#Haikyuu!! reader insert

[therealvalkyrie]

the morning, the evening

Pairing/setting: Farmer!Ushijima Wakatoshi x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2.6k Warnings: very fluffy, implied sex, reader wants a baby AN: I've been working on this sporadically for *checks watch* 2.5 years so I hope y'all fucking like it lmao. I really struggled with tying up the ending, so if it feels abrupt that's why! also was too intimidated to try and write baby-making smut, so feel free to imagine those particular shenanigans in your own huge and wrinkly brainsicle. love you all! ~valkyrie

It’s on mornings like this that you feel most unlike yourself. When you slip out of bed before your husband and tug on one of his huge flannels, the sun just peeking into your window. It’s too early. Too early to think, too early for food, too early to do anything but slip out onto the porch in bare feet and curl up on the porch swing. The birds are just waking up with you -- chickadees singing a greeting and the chickens clucking softly in reply. The dewy air sends goosebumps up your bare legs and settles in your lungs as mist clings to the ground. It makes you feel a little lost, a little out of place; mornings have never been meant for you.

When your husband wakes up with the rooster, he joins you on the porch swing, the screen door creaking shut behind him, and hands you a cup of coffee. You lean into his sturdy side and clutch your third favorite mug with both hands (the handle broke last year when you dropped it on the kitchen tile). He doesn’t say anything, just presses his lips to your temple and looks out to the mountains with you. He knows you’ve never been meant for mornings.

When his yellow mug is empty, he rubs your bent knee with a huge hand and leaves you to start farm chores. You may be entitled to a slow start, but the horses expect breakfast before 7 or they’ll be ornery all day.

The sun burns enough dew away for the farmhand’s truck to kick up dust as he drives up your long driveway -- your cue to go put on pants. Back in the bedroom, the stained glass ornaments hanging in the windows are casting shifting rainbows on the wall. This is what lifts your lips for the first time today and prompts the first sip of tepid coffee. You sprawl out on your unmade bed, stretching like a cat in a sunspot made just for you.

By the time you pad downstairs in jeans and an airy blouse, the morning has begrudgingly made a space for you in between its sense of purpose and quiet watchfulness. You set about making breakfast and more coffee, nudging the kitchen awake. You say good morning to the toaster and the butter bell and the kettle on the stove and purposely ignore the dishwasher, which has been giving attitude since the weekend.

You’re murmuring quietly to a pancake when Wakatoshi clomps back in, hanging his hat on the hook by the door.

“Good morning,” you greet, offering up your cheek, which he kisses along with a heavy hand on your hip.

“Does the pancake ever talk back?” he wonders aloud, looking over your shoulder into your cast iron pan.

“Not yet,” you reach for your spatula and grin up at him, “which is what makes it such a good listener.”

He hums thoughtfully and squeezes your waist with his big hand before turning away to reach for plates from the cupboard.

Breakfast passes in conversation about the farrier visiting in the afternoon -- some horses are due for new shoes -- between bites of food. Toshi disappears out the back door to start the rest of his day and you load dishes into the dishwasher. It grumbles to life after a swift kick to the bottom left corner. You’ll have to call the plumber before the weekend.

You’re feeling halfway back to yourself again when you settle into your creaky wooden office chair. It’s nearly the end of the month, which means today is for paying bills and making calls. It’s not nearly as much of a task as it was when you first took over the business side of the farm. Then, you’d had to wade through fifty years of an unintelligible filing system and re-negotiate deals that Wakatoshi’s grandparents had made just as long ago. You’ve always had a way with numbers and a sense for business; it’s the local politics that gave you trouble. People this far into farming country simply don’t trust outsiders, no matter if they’re married to the local golden boy.

Wakatoshi says it had been the same for his father, coming in as an outsider and marrying the beloved daughter of a beloved family. That’s why he’d left, when Toshi was just a kid, never having managed to really feel at home in the community or on the farm.

“But he didn’t have the advantage of your smile,” he’d joked, poking the corner of your mouth gently as you lay in bed late one night a couple of weeks after your wedding.

You’d giggled, swatting his hand away and burying your face into his broad chest. “Do you really think they’ll like me?” you asked in a small voice after a quiet moment.

“They’ll love you. Just like I do.”

You wouldn’t quite say they love you, but the town has at least grown to tolerate you after you’d asserted yourself into their daily lives. Miss Betty at the feed store still doesn’t give you a discount on grain like she had your mother-in-law, and Mary Fletcher still calls you a gold digger behind your back. But at least you’ve made good enough friends with her cousin Amber, who boards her horse in your stables and comes by almost every weekend, to hear about it.

You begin to sweat as the summer announces that it’s still here in the late morning and turn on the rotating fan in an effort to stay cool. The dial of the old rotary phone whirs under your fingertips as you call up the bank, one bare foot bouncing in the air where your leg dangles over the armrest of your chair and receiver cradled to your ear.

It’s a tedious conversation with Laurie, the one and only bank teller, whose daughter is going off to college in just a couple of weeks, that carries you over into lunchtime. You eventually manage to steer her in the direction of the purpose of your call, learning, amidst tidbits about her daughter’s roommate and her son’s soccer tryouts, that your check to the vet had bounced because of an error on the bank’s end. Thank God.

“Shit, that woman can talk,” you breathe when the receiver is safely in its cradle, and Laurie won’t threaten to wash out your mouth with soap for using foul language.

With a deep exhale, you allow your head to fall onto the back of the chair, languishing in the buzzing heat. For the millionth time this summer, you think back to your tiny city apartment, with its shitty water pressure and shitty commute and heavenly air conditioning. What you wouldn’t give….

Well, you wouldn’t give up Wakatoshi, for one.

And you’d had that, with him. You fit him into your tiny shower, washing each other’s bodies and then fucking on the bathroom counter when he couldn’t figure out how to finagle his limbs to fit. He kissed you every morning before work, pressing a packed lunch into your hands.

He proposed under your favorite oak tree in the park at peak foliage, asking you to marry him and move back to his home. You said yes.

You meant it.

But, God. This heat.

The afternoon drags you down, oppressive and lingering, and you find yourself incapable of thinking anymore.

You pass Wakatoshi on your way across the driveway and give him a brief wave, your ring of keys hanging off your middle finger.

“I’ll be back for dinner,” you call as he takes off his hat and runs his fingers through his sweaty hair.

He watches the way your legs propel you up into the elevated cab of his truck, loaded with some buzzing anxiety to move, even through this thick air.

“Okay,” he says.

The first summer you knew Wakatoshi, he invited you to visit home with him for a week. You weren’t together yet, still dancing on the periphery of a relationship with that youthful arrogance of those barely touching adulthood. Halfway through the six-hour drive from the city, he pulled over at a farmstand and bought peaches and lemonade. You ate them in the bed of his truck parked under a maple tree, boughs flush with green and peach juice slipping down your chin.

These grocery store peaches aren’t quite as tender --  you’re just too far North to get them really fresh -- but they’ll do. Still, you worry they’ll bruise as you set the paper grocery bag on the passenger seat next to the bakery box already there. You stand there for a second dumbly, trying to think of a better way to pack them in among your other groceries so they won’t bump around, until the afternoon sun has sunk into the top of your head so it feels like your brain is melting to the inside of your skull. Feeling a little foolish, but otherwise at a loss, you buckle the grocery bag and the box into the seat.

That makes you grin to yourself and snort a giggle as you slam the passenger door and circle around to the other side of the truck. The engine turns and complains for a second before giving in.

Sometimes this is all you need to put yourself back in your body. This little ritual of grocery shopping by yourself -- driving with the music turned up, reading ingredient labels, watching the deli counter guy slice half a pound of provolone. That mundanity, that routine of an adult woman who buys her own groceries, puts everything else in perspective.

You’re here because you want to be. Because you chose to be.

You come to a decision.

Wakatoshi doesn’t pick up the phone when you call on your way out of town, but that’s to be expected. This time of day, he’s most likely out with the horses, and cell reception gives out only a quarter-mile into the pastures. The call goes to voicemail, and you smile to yourself as his recorded voice instructs you to please leave a message. The tone beeps.

“Hey, I’m headed home now. I’ll be there in, uh, about fifteen? Anyway, meet me down at the pond for dinner. Maybe… six-thirty? I thought we’d do something a little special. Okay, I love you!”

The pond is at the East edge of the property, fed by a brook that bubbles out of the foothills. On the side opposite of where the horse pastures end, there is a willow tree that stretches and drapes down to trace the surface of the water. It is under that willow tree that you unpack your picnic basket, pouring white wine into thermos mugs as the low sun streaks through branches.

The heat of the day is finally breaking, giving way to a cacophony of peeper frogs that you can normally only hear distantly in the house. Here, it fills your mind and allows you to think of nothing else but watching the distant silhouette of your husband crossing the pasture towards you. He’s backlit, long shadow reaching across the fence long before he does. You watch him walk in an easy, rolling gait through long grass, watch him hop the fence like he was born for it.

And he was, you remind yourself. He was born for these wide spaces and nature smells. Where you must find space for yourself in the uninhabited corners of the farm (the office, the Eastern edge, the kitchen), he fills the rest as naturally as water fills the pond.

He says your name at the edge of the willow tree, ducking under a bough.

“Hello, love,” you say and smile and pat the blanket next to where you’re sitting.

Your husband sits, folding his legs under him like a little kid. It makes your heart feel a little tender as you tuck yourself into his side and explain your meal: sandwiches and fruit, cherry pie and wine for dessert. He thanks you simply, bending down to kiss you in that slow way that caught you like honey in a trap that first night in front of your apartment building, all those years ago. He tastes like vanilla chapstick.

You eat. Wakatoshi tells you about his day. About the farrier's visit and fixing a leak in the chicken coop’s roof.

