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070825 ♥︎ TSUKISHIMA KEI where his heart is in your hand.

an attempt at sentimentality would normally come as a surprise for anyone who’s met tsukishima kei. 

luckily enough, you know him in a way most people don’t. 

you know him by what his name brings: a song played on repeat, endless streams of laughter in each trial & error at baking, something too sweet and too messy, secrets shared under the moon’s graces, a fight that left a three month bruise where your heart nearly drops to the sea bed, where if he tried to search it out of shame, breathlessly chasing, your body would never soften again from his touch. 

you know him by how memory paints him tender, an earthly scent wafting from an unexpected rain in the middle of summer. you know him by his wordless funk; hand on your shoulder when nothing needs saying and gladly eats the shitty stuff on your fridge together with you. a really quiet ‘i’m sorry’ pressed between hugs and fingers tracing the years you’ve spent together as you memorise the shape of his broad back. and when you meet his gaze across the sidewalk a week after, you wonder if his smiles always seemed to look like that— so inexplicably bare. forthright. easy. 

you find out, one spring later, that it only ever comes easy because it’s you. 

the courtyard smells a lot like beginnings and endings. 

brushing against shoulders and blazers, you melt into laughter that rise and fall with the tide of goodbyes. you catch his eye, standing all tall and composed, but framed like the softness as if the world had tilted just right for warmth to cradle him. his jacket hangs just slightly open, the fabric looser now. no longer needed to be worn. you huff a chuckle at how formal he still looks, despite everything.

you pretend to shy away from him, hoping to look for someone else. but he’s walking towards you. naturally. inevitably. and like all things, you can’t help but stare in awe.

without a word, he reaches for his jacket uniform. plucking out with careful hands on his second button. he lifts your own hand and gently spread your palm, pressing it gently until he lets you curl your fingers around it. feel the weight of everything he has offered.

“don’t lose it, okay?” 

it’s stupidly small, but heavy and warm from being next to his heart all day. “you know i won’t.” and when you look up, you think he already knows. like this has been a long time coming. 

you finally understand—at what he is, what he’ll always will be— that this is where you know him best: 

an attempt at sentimentality, a surprise to everyone.

but never, ever to you. 

© MARISOLLS 2025 thank you for reading!

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YIPPIEEE hi how are you

HIIII OMG SORRY FOR BEING LATE im good!!! ^^ ive been in such a slump lately ive tried every method to get out it but alas.... HOW R U THO????

[leafington]

𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙞𝙣' 𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙢𝙚, 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙣𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩, 𝙤𝙝! 𝙞𝙨𝙣'𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙨𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙩? 𝙞 𝙜𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙨𝙤! - kento n.

content warning !! - blackfem!reader, fluff, not proofread, hiddeninventory!nanami, lowercase intended bc im lazy, also vvvv short bc this was written in one sitting in order to cure mtywriters block

a/n - i thought the lyrics were "fem boy" for a long time and my friends made fun of me ☹️, also ib by this one smau of teen gojo geto and nanami where gojo had getos phone and haibara had nanamis phone and they confessed but i can't find it ☹️☹️

never in all his life had nanami felt so... off. whenever you'd walk through the halls, boisterous laughter ringing through at gojo and geto's side, he'd hope you'd stop and finally look his way, wondering when you would realize that he should've been only person hearing you laugh like that.

it was torture, all his sense of being swiped away from him the very moment you were even in the same breathing space as him. you'd approach him, radiant as ever, with a, "hey, have you seen my pen around here?" before searching up and down his desk and accusing him of stealing it himself. he's quick to refute your claims, offering up his own. then you shoot a smile at him which nearly kills him.

and don't get him started on when you all would hang out; the guys followed you everywhere you went, spreading your infections grin to those who walked by, innocently accepting numbers from those who offered them to you (and nanami could only wish that he had their confidence). you were such a social butterfly and he was a mere introverted caterpillar, if that even.

when trapped alone with his thoughts, they often strayed to you and how beautiful you were to him. from the shiny glare from your smile, to the way you made their bland uniform look so stylish. your eagerness to include any and everyone in conversation so nobody (him included) felt left out. to nanami, you were a breeze on a pretty beach. you weren't as annoying as the others and he willingly tolerated you.

if only you knew how much you meant to him.

©2025 leafington dont steal please!! :)

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hi i see you like tsukishima :3 (semi-shameless selfplug)

oh you are so goated, now u cant leave. GUARDS SIEZE THEM.

