#I'm terrible with fluff

[addictedtoreverse1999]

Could you please write something for Liya because my girl is so under appreciated

Thank you and take care💗

Winter's Notes: Hi anon! I'm currently assuming you're talking about Lilya, and bc I know she's really underrated, I'll just do general relationship hcs! [Totally no biases: she was my first 6-star.] Please also note that most of these are simply what I imagine. No regard for the lore at all.

Style: [Relationship] Headcanons!

MASTERLIST

Feel free to request!

Warnings: Fluff, cuddling, gn reader, intense going round in circles [i'm so sorry :((((], cooking?, love.

-Lilya would probably fall first, and you harder. It would be like those relationships where everyone around them can tell that both Lilya and you are hopelessly in love except for the two of you.

-She's quite reckless and outgoing as I can imagine so definitely late night plane rides in the middle of nowhere. Just classify them as dates.

-You would have to drag her around to make she isn't causing chaos wherever she goes.

-Lilya's a terrible cook. Better make sure you know how to cook so you won't starve to death. Unless you prefer burned food, of course.

-Would definitely take you out on dates in the weirdest places

-Lilya would be good at haggling things in a market, leading her to collect trinkets as souvenirs for you and her to remember fun moments.

-A cuddlebug. Would probably have cuddles all the time. Almost always the big spoon. She's too proud to let you be the big spoon.

-Would insist on matching EVERYTHING. From keychains to jewelry to hats to anything you could think of.

- She's great singer, so if you have any trouble sleeping, she will sing you to sleep.

-A pretty sweet and cute girlfriend! 10/10 would recommend.

[mike-milkyway]

I can't quite put my finger on why, but one of my favorite flavors of Zosan is them on their 40's having kids (i love it when they're 3). Specially if there's the rest of the Strawhats hanging out with the kids and maybe Zeff just being a cool grandpa.

[brassknucklespeirs]

Scary Dog Privilege [Joe Toye x reader]

This is taking me longer than i intended so here's my apology, have another snippet

『-』 Neither of them were given a moment to continue this exchange of simmering annoyance as a new bout of whistles filled the air causing Y/N to whine in distress, curling into herself to grasp at any comfort she could. She looked up from under her brows towards the sky as the first explosion went off, but immediately flinched in discomfort, turning her body away and pushing herself as close to the side of the foxhole as she could. When the not-so-solid soil wall seemed to wrap its arms around her tightly in a moment of shared unease, Y/N realised she had, in fact, unconsciously turned away from the wall of the foxhole, not towards it, and found herself pressed firmly against the warm body of Joseph Toye. The man's arms remained steadfast around her waist as the chaos outside the foxhole continued, his own fear slipping through with every 'bang' that was heard. The ground shook violently as a shell hit close by and Y/N let out a strangled scream of terror. Her hands unravelling from themselves to grasp at Joe's jacket, tugging herself closer to him while she tried her best to focus on the warmth that radiated from him, or the way his fingers could be felt rubbing back and forth over her spine. Even if he was a particularly cold man towards her, it had not been the first time she had used him as a distraction, though this was much more than just admiring him from afar. There was a certain intimacy in being held as if she was the only thing that could bring reassurance to the soldier beside her, a type of intimacy she had gladly welcomed at that moment as she too tightened her grip on his shirt, even going as far to hide her face in the fabric covering his shoulder.

A heavy silence hung over the air when the shelling stopped, the only noise being the creaking of nearby trees, half destroyed from the blasts and desperately clinging to hold their form. Y/N stayed leaning against Joe, his warmth offering comfort as her body grew tired as the adrenaline had leaked faster from her than it had the last time. Her wound began to burn hotter than last time, and a pained whine left her lips as she lifted her hand, pulling her face from the man's jacket to watch as crimson blood trickled down the palm it had begun to stain.

"Shit. MEDIC!" Joe screamed out as he glanced down at the woman as she lay groaning against his side, her hands coloured with scarlet liquid while her face was screwed up in a look of discomfort. "Uh, how many fingers am I holding up?" He asks, his voice a mixture of worry and uncertainty, his hand showing three fingers. Y/N seemed to pause her groaning for a moment, her head tilting up to look at him, her face showing disbelief at the words. Her gaze flickered between his face and his fingers, too confused to answer immediately as she took in the dead-serious look of concern on his features.

"I'm not dying you fucking moron. It's a shallow gash, not a mortal wound." She replies with a quiet snort from her nose in amusement. Sure, the sliced flesh burned but it was certainly nothing to write home about, and she was more than prepared to never think about it again once she had been seen to by a medic. Until that point, she would ensure she'd made it clear to Joe that she deserved a little bit of appreciation for drawing blood for him, even if it was her own. The man rolled his eyes at her answer, pushing his fingers closer to her face while his brows tugged together in silent frustration.

"Just answer the fucking question Y/L/N." He said firmly. With a huff of irritation, Y/N gave her answer before using the hand that wasn't pressed tightly against the wound on her hip to flick his own hand away from her face.