“Wakatoshi,” you say, leaning forward to pick at the grass as he works the stone out of a peach with his pocket knife. He hums, deft in his work but listening. “What would you say about having a baby?”

He makes a sharp noise of pain and you look over, wide-eyed, to see he’s sliced clean through the peach and into his own palm. The blood wells before your eyes, mixing with peach juice as you gasp and lunge for the paper napkins in the basket.

“You have to be more careful! What if you seriously--” “Yes,” he cuts you off as you’re taking his hand in both of yours, setting the fruit and knife aside, and wadding up the napkins to stop the bleeding.

“What?”

“I’d say yes to having a baby.” He’s looking right at you with those hazel eyes, the expression in them so close to reverence it stuns you.

“Oh,” you breathe, staring straight back.

At that exact moment, the setting sun glows orange at the top of the pasture hill, streaking Wakatoshi’s cheek with gold through the willow branches. All the breath is gone from you, your head gone light from having this question you’ve mulled over for weeks answered so simply.

His uninjured hand finds your cheek, tucks stray hair away from your face.

“Are you asking? Do you want to have a baby?”

“I-- Yes. I’m asking.”

He smiles, soft as the cattails that sway at the opposite edge of the pond, and leans in to meet your lips with his. You let yourself sink into it for a moment, unable to stop smiling against his mouth, but pull away to further inspect the slice across his palm. He lets you, his fingers curled gently inward while you dab away blood and rub a gentle thumb on his wrist, but his gaze never wavers from your face. It’s intense-- almost like how it was when you first knew him, but with an undercurrent of affection that makes your chest warm.

“It doesn’t look too deep,” you conclude, folding up some clean napkins and pressing them to the wound. “But we should clean it--”

“It can wait.”

“But it could still get infected, what if--”

“It can wait,” he interrupts again, insisting with gentle obstinance. The next words are low in his chest. “I can’t.”

You don’t get back to the house until late, August constellations suspended thickly overhead. It’s like you’re kids again and the barn cat is your mother, watching disapprovingly from her perch on the porch railing as you sneak in after curfew, wine-tipsy and elated. Your husband crowds in the door after you, handsy even after you’ve done nothing but touch each other all evening. You pull him into the kitchen and make him wash his wound thoroughly, your thumbs rubbing into the meat of his palm.

“I hope our daughter has your eyes,” he says. He’s close, his own eyes finding yours in the almost-dark.

“A daughter, huh?”

“A daughter. She’ll be just like you.”

“And what am I like?” you ask, coy, looking up at him through your lashes in the starlight streaming in the window.

Wakatoshi leans forward gently, resting his brow on yours. “You are,” he swallows thickly, eyes fluttering closed, “you are the world.”

Your day ends nothing like it began. Your day ends with utter surety of your place in this house, in this town, in Wakatoshi’s arms. The day ends and you feel completely yourself again, cradled in the gently rolling hills of the life you’ve chosen.

[blushingamethyst]

Unpopular opinion,

Too many men are written as “dom daddy” types in fics.

Like be for real, that man would be honored to be your floor mat.

He’s not giving orders, he’s taking them.

Stop being afraid, put on your big boots, and step on that man.

[deathc-re]

oh, how he just wants to make a pretty little house wife of you. leave you with absolute freedom and autonomy over your time.

you want to go shopping? here's his card.

you want to join a yoga/ pilates/ kickboxing class? let's register you together!

you want to renovate the kitchen? my buddy knows a guy.

he wants to come home and smell the amazing cooking you have for him. or on lazy days, plop on the couch with you and eat take out.

he wants to smile at his phone while at work because you sent him a selfie of you eating breakfast at noon, or taking the dog for a walk, or with shopping backs in the trunk or with the people you're volunteering with or whatever it is your heart desires.

he wants to see you on the porch, barefoot and pregnant, rubbing your belly and waving to him as he pulls up in the driveway.

he wants to hear you ramble on about the new book you read and hated/loved. or help you brainstorm ideas for your passion project.

he wants to brag about you to all his work buddies and bring you to all the corporate dinners and stroke his own ego while you bashfully tell his coworkers that you "don't have a job, my husband takes care of everything."

NANAMIN, BAKUGO, KIRISHIMA, FATGUM, IZUKU, aizawa, yuuta, armin, iida, iwazumi, sugawara + whoever else you want!

[will0waesthetic]

“her lovely hazel eyes”

“her breasts and perky rosy, pink nipples”

“for her petite physique”

Well damn , give her a name and we’re good to go 💀 the reader having a backstory , yeah no problem it’s cool but why do you have to describe the physical traits ? Just make an OC

Back story + physical description = OC

Back story + no physical description = reader insert

[malereadermaniac]

૮ • ﻌ - ა Virgins ~ Haikyuu & BNHA men x Male Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Plot: How Daichi, Kuroo, and Lev are during their first time with you - as well as: Bakugo, Kirishima, Denki

Featuring: Top!Characters x Bottom!Reader Characters are aged up!!

Warnings: Nsfw / MDNI ~ amab m!reader / FDNI

Virgin!Daichi who never wanted to impose on you or seem like a perv, so you had to make the first move. The Karasuno captain would get overwhelmed with just kissing, so when you suggested that you take things further, the man almost short-circuited. Sure, he could handle making out with you, with your legs around his waist or his knee just below your crotch, but that didn't mean that his mind wasn't RACING whilst your tongue was toying with his. So when your (overly-)kind boyfriend heard you offer him a blowjob, he couldn't even look you in the eyes or he knew he would fold, subsequently bombarding you with "you don't have to" 's.

Virgin!Daichi who couldn't control the plethora of moans and whines and chants of your name as you skillfully went to town on his dick. You didn't mean to overwhelm your cute boyfriend, but you did want to make him never forget his first bj; so you may have pulled out all of your best moves. You were complimenting him non-stop, on his looks, his voice, and most of all his thick, veiny, uncut dick which you "loved shoo much". Anytime Daichi would tug on your hair just a little tighter, you quickly yet effortlessly pulled off of his dick and just looked up into your boyfriend's eyes, while his pretty impressive dick rested on your face; covered in your spit and showing off just how big it was compared to your face. And in the same way that Daichi could barely take his eyes off of you, you couldn't take your eyes off of Daichi. He just looked so fucking hot; fighting the urge to shut his eyes and drown in the pleasure just so that he could keep looking at you, Daichi's mouth would fall agape more and more the longer you worked his cock and his tongue show it's pretty pink surface once in a while, oh and the way Daichi's muscles would flex! His pecks and abs would tense as his muscular arms showed off his veins, all because of your magical mouth; Daichi's fingers gripping your hair tighter and his blissful look turning into one of raw pleasure as he came down your throat, his eyes shutting tight and then opening once more, only to be rolled to the back of his head as his hips give tiny jolts of pleasure.

Virgin!Daichi who had never felt the way he felt then. Not even just sexually! Although it was true that he'd never felt such pleasure before, he'd never been so fucking hard, so fucking horny, and SO FUCKING ATTRACTED TO YOU. But also, in that moment he felt so much love! He just really fucking loves you. You took such great care with him and were so patient, Daichi felt guilty that he couldn't verbalise his love and thankfulness in the moment, but that was mainly your fault after all...

Virgin!Kuroo who gets visibly excited when you suggest having sex. Although the volleyball player seems to have tons of charisma and charm, he's always been too busy with college and volleyball to focus on relationships. That was until you came along, and along with you came Kuroo's buried sexual desires; and they took over. The handsome man didn't wanna scare you off though, so he stuck to thinking about you as he jerked off and being the perfect, non-creepy boyfriend instead. But holy shit did things change when you asked him if he wanted to fuck. The smile on his face didn't fade until a new, even happier expression took over, and then a smug expression...

Virgin!Kuroo who can't contain his excitement, running his smooth hands over every inch of your exposed body; of course, finishing his exploration and setting up camp on your plump ass, squeezing your cheeks and kneading them like dough. Kissing Kuroo in this moment was different, the love was still there like always but he felt more dominant; his tongue guiding yours instead of you guiding him like before. As the two of you made out, Kuroo manoeuvred your body to be below his, and quickly the man broke the kiss and trailed his way down your body with little pecks and bites; SINCE WHEN DID YOUR VIRGIN BOYFRIEND HAVE SO MUCH SKILL??!!?!

Virgin!Kuroo who gets too impatient and shoves himself inside of you a little too quickly after promising to go slow... You expected it though, you could see it on his face; when Kuroo slowly slid his tip inside, his eyes widened and his smile dropped into a pleasured sigh. The room was filled with Kuroo's horny, sexy moans. His groans echoing inside the bedroom along with the soft sound of his thighs smacking against yours at a slow pace. Kuroo was above you, brokenly moaning your name and whining at your tightness, his face flushed pink and his eyes hazy with love and lust; your boyfriend was cock-drunk off of you, unable to think straight because of how good he felt being inside of you, being near you, kissing you.

Virgin!Kuroo who has never been the same since fucking you. This man is the horniest piece of shit known to man, you two fuck like every other hour!! He's such a bad influence on you, 'cause he knows you can never say no to him; which has indeed led to you two fucking in storage closets, changing rooms, clubrooms, classrooms, bathrooms, and even his parent's bedroom!!! You can't complain though, the sex is fucking killer every time. And even in a non-sexual sense, your relationship has never been better! Kuroo is fucking in love with you, and you're just as head-over-heels for him!

Virgin!Lev who has never been in a relationship due to looking kinda intimidating to most people, but you saw him for the sweet dork he really was! Your relationship with the taller man was always quite wholesome; dates like any other couple and hanging out. Being a virgin actually made Lev a little insecure about his relationship with you - what if he wasn't any good in bed and you broke up with him! So it was understandable that it took until the 6-month mark for you two to actually sleep together, and of course, it was you who proposed the idea. Even though Lev was very nervous, he couldn't deny the fact that he did really wanna have sex with you, his body showing that fact by popping a boner the SECOND you mentioned fucking.