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IS DADDY’S HOME

PERCHANCE!!!

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070125. TSUKISHIMA KEI woah, bite marks? sweet.

“what was that for?”

you look to the side, pretending you didn’t hear him while half smiling, “hm?”

“you bit me just now.”

glancing back, you find his confusion quite adorable, one brow quirked up, confusion sandwhiched between his little wrinkles as he allows the bridge of his glasses slowly tipping lower.

“oh uh…must’ve been the wind.”

amusement emerges the more he blinks. tsukishima kei resists the urge to snort, though his lips curl in a way that you know what he’s thinking.

“didn’t you just drink your anti-silliness pills.”

you rest your chin on the slope between his neck and shoulder, scooting yourself closer as you watch him massage his fingers. suddenly you remember applying one of your favorite fragrance on his skin, now he smells like crisp cucumber with honeydew and summer cantaloupe. and you have to fight the urge to bite him again when he—

“go ahead, you weirdo.”

your heart leaps in joy, quietly fluttering. “you sure?”

his hand finds its way into combing through your locks, he mutters softly, “not really,” because he knows you’d still do it regardless of what he says.

your teeth sinks into his bare skin, and somehow a chuckle still rumbles through his chest, like he feels tingly from the sensation. when you don’t move, he gently pushes your head deeper through his hold on your roots.

it ends in you peppering kisses on the bite mark, a red spot blooming in such a place. “you might wanna cover this up.”

“what are you talking about?” he looks down to where you put your (loving) seal on him, then to you, “we’re not going out ‘til the long weekend’s over, right?”

“huh?” you sit up, feel the bed creak from the movement. “no?”

tsukishima kei, ever the obvious, and painfully susceptible to your teasings as much as you are to him, now averts his gaze with faint pink dusting his ears. he looks…tempting, almost inviting. he tries to say as flatly as possible, “do whatever you want, then.”

why does he sound like he’s actually encouraging you? huh, guess he does have a weakness after all.

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had to scrap a nanami drabble bc it was kiss of life based 💀

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TSUKISHIMA KEI who hated pda and openly showed his disdain for it before and during your relationship, and yet somehow he starts craving it slowly but surely.

craving doesn’t exactly describe it. it’s like he’s learned how to crave it in a way that’s unconsciously done. in a way he’s known since forever on how to interlock fingers and shove your hands both in his pocket. in a way that—he might have even lied to you about hating pda in the first place.

you can’t forget that scrunched up face he made seeing your peers doing… revolting things, as he phrased it, but when you followed his line of sight, you’re only met with the most timid looking couples gigging to each other, face so close as if they’ve just shared a sweet secret under their breath.

“they’re cute.” you look back at him, see how his eyes soften through his glasses. a half smile forming. then blinks away as he mutters,

“no they’re not.”

‘but they are!”

you scoff at him. that night, he kisses you tenderly on the forehead before he walks out your door, ending your study session in the softness that he thrives in under quiet, private spaces. “you can have my notes, don’t stay up too long.”

“okay, mister ‘i hate pda but i’d spoil you with kisses in private’ tsukishima”

“do you want me to revoke your privileges?”

it’s even funnier thinking about it now. he was never the same after the third date, when he kissed your hand before holding them as you amble your way through the aquarium. or the fourth date, when he doesn’t seem bothered resting his chin over your shoulder while being sandwhiched in a crowded highway bus. or the four months in, a greeting is never a greeting unless its in the form of a hug. he could only sigh and offer his arms wide open, trying (and failing) to hide his gorgeous smile once he wraps his arms around you, all snuggly and oblivious to the peering gazes around you.

by the time he realizes, it’s already too late.

“kei?”

he freezes mid-bite of his shortcake, eyeing your own slice held up for him to take. he complies without a word and—to your satisfaction, munches it with a hum of approval. you can’t help but chuckle and think he’s cute. unbothered.

“you know i’m starting to trust your adventurous nature-” you halved your cake, bring the other to his lips, and if it wasn’t for the little grin you’re sporting right now—

he eyes the cake,

then to you,

you can see the little gears shifting in his big brain from the way he blinks and raise a brow. lips slightly parted.