"Thank the lord above they didn't make you a goddamn medic." She muttered under her breath quietly, though the roll of his eyes told her he had heard the words leave her mouth. 『-』

[to be continued...]

[owlyflufff]

Flowers became a love language between Bokuto and Akaashi, somehow.

To pull back the strings of time to when it started means to draw all the way back to Bokuto Koutarou’s third year, his last Summer Camp.

Over at the horizon of the hill where the players (mostly Karasuno) ran up and down for every loss, there Akaashi had stayed, watching as the last rays of sun sputtered out.

A little moment of peace as one would say. Although as most things, they don’t quite last forever.

“Akaashi look at this!” Footsteps thud along the incline of the hill and Akaashi doesn’t need to raise his head to know who it is.

He looks up all the same.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says, the faintest sigh passing him by, “perhaps you should look at yourself first?”

For a moment, Akaashi watches as Bokuto swerves around like a dog chasing after it’s tail. Laughter spills from Bokuto’s lips not long after and punctures the air, the confidence sauntering into hesitance.

Whatever front Bokuto had attempted to put up was futile in the face of Akaashi Keiji, literally. There’s dirt everywhere, stuck onto every portion of Bokuto’s clothes, reaching to his arms and legs.

“Okay, I’ll admit…maybe I didn’t think this one through,” Bokuto says as his hair animatedly sags for a brief moment only to spike up again in the next.

To this day, Akaashi doesn’t quite know how it happens. It just does.  

Accepting Bokuto’s defeat, Akaashi stands up and pulls the towel from his neck. He pats it on Bokuto’s arms to dust some chunks off, careful not too knock Bokuto’s hands, for there’s something being held so closed and kept within them. Akaashi can only bear witness to its mystery.

“And I take it, this was all for a good reason?” 

“Exactly, see Akaashi, the end does justify the means!”

The amount of nonchalance in Akaashi’s movements as he continues to brush of portions of dirt were enough to conceal whatever silent war was raging in his mind. Of instances, and of cliches and of many many stories where,

“That’s debatable.” Akaashi counters.

“Then, I’ll debate against your debate!” Bokuto announces, the brightest grin on his face. There can only be so many instances where Bokuto and Akaashi are in synch with each other. Even then when they weren’t, Akaashi had always needed someone to balance his constant sense of practicality and allow it to descend into something nonsensical, pluck away that part of him that was always so logical and morph it into something fun.

For what is life without being able to enjoy it?

And for all of Bokuto’s ridiculousness right now, covered in dirt and looking like a hopeless mess, Akaashi smiles.

“I wouldn’t hold back,” the smile spreads a little more, fondness blossoming in the summer. “So, what is it that you wanted to show me Bokuto-san?”

“Oh, right! Here Akaashi look, look, look. Look at this!” 

For someone who’s hands Akaashi has known so well for creating the most thunderous booms across a stadium when sending a mere volleyball down to the ground, this time those hands craddled. It feels gentle. He sees why. 

Hues of blue and pink sprout out as Bokuto lowers his fingers one after the other until finally, Akaashi saw being held with utmost care, were flowers.  A flurry of blue and pink flowers unfolded before him.

“They’re hydrangea flowers.” Bokuto says with a smile full of glee. “Are you looking Akaashi?” 

If Akaashi’s silence and soft breathes as he peers down at the sight before him isn’t enough proof of his own mesmerized state, then he doesn’t quite know what must be spilled or what proof is there for his heart to give.

He’s still learning what it means to open it after all. 

“I am Bokuto-san,” Akaashi whispers. “They’re lovely.” 

“They really are!” Bokuto exclaims. “I found them over there, just up ahead near those pile of rocks.” 

“I remember seeing you bringing Hinata and Lev over to a pile of flowers yesterday,” Akaashi says. 

“Tsuki seemed to like the ones I showed him as well!”

“Shoved, Bokuto-san. You shoved flowers on Tsukishima’s face.” 

“Well, how else was he going to witness them in all their glory Akaashi?!”

Akaashi allows that conversation to settle, peering down at the flowers once more before looking up. “I don’t remember you being so enthusiastic about flowers before Bokuto-san.”

“I’ve always loved flowers! I just-how do I say this? Hmmm...”  Bokuto swings himself a bit to the side in contemplation. “I guess I find it pretty cool when there’s more to something.”

“You mean, when you associate things with other meanings?”

“That!” Bokuto sends a pointing gesture at Akaashi. “It’s like learning that a super duper difficult word has two definitions. As for these...”

Now, here’s something that Akaashi Keiji knows about Bokuto Koutarou: that he has other interests outside of volleyball. That not every conversation they’ve had has been solely on the sport, he’s been on the receiving end of Bokuto’s many interests and listens to them with careful appreciation.

Now here’s something Akaashi Keiji doesn’t know about Bokuto Koutarou: that he can talk about something without yelling every three seconds. 