Virgin!Lev who was high on pleasure very quickly, all worries and nerves evaporating from his body once he was inside of you. Your warm smile and patience really helped to ease Lev into it (in more ways than one lol). Oh and when your boyfriend started to thrust? It was over for him. This man was drunk on pleasure, your warmth, your tightness, it was all too much for him. Lev went from trying to give you backshots in doggy like he'd seen in porn, to resting his chest on your back and hugging your waist as he pathetically humps you! You didn't mind though, hearing your boyfriend's rugged breaths and moans in your ear was hot, as well as feeling his strong, long arms around your waist, his fit chest against your back; both you and Lev also couldn't deny that the size difference between you both was a HUUUUGE turn on! Oh and not to mention the sexy "chert voz'mi da..." and "tak khorosho, khorosho, khorosho...." that Lev would mumble to himself as he began to lose his pace and fuck into you like a desperate animal. Hearing your boyfriend swear in Russian was something you didn't know you needed so damn bad.

translation: chert voz'mi da ~ Fuck yes tak khorosho, khorosho, khorosho ~ so good, good, good

Virgin!Bakugo who's too smug and too prideful to ever let onto the fact that he is a MEGA virgin!! Like never even held hands romantically! The only person he'd even really had those feelings for was you, so it made sense that the temperamental man hadn't had much sexual experience; however that doesn't mean that Katsuki doesn't understand the social stigma around that, and his ego would never allow his reputation to take such a hit. So to say you were shocked when your boyfriend finally let his stupidly high walls down and confessed to you that all his big talk was bullshit, well that would be an understatement.

Virgin!Bakugo who doesn't let the fact that he's never even kissed someone get in the way of finally getting it on with you; effortlessly pulling out tricks that would make you think he was kind of a playboy! Katsuki knew to loosen you, knew about your prostate and exactly how to stroke it in a way that made you spiral, and the man was even talking that talk AND walking that walk; his actions and words were on point! You were pleasantly surprised by how easy your boyfriend had made your job, you'd prepared yourself to talk the blonde through everything! What you didn't know, however, was that Katsuki had been studying up on gay sex since your one-week anniversary... Bless his heart.

Virgin!Bakugo who kind of rocks your world! His pace rough but not fast; it felt good, he was hitting all the right spots with that big dick of his, and his attitude was (for lack of better words) just straight-up hot. However, that's not to say that Katsuki wasn't almost immediately overwhelmed by pleasure, and his brain was slowly but surely starting to turn to mush just from the warmth and tightness of your ass. The blonde was stuttering on most words, moans ripping from Bakugo's throat and interrupting whatever he was saying; but it just made it all the more enjoyable - your boyfriend feeling so damn good 'cause of you, it was a huge turn-on for you. And ever since the first time, Katsuki has moved his strict nighttime routine back a bit, making time to have some fun with you every night.

Virgin!Kirishima who's quite unaffected by being a virgin. He's been in relationships but has never taken that step, but he didn't really care; sure he'd like it, but the redhead had never felt a need for it - that was until he started dating you. Holy shit did you turn Kiri on so, so much; it was like you couldn't even speak without making the man want to fuck you out of your mind! So even though he never told you, Kirishima was desperately waiting for the right moment to finally be inside of you, to get as intimate as possible with you. The grin on his face, when you asked him to go further, was something you'd never forget, mainly cause it just turned you on even more; your dick already hard from making out with your boyfriend, now painfully harder!

Virgin!Kirishima who is a moaning and grunting mess, thrusting into you like no tomorrow, desperate to feel you faster, deeper. Your boyfriend slurred his words as he would chant your name like an ancient prayer, moaning softly into your ear and his body jerking slightly at any clench of your hole onto his dick. It didn't take long for Kirishima to lose himself, mumbling incoherent variations of calling you beautiful and tight, his face flushed a bright pink and his entire body drenched in sweat; you got your boyfriend cock-drunk on your hole within literal minutes. It did surprise you how long Kiri lasted though! For a virgin who was absolutely drilling his dick into you at a life-threatening pace and force, the redhead didn't seem close to cumming; his uneven pace not faltering. But trust, when that man did reach his climax, the most raw, blissful moan erupted from Eijiro's throat; his body collapsing on top of yours, his sweaty muscles smushed against yours and his sweaty face buried into your neck as the man gently bit you, holding himself back from marking you more than he already had. Other than feeling your boyfriend's huge, rock-hard body crush you, you felt incredible too; the feeling, sight, and sound of your boyfriend reaching his peak inside of you and basking in the sweet, strong afterglow, holy fuck did it turn you on. So much so that the soft whimpers and voice-crack-riddled moan Eijiro was letting out resulted in you shooting your load too, painting your stomach and your boyfriend's shiny, sweaty abs.

Virgin!Denki who starts physically shaking with excitement when you ask him to fuck. Your rattlebrained boyfriend short-circuiting just from the idea of finally getting laid; best of all, his first time being with you! You kinda knew straight away that Kaminari was a mega-virgin, the man having his perverted side and all, and getting flustered at the smallest amounts of attention from you; but if anything, it was a turn-on for you.

Virgin!Denki who gets cock-drunk out of his mind! Within only a couple of minutes of thrusting his dick in and out of your warm, tight entrance, the blonde was a moaning mess above you. Denki was slurring his words, weakly moaning out nonsensical words, and chanting your name all while holding tightly onto you; the amount of pleasure he was feeling for the first time in his life was a little overwhelming.

Virgin!Denki who just looks so fucking hot as he's cumming inside of you! His body was sheened with sweat, his muscles bulging and his face contorting in pleasure; Denki's entire tan body was dusted ever so slightly with a pink hue. And even though you'd expect your inexperienced boyfriend to shut down after orgasming, he made sure even in his post-euphoric state, that you came too; even using his quirk just a tad to shock the pleasure out of you.

[sodaneko]

NIGHT SHIFT ; Iwaizumi x gn!reader

where it's you, your downstairs neighbor Iwaizumi & your cat

contains: gn!reader (no pronouns used, no gendered pet names, no physical descriptions), socmed au, neighbor au (bit of biker au too whoops), strangers to lovers, two very mildly suggestive slides (10 & 11) but otherwise pretty much pure fluff, iwaizumi the man that you are

a/n: downstairs neighbor iwaizumi wouldn't leave my mind so here we are. i really wanna write more smau oneshots they're so fun to make. also can you tell i'm ovulating bc i'd never look at jpgs of irl men otherwise lmao

gen tag list:

@kentocalls @ottocre @kittygirl11829 @bakingcuriosity @bakery-anon

@jodercriis @chaotic-neutral-ig @kitsune-kita @kameyyy @cookielovesbook-akie

@manhattanstrawberry @megapteraurelia (also @maybespiderman because i love eggwaizumi)

gen taglist is open! fill out this form to be added (or removed, no hard feelings) ♡

[3wishesgenie]

Mean!Cowboy who you happen to meet one day at a bar with your friends.

Mean!Cowboy who buys you a drink while your already tipping out of your seat

Mean!Cowboy who looks at you crazy when you take his hat off his head and sit it on yours

Mean!Cowboy that you tell your friends whose taking you home for the night

Mean!Cowboy who smiles as he closes the door behind the two of you ready to give you the best ride of your life

[taintedtort]

"Kyotani!"

your voice rings through the gym, stopping the conversation that Seijoh‘s team was having. said boy turns his head to look at you, a scowl pulling on his lips when you shouted his name like that in front of everyone. he can’t be too mad though, not when you’re waving so enthusiastically, obviously happy to see him.

he grumbles something under his breath before breaking apart from the group to walk over to you, ignoring the gazes of his nosey teammates. they’ve never seen you before, and he certainly hasn’t said anything about you. they’d definitely remember if the Mad Dog had mentioned someone, especially someone as attractive as you.

in reality, you two have been dating for a few months now, though you’re keeping it quiet. he doesn’t necessarily mind anyone knowing, he just hasn’t specifically told his team because he doesn’t want them teasing him about it.

when he reaches you, he grunts in greeting, and you smile as you extend his jacket he lent to you the other day.

"here, i washed it," you chirp, looking much too nice to be talking to someone like Kyotani. he shakes his head at your offer though, waving off the jacket.

"keep it, i never wear it anyway," he grumbles, keeping his voice low so his teammates don’t overhear. his words make you smile though, and you nod eagerly, holding the clothing to your chest.

he can hear his teammates whispering amongst themselves, trying to guess the relationship between the two of you and how you know him. it irks him, and he’s trying his best not to just drag you off somewhere a bit more private to talk to you. he knows that would only make them even more curious though, so he’s stuck standing a respectable distance away from you while listening to his teammates gossip.

"do you wanna walk home together?"

your voice brings his attention back to you, his ears drowning them out as he listens to your sweet request. practice is nearly over anyway, and he knows you were probably waiting for him in the first place, which makes his chest feel… funny.

he only nods in response, gesturing for you to wait outside so he can grab his stuff. there’s no way he’s letting his teammates near you, they’d only bombard you with stupid questions.

"okay! hurry up," you urge, smiling at him in a way that makes his earlier annoyance immediately melt away.

before you turn to leave, you tip toe and give him a quick peck on the cheek, one that has nearly his whole team gawking and gasping. it leaves him a bit surprised too, and he can feel his ears get warm from embarrassment. you look cheeky though, practically skipping out of the gym to wait outside for him like you didn’t just shell shock half the team.

as soon as you’re out of sight, an uproar follows as his teammates surround him, immediately asking questions and demanding details. he just rolls his eyes, huffing out short answers as he goes to gather his stuff.

…brat. ♡

sort of a start of my kyotani series, which will honestly just consist of random drabbles and whatever else i can think of.