“wait-”

looks like he’s finally snapped out of it.

you mutter a small ‘sorry’ as you watch through the window a couple smacking each other’s lips across the street, casually directing your fork towards yourself. it was fun while it lasted, you finally have more reasons to tease him later too—

“i want a bite.”

you sputter out, “huh?” tsukishima kei looks bashful, but also staring down at you as if you’ve personally offended him. either way, you’re a bit dumbfounded to even move, let alone register what he had just said.

he scoffs. then grabbed your arm, guiding the slice you’re holding back to his mouth.

he munches it much more slowly, ear’s pink, looking anywhere but you.

“you good?” you ask, holding back a chuckle.

“mmhm.” he nods. wordless, inviting you to never speak anything about it either.

and to his luck, you never did. just basked in the affections you both give and receive. after all, who cares about pda?

he walks you home, hand in his. he demands a kiss before you go, and you give him without thought.

life doesn’t seem to give a damn either.

[leafington]

does anybody still want the last chapter of underwater? dkdjeodhekej

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ugh i miss my man

LUCKY ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ SAKUSA KIYOOMI

tags/warning: smau, fem reader, drinking, language, sexual content opposites attract, writing this to fill the party girl reader x sakusa void in my heart, mdni

gen taglist: @ottocre @sodaneko @dambxtch @angee444 @kameyyy @A-girl-can’t-decide-on-a-name @kodzu-ken @girlhooddiaries @boooolame @thatonecroc @nnnyxie @eclecticeggknightpsychic @manhattanstrawberry @evilari111 @nicerthanu @localgaytrainwreck @alcyneus @megapteraurelia @kiyokostan

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help i was abt to scold u to go to sleep then i remembered timezones exist ;-;

mind u the sun is up and shining where i am LSMPAOAOO

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TSUKISHIMA KEI random boyfriend hcs that’s good for the soul ( my soul specifically ) . . . ♡

he wouldn’t call himself an artist, but he does have the skill. i think he keeps a sketchpad hidden somewhere within his shelf, pages filled with you; doodles, sketches, sketches your favorite things like a book or trinket or flowers

tsukki likes to make fun of you for your bedrotting habit. and then does the exact same (he likes it more when you’re beside him and bedrotting the entire afternoon)

makes you breakfast whenever you’re grumpy in the morning

he doesn’t seem too interested in your random queries (like the ever so loving and cute glob that you are) early on your relationship, but after a while he’ll go along with whatever that brain of yours tries to conjure something stupid

literally finds you cute in everything you do. proof? he pinches your cheek a lot—even when you’re not doing anything in particular

secretly LOVES to be the little spoon!!! + naps are so heavenly when you’re beside him. on the rare nights you sleep over at his place, he ends up getting the best rest; your arms wrapped around him even when he’s turned away, holding him close until morning

skincare is a must. doesn’t have to be a ten-step kinda thing, just quietly massaging each other’s faces and letting the face mask sit until he can sneak a picture or two, is more than enough

stays on call with you until you fall asleep, then stays up for another hour in case you wake up—this is especially important for him because he can’t handle you suffering with your sleeping problems (or when he knows you have a lot on your mind)

made at least seven different and carefully curated playlists dedicated to you

also gets emotional when you specifically take a lyric from a song that describes your feelings for him—the softest smile would appear on his face. kisses you on the forehead to simply show his appreciation

gives you so many tender and soft touches when you’re both alone, does it unconsciously too ><

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121924. ❀ ₊˚⊹ HERSHEY’S KISSES

haikyuu 𝜗𝜚 tsukishima kei x fem!reader

you’ve had your fair share of experiences when it comes to relationships. yet for some reason, the one you have now, with a certain blonde who gives you love that’s tangible enough to feel its warmth flowing your skin— makes all your hair from your nape rise in an indescribable feeling. it’s a mix of apprehension, excitement, and an overwhelming desire to do something you have never done before.

or: 4 times you felt the urge to kiss him, and 1 time he acted upon it.

❀ MASTERLIST. PREV. IV. U CAN'T. NEXT

content 𝜗𝜚 2.7k wc. museum date. h*nd h*ld*ng. gut wrenching tension. tsukki is disgustingly and effortlessly handsome.

the date almost seems too good to be true.

you start your morning relatively productive, perhaps because you slept early, tucked yourself into bed, and let yourself grab a well-deserved rest from all the overthinking you’ve been doing. perhaps because of tsukishima kei, who’s always subtly punctual with you, or when he looks good in everything he wears, like he’s not even trying.

he’s leaning casually against a column, earbuds hanging loosely around his neck, posture as clean as ever. there’s not a bone of nervousness in him, a picture-perfect example of calm in any circumstance he’s in.

but up close, it’s different.

there’s a rosiness colouring his cheeks that almost looks natural. he twists and flexes his wrists when he’s trying to distract himself—from what, exactly? a knowing smirk curls up on your lips. 

