wasn’t for the fact that you hoped he’d just walk away and leave.

“you wouldn’t happen to be free after this, would you?”

the silence comes to an end when he turns to you, hand on the back of his neck, cheeks slightly flushed.

so much for just walking away and leaving.

his voice seems quieter now, less whole, and he’s pretty much looking at every other thing except for you, “i just noticed that it’s around lunch now and well, maybe we could grab some food together and continue discussing the show?”

now, you wish the bus would arrive and just run you down on the spot.

what do you even say? surely, not his name, you can’t even remember it.

if atsumu was here right now, he would absolutely lose his shit, maybe even yell, or cause a scene, but that’d be enough to rescue you from this highschool confession scene about to unravel, but he’s not and he’s busy and far away and–

“hey, did i miss the show or sum’n?”

you blink. was your husband a genie or something? suddenly appearing out of nowhere each time your little heart calls for him?

“tsumu?” you’re more excited than surprised, “what’re you doing here?”

instead of answering you, your very sweaty husband turns to look at the guy you’re with instead. the very guy who’s been tormenting him all morning in that sweaty little head of his.

he is so not impressed.

“miya atsumu,” he says suddenly, almost scoffing, and he wipes the sweat from his forehead as he straightens his posture, and with that same sweaty hand of his, he extends it out for your classmate to shake. “nice to meet ya.”

your classmate gives you a nervous laugh, looking at you more than the odd and suspiciously sweaty man in front of him.

he asks, smile breaking a little bit, “miya?”

“yup.” atsumu replies bluntly, and he’s got that punchable smirk of his on his face again, “miya.”

where was that bus when you needed it?

“nice to meet you too.” your classmate gives him a short reply, that same polite smile he gave you earlier now appearing not-so confident, and he grimaces slightly as he shakes your husband’s hand.

you try not to laugh — it wouldn’t be polite.

the next bus is forgotten though after that gruesome little handshake as your poor, poor classmate suddenly gets a text from - apparently - his mother, asking him to walk back home right this instant.

you tell him you understand and that it’s okay and that you hope he gets home safe.

and you both ignore the fact that his phone has been in his pocket this entire time, and that neither of you saw him get any text at all.

really, you owe him for putting him through such awkwardness, but when you remember his name, you’ll remember to return the favor.

once he leaves — rather hurriedly — it’s just the two of you now, you and your very sweaty husband.

“hey, what’re you doing here?” you ask him for real thus time, less surprised now and more pleased to see him so suddenly, “did you finish already?”

atsumu finally gives his attention on you, and just like magic (genie magic?) his sly and obnoxious demeanor changes into something so much more familiar.

he deflates a little bit, now that it’s just you around, and you’re grateful that the cool japan air has dried down most of his sweat before he envelops you in a hug.

“nope.” atsumu shakes his head, melting away in your embrace, “meian gave us a thirty minute break, i thought i’d swing by.”

you push him off, and you tilt your head at him, brow raising, “but it’s more than a mile away?”

“yeah.” he gives you a nervous laugh and his ears pink up just a little bit, “yer telling me.”

so, maybe, he didn’t take it as coolly as you had initially thought. maybe you did marry a very jealous man who would run over a mile to come see you.

but that’s okay too, because your cheeks hurt from smiling so much at that fact.

“does this have anything to do with the text sakusa sent me earlier?” you give him a knowing look, smile teasing.

“depends.” atsumu squints his eyes. “whadd’he say?”

“something along the lines of “help. come. right now.”, does that make any sense at all to you?” you raise a brow, and you cross your arms over your chest as you ask.

“nope. not at all.”

“oh, you are evil when you’re jealous.”

“i am so not jealous.”

“you so are.”

it’s easy to tease him when he’s like this. all flustered and pink in the ears, and the toothy smile on his face makes you forget that he could ever be seen as anything remotely close to scary or intimidating.

you give him a soft kiss on the cheek. “thanks for coming to see me.”

“i did it all for my sake.” he tells you, scratching the back of his neck, “sorry.”

“reminds me, shouldn’t you be getting back by now?”

atsumu takes a quick look at his watch, it’s almost that thirty minute mark meian gave him for his break, and he knows, all too well, that he’ll get another earful of it when he gets back.

you see him look worried for a moment.

not to say that he wouldn’t deserve it. he knows now — now that he isn’t blinded with all consuming jealousy — that fine, maybe, maybe, he might’ve been an asshole today.

but he’s back to himself now, and he really didn’t want to do any of those diving drills.

“come on, let’s go back now, i’ll come with you.” you take his hand in yours as you tug him to make a progressive step.

he perks up a little bit, “you will?”

“well, you need all the help you can get sweet talking everyone back into believing you haven’t been a jackass to them all morning.”

[dearru-rb]

husband!kageyama taking care of your nails for you.

“You know, when you told me you were going to clip my nails, I didn’t think you meant it seriously.”

Kageyama gave a small grunt, not looking up. “I always mean it seriously.”

“That’s what worries me a little.”

He blinked, pausing to glance at you. “Why?”

“Because you have your ‘actual game face’ on. Like you’re about to hit the ball through someone’s soul—my poor finger’s soul.”