[arcanefeelings]

don't mind me just thinking about kuroo's bedhead and how he sleeps with his head between two pillows and him coming home one day and passing out between your legs early on in your relationship-

like, it's not even sexual. he's just exhausted from the day he's had and your thighs are just so soft and perfect and - just a for a minute, he swears, he'll move in a minute. but one minute turns into two, then five, and you realise your boyfriend is very much asleep.

except he moves as he sleeps, his nose nudging the warmth between your legs, just over the crotch of your shorts. and then he hums in his sleep, biceps curling around your thighs with a satisfied sigh.

and you're swallowing. hard. lower lip caught between your teeth and chest rising with shaky breaths. because his face is right there. but he's asleep and you two hadn't even gone that far yet.

so you close your eyes, one hand clenching your (kuroo's) oversized shirt in a tight fist, the other gripping the couch cushion for your sanity. slowly, you draw a breath, trying to will back the wave of arousal that was so drawn to him.

you fight the urge to push into him, to chase the warm puffs of his breath tingling through the layers of fabric separating you.

no. this was wrong. he was sleeping.

should you wake him up? but he looked so peaceful - but he was right. there.

you throw your head back with a soft sound of frustration.

you were stuck.

note: part two maybe?

[takes1]

i’ve never put in a request before but i read literally all of your haikyuu stuff and i was wondering if you could do something like your asahi x feral!reader but for tsukishima? or even just more asahi or tsukishima stuff would also be cool

tsukki using toys on feral!reader

i love you. here's your present pookie <3

warnings. heavy nsfw, minors DNI

details. fem!reader / rough sex / switchy, mostly dominant!tsukki / mutual masturbation / exhibitionism / voyeurism / use of vibrator / use of dildo / mutual crushing / dirty talk / tsukki loves to tease / flirty!tsukki / friend sex / mostly clothed sex / light choking / 3.3k words

links. my masterlist. more haikyuu. my ao3

Even the way he slid his tie off made you want to drop to your knees and beg him to fuck.

Tsukishima was an alright buddy, but you knew he'd make a much better lover. Maybe it was your delusion, built-up by years of crushing on your closest friend, but there was something about being a mean guy's favorite got you going.

More specifically: soaked, swimming in your raunchy imagination, even investing in some toys to help with the fantasy of it all, most nights.

He had no clue. You were always careful not to look at him more than you had to, to never speak to him too often. It was only thanks to being in the same class that he came over to study, and you got the chance to callous your crush-masking and Calculus III at the same unfortunate time. So fun.

"You study at all yet?" He stretched with a yawn, sore and tired from practice.

"A little," You were usually curt with him when it was just you two.

Today, Yamaguchi opted to work on his serves after practice with his mentor, instead of studying with you two. You nearly cancelled this, but you needed to go over a few concepts with somebody before the quiz tomorrow morning.

Yamaguchi was the best person to bounce off of, so the three of you had better, friendlier chemistry than just you and Tsukishima. You didn't have to fake it as much.

You set your laptop up on your desk and stood, bent at the hips to open up your class materials and take some books out of your bag.

"I didn't have time today," A weight was on the side of your hip, making you stifle a flinch. It was only the side of his leg, from the way he leaned back onto your desk right next to you, "I had to practice at lunch, too."

Another yawn.

They had been busier, lately. Both of them couldn't meet as regularly because they had extra, informal practices.

"Big match coming up?" You clicked to the website and took the soonest opportunity to get away.

You sat down in your chair and kept your eyes on the monitor. You couldn't handle his proximity. You were already wet just from the ride over, having to sit thigh-to-thigh with him on the train. It would be impossible to focus if he kept this shit up.

"Kinda."

The conversation died there. Neither of you tried too hard to keep any discussion alive without Yamaguchi.

He started getting his materials together and paused, then took another few minutes to root around. He glanced around your desk and didn't find what he was looking for.

"You got a pen I could borrow?"

You half-hummed, in the middle of copying down an equation from the screen to your paper.

"Uhh- yeah, yeah. Bedside table. Should be next to the uhhh, the lamp."

Tsukishima watched you for a moment longer, suspicious, but stretched again and pushed himself up to find the pen. To his delight, that was not what he found, when he tried looking through the drawers instead of limiting his search to the surface.

A quick glance back to you- still focused on anything but him, to a level he had grown to understand as simply overcompensation, and he knew he was clear to let his curiosity roam.

"Interesting."

"Wha'?" You mumbled, lazy against your knuckles, a dry, slow blink at your monitor filled with equations.

Long, slim fingers danced over the pink, silicone dildo in the back of your drawer. His grin grew to serious proportions when he found its smaller, surely nosier friend. He could have guessed you were a little freak, but loved this confirmation.

In your attempt to give your retinas a break, you found a spare pen behind one of your notebooks.

"Oh-, hey, I found it," You sighed.

You turned in your swivel chair to face him and see what the delay was about. A flash of pink in his hand made your blood run cold.

"Tsukki!"

You almost tripped scrambling out of your chair, the sound of your call a short and wheezy one, so he had plenty of warning before you were upon him, plastered to his front just like he wanted.

"Put that down!"

His hand flew high into the air, at a height you could never hope to reach- it angered you so quickly, and you felt your face getting hot. That tall bastard utilized his abnormal wingspan at the worst of times.

Frantic fingers clawed his sweater down, but there was no chance you could pull his entire arm down far enough.

From here, you realized he was also holding your smaller vibrator in the same hand. That just wasn't possible without freakishly large proportions.

You screamed, "You're such a fucking weirdo! Put it back!!"

Tsukishima pouted at you, making you think you might have gotten through to him, but like most of his expressions, it was sarcastic.

"Ooooh... I'm the weirdo?"

That one, especially coupled with the eye roll, pissed you off. It wasn't your fault that he was incapable of sexual attraction. You were over-active, sure, and maybe you rivalled the sex drive of a man, but that was your personal business. Up until now, it was stored safe and secret.

"Fuck you!"

You shoved him. And he actually fell back. He wasn't very heavy.

When he hit your mattress, it was a race to recapture your toys that had gotten knocked out of his hand before you could get to them.

You scrapped to get on top of him, weigh him down, and dodged his elbow to reach his wrist-- it was too late. He gripped the thing and you could only then try to pry his hand open.

"Ah-ah-ah," His smirk was so mean, how he found you, in the midst of all your panic, as cute as a button, "What's the magic word?"

"You're never coming over again, you dick," You muttered, fuming, when his fingers just wouldn't be opened.

Tsukishima didn't do much to keep his hand away from you. You held his forearm against your chest because you the most leverage there.

His unrestricted laugh was pretty; scratchy and elevated, watching you try and try again to take your belongings back from him.

Fatigue was getting in the way of your efforts. When he pulled his hand back, over his head, you got knocked off balance and caught yourself, looking down at him.

It distracted you for a moment.

There was something in his eyes you hadn't noticed before, in all your attempts to retrieve your precious toys.

"A little small..." He furrowed his brow, a purse on his lips as he angled it in the light behind you, "Don't you think?"

The hand against your other side made you pause. His thumb, starting to rub you through your uniform, made you shudder.

Why was everything so slow, all of a sudden? You could hear your elevated heart rate, acutely aware of how heavy your breathing had gotten. Tsukishima seemed as though he had always been here, in this state, because he looked you over at a glacial pace.

"Oh- god," You shivered at the realization you were sitting on him, in your skirt.

What had been such a sure reality of never getting off to him again, all at once, became the very reason to do so.

When you looked like you were gearing up to move off of him, smaller, and meeker in spirit, he spoke up through your habitual doubts.

"Stay-," His hand was firm now, gently pushing your weight onto himself, "Stay here."

Hearing something genuine come out of Tsukishima's mouth was so rare that you thought he was joking. You kept trying to rise off of him.

"Hey," He chuckled, but his smile was fleeting.

He set your toys down and used both hands to weigh you down by your thighs. Your uncomfortable expression was mostly confusion.

"Why would I do that?"

You were torn between wanting to take your stuff back and get far away, and the animalistic urge to stay and entertain whatever this was.

His scoff, the roll of his eyes, made your thighs flex, like it always did. This time, he could feel it. But it was confirmation he didn't need, at this point.

"Don't act like you're not into me."

The heaviness of being caught made you sink. It didn't appeal to you to find out why he knew. He was intelligent, after all, and made it his job to notice small things.

Now that it was out in the open, you had no need to lie. A lot less to worry about, too.

Tsukishima smirked at your tiny, defeated sigh.

You glanced to the toys, free for you to take and hide again, but found no desire to do so. You took a good, thorough feel of that soft sweater under your hands. It turned into pushing up under his shirt, and adjusting closer down, open for a kiss, if he felt so inclined.

He sucked in a breath through his nose, restraining himself only once, at that little, dirty roll you did against his cock.

A slow, unsure kiss was soon a rushed and racy battle for power.

Any drop of validation you gave him, whether in sound or feel, was drowned in a charged kind of yearning for more; More of that noise, more of your mouth, more of your body under his starving grasp.

His fingers spread over the plush of your ass, quickly between you and your underwear, spreading you from the back with so much vigor that you whined at all the intensity.

"Mm- yeahh, I know you like that shit," He nestled his kisses against the side of your face, rough and smiley.

You gasped, sharp, at his words and his nails digging lines into your skin.

"Oh my god," You moaned, eyes shutting at how his attention seemed to wrack through you like some sick wave.

In your sudden inability to kiss him back, he ripped open your uniform blouse and sucked hasty bites into your chest.

Finally. He made you feel like you could take anything.

When he sat up, you came with him, and rejoiced in the way he shoved you onto your back, all out of breath and turned on, hovering over you like you were his. That proud expression on your face deserved a few more kisses, he decided.

They were still so rough and challenging to keep up with- especially when you felt him sliding your panties off.