“stop staring,” he says dryly, which translates to, ‘i know what you’re thinking.’ but the way his gaze flicks to the ground betrays him.

“who’s staring?” you tease, feeling coy.

he doesn’t push you away when you edge into his space, though he does roll his eyes when you make a show of squinting dramatically at him. “what are you doing now?”

“just trying to figure out if you’re actually excited,” you reply with a bubbling laugh, poking his arm. “you’ve got this adorable pink thing going on—”

“would you stop that already?” he mutters, ducking his head as if that’ll save him from your relentless teasing. a payback of sorts. and you relish every twitch in the expression he makes.

the sound spills into the cool, crisp air around you. the faint scent of blooming flowers from the museum gardens mixes with the earthy tang of autumn, and you feel the moment settle in your chest like a warm ember.

you don’t miss the slight curve of his lips, though, or the way he subtly adjusts his glasses, buying himself a moment to retain his composure.

“ready?” he asks, shifting gears as you rummage through your bag, double-checking for your stuff.

when you nod, it takes you a second to register that as he lifts his hand, he’s actually offering it to you. your eyes flicking between his face and his hand, before he sighs dramatically, intertwining his hand with yours without a word and begins to walk.

there’s a shy smile slowly forming at the corner of your mouth, “you’re… unusually affectionate.”

he scoffs, a soft, dismissive sound, and holds on tighter. “we’re just going inside, not a battlefield.”

the words are typical tsukishima—and you can’t help but chuckle. can’t help but bask in the gust of wind brushing past, tousling your hair. the slight pressure he puts as he holds your hand, slowly filling the spaces between your fingers so casually.

you don’t do this on the daily—then again, today isn’t just any other day.

it’s special. in his own quiet way, your boyfriend’s been making that point all along.

inside the museum, the air is cooler; faint hums and murmurs of conversation amble within the space. you glance around at the towering exhibits, and though you try to be subtle about it, your focus keeps drifting back to him on your side.

you see his top swallowing his figure snugly, baggy in a way that’s comfortable. he wears a buttercream knitted sweater vest layered over a mustard yellow long-sleeve shirt, and the sleeves are neatly rolled up at the cuffs. with dark blue slim-fit jeans, slightly cuffed at the ankles, paired with brown leather loafers.

you’ve fully mastered the art of self-restraint; nobody can suspect from your relaxed expression that your insides are crying out to just nuzzle your face against his clothes and inhale every bit of his floral cologne. the thought could make you wheeze, though you’d look insane if you did.

you’re also unsure why the warmth that radiates off of him whenever he moves, like fixing his glasses, is directed to you. maybe because you’re close; even if divided by the clothing material, your skin still meets his. and most of his energy just simply lands on you, like a weighted blanket on a cozy evening.

you pause in front of a massive dinosaur skeleton, craning your neck to take in the sheer size of it. its towering frame almost scrapes the museum ceiling, sharp teeth glinting under the overhead lights. “imagine living in a world where this thing just… roams around,” you muse aloud.

“humans wouldn’t last a week,” he says flatly.

“speak for yourself,” you retort. “i’d probably tame it and ride it to work.”

amusement dances across his features, as he raises a brow, “you? tame a dinosaur?”

“don’t underestimate me,” you say, squinting at him dramatically. “i have hidden talents, you know.”

“like burning your leftovers?”

you feign offense, “hey. that never happened! only once.”

the exchange dissolves into quiet laughter as you both move on, his hand never leaving yours. weaving through the museum’s curated halls, one exhibit catches his eye—a sleek glass case displaying an ancient clay tablet.

he lingers, adjusting his glasses as he leans in to read the plaque.

“look at this,” he says, pointing to the intricate carvings etched into the clay. “it’s from mesopotamia. early cuneiform script.”

you capture each moment with your digital camera, taking candid pictures of your boyfriend who keeps his gaze forward, reading the plaques with a quiet intensity. always soaking in every detail without a word.

“what’s that look for?” he asks suddenly, catching you watching him.