There’s a lilt in Bokuto’s voice that leaves Akaashi stunned at the mere gentleness. The usual sharpness in his gaze, a far cry from it as it mellowed into something fond as he looked down at the flowers. And for a moment, for a second, Akaashi wonders what it would be like to have Bokuto look at him in that very same manner.

“...did you know that flowers have a language to them Akaashi?” Bokuto prods. 

Akaashi offers a nod, “I’m aware of it, how each flower represents an emotion or virtue.” 

“It also sends out a message!” Bokuto chimes in.

One moment the flowers are still under Bokuto’s careful hold, the next moment they’re practically shoved in front of Akaashi’s face. 

“Here,” Bokuto says with the brightest smile on his face. “They’re for you actually.” 

Akaashi is left at the mercy of his own frozen state. He looks down at the flowers being presented before him, then at Bokuto who, Akaashi fears his eyes are deceiving him surely, are tinted with the slightest pinkish red along his cheeks. 

“I mean-they’ve always been for you!” Any ounce of composure Bokuto has had was diminished by the way his arms moved about. “I just didn’t give them to you immediately cause I thought I should find other flowers cause you deserve better but I mean they’re pretty but um-!”

Gestures, words, and actions have always been difficult for Akaashi to receive, any attempt at reciprocation resulted in short circuiting. He thinks this is the hardest of them all.

“Thank you Bokuto-san,” Slowly, Akaashi takes the hydrangea flowers from Bokuto’s hold. It effectively calms whatever worry Bokuto has down in one fell swoop. 

“I’ll- I’ll make sure to take care of them.” Akaashi says as he fixes some of the petals before bringing it close. It smells of something new and sweet. 

“Oh!” Bokuto has always been good at retaliation when it comes to volleyball, but not in conversations it seems. “Of course! Don’t sweat it, I’m sure you’ll do amazing at taking care of them cause you’re THE Akaashi and you’ve always been attentive of things...”

Then there’s that smile. That rare smile that’s nothing like those grins Bokuto has, for it’s something more intimate. More personal. 

“You’ve always been attentive of me.”

If Akaashi looks at Bokuto for much longer, he swears he sees the sun, he sees hope and he sees every little good thing the world has to offer all in the form of a single human being.

“So! Consider it payback for all of it!” The gentlesness in Bokuto’s voice disappears, but the color in his cheeks is far from doing so. 

Akaashi thinks that flowers don’t particularly equal to the hours he’s spent giving Bokuto tosses, or chasing after him in the rain with an umbrella, or plucking a solution to pick him up from one of his dejected modes, but he’ll take it. He’ll take it wholeheartedly.  

He’ll gladly take anything from Bokuto Koutarou. 

And if this is what Bokuto gives to Akaashi in return, he wonders if he has, somewhere in this point of time, in fact opened his heart. Or perhaps it’s been pried open unexpectedly, all it took was a enigma to shake his world around. 

He’s not quite sure. 

What he’s sure of in the very least is the smile forming on his lips as he gives a simple and soft, “thank you Bokuto-san.” 

Fortunately enough the flowers stay alive by the time that Fukurodani arrive back at the campus and all of their members safely arrive back in their home. 

Akaashi is careful with the hydrangeas Bokuto has given to him, placing it inside of a vase and letting them rest. 

He sits down on his desk, not doing anything in particular save for mindlessly tapping on the surface to form some incoherent beat. 

Thump. 

“ ...did you know that flowers have a language to them Akaashi?”

Thump thump thump. 

“I’m aware of it, how each flower represents an emotion or virtue.”

Thump thump.

“It also sends out a message!”

There is a loud thumping ringing along the walls however it’s no longer from Akaashi’s mindless tapping along the desk, it comes from the tapping of his keyboard. 

Akaashi looks towards the vace, taking note of the color of the hydrangeas. Pink and blue. He notes it as he swiftly types on the keyboard: hydrangea meaning. 

The first thing that appears is an image of four different hydrangea colors, below it are meanings, words that said flowers wish to convey. 

Under the blue hydrangea it reads: “apology, gratitude, understanding.” 

Under the pink hydrangea it reads: “true feelings, sincere emotions...”

Akaashi pauses on the last word, 

“love”

Somewhere on a calendar, a phone screen even, the date would read “April 5″

Somewhere Bokuto paces around his room, looking at his phone, wondering if the message got across.

Somewhere Akaashi is already planning, thinking of booking his way straight to the nearest flower shop as he types on the keyboard: 

“flowers that represent love” Flowers that say “I love you.” 

Akaashi thinks, no he’s sure, he knows what it means to open his heart now. 

And it all starts on April 5.

[south-sea]

pincushion hog (he's fine don't worry)

[gideonisms]

I have never been normal about gideon nav I will never be normal about gideon nav

[verymuchbabey]

comforting you after spilling a drink

ft. tamaki, kirishima, and momo

genre: fluff and comfort <3

request this was based on ^_^ !!