"M-mn," You chased after his lips for a second, not wanting him to pull away so quick.

"I want you to use this," He muttered, and handed you your vibrator- he was keeping it in his pocket, so it didn't get lost in the sheets (as it often liked to).

The sound of that was enough to make you giggle, instantly compliant. But it made you curious.

"Well- what will you do?"

Tentative, you held it without moving- but his hands guided it right where it needed to be. He smirked at your gasps, your thighs flexing hard against him.

"I'll watch," His voice was proceeded by the clang of his belt, zipping out of his belt loops and clattering onto the floor.

Your drunken eyes widened at the monster he pulled out. Yeah, it did make your dildo look small. But it looked natural in his big hand, starting to stroke himself at the view of you, under him.

There was no chance to be coy- he was doing the same thing, even the one to suggest it all. You gave a dreamy sigh, content at the chance to be his cam girl.

His head tilted, eyes lowered to watch your pussy, getting juicier by the minute- so he was a sick son of a bitch, too.

Ever the one to tease, he muttered, "How often d'you think about me?"

That made you warm. You didn't want to say it right away, because even you knew it was getting to be an addiction. It was hard not working one out every night when he was making you horny any time you spoke in class.

"Every day..." You mumbled, eyes still locked on the way he stroked himself, curious to try it for yourself.

He was busy imagining how often you had probably both been masturbating at the same time, with no idea. His hands pushed your thighs up- a nasty, preoccupied gaze on just the way it puffed up your pussy. God, he needed to feel you from the inside.

"Me, too," He admitted. Though it was a dirty thing to say, he said it so flat, in his own little way, as he searched for that dildo. He left out the fact that he jerked off multiple times a day.

"You wanna get that wet for me?"

You hummed, sweet and cute, at the opportunity in front of your face.

Getting it nice and slick in your mouth was just a way to torture him a little more, let him in on what he had been missing- you sucked the thing off a little longer than necessary.

His jaw flexed at the sight, his eyes narrow, intense, just how you liked them.

You grinned as he took it back and cleaned the string of spit from your lip. He sucked it off of his finger like cotton candy.

Tsukishima took the liberty of filling you up with it- watching every little twitch and savoring every whine with so much concentration.

The look of it had him pumping himself a little faster, a little dumb at the sight of you stuffed, already, and dripping onto your sheets. You had been getting off to him every night, then treating him like the dirt under your shoe, for three years?

"I would've been fuckin' you so good- mmnh- freshman year, if you had just been honest with me."

His words made you lose your breath, gasping at the thought of how much you could've helped yourself out, if only things had been different. But, that fixation on his face, all the anticipation leading up to now; you wouldn't have traded it for the world.

You bit your lip at how slow and patient he was, stretching you out all for himself.

"D'you want me to cum?" You asked, tone purposefully candied for him.

There was no hesitation. He looked a little staggered. It was adorable, how badly he wanted to see it happen.

"Fuck, yes."

It took you more effort to hold out, talk, and edge, than it did to give him a show.

You just fell into what you usually did when you got home from classes- this time, with little sounds falling from your lips, and your thighs up the way he liked so much.

The way his eyes clouded over, how he started to relax in the shoulders, and grew breathier at your performance stroked your ego on a deeper level.

"Ah-h!"

His breath stalled at the sudden tension, the gasp on your lips. He was watching you, completely captivated, at your rigid brow and crescendoing sounds.

"Mnn-H-Aahh!" You wished he would touch you, so bad, but it didn't happen. He was too busy studying you.

"Damn," He sighed.

He was taken by the way you came completely undone for him- it made his face soften, made him want to kiss you through it, but he loved watching from right here. It was unbelievably hot.

Though he pulled out that pink obstruction to his real plan, he didn't let you move your vibrator away. He grinned at your reaction, as you were still coming down.

You squirmed at the discomfort, a little panic in your eyes, all to find him enjoying it more.

"A-ahh-! Tsukki--,"

"Ohh- sorry, you thought you were getting a break?" His voice was so sweet, so amused.

He lined himself up with you, sure to lube up in all that extra slickness. It was so deranged and bold that it made you relax, watching in quiet, but whiny captivation, despite needing more time.

"Fuuck," He sighed, a huffy laugh on his lips at how perfect you took him, "God- mmnh-!"

It shouldn't have surprised you, but he wasn't slow, and he wasn't gentle. You supposed you weren't, either. You were both one in the same, too excited and caught up in the rare chance to let loose with a likeminded pervert.

The intensity in his twitchy brow gave way to a narrowed focus on your face.

"Feels so good, (Y/n)."

"Mmnh- call me anything but my- na-me," You sighed, a clip at the end of your phrase as he started using you like his own toy, fast.

He stretched you so good- nothing like your pitiful replacement for him. You couldn't believe he was packing so much, for such a skinny guy.

Though you half-expected him to keep using your name as a means to tease you; he smirked, instead.

"You can- ahh, be my dirty little slut, then-,"

You did say 'anything.' And, to your pleasant surprise, you didn't hate that as much as you thought you would. You still laughed at him, though, because he deserved it. He grinned, unable to take it too seriously, too.

Your recovery period was laughably short. The newness of his cock, the hungry look in his mean face over you, his attitude completely transformed by your body, had you short of breath all over again, wanting more, taking him better with less discomfort.

You welcomed his intensity. This time, all of it, finally wasn't fabricated in your head.

It began to spiral, tightening like a spring in your tummy, into the fundamental need to be railed to another orgasm.

"Harder- please," Your begging couldn't go unrewarded.

It was like he was waiting for confirmation to fuck you as hard as he wanted-- his hand naturally squeezed around your throat, a struggle playing out in his eyes, now, at the way you gripped his arm to keep it there.

He got raspy, breathy, sweat rolling down the side of his face.

Your volume was intense- elation and indulgence all at your liberty, since you were the only people home. Your family trusted Tsukishima, and you were only just now learning that they probably shouldn't.

"F-uck!"

The pretty shock taking your face, coupled with the spasm of your cunt as you actually came twice was all too much for a guy as nasty as him.

That shit was too raw- your gasps, wavering cries, too good for his filthy mind. He was gonna throw all of his porn away as soon as he got home. Next time he needed to cum, he'd take the train here.

He pulled out and absolutely ruined that cute uniform. You were twitchy, panting at all the overstimulation, drenched in sweat, and unable to care right now. He pried his own fingers, slowly, from your neck and lowered to kiss you. It was slower, now, as you both caught your breath.

Coming down with somebody wasn't nearly as sobering as coming down by yourself.

His forehead was slippery against yours, "I'll pay for- ah, your uniform, if I need to."

It was a sweet gesture. You pressed a kiss against his cheek with a laugh, "Just throw it all in the washer."

"Hm," He smirked, an idea taking form behind his eyes as you were carefully stripped of your clothes.

"Let's go again. One more time."

☆VIP☆

@integers @paradoxicalwritings @yuchacco

my masterlist. more haikyuu

[rosierin]

double trouble | atsumu, osamu, suna

synopsis; the twins are doing some manual labour under the hot sun and (y/n) can't help but catch a sneaky glance or two or three when they eventually take off their shirts.

a/n; what can i say guys? im in france and the sun's got me feeling all silly

this fic is part of the off-season quartet™ series! for more, click here :)

In her defence, (y/n) hadn’t meant to stare.

It just… sort of happened. Like blinking. Or breathing. One moment she was sitting in the kitchen sipping iced tea, gloriously unbothered. The next—

Well.

The twins had taken their shirts off.

And really, there should’ve been a warning. A government-issued alert. Maybe a health advisory. Something to prepare the public. Because this? This was just cruel.

They were scattered across their tiny backyard, moving a bunch of supplies from the car to the shed—lumber, bags of soil, some mystery item Osamu had bought for his garden project that weighed roughly the same as a baby elephant.

And okay, yeah, she could have offered to help.

But someone had to supervise. For... For safety reasons.

And hydration. Since she was already sipping tea.

It was boiling out—sun glaring, air thick, the kind of summer heat that made everything sticky and slightly unbearable. It made sense that they’d stripped their shirts off. Necessary, if you asked her.

Now, here’s the thing about the Miya twins: sure, they were genetically identical. But when it came to thirst?

Very different flavours.

Atsumu was golden and obnoxiously pretty, all tan skin and arrogant smirks. Every time he flexed his biceps lifting something heavy—grunting like an Olympic athlete, on purpose, she was sure—she could've sworn she'd seen God. His hair clung to his forehead with sweat, and every time he reached for something overhead, his whole torso flexed—showcasing toned abs and the kind of sinful V-line that made her question her faith.

Meanwhile, Osamu looked like he’d walked out of a home renovation fantasy. Dust on his forearms, jaw tense with focus, sweat beading down his neck. Those forearms. Those shoulders. The way his back flexed when he lifted a bag of gravel? Criminal.

The kind of guy who could build you a deck and then build you a reputation, if you caught her drift.

He grunted once. (Y/n) almost passed out.

She bit her lip so hard she nearly bruised it.

"I’m not better than a man," she whispered to herself, staring through the window like a Victorian widow at sea.

Double the muscles.

Double the sweat.

Double the hotness.

She was dizzy. Delirious. Probably dehydrated from the sheer amount of drool she was swallowing.

“You’re disgusting,” came a voice to her left.

She jumped.

Suna.

Of course it was Suna.

He was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, staring at her like a disappointed parent.

“Do I even wanna know what’s going through your filthy little mind right now?”

“No,” she said quickly. “And also, yes. But mostly no.”

He snorted. “Why don’t you just go up to them and tell them they’re hot?”

“No way,” she said, aghast. “That’s like walking up to a fire and saying, ‘hi, I’m flammable.’”

He raised a brow. “So you’re gonna keep ogling from the shadows like a little perv?”

“Correct.”