“hm?” you tilt your head at him. “oh. nothing, you’re just...kind of a nerd.”

his voice drips with sarcasm, unimpressed. “you’re just figuring this out now?”

“no, of course not,” you chuckle. “…okay, maybe i’m finding it only adorable now.”

he acts exasperated as he heaves a sigh through his nose, but ultimately relents. “you just can’t stop saying weird shit, huh?”

“you love it though.”

he doesn’t answer, a smile dancing around his pretty lips.

there it is again.

‘not now’ you think to yourself, pausing to readjust your tight shoes. ‘it’s too early for this.’

you clear your throat. “what does it- what does it say?”

“it’s probably a receipt or something.”

“aw, and here i was hoping it was a love letter,” you grin as you nudge his side.

the faintest smirk tugs at his lips. “if you wanted one, you could’ve just asked.”

your laughter echoes softly through the exhibit, blending with the muted chatter of other visitors. as he steps back to give you space, your camera clicks again, capturing him mid-thought, his gaze focused and serene.

“…you look good,” you murmur suddenly, lowering your camera.

his head snaps toward you, startled. “what?”

“i said you look good,” you repeat, and this time, you can see the way his ears turn pink.

“...thank you,” he mutters, glancing down at his outfit, having the audacity to feel conscious and forget what he’s wearing. the audacity to look so pleasantly surprised.

the audacity to look so cute for you to soak and commit to memory.

when his gaze returns to you, though, it’s different—slightly softer, slightly bolder. his hand shifts to fix a stray strand of your hair, and he lets it linger for just a moment too long. eyes smoothly tracing you from top to bottom, feeling your palm sweat under his honed stare.

(you know what, this should be the one captured by every angle with a click. this should be sheltered in your camera that could last for eternity, immortalised. his eyes on you, engulfing you with a stare that makes you feel so wanted, even without saying it outright.)

he pinches your cheek and you hear the hushed way he says, “you’re going to kill me at some point.” he resumes his walk without a hitch, rendering you speechless.

(you want to kiss him so bad.)

the shokudo feels worlds apart from the quiet sophistication of the museum. it’s smaller, cozier, with soft yellow lighting that casts a warm glow across the wooden tables. the faint sound of clinking dishes and murmured conversations fill the space, merging seamlessly with the hum of the air conditioner.

the museum date stretches to lunch like clockwork. you manage to convince your boyfriend to take a stroll towards the bookshop you frequently visit later, despite the pile of books on your shelf that you haven’t finished yet. you might have to sort that out soon.

a server places steaming bowls of udon on your table, the savory aroma wafting through the air. the broth glistens, rich and golden, while thinly sliced scallions float on the surface like tiny green rafts.

tsukishima picks up his chopsticks with practiced ease, twirling the noodles once before taking a bite. you, on the other hand, pause to inhale the scent, your stomach growling in appreciation.

“i swear, this place gets better every time,” you say, breaking apart your chopsticks. “the broth smells amazing.”

he hums in agreement, swallowing before replying. “it’s the same as always. you’re just hungry.”

“rude,” you say, pouting as you take your first sip of the broth. the warmth spreads through your chest instantly, a satisfied sigh leaving your lips. “see? perfect.”

he rolls his eyes, half-smiling. for a moment, you’re knocked over by a sense of deja vu. his lips glinting against the light, tantalizing in a way that pulls your stare more strongly than ever. you gulp,. nervous.

his jaw relaxes as he slightly opens his mouth to slurp the noodles effortlessly, the steam curling up and casting a soft halo around his face. when he swallows, his adam’s apple bobs up against his throat. you forget your own food for a while.

you cringe at your behaviour. the realisation kicks you in the gut as the ache slowly creeps in, your nails digging crescent moons against your fingers.

you’ve never been this obsessed with any other person at all. there’s so much to learn about tsukishima kei still, so many things to trek through this relationship that  was initially built upon unspoken affections; many sweet nothings that never seemed to sit right when uttered, too awkward for your liking. but you’re not sure if you can show it well, either. you’re not sure if he understands this growing part of you that longs to be closer to him. closer than anything you’ve had.

your eyes can only show it as he notices the way you stare at his lips, unflinching, even when his brows draw back in a silent question. waiting for you to say something.

you blink and look up, heart stuck to your throat.

“you have uh… a little under your lips.”