It was one of those days when you gained a random boost of motivation and decided to act on it. You cleaned around til everything was to your liking. It made you feel a sort of happiness completing everything you wanted to during the day and because of this good mood you were in it made you even more affectionate towards your boyfriend / girlfriend which they weren't complaining about. They even helped you a bit when they noticed you cleaning around the house which was so sweet.

You finished cleaning everything so you wanted to make drinks for the both of you before you relax and watch tv with your boyfriend / girlfriend in bed. You set your drink down on your bed so you could change into something more comfortable while your boyfriend / girlfriend went to the bathroom to take a quick shower.

But as you finished getting into your pjs you noticed the spilled drink on your bed.

Disappointment had suddenly coursed through your whole body at the sight. You grumbled to yourself at how all the hard work you've done seemed to go down the drain because of a drink.

You felt like just face planting into your bed but you couldn't do that now as the liquid seeped through the blankets and sheets. As much as you wanted to blame it on solely on the drink for spilling you couldn't when you knew it was your fault too.

You cautiously ripped off everything that got wet from your bed and threw it into the washing machine the second time that day. As you stood there for a moment watching the bedding spin around in countless circles you sighed as your mood was now pretty much ruined.

TAMAKI ☆

He walked into the bedroom to see you sprawled out on the floor with your eyes closed and a frown on your face. He stood there at the doorway trying to assess what had happened noticing that the bedding was gone and hearing the faint sound coming from the washing machine.

He went towards your spot on the floor to ask what happened "Sweetheart what's wrong? Did you fall off the bed? Do you need an ice pack?" He looked for any injuries on you but you shook your head no at the questions.

"Spilled my drink on the bed now my day is ruined" You said covering your face with your hands. You felt like crawling under your bed to hide away from the world forever or until the wash was done.

Tamaki let out a sigh of relief that you werent injured or anything before laying down next to you on his side with his arm holding his head up to get a better look at you.

You took a peek through your hands to see him looking at you with a small smile and a look in his eyes that showed an understanding of how you feel.

"I'm sorry that happened...We can go make you another one or just stay here until you want to get up. Whatever you want to do I'll be there next to you i promise."

You felt tears start to prick at your eyes threatening to fall at his sincere loving words. You opened your arms up signaling to him that you just wanted a hug which he gave you right away.

You two laid there with your head laying on his chest as his fingers ran up and down your back trying to soothe you which made you feel safe in his arms. "Can we stay like this for awhile please until I feel better?" You asked him and he hummed out a quiet yes.

KIRISHIMA ☆

With a towel over his head trying to dry off his hair as much as possible before laying down with you he walked in the room to find you not there plus with the bedding gone.

He dropped the towel previously on his hair over his shoulders looking around the house before finding you sat in front of the washing machine watching it spin.

He gave out a laugh to himself at the sight about to tease you about how cute you looked sitting there but then he noticed the sad look that adorned your face.

"Baby are you okay?" He asked surprising you a bit because you didn't notice him behind you until he spoke up.

You sighed still staring at the washing machine trying to find the right words to say, it just seemed embarrassing to explain what happened.

You leaned forward knocking your head on the machine with a groan. Kirishima started to get worried and went to sit next to you copying your action by leaning his head against the washing machine with his head slightly turned to looked at you.

You turned your head as well looking at his frown from worrying about what was wrong, it made you start to feel bad about not telling him so you took a deep sigh trusting he wouldn't laugh at the situation and told him what had happened.

He hummed then stood up extending his hand towards you for you to take. You questioned it but still placed your hand in his as he pulled you up from your spot on the ground.

He gently took your face in his hands stroking his thumbs softly over your cheeks with a grin that quickly spread on his own face.

He leaned forward and feverishly placed kisses all over your face. You giggled at his sudden action trying to push him away with your hands on his chest.

Once he stopped he leaned down putting one of his arms under both your legs and the other supporting your back, picking you up bridal style.

"Eijiro!!" You squealed wrapping your arms around his neck not wanting to fall. "What are you doing?" You laughed as he started to spin you around a bit.

"Nothing just trying to make you feel better!" He said walking you back into your room dropping you on the naked bed.

"We can share the drink you made me while we watch our shows. I don't mind that the bedding is gone anyways I just want to spend time with my baby especially if you're feeling sad right now." He told you shrugging the towel he had on his shoulders off.

He walked towards the closet and grabbed an extra blanket before jumping in bed with you opening his arms for cuddles.

MOMO ☆

She walked into the bedroom confused to see you rummaging through the closet looking for something.

"Y/n? Honey what are you doing?" She asked walking up to you and putting a gentle hand on your shoulder looking at the stuff you're digging through.

"I'm trying to find more blankets but I can't find any." You looked at her with a frown feeling disappointed that there wasn't anything useful in the closet. She raised an eyebrow at that answer wondering why you would want more blankets when there's plenty on the bed.

Turning to look at the bed she saw that there actually wasn't any on it. "Where is all the bedding?" She looked back at you putting everything back in the closet before answering again.

"I spilled my drink so it's all in the washing machine. I feel terrible and I just wanted to relax with you." You let out with a sigh knowing you'll have to wait even more to relax until the wash finishes.