Suna poured himself a drink. Took a sip. Didn't argue. “Respect.”

She thought the worst of it was over.

She thought, I’ll survive this. I’ll just finish my tea, cool off, pretend I didn’t spend the last ten minutes mentally objectifying my friends.

She thought wrong.

Because a few minutes later, the screen door slid open with a bang, and in walked Atsumu—shirtless, sweaty, pressing a water bottle to the side of his neck.

Condensation trickled down his shoulder. His collarbone. His chest...

(Y/n) choked on her peach tea.

Suna snickered into his glass. “Karma’s so efficient these days.”

Atsumu didn’t seem to notice her state of physical and spiritual collapse—at first. He crossed the kitchen with casual swagger, cracked open the fridge, and stood there like he didn’t just set the room on fire.

That’s when it happened.

He looked over his shoulder—right at her. His eyes flicked across her face, clocking the flushed cheeks, the guilty stillness.

Then he grinned.

“Ya been watchin’ me, angel?”

(Y/n) froze, mid-sip, brain absolutely blank.

No thoughts. Just panic. And lust. And more panic.

“I—what—no,” she said, like someone who had absolutely been watching him. “No, I was looking at… the shed.”

Atsumu turned fully, eyebrow raised, lips twitching like he just knew. “Oh yeah? …The shed," he deadpanned.

“Yeah,” she said, defensive. “Very… shed-y. Strong architectural presence.”

He tilted his head, slow and smug. “Right.”

Suna, from behind his drink, drawled, “She almost passed out when Osamu grunted.”

“RIN.”

Atsumu burst into laughter, clutching his glorious sixpack stomach. “Shit, you were watchin’ us!”

(Y/n) dragged her hands down her burning face. “I hate this house.”

“Aw, don’t be shy,” Atsumu cooed, leaning against the counter with full, blinding confidence. “If ya wanted a private show, all ya had to do was ask.”

She groaned into her palms. “I’m gonna combust."

“‘Cause of the heat?” Atsumu asked innocently.

“Because of you,” she snapped, glaring like this was all his fault. "And your stupid brother."

"You guys talkin' shit about me?"

(Y/n) nearly fainted on the spot.

Osamu had just walked in from the yard—towel around his neck, water bottle in hand, faintly furrowed brow and a voice that somehow always sounded like it was five minutes from dragging someone by the collar.

“She’s been oglin’ us,” Atsumu said gleefully.

(Y/n) bristled. “I HAVE NOT—”

Suna twirled his glass between his fingers like a fine wine. “She has. She's a closeted pervert."

Osamu raised a brow, turning to glance at her—really glance. His eyes flicked from the way she was half-curled on the chair, to her burning cheeks, to her wildly defensive expression. His mouth quirked.

“Ah,” he said mildly. “So that’s why I felt eyes burnin’ into my back. Or was it my chest? Abs?”

“I hate all of you,” she muttered.

That was when it happened. The unholy alliance.

Atsumu and Osamu exchanged a glance—brief, wordless, deadly.

Twin telepathy.

And just like that, they moved in. One on each side. Like predators scenting blood.

(Y/n) blinked. “What—?"

Atsumu leaned down on her left, arm braced behind her chair, golden skin still glistening from the sun.

Osamu mirrored him on the right, towel draped lazily around his shoulders, bottle of water dangling from his fingers.

“Ya like this, sweetheart?” Atsumu murmured.

“Yer lookin’ a little flushed,” Osamu added smoothly.

(Y/n) was actively dying. Palms sweaty. Heart racing. Brain spiralling. She could barely breathe—and she was no longer even outside.

This was a coordinated attack. A planned execution.

It was rare for the twins to agree on anything. They thrived on bickering, on chaos, on contradicting each other at every turn.

But when they did team up?

It was borderline lethal.

“Don’t you two have something heavy to go lift?” she managed to croak.

Atsumu smirked. “Thought you liked watchin’.”

“I’ll throw this tea at you,” she warned.

Osamu tilted his head. “Seems like a waste of good tea.”

(Y/n) groaned and dropped her face into her hands again. “I prefer it when you guys are arguing.”

Suna snickered under his breath, but everyone caught his next words:

"Bet you'd prefer it if they did something else."

Atsumu barked a laugh at the insinuation.

Osamu groaned and swatted at him with the towel. “Don’t make it weird."

(Y/n) didn’t dare look at any of them. She folded her arms on the table and buried her face like a horny ostrich.

Did that stop her from feeling Atsumu’s hot breath at the back of her neck?

No. No it did not.

“Maybe if ya ask nicely…” he murmured.

Her mind went rampant.

Curse Suna for throwing her under the bus.

Curse the twins and their stupid muscles and their criminally good genes.

Curse this house for being the most cursed and blessed thing to have ever happened to her.

And curse her, most of all—for loving every second of it.

[yandere-romanticaa]

"You know..." he trailed off, his voice gruff but cool. Two fingers danced across the countertop as you chopped the potatoes sloppily, as you were still not quite adept with handling a knife.

He continues. "... You would be a really nagging wife, did anyone ever tell you that?"

A scoff escapes you but even so, you chop. It's a little hard trying to focus on cooking all the while this idiot keeps trying to rile you up like crazy. Why was he even here, who even invited him? Yeah, he was popular around town and it wasn't uncommon for him to hop from place to place, regardless of what it may be. Be it someone's house, a bar, a club, a gaming center, it honestly didn't matter.

It just freaked you out how he was slowly morphing into the shadow you never wished to have.

"Is that so?" You ask him sarcastically, your face schooled into an unreadable expression. The smell of delicious spices enveloped the whole kitchen and it made you even hungrier. You were going to kill your friend for allowing this god awful fiend inside here. Refusing to turn to him, you still probed him.

"Don't marry me then, I never asked for your opinion to begin with."

He's stunned for a millisecond before regaining his composure, a booming laugh soon reverberated across the entire room. He clutched his chest a little, as if you had just told him the funniest joke in the whole wide world.

In a way, it was.

He, despite his bravado, wouldn't mind having such crummy a wife by his side.

He was living the good life and nothing could stop him. But there was just something about you, something that would always make him take a step back and think. It was so cute how you were trying to concentrate on making a tasty meal for himself, of course he was going to steal a little later.

He adored your cooking, even if it could get sloppy at times.

The "you'd be a bad/annoying/nagging wife" thing started off as something to humor him, and to piss you off naturally. Nothing brought him greater satisfaction than to see a scowl on your face and just straight up ruin your day. It was exhilarating to watch the light in your eyes crumble the moment he took a breath of air which came from your direction, let alone actually come to you.

It didn't hit him that he was actively interested in you.

He never even realized just how many of your dumb little habits he had picked up on, just how many times he had to stop himself from doing more than he already did because he didn't want to give you the wrong idea.

He doesn't like you, he thinks you're a fool. Plain and simple, just like that.

It doesn't matter that his heart beats so much faster at the mere thought of you, it doesn't matter that he started to fantasize how you would look like if you were his actual wife.... To come home to you, in your soft embrace as a meal was ready for him...

No matter. He'll trick, tease and steal from you as much as he possibly can.

🎀 Gilgamesh (Fate), Bakugo Katsuki, Dabi, Hawks (BNHA), Gojo Satoru (JJK), Guren Ichinose (Seraph of the End), Ayato Sakamaki, Laito Sakamaki (Diabolik Lovers), Satori Tendo (Haikyuu!), Aalto (Wuthering Waves)

[deathc-re]

you hate getting sick, who doesn't? but a part of you loves it at the same time. why? because your boyfriend always treats you so good.

he'll dote on you hand and foot. you want tea? he knows just the one. you want noddles? steaming bowl in front of you. you're too hot or cold? thermostat adjusted to the perfect temperature for you, forget him.

you wanna be close to him, be held and cuddled? anything for his sweetheart. but...what about when you're horny? when this cold/ fever takes you over right in the middle of your ovulation? it's anything for his baby, and that includes slowly torturing himself while you cock warm him under the covers. you're body basically burning up, hot to the touch against his cool skin. moans and whimpers escaping you from the aches and pains in your body but also from the feeling of his cock filling you so good.

you're so weak and tired, basically in and out of consciousness but your dripping all over him and squeezing him so tight.

when he catches that your awake again he rubs your back slowly, "baby," he breathes "can i move? please? you just- fuck-- you feel so good i can't take it."

you muster up a weak chuckle and nod your head, wrapping your arms around him tighter. slowly he switches your position, moving you onto your chest and places a pillow under your hips. the loss of him and the blanket made you whine but when he pushed back into you, you melted into the bed.

it felt like every touch to your body was heightened. your fingers gripped the sheets weakly as you arched further into the soft bed. you heard your lover moan but you were too focused on your own body, every drag of his dick along your walls felt like heaven. when he reached down to rub on your clit a jolt ran through you.

before long you were seeing stars, tired body even more tired as you gasped and whimpered into the sheets, a drool pool forming by your mouth.

your boyfriend, oh so loving, restrained every muscle in his body to keep at this pace. the last thing he wanted was to hurt you. but you felt like heaven, warm walls wrapped around him so tight, your noises, the look of pleasure and daze on your face.

he gripped your ass and leaned down to nip at your ear, "i'm sorry sweetheart but i have to go fast-" he was cut off by your quick nod, reaching a hand back to grip his wrist. just that action made him twitch.

he gripped you tighter and angled his hips upward, speeding up his pace just a bit but increased the force of this thrusts by a lot. your ass shock in waves every time his pelvis met you. like energy was being pushed into you your moans got louder, more urgent, the cord in your belly tightening.

you both came almost exactly at the same time, heavy breathing filling the room. you were out, sprawled onto the bed, barely awake. your lover chuckled at the scene and leaned down to kiss your temple.

"you want a bath my love? i'll make the water extra hot for you." he called while walking to the bathroom. you hummed a response and curled into yourself, drifting off. the warm cum running down your thigh barely registering in your mind.