“what?”

tentatively, you snatch your handkerchief and swipe it against the lower half of his face, careful in the way you gently swipe your thumb across his chin, feeling the soft plush of his lips against the fabric. maybe it’s the steam of mist from the udon wafting, but you feel your cheeks heat up.

and if he sees it, this fear of being misjudged for how you’ve tipped into unfamiliar territory, that even as you’re together, or if you’ve been with other people before him, you still feel like this is a first. if he sees it, that you’re able to show how you can be so affectionate in many different ways, in many forms of sentiment, he doesn’t say anything.

“there.” you breathe out, pulling your hand back and redirecting your focus towards your food as you munch far more eager than intended. and if you think about the ghost of that simple touch for too long, it burns your skin and leaves you breathless and shivering, like a finger tracing the length of your spine.

he’s stunned for a minute before he scoffs to the side, and when you take a peek at his ears, you see them flushed pink. he mumbles faintly, something about how you should hurry up eating, before resuming his meal.

something bubbly forms in your throat, a quiet giggle, a soft sigh in having achieved such a minuscule thing. 

that warm look of love stretches onwards; when you leave the shokudo, when you waste half the time on recounting the lore from your favorite book instead of buying the sequel, when you decide to spend the rest of the evening walking around the park with him, when silence hums in your chest and you’re holding hands and you feel like he’s your hallway crush all over again. 

“can we uh, sit down for a sec?” 

he grins a little, “are you sure you’re not just making excuses to not go home yet?”

you shove him with your elbow as you sit down on a nearby bench, massaging your feet, sore from all the walking—or perhaps from your shoes, which tsukishima has been eyeing for a while. 

golden brown flickers to you briefly, then back at your shoes. 

wordlessly, he kneels in front of you, hands reaching to take them off. 

“oh-” 

“you’ve been enduring this all day, you know these are too small for you already, why wear it?” 

you’re going to lose it any moment now.

“it’s the only pair that matches my fit, kei,” you admit, hushed, a secret whisper of his name that he could only hear. the sky breathes in the night light without haste. his skin looks so much softer and tantalizing to caress. 

he skims the edge of your knee-high sock with a featherlight touch, but you wonder why it sears. gaze sharp and almost reverent. he tugs the fabric down carefully, allowing it to unravel from your skin as if it’s something sacred. 

he doesn’t look at you at first, too focused on the task at hand. then, just as the sock slips past your ankle, his gaze flickers up—golden brown catching the dim glow of the streetlights, unreadable yet steady.

you swallow.

“seriously, kei,” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper, “you don’t have to—”

“i know.” his voice is even, but its laced with something else, something that makes your breath hitch. his thumb brushes your ankle absentmindedly before he reaches for the other sock, starting the process all over again.

he finishes sliding off the second sock, folds it loosely with the other, and sets them gently beside your shoes. 

you’re watching him, wide-eyed, heart beating somewhere between your throat and the stars above. the silence hums again, but this time it’s taut with something you can’t name. the hairs on your nape rise, buzzing in anticipation. 

he stays kneeling for a moment longer, his hands resting lightly on your calves. then, his thumb brushes a slow, thoughtless circle against your skin.

“dramatic as always.” 

“excuse me?”

“for your outfit,” he clarifies, gaze tilting up again, but not all the way to your face—his eyes are on… your lips? “you wore those torture devices just to match it.” 

no shit. you want to swat his shoulder. to say something snarky. but all that comes out is a helpless (and hopeless) laugh.

“i wanted to look nice,” you say, and it’s softer than you mean it to be.

“for me?” he asks, and he says it like a joke, like a tease, though a tease shouldn’t sound like he’s genuinely touched. sets your heart racing. 

“…you did,” he says, not a question this time.

wordlessly, you nod. that’s when you hear the quiver in his breath, like he’s been holding it the whole time. 

you cup his chin and turn a little to the side. 

kiss.

maybe on the cheek wouldn’t hurt. oh god. 

“come on, it’s getting dark.” you finally stand up, feeling your knees wobble like ice cream ready to melt within seconds. “let’s go home.” 

“yeah…” he stares up at you, awestruck, “let’s..” 

when he rises to his feet, you don’t reach for his hand again, but you walk close—close enough that your shoulders graze. and neither of you says a word. the kiss, the socks, the world tilted slightly off-axis.

as you walk, he glances at you sideways. “so… what part of the outfit were you hoping i’d notice the most?”

you nearly trip over your own feet.