Momo can sense how upset you are at this so she comes up with an idea to get your mind off the situation. "Want to go for a walk? It will pass time quicker instead of just waiting here for the wash to finish." You stopped for a moment debating the suggestion before nodding your head yes.

"We'll be able to see the sunset if we leave now." She said with a sparkle in her eyes going to grab her shoes along with yours and a change of clothes. You smiled at the sight of her getting excited over the simple activity.

Walking hand in hand you both walked through the neighborhood talking about different things that had happened during the week successfully getting your mind off of the incident.

[milla984]

Like Water For His Fire

Summary: When Ram goes MIA you get nervous... but he's got a very good explanation and you can't really stay mad at him

Pairing: modern AU Ramaraju x fem!reader

Category: smut (NSFW, 18+, MDNI)

TW/CW: brief mention of anxiety, mentions of marking, kissing, unprotected penetrative sex

Word Count: 2k

7:56.

The sunset paints the sky orange red and from the bedroom window you can see its reflection on the surface of the nearby lake, as the evening breeze raises silvery ripples on the water. Adjusting the strap of Ram’s tank top on your shoulder you blow a strand of hair off your face then check your phone for what feels like the hundredth time: no texts. Zero missed calls.

“He’s fine, he’s fine,” you repeat under your breath.

You sit on the coverlet and hug his pillow. There’s usually something soothing about putting on his clothes or smelling his perfume - today, however, neither his old top nor the faint traces of his sandalwood and orange peel aftershave on the pillowcase prove to be very effective at keeping your anxiety under control.

You switch to a full alert state when you hear the entry door opening, followed by heavy footsteps. Seconds later Ram stands in front of you looking exhausted, his sleeves rolled up and the first buttons of his shirt undone, and collapses on his side of the bed.

“What happened? Are you okay?” you ask, still a bit nervous.

He nods in silent assent.    

“I tried to call you, why did you turn off your phone?” you ask again and he fumbles in his pocket to hold up the answer, shaped like an intricate spider web of cracks across the black screen.

“I’m getting in the car and this idiot does a swan dive into a puddle,” he explains, “fifteen minutes later I’m stuck in traffic in Madeenaguda. Damn road works!”

It takes a little bit longer than usual for your heart to stop pounding in your stomach and ears. He’s been late in the past but an hour of radio silence forced you to consider all sorts of horrible scenarios, and you need to clear your mind of their negative influence.

“In hindsight… not the best route choice,” he adds, noticing you’re being too quiet. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m sorry.”

You shrug: during off-peak hours the NH 65 is the fastest way back, meaning he was trying to come home as soon as he could. And it’s not his fault his phone died on him. “You know me, I worry too much.”

You also care a lot about him, which is why he doesn’t need to hear you live in constant fear of being contacted by the notification officer of his department - a possibility he’s even less likely to discuss than you are.

“Are we good?” he replies, lowering his thick lashes and giving you an innocent doe-eyed stare.

You can see where this is going: the simple thought of it erases all the previous distress and makes you weak at the knees. You throw the pillow at him, practicing your best impression of a seductive pout. “Mister, you’re the Police Guy… why don’t you figure it out?!”

Ram props himself up on one elbow so he can tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. He brushes his thumb across your lower lip, his personal way of telling you he gathered all the evidence that the mere sight of his forearms always lights you up like a neon sign powered by libido. You’re not mad at him - you’re horny for him.

Cheeky bastard.

Needless to say, his shirt has to go; you unfasten the entire row of buttons in a heartbeat and help him take it off. ‘Mouthwatering’ is the word to describe his bare chest, and how on earth does he manage to still look steaming hot after spending a full day at work and a ridiculous amount of time in his car is beyond you.

You nibble on his earlobe before you lick him below the jaw, descending along his Adam’s apple, the muscles of his neck and the dimple between the collarbones. 

You could spend the whole evening teasing his nipples, forced to contain the urge to sink your teeth into his skin because he’s so sensitive he would scream in pain if you bit him; his petite buds harden at the lightest touch so you circle the areolas with the tip of your tongue and suck delicately, twirling a few dark hairs on his navel around your fingers.

“I’m happy you’re here,” you whisper.

His palm caresses your nape, then his mouth reaches yours and you both engage in a playful competition for dominance: now that he’s in your arms you only want to hold him tight and tell him everything’s alright, but he’s impetuous and clings to you as if you’re pure spring water, bound to tame the fire raging inside of him.

There’s no doubt he figured out ages ago the main reason why you wear his clothes or hug his pillow if he’s away: you crave his body, his presence, his weight on top of you, and it isn’t just a matter of lust. He’s not used to be open and vocal about his feelings, nevertheless he’s proven multiple times he’s the kind of man who looks out for the important people in his life and you’re willing to do the same for him; you’ve become each other’s fulfillment of a mutual request for affection and the many positive aspects of your physical relationship are a reflection of a deeper bond.