FAT GUM, aizawa, DEKU, kirishima, sanji, corazon, connie, gojo, CHOSO, geto, SUGAWARA + whoever else you think

[omi-boshi]

"Hey, Kiyoomi-kun!" Shion yells from the open door leading to the locker rooms, voice a little breathless. "Your phone rang." Kiyoomi quirks an eyebrow in curiosity. There's still 15 minutes left of their break and truthfully, Kiyoomi is not inclined to leave the comfortable position he's resting in: sat on the floor, legs stretched out in front of him as he caught his breath. Still, he rises to his feet and ambles towards the locker room. Kiyoomi typically has his phone on Do Not Disturb. If anyone's messaging him at this time, it could only be one person: you. He thumbs his phone open; the screen flashes with a photo of you and him from your most recent anniversary, before he clicks on the message that, just as he guessed, came from you.

It's a video.

For a moment, he considers saving it for later just in case it ends up being racier than what's acceptable to play in public but the motion blur from the thumbnail suggests anything but that. Besides, it's barely past 5PM, you're only on the way home at this time.

Ultimately, curiosity gets the better of him and he plays the video without further ado.

"Hey, babe!" Your voice crackles through the speaker. In the video, you're running. The backdrop is the familiar landscape of the neighborhood you both reside in.

"This is proof that I would never try to bring home a stray dog." You look off to the side, the camera tilting with the motion and showing the dog that's running alongside you. "See, Kiyoomi!" You look towards your phone. Despite doing your utmost at feigning disappointment and concern at being followed, your giddiness bleeds through your voice and it's enough to pull a smile out of Kiyoomi.

"See! I'm running! I'm running away from you!" Your voice lowers in volume as you direct your words to the dog. It's immediately followed by, "Come on, buddy! Come on— Go away!" You say the last part to the camera. Eyes wide, as if you were looking directly at Kiyoomi and convincing him in person.

Kiyoomi falters at the way you try your damndest to tamp down your grin, the faux disappointment coming back as you address him through the video. His grin widens.

"What are you doing? Go away!" You turn to the dog. "I said run— run away—come on, come on—Run, buddy—Run away!"

As you grow increasingly breathless, Kiyoomi's amusement crests, sending him into fits of laughter that catch the attention of everyone within the vicinity. His laughter continues as he watches you run with this dog, at one point, even waving it over when it strays too far.

By the time the video abruptly cuts off, the fatigue Kiyoomi felt from practice is replaced by this warmth in his chest brought about by your valiant attempt at not leading a stray dog into your home. When his laughter subsides, Shoyo bounds over towards him, curious at what has the reclusive spiker so amused. "You seem happy, Omi-san. Something good happen?" Kiyoomi spares him a glance, laughter dying down, and a soft quirk to his lips that Shoyo has learned can only be pulled out of him by you. "Yeah... I think we're getting a dog."

(based on this silly little video)

[cosmic-evening]

the most beautiful thing about IWAIZUMI HAJIME is not his face, although it comes quite close.

it's his quiet care.

if you'd asked yourself six months ago, you would have laughed. iwaizumi hajime, the one who throws volleyballs at oikawa, kind-hearted? even now, you can't quite believe it.

but it's real, the sweet texts he sends you every morning. the heartfelt flowers in your locker. the handwritten notes on your desk as you sleepily make your way to class. the feeling of his hand enveloping yours whenever you're together.

it's real.

he's real.

and you couldn't be luckier for it.

hq m.list | gen m.list

[sodaneko]

❦ IDLE HANDS (Kuroo x f!reader)

Shameless, you think. Unsure if you mean him or yourself when you narrow the distance between you two.

a/n: little something for @husbandograveyard ♡ writing this made me a Kuroo girlie. i get it now. i really, REALLY do. also when i started writing this i was aiming for 1k or so idk what possessed me but here we are. maybe listening to bouncy while writing this wasn't the best idea (lie)

tags: f!reader, mild enemies to lovers, fluff, mutual pining, shameless flirting, food mention, bit of a slow burn, they're so in love your honor

wc: 3.7k

Kuroo Tetsuro is a heartthrob.

With his stupid messy hair and his stupid rolled up sleeves, showing off his stupid toned arms while he’s mumbling stupid sweet things to your favorite cat that’s currently coiling underneath his stupid big hand, getting the best belly rubs of her life from the looks of it. 

It’s not like you’re jealous or something, no; it’s just that you’ve been coming to this cat café for a year now and you thought you and the calico shared a special bond. Maru, who is just as her name implies, very round and very soft, has been sitting and purring by your side while you spend hours typing page after page of your next book. She’d also stretch out all over your laptop and remind you to take a break when you’ve been going at it for hours. Yes, it took you some bribery to win her heart but over the past months she really warmed up to you. Wow, she usually isn’t this friendly with people, you remember the café owner say once. 

What a blatant lie. 

Your peace has been disturbed. A slight shift in the universe when he showed up for the first time merely a week ago. It was easy to remember him, because he was sitting in your spot with your favorite cat purring in his lap, looking like he didn’t have a single worry in the world except maybe that untamed hair of his (and even this was kind of charming, you had to admit begrudgingly).

Sharing usually wasn’t a big deal for you–until it was. You come to this cat café almost every day, feeling much more inspired to write here than in the shoebox you call your apartment at the other end of town. Your landlady doesn’t allow pets, so this place has been a lifeline in the tiring times of deadlines and rejected book deals. At the end of the day there was always a cat rubbing against your legs, reminding you that not everything was bad and that no matter how severe things got, there was always a kitty waiting to be picked up.

You hold this place very dear to your heart, a secret gem you felt a need to protect. It is hidden away in a side street, far from the hectic buzz of the city. The interior is cozy, it isn’t too big and the owner, an elderly lady with candy cotton hair and knuckle tattoos, lives upstairs and treats the place like her second living room with all six of her cats. There’s never too many other guests around and in the corner seat by the window you can unravel your thoughts quietly. It feels homey, something you haven’t felt in a long time.

But now there is an intruder in a business suit and you didn’t really know how to deal with that new found irritation.

“That’s my spot.”

Balancing your laptop, notebook, a slice of carrot cake and a hot drink in one hand, all manners aside, you point at the stranger with your other. In your right mind you know it is rude to point at people, but to be fair he kinda started it by sitting where you rightfully belong. His eyes, a certain gleam in them, follow your movement down to the cat curled up on top of his thighs. With the amount of cat hair sticking to his suit pants you could only pray for him that he had a lint roller somewhere at his desk. 

He cocks his head to the side, giving you a boyish smirk that maybe would make your heart skip a beat if it wasn’t for his audacity. 

“Usually I ask someone’s name first and take them on a few dates before I let them sit in my lap, but I guess I can make an exception,” he replies and you never in your life before wanted to strangle someone so badly. If that wasn’t already worse enough, the tuxedo cat lifts its small head and slowly blinks at you before jumping down from his lap, as if it was trying to make space for you. My bad, didn’t know this seat was taken. Here, girl, you have it.

For once in your life you’re too stunned to speak. You watch the stranger check his watch and let out an almost inaudible sigh before he grabs his backpack (one that looks like he has had it since high school) and stands up to full height. He’s in your space now and you have to crank your neck slightly to meet his eyes. Mentally you’re adding stupidly tall to your list of things you hate about him. 

“Gotta get back to work. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

True to his words he is there the next day, too. This time around you managed to secure your spot by the window, three cats idly sleeping next to you on. You’ve been stuck on a paragraph for almost an hour now when the doorbell chimes and his figure appears at the counter. The cats look up with interest but you force yourself not to pay any attention to him, which is hard when his order is literally “I’ll have whatever she is having”, followed by a nod in your direction and this cheeky smile again. 

This damn smile.

“You didn’t strike me as a dirty chai drinker,” you deadpan when he takes a seat at the table next to yours. The café is almost empty around this time of the day, which is no surprise since most of the workers in this district are having a hearty meal for lunch and not whatever sweet delicacies this place is offering. 

He peels himself out of his suit jacket and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. The same cat as yesterday jumps into his lap immediately after he sits down, giving you a look of “if you don’t want him, I’ll take him” and you almost roll your eyes. Kuroo (you learn his name from the ID he is wearing around his neck) seems to notice and he grins at you. 

“Then what did I strike you as?” he asks, his chin resting in one hand while his other finds the soft fur of the kitty, stroking it gently. 

You look him up and down, now taking your time while stretching out the silence between you two. Only the purring of the cats and the soft music in the background could be heard. At first glance he seems like your typical office worker in the three piece suit who spends his time filling out spreadsheets and drinking cheap vending-machine coffee from the conbini next door. Everything a little rumpled, himself included, someone so used to tristesse he doesn’t even notice it anymore. 

Only at second glance do you notice the small wrinkles around his eyes, not from age but from laughter. The dimples when he smiles down at the tuxedo cat in his lap, now showing off its belly. His calloused hands, atypical for an office worker, more like you’d see them at craftsmen or athletes. Something in his eyes that radiates warmth and an air of calm confidence. None of it is unpleasant.

“If I had to guess, maybe three espresso with a pump of caramel and honey,” you say, more to yourself than to him. Kuroo looks at you in surprise before barking out a laugh. You hate how you like the sound of it.

It’s the beginning of spring and you award Kuroo Tetsuro the title of the greatest nuisance you’ve ever met.

In the midst of summer, you pity him. 

“I’m just saying that maybe you radiate a natural fragrance of catnip,” you say as you stir your iced oat milk latte. Kuroo got you that one when he popped in during his lunch break and saw that your glass must have been empty for a while. By that time you were hunched over your laptop, trying to decipher your notes from last night. You had saved him a seat at your table, but if he asked you, you’d say you just happened to put all your belongings on one chair and nothing more.