His brow furrowed. “This is delicate work,” he said, as if it were obvious. “I have to focus. And I’m careful.”

You laughed, watching him lift your hand like it was a precious object. He took a long moment to examine your fingers—turning them slightly, his thumb brushing along your knuckles in slow circles. It’s gentle and careful, and it warms your heart to see your husband so loving like this.

“You have a hangnail here,” he muttered, frowning. “Were you picking at it again?”

“I got nervous during that meeting yesterday.”

He clicked his tongue quietly. “Stop doing that. You’ll hurt yourself.”

“I didn’t know I’d be getting a full checkup afterward!”

“You don’t need to be nervous. You’re… good at what you do.” His voice dropped a little as he said it, like it embarrassed him to offer praise so directly. “I’ve heard you on the phone. You’re smart. And brave.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard. Your smile softened. “That’s the sweetest thing you’ve said all week.”

“I said you looked pretty yesterday.”

“You said I ‘looked rested.’”

“…Oh. Well, you look even prettier today.”

You laughed, and it made his ears turn pink.

He clipped your nails gently, his hands steady, fingers long and precise. He held each of yours securely, guiding you through the process like a practiced routine. It wasn’t rushed; Kageyama took his time, carefully aligning the clipper, checking the angle twice before making a cut. After each nail, he paused to brush the trimmed bits into a little ceramic bowl they kept nearby.

“Do you do this often?” You asked after a long pause. “For yourself, I mean?”

He nodded once. “Every few days. I have to. My fingers are everything. If I don’t keep my nails short and clean, they can catch on the ball or split. It’s stupid how much one little crack can mess with your whole game.”

You gave him a look, eyes wide with something like quiet awe. “You take this so seriously.”

“It’s part of taking care of myself,” he said, and his gaze lifted to yours. “And now it’s part of taking care of you too.”

Your breath caught for just a moment. How did you ever get so lucky to snag this man?

Kageyama picked up the small file next and began to smooth the edges with slow, even strokes. The motion was rhythmic and tender. You watched the way he focused so intently on the task—the slight pinch in his brow, the way his lower lip pressed into a thin line when he was trying to be especially careful.

“You always do this when you’re nervous,” you said softly, brushing your free hand against his hair.

“Do what?”

“Zone in. Like the world disappears except the thing you’re trying to control.”

Kageyama was quiet for a moment, then exhaled. “That’s… true.”

“Are you nervous right now?”

He hesitated. “Not nervous. Just… I want to get it right.”

“Because it’s me?”

He gave the tiniest nod, eyes still trained on your thumbnail. “You’re important. I don’t want to mess anything up.”

You leaned in, resting your forehead against his for a beat. “You won’t.”

The silence between you grew comfortable. The kind of quiet that speaks in glances and gentle touches. After he filed the last nail, he gently ran his thumb across each fingertip, checking for snags, tiny splinters, anything he might have missed. Then he reached for the cuticle oil and unscrewed the little bottle with a slow, almost reverent motion.

“I’m going to massage this in,” he said, almost shyly—yet still determined.

You nodded, watching him carefully as he dabbed a small dot of oil on each nail, then rubbed it in with soft, circular motions. His touch was warm, so warm, like the atmosphere during mornings in a bakery. The way he held your hand wasn’t just careful—it was reverent. As if your hands were something sacred. Something worth protecting.

“I like your hands,” he said suddenly.

You scrunched your nose, barely. “Really?”

“They’re soft. And warm. And… I know them.” His voice dropped lower, murmuring. “I know the way you hold my wrist when I’m anxious. The way you press your palm to my back when I come home late. How you run your fingers through my hair when I can’t sleep.”

You swallowed. Your chest ached in that lovely, terrible way when someone says exactly what you needed to hear without knowing it.

“I want to take care of them,” he added, brushing his thumb along the side of your pinky. “Because they take care of me.”

“Tobio…”

He looked up then, eyes a little wide like he was afraid he’d gone too far. But you leaned forward before he could pull back and kissed him softly. When you pulled away, your voice was barely a whisper. “You are the gentlest man I’ve ever known.”

He shook his head, a breath of laughter escaping. “I’m not.”

“You are. Maybe not with words. Or… you know, strangers. But with me? You’re gentle in all the ways that matter.”

You sat like that for a long moment—hands still entwined, foreheads nearly touching, the world outside fading into white noise. Then Kageyama cleared his throat. “I could… maybe paint them next time? If you want?”

Your eyes lit up. “You’d paint my nails?”

He gave an awkward little shrug. “If you like it. I’d have to practice.”

You hummed, pulling him forward into another kiss, lingering and full of affection. “You’re already perfect.”

Kageyama flushed from the base of his neck to the tips of his ears once again. He’s so easily flustered—it’s almost illegal to be this cute, you think.

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[dearru-rb]

Watching your old teammate's match on a chill Saturday kinda day

Part 2 of the Pomodoro series!

this is by far my most favourite piece ive worked on so far AAAAAAA of course i have to put in lots of books bc bro is an editor

Wallpapers/Support me @ Kofi | Instagram | Twitter | Commission@vGen