It’s Ram who wins in the end and traps you under him. He doesn’t bother to take the old tank top off and lifts the hem up to reach your soft belly; once he glides past your mound of Venus you squirm in anticipation, almost hitting him in the chin.

He smirks and you’re tempted to slap the living hell out of him: being so fuckable should be declared illegal.

“Don’t make me kick you for real,” you joke, and Ram smiles again.

Without breaking eye contact he puts both his hands on your hips and rolls down your panties while you lift your tailbone to help him; he pinches your left ankle and lifts your foot, placing your leg on his shoulder.

Reality fades in a blurry ensemble of the last rays of sunset behind the clouds, outside the window, and the hypnotic white noise coming from the a/c unit as you let your fingers run through his hair. Having it ruffled when he’s going down on you is a major turn on for him and you’re dying to please him in return, since you’ve never met another man who was this passionate about the idea of eating you out; he’s also into being praised as a reward for his dedication and you’re happy to oblige, cooing. “You’re so good at this, pandu.”

Ram glances at you, mesmerized. The gentle strokes of his lips grow more and more intense, then he starts to flicker his tongue at such a fast pace that your ragged breath turns into whimpers, to which he replies with low, throaty growls.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he hums, his head still buried between your thighs and his luscious beard, sprinkled with a little gray, rubbing so well on your clit.

You grab a big chunk of his hair at the roots and tug to draw his attention, careful not to hurt him. In your private system of non verbal communication it’s a signal to stop, so he rises to his knees and leans forward for a kiss. You love to taste your ‘sweet nectar’ (as it was referred to in many of the romance novels you read as a teenager) on his mouth; your adult consciousness knows it’s salty, tangy and it’s got a hint of musk to it - still, it’s you and he always enjoys it like you’re a delicious treat.

You also know another part of him is hungry for you, so you make him lay on his back to undo his trousers and pull them down, together with his underwear. He’s hard and impatient, aching to have you wrapped around him. Half of you wants to put you both out of your misery, the other half is determined to take full advantage of your position: you steady yourself on the headboard and straddle him, but first you tuck his leaking cock against his stomach.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” you mumble as you slowly buck your hips, moving up and down his length.

This is plain torture for Ram and he clasps his hands at the old tank top, squeezing like a schoolboy who’s just discovered the amazing, silky roundness of your breasts. He’s adorable when his self-control begins to falter and soon his deep groans make you so wet it hurts.

“Jaanu…” he whines, desperate for release.

Using the headboard to keep your balance you guide him to the right spot before you lower yourself onto him. It’s your turn to fondle his chest and play with the dark trail of fuzz blossoming on his sternum and plunging to his groin; every time you separate you can’t stand to be apart and it’s not long before you grind on him to feel his coarse hair tickle your sensitive skin.

You look at him, his beautiful eyes closed and his teeth biting on his lips. He’s holding you so tight by the waist you’re sure he’ll leave a couple of marks and they’re all signs he’s trying to hold back. “I-I’m–”

“Do it,” you cut him off while you pick up your speed.

Ram throws his head backwards and it’s a sight to behold: his usual, brooding self disappears and all that’s visible on his face is peace and content, even if it lasts for a few seconds. You don’t stop rocking your hips until a familiar warmth flows inside of you, and moments later he wraps his hand around the back of your neck to pull you close.

He lifts his knees to dig his feet into the mattress and starts thrusting, set on a mission to give you one of the best orgasms of your life; he drinks the pure pleasure you’re pouring into his mouth with your loud moans, which he eagerly accepts as an incentive to pound you harder and faster.

“I want to make you come,” he mutters on your lips.

The power he has over you is unexplainable: his voice is what sends you over the edge in the end, gasping for air when a powerful jolt of ecstasy hits you and the tension leaving your body almost causes you to collapse on top of him. In fact you flop on your side, breathless and drained of the energy required to pass for a living and functioning human being; your brain is still engaged in the aftermath of the Big O and the single detail you’re able to process is one of your legs, resting across his lap.

Ram snaps out of the post-coital stupor first, in time to pick his shirt off the floor and help you clean your inner thighs - saving you both the trouble of dealing with a complete mess later. The pensive frown is back and you wipe away the shiny trickle of sweat running down his temple, but he’s so focused on what he’s doing he doesn’t seem to notice. 

Once he’s finished cleaning himself up he fixes his trousers in a hurry throwing the shirt back on the floor to snuggle against you, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders to trace the outline of his muscles using your fingertips.

“Excuse me… what?!” you laugh, since he’s got his face pressed on your bosom and the words come out muffled if he speaks.

“I think I love you, bangaaram,” he repeats, tilting his head up.

Your heart skips a beat.

He looks at you with his brooding expression again, so you find yourself lost in his dark, soulful eyes for the longest instant. Then you cup his face in your hands and rub your nose against his, kissing him so lightly that your touch is like April rain on his mouth.

“I love you too, Ram.”