“i’m never dressing up again,” you mutter.

“good. your socks were offensive.”

you shove his shoulder. he doesn't stop smiling for the rest of the walk home. 

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© SOLVIA 2024. HERSHEY’S KISSES. do not alter/repost !

[leafington]

𝗶𝘁'𝘀 𝘀𝗼 𝘁𝗮𝘀𝘁𝘆! 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗺𝗲!

content warning !! - penetration, heavy mentions of breeding/knocking up etc, creampie, ZERO protection, pregnancy, reader is on contraceptives but is implied they stopped, overstimulation, mating press, mommy kink(???), gn!reader but has female parts, cervix kissing

MEN WHO love watching the sight of his seed seeping out of your hole in all its glory. You're prescribed birth control but you still ask if he pulled out because you have zero clue after the mind-blowing experience of rough-affectionate pounding into your cunt that was just enough to knock the knowledge out of you. He grunts out a "yes", knowing damn well your entrance is overflowing—a pornographic sight if you will—filled of his cum. And by god does it look good like that.

MEN WHO relish and gush at the idea of having you nice and round with his kids, so it's become a recurring routine for him to make at least some attempt to watch the loaded white essence drip out of your pussy. Condom? Never heard of it. It'll come off mid-session, break due to his brutal thrusts where his tip is abusing the edge of your cervix, or he won't even wear one at all (with permission of course).

"Please baby, gonna fill you up so good." He groans, flicking at your clit after your third? fourth? orgasm, you're not quite sure. You whine in response, you're too tired to go again, but the ache between your legs are contradicting your own wishes. "Wanna make you a mommy, that okay? Just this once? One more time." He's already fucking his fist, basking in the feeling of your slick on both his hand and dick.

Oh what the hell. It won't kill you, and besides, his cock looks way too pretty for it to not be pistoling in you right now. With the last bit of remaining dignity, you mew out a small "Yes please.", and he gets right to work. Legs over your chest and on his shoulders.

It's just a matter of time before MEN WHO fuck you with full intentions of knocking you up get ahead in buying all sorts of parenting books, looking at baby items, etc. It's not his fault! You'd just look so good chasing after miniature versions of the two of you.

Before you knew it, you're surprising your husband on father's day with a fake reciept made with the help of your mother reading "Newborn baby x1", he's more than just happy, now he's got something else to care for the rest of his life.

The entire journey consists of him watching over you like a hawk, carrying all things over ten lbs, massaging your swollen ankles and feet. He doesn't complain at all when you hit him with your strangest cravings! Nine months later, you're greeting your beautiful baby girl into the world! He insists on you holding the baby first, you've done all the work so he thinks you deserve to enjoy the first few moments of this new life with your daughter.

When it's time to leave, MEN WHO helped pack your hospital bag prior to this are carrying that and doing the dad walk out of the maternity ward.

He's an amazing father too, the little girl's got him wrapped around her finger at just a few weeks old. You'll get up to pee and find your sleepy husband and fussy daughter in the kitchen as he preps a bottle for her, he hates when you wake up in the middle of the night to take care of her when he can just do it himself.

Once your husband is back to work in the office, he feels like he's missing so much of his baby girl's life! Lifting her head? He got called in. Rolling over? Night shift. Crawling? Overtime. Saying 'dada' as her first word? On a business trip. (He was beyond pissed about it.)

After your tired, clingy, and... needy husband returns. He's snaking his hands up your nightgown, buttering you up in compliments while praising you for being such a great mom to his daughter and him. Rambling about how you guys' little girl has grown up so fast and pouting over how much important milestones he wasn't there for. "How about another one? Get you all round and swole again one last time." And while his words shocked you, you weren't exactly opposed to the idea.

MEN WHO have a breeding kink.