The man is swarmed by the cats of the café. They didn’t even bother to hide who their favorite is, rubbing around his legs, sitting pressed to his side or just straight up climbing his shoulders. It would’ve been enviable if he wasn’t already sweating from wearing a suit in the humid heat of the summer month alone. 

“Can you get at least one or two off me?” he asks and his tone is close to pleading. It makes you laugh as you stretch out in your light sundress, giving him a look as if you’re contemplating his question. 

“I could, but it’s really much funnier seeing you struggle like that. Serves you well,” you chime and pull out your phone, snapping a photo of this moment. You hold it up for him to see, a kitty phone charm dangling from it (they just happened to come in a pack of two and you gifted him one out of generosity, nothing more). He snatches it from your hands and makes a face.

“So you like seeing me suffer, is that how it is?” he snarls at you, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. His slender fingers fly over the screen of your phone and you let out a small gasp.

“Don’t you dare delete it,” you huff and grab the orange tabby mercifully off his shoulders so you can lean over him better. 

“Relax. I’m only saving my contact info since you never bothered asking me for it despite being my constant for the past three months.”  

There was this cheeky smile again. You blame the flutter of your heart on the caffeine and not the way his pupils are dilating when he gazes at you. 

He loosens his tie and unbuttons his shirt slightly, just enough to reveal a sliver of skin. Suddenly you’re very aware of how close you’re leaning over at him. Kuroo gives you a little glance from the corner of his eyes and taps the now revealed side of his neck. 

“What do you say? Do I really smell like catnip?” 

Shameless, you think. Unsure if you mean him or yourself when you narrow the distance between you two. You can feel the heat radiating off him and for a brief moment you wonder what it would feel like to press open mouth kisses on his skin. Your eyes flutter shut as you engrave this moment into your heart. 

“Definitely irresistible,” you murmur once you pull back–reluctantly, as if a hidden part of you ached to be in his proximity, in the inside of his soul.  

By autumn you miss him on the days when he was gone. 

He traveled quite a lot. You didn’t know one would need to be on the road so much for something as simple as volleyball (you can imagine the look he’d give you over this). But he was passionate about it and that’s also something you liked about him. The way he talks about the sport holds so much love and you wonder what it would feel like to be loved by a man like Kuroo Tetsuro.

Gentle, you think. Honest. Treasured.

A tap against the window pulls you out of your thoughts and when you look up, you're met with a pair of honey glazed eyes. Whatever he sees when he looks at you, it’s making him grin from ear to ear before he hurries towards the entry door, eager to meet you again.

Kuroo is holding up a bag, some brand of sweets from Hokkaido he’s been texting you about, but you didn’t think he’d actually go so far and bring you some. He sounds breathless when he speaks, as if he rushed all the way to get here and when he keeps on rambling, you order him and yourself a hot matcha boba and a chocolate mousse to share. 

The cats are happy to see him back too, and you laugh when you help him take his scarf off before some kitty claws can tangle up in it. It was a precious gift after all, one you knitted for him, under the feeble excuse of “keeping my hands busy helps me come up with ideas for my writing process”. It makes you happy to see him wearing it, and the color makes you feel as if you took the red string of fate connecting you two and turned it into something to help him stay warm.

You think a lot about kissing him now. Sometimes your hands would brush against each other on the table, neither of you pulling away. He spends his lunch breaks with you and comes to pick you up from the café in the evening, walking you to your station. The two of you still bicker at each other, but underneath lies a certain kind of softness, one that feels too fickle to put it into words just yet but also too bright to ignore. The leaves of the trees are falling and so are you. 

With winter comes snow and the quiet realization that maybe, just maybe, it’s unadulterated love. 

You spend a lot of time huddled together in the corner by the window now. He looks over your shoulder when you type on your laptop, one arm resting idly on the back of your chair, fingertips brushing against your spine sometimes. You don’t think he even notices when he lets them run up and down there. Often you forget which cups on the table belong to who but it doesn’t matter since you order the same things anyway and because this could count as an indirect kiss, right? 

On some days he’d just close his eyes and laze next to you, with his head resting on his folded arms on the table and your fingers idly weaving through his hair, before he had to hurry back to work. On others he would tell you excitedly about a special match he was organizing and you can hear the pure joy in his voice. It’s contagious.You get them now, the cats. How drawn they are to him, like chasing sunbeams. 

He spells L-O-V-E on your back with his fingertips and something inside of you softens. 

Then there’s snow, more snow than you’ve ever seen in your entire life, and Kuroo comes to pick you up early, the tip of his ears bright red and his cold hands seeking yours to warm them up. 

“I’m really sorry but I’m closing the shop early today,” the café owner apologizes and puts a box of cinnamon rolls for you on your table. “You two kittens better hurry and get home, too. On the radio they said they’re gonna shut everything down soon.”

It can’t be that bad, you think. But when Kuroo and you stand in front of the closed station, it dawns on you that maybe you’ve underestimated the amount of snow a teeny tiny bit. You huddle a little closer to him for warmth and to shield yourself against the snow as you pull out your phone. 

“If there’s no more trains running, I better start looking for a place to stay. With some luck there’s still a few vacant rooms in the hotels nearby…”

Kuroo puts a hand over your screen and gives you a stern look when you open our mouth to protest. 

“You can crash at my place for the night. I live close by," he mutters and it doesn’t really leave room to decline his offer. Maybe it’s not really an offer to begin with; more of a silent pleading to stay. Not just for the duration of the snowstorm, but forever maybe. 

His place is just like you imagined it would be like. Not overly spacious but it feels like a home in every corner. There’s photos on the wall, back from when he was a kid to his high school and college years, and pinned with a magnet to the fridge is also a polaroid he took of you back in summer. In it you’re laughing about something silly he said and you’re holding up two cats at once, one strap of your sundress almost slipping down your shoulder. You still remember how he fixed it for you because you didn’t have a hand free and how his fingers lingered for longer than necessary. 

You hope one day he won’t pull his hand away anymore.

The apartment is certainly not messy but you can see he lives in this place, with some papers scattered across the coffee table and the unmade bed and the slightly concerning stock of buldak noodles in the kitchen shelves (in which you peeked out of curiosity into while he was in the shower). You imagine yourself living here, too. Maybe you’d get a cat on your own and plants for the balcony once this winter was over. 

The laundry machine rumbles quietly in the background after you step out of the bathroom, too. It wasn’t just the steamy shower that had your cheeks feel hot, it was also his clothes that he put out for you, with his scent lingering on them and engulfing you softly. Kuroo appears with two cups from the kitchen and pauses when he sees you, his mouth opening and closing again as his eyes flicker over your form. He doesn’t want to stare but also he does want to stare, wants to drink you in and memorize every detail of this moment. 

You can see his Adam's apple bop slightly when he swallows and nods over to the couch, and it’s at this moment that you know you’re not leaving this apartment again before every inch of your skin has been plastered in kisses. 

“It’s not as good as the one’s at the café but I tried my best for my special guest,” he laughs quietly when he hands you your cup, his fingers brushing against yours. The hot chocolate looks impossibly sweet, with whipped cream and sprinkles on top (they’re not ordinary sprinkles, you realize, but tiny cat shaped ones), and the first sip would’ve been enough to send you in some higher spheres if you weren’t in a state of bliss due to his proximity already. You put the cups to cool down on the coffee table and sink into the couch. 

Outside the snow is falling relentlessly, muffling the sounds of the outside world and opening up a new one, right here in these four walls.

In his arms. 

Without realizing you both settled down in your now familiar positions, only closer this time. Huddled next to each other, with one of his arms around your shoulder drawing you nearer to him. It feels natural, the way your head comes to rest against his shoulder and your legs thrown over his lap, the two of you sharing a blanket. 

He’s warm. Kuroo is so warm. 

And when he presses a fleeting kiss on top of your head it’s like everything is falling in place; the months of pining and yearning and unspoken desire. In the midst of a snowstorm both of your hearts are set ablaze, with a tenderness you haven’t experienced in this lifetime before. You sure hope he will find you in the next and the one after that as well because you never want to miss his embrace ever again. 

“That’s my spot,” you murmur and Kuroo laughs, the kind with his head tilted back and his chest rumbling. His grip around you tightens and he pulls you impossibly closer, till you’re really in his lap now, your head tucked under his chin. 

“Damn right it is.” 

You can feel his heart drum, or maybe it’s your own that’s doing somersaults–either way, it’s the same rhythm, a steady thrumming and rattling, begging to be felt. Time seems to freeze at this moment and you’re both quiet. Cat’s got your tongue. Kuroo has both arms around you now, and one of his hands settles on your waist, at the part where your sweatshirt is bunched up a little. His thumb draws small patterns against your bare skin, his touch featherlight and gentle.

You lift your head, only enough so you can catch his gaze. For the first time in your life you understand what it means to have your heart in your throat, because he takes your breath away with a simple glance. His other hand comes to rest against your cheek, cupping your face softly while his grip around your waist tightens a fraction.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he mutters and you can see his sharp teeth flash in the corner of your eyes when he laughs. 

“Like what?” “You know what.” “I think I’ll need to have it spelled out for me.”

He laughs again and this time he leans in closer till his breath is fanning over your skin and everything is happening all at once. Honey and caramel eyes asking you to drown in them. The heat of his body mingling with yours. Your fingers playing with the shaved part of hair in the back of his neck, sending small shivers down his spine.

“Oh, I’ll spell it out for you alright.”

Kuroo kisses you with all the gentleness of the world. It feels as natural as if he had done this countless times before, as if he had kissed you in every life prior to that. He hums into the kiss and smiles when your lips part for him so willingly, and then he deepens the kiss in a way that makes you forget your name for a heartbeat or two. 

Sweet, you think. Soft and saccharine. And warm. So warm. The same what loving Kuroo feels like.