@ramcharantitties, @nyotamalfoy, @taylorklaine, @bheemaxrama, @ladydarkey, @astrafangs, @ronaldofandom

»»»— read pinned post for taglist info —«««

[discount--dracula]

THE PERSON I'M TRADING WITH RECOGNIZED ME FROM REDDIT????????????

[tonytonwy]

people pleaser

futakuchi kenji x f!reader

w.c 2900-ish

summary: where futakuchi kenji isn't as mean or disrespectful as other people have told you

Shit.

You softly bite your lip as you realize Mai is in a different class. She gives a reassuring pat on your shoulder as you try to find anyone you spoken to before; however, your eyes get stuck on one name.

Futakuchi Kenji.

You had heard of Futakuchi before, mainly by Mai's ramblings, but he was… known, not necessarily good things but he had a bit of a reputation. He had issues with talking back to upperclassmen and fighting for marks with teachers. You had spoken to him once or twice but can't even remember what it was about.

“There’s a reason you’re all seated this way,” You try to hide in your beige sweater, the green blazer on your skirt. You try to ease your breathing as you feel Futakuchi eye you down, probably wondering why you're completely avoiding his gaze.

Fuck.

Your teacher, a young man with dark curly hair leans on his desk, “if you notice, you're probably seated with people you never thought you’d talk to.” You subtly nod, a window on one side and Futakuchi on the other wasn’t exactly the way you planned the year to go.

“I want you to speak to people with a different opinion to you, if you’re quiet, be loud. If you’re a bit of a dick, maybe be nice.” He looks at Futakuchi, who simply stares at him back, giving a tight smile. You nervously bounce your leg on the floor, side-eyeing Futakuchi. He was currently doodling on his notebook, ignoring everything the teacher was saying. His long legs are spread out, your eyes are slowly draw to his hands. They're long but in a soft and almost dainty way. You can't help but look at your own; rough and your nails are uneven, nothing like his. Despite his broad shoulders, his wrists are skinny and you can only imagine what the rest of his body looks like. You have to admit, he's quite attractive. You don't remember him being this easy on the eyes last year.

You look away before you can be caught.

“Ah, also, I may have sat the two best math students together on purpose.” You notice how Futakuchi’s head lifts, actually listening now. You mentally sweat, hoping that there was a student that got better grades than you. However, the teacher’s quick and teasing glance at you make your mouth slightly open in shock. “I think friendly competitions are good. That’s right, Futakuchi,” the teacher points at him suddenly, “you’re no longer the best student. You have a rival in this class.”

“I’m sure they won’t be hard to beat.” Your teacher gives a laugh. He appears to know Futakuchi and his personality already. You can't say the same but in a, incredibly, weird way, you want to.

<3

“Thank you, y/n, you’re the best! This is the last time, promise.” You give a small smile as your classmate gives you a side hug and she runs off, your pristine notebook in her hand. You stretch and let out a big sigh; she had said the same thing last week.

“God, you’re such a people pleaser,” Futakuchi says rudely, his eyes glaring at your classmate who is quickly copying your work before the teacher arrives. He clicks his tongue in disapproval, an annoying habit of his, and shoves his hands into his blazer’s pockets. His notebook open with the answers to the homework and a slick black pen. “She’s too dumb to do basic algebra.”

“That’s a bit mean,” you slightly shuffle so you can look at him properly, “she might have personal issues going on.” The sarcasm in deep in your voice as he snorts, shaking his head. Futakuchi caught on pretty early that you were the other top student as everyone asked you for help. By pretty early, the third day of school, and since then, everyday, without fail, he would ask how much you studied and what's your 'loser face' like (you refuse to show him, obviously). And now with the results of first test arriving, you feel Futakuchi’s excitement as your stomach is full of nerves.

“Yeah, clearly personal issues going on,” as he says that the girl laughs loudly with her friends, forgetting about your notebook fast. You couldn’t wait for class to end. You feel a sudden whack on the back of your head and turn your head as Futakuchi has a bored expression, as if he didn’t just hit you. You smile in shock and as you open your mouth to talk, his blabbermouth beats you to it.

“I bet you’re the type of person to be in a rush and somehow,” he adds suspense for some reason, “you’d still help a person who's dropped their groceries. Or let someone convince you to join their cult or whatever.” You can only stare at him in silence for a few seconds before actually laughing, and you can see a glint of pride in Futakuchi’s eyes.

“Well, that definitely hasn’t happened before.” You say, eyes rolling. Futakuchi can only shake his head. Despite your initial fears, talking to Futakuchi in class became normal. Sure, he would tease you constantly and distract you , but it was weirdly easy to tease him back and, to just talk.

“You know what? You should tell people," he shifts his chair so he's closer and you lean in, he's practically whispering the last bit, "to..."

"to...?" You whisper, confused.

"to fuck off." He says fast and simple and you give a small laugh, shaking your head in disapproval. "And stop being a people-pleaser, it's gross."

Before you can respond back, your teacher hops in, a stack of paper in one hand and a red pen in the other.

You feel an annoying but all too similar soft kick to the bottom of your chair. You don’t even bother giving him a glance, you already know what his question is going to be.