— ukai, akaashi, makki, hear me out.... ERWIN., nanami tbh (my office sirens), ayato, wriothesley (was picturing him doing the dad walk no joke), dainsleif, jean kristein, geto :((, + ur favs <3

©2024 leafington dont steal please!! :)

[leafington]

𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘂𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲𝘀, 𝗶'𝘃𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗻𝘂𝗺𝗯 𝘁𝗼 𝗰𝗿𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗵𝘂𝗿𝘁 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗮𝗴𝗮𝗶𝗻, 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝘄𝗲'𝗿𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲. - tadashi y.

content warning !! - blackfem!reader, HEAVY angst, depression (referenced by content but not explicitly stated), my baby :((, hurt to comfort(?)

a/n - i love him so much 🙁🙁

Tick. Tick. Tick. goes the clock on his wall, his socks make soft noises grazing the sheets whenever he shifts around, he can hear his own heartbeat in his pillow, a steady Thump. Thump. rhythm within and he likes to think little people partying inside. Against him is you encasing him in a warm embrace, as if the blanket the two of you shared wasn't doing it's job. His box fan blew gentle air because he didn't like how quiet it was without it.

All this and for some reason, Yamaguchi felt cold, alone, and anxious. His eyes were wide open for about 3,600 Ticks now, he claimed way before that that you cuddling him would make him fall asleep, yet here he is, the exact opposite. He begged you to take the time out of your busy day to come over and be his teddy bear for a little while, he cried for hours on your shoulder, ranted about how incomplete, unaccomplished, and useless he felt, that something was always wrong with him and there was nothing for him to do—a firm believer that he was born just to be a number to the population, that he holds no genuine motive other than to a demographic, that there's no definitive reason to be alive.

He rolls over, now letting you spoon him. His hands lightly caress your arms, a small way of him trying to tell himself that he wasn't utterly useless. That he did serve a purpose and that there were people who'd love to have and keep him around, like you.

You regularly told him he was the light of your life, that you were oh so lucky to have him as a boyfriend and that anyone who rejected him missed out on the sweetest boy they'd ever meet. And there is some truth to that. He can occasionally be mean, as if he ever means to, though that only comes from being Tsukishima's friend so long, he's adopted his mannerisms, behaviors, and attitude because he aspires to be like him. Tall, Smart, and most importantly attractive.

In his eyes, he's not all that desirable, peers come up to him to hold very little conversation with him, and when in the rare moment that it is held beyond the "Hey." "Hello." "How are you?" exchange, it's to get close to Tsukishima. They immediately ditch him once they think they're close enough to Yamaguchi to get to his friend, luckily for him, Tsukishima doesn't play that kind of game. He knows what it feels like to be used for someone else, he would never deliberately be around someone who's hurt his friend, all of that and it still doesn't help the pain he feels knowing he'll always be known as "Tsukishima's friend."

He grips your arms around him, a small reminder to push down these nightly thoughts that scare him.

What if you're with him out of pity? Do you truly love him? Is this all some elaborate joke so he can feel better about himself? Is Tsukishima secretly tired of him and purposely set the two of you up so he could stop bombarding him about how unwanted he feels?

His head hurts, his thoughts are loud, and worst of all, you're not even awake to calm him, he doesn't even think that would work now that these obscure ideas have taken over his mind.

Once again, his face feels hot and his tears prick at his tears glands that eventually fall. They roll from his eyes, down to his freckled nose, and pillow that drench his cheek.

Yamaguchi hates that he's so weak, so hard to love because at heart, he's still a little boy with no control over his horomones or how he reacts to certain situations. He hates that he's can't be your celebrity crush, someone you gush about all the time, and wish it were you in place of their co-star. He hates that he can't be the boyfriend your friends can be jealous about, deny their advances—as selfish as it sounds—because all he wants is you and prove to them that his love for you can't be overridden. He hates—

A leg wraps around his waist, another coming from beneath him and tangling itself between his two legs and interlocking around his right leg. He sniffles, slightly startled when the weight in his bed is unexpectedly shifted and the next thing he knows is your body trapping him beneath you with a tight squeeeeeeze that nearly rips the wind out of him. To top it off, he feels your head nuzzle into his back, arms snake under his shirt to trap him even more, like the two of you weren't as close as humanly possible.

He doesn't realize it, but his fit of tears have stopped, he tries to loosen your grip but it's no good. You're stuck with him.

You're stuck with him.

You're stuck with him.

You're stuck with him.

You're stuck with him.

Suddenly he can sleep again, knowing he's stuck in your arms and that you aren't going anywhere anytime soon. Especially not without him.

©2025 leafington dont steal please!! :)

[leafington]

how i feel after writing one sentence a day because sports aint no joke

[leafington]

HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY MY FAV WRITER HELLOOOO

WAAAA TYYY pls this actually means a lot to me bc im v insecure about my writing HHHHHH AND TY FOR THE BIRTHDAY WISH ❤️❤️