“What did you get?” Futakuchi says, ignoring the teacher’s glare and your head remains down, finishing the last section of the questions you got wrong. “Are you ignoring me?”

“Did you not tell me to stop being a people pleaser?” Your voice is harsh but you turn and give a cheeky smile. His mouth is wide open, a smile starting to form and his eyes are full of disbelief. Pride swells in your chest and you wish you had a camera to take a picture of Futakuchi's face.

“Wow, using my advice against me?” He scrunches up a small piece of paper and flicks it to your face, hitting your nose. “That’s messed up.”

“Futakuchi, please stop bothering your neighbour.” You quickly put your head down and feel your cheeks heat up as people stare and Futakuchi sulks in his seat. His tongue clicks again, slightly quieter this time. “You can bother her when you get a higher grade than her.” Your eyes widen and whip your head to see how Futakuchi’s eyebrows twitch in annoyance at the teacher’s teasing.

The class continues in silent before you see another piece of paper arrive at your desk. You look at Futakuchi, unimpressed with his attempted to communicate. He shrugs before showing you his paper, a clear red 88 on the corner.

You hesitantly look at the paper, firstly, afraid of this paper being a death threat and secondly, being caught by the teacher.

How tf did you get a higher grade than me? You purse your lips, a smile threatening to come out. You quickly write a response and give a deep breathe before throwing to him, if he killed you, at least you would die a winner.

By doing your mum.

You cover your mouth as you hear Futakuchi loudly laugh, the teacher once again turning. He covers his mouth, clearly not expecting for you to write such a thing.

“Care to share Futakuchi?” The teacher’s tone slightly more serious now.

“Nah, I’m good.” he says quickly, and writes on the other side of the paper you threw. You try to work but your eyes go to him, wondering what Futakuchi could possibly be writing. You quickly get the other paper, scrunched and your hands feel electric as you open the paper.

You're definitely not a people pleaser anymore, quite the opposite actually.

It's not long before he bothers you again.

“What did you get?” Futakuchi pokes your shoulder, and you pull your tongue out, not bothered to answer. “Real mature, c’mon,” He leans in, but you swat your paper against his face.

“Don’t be snoopy,” he looks unimpressed and scoffs before folding his arms. “Futakuchi, you’re such a baby.” You give a small laugh as he pulls the middle finger.

“l/n and Futakuchi, last warning,” your back straightens significantly as your teacher gives a small nod and you can hear Futakuchi choke a laugh over your nerdiness.

“Teacher’s pet,” he says, glancing at you once the teacher faces the board again.

“At least I got a higher score than you,” you give a small smile while continuing to write down the teachers notes, and you feel Futakuchi’s glare on you.

The class passes by fast, as classmates come and ask for your help in explaining certain equations. However, you still feel those pair of eyes on you.

<3

As you walk out to the lockers you see Futakuchi, leaning on the wall on his phone. Despite being able to talk to him in class, being fully alone with him was a completely different situation.

“Waiting for Aone?” he turns and before he can glare, he gives a small smile. You go on your knees and put your school shoes into your locker as he fully turns and squats with you.

“Yep,” his face is serious and stoic, “so what did you actually get?” your face drops and you try to not smile over his persistent attitude.

“I wasn’t aware that you still cared,” you see his cheeks go slightly pink for once, “fine, I got a 92.”

“Bullshit,” he says but you open your bag and elegantly pass your paper, a clear bright red 92 in the corner. Futakuchi clicks his tongue, once again. “It’s because the teacher loves you.”

“Don’t belittle my efforts,” you put your leather shoes on as he slightly nudges you so you slightly trip, you give a quick glare that makes him laugh. “It’s not my fault you fight every teacher on every test.”

“I know my worth,” you snort over his arrogance as he stares at your calculations, his eyebrows furrowed, “also you deserve a mark here.”

“What?” You feel your heart drop and immediately lean to your test and see your working out, shoulders touching with Futakuchi. You ignore his breathe hitch, you ignore how warm he is, and you definitely ignore his cologne. “No, I don’t. I forgot to round it.”

“He said that correct units were the additional mark, not rounding, so he forgot to add a mark for that.” He folds the paper and hits your forehead, “you deserve a 94 instead of a 92, at least.”

“It’s just two percent,” you say shyly, grabbing the paper while standing up, “I doubt that’ll change my overall grade.” You didn’t want to fight the teacher, he treated you nicely every time you needed help with a question.

“You worked hard for this test,” he stands up as well, his long legs contrasting yours. His eyes staring at you for way too long, he gives a small sigh before rubbing his neck. “You deserve the grade you studied for.”

Oh.

Oh.

You don’t know why it tugs your heart, the acknowledgment of your hard work and for Futakuchi, of all people, to see it. It does something to your stomach and you feel your cheeks heat up, your feet feel stuck to the floor and your hands are suddenly clammy.

“I’ll ask him about it tomorrow,” you push the paper back in your bag, your stomach heavy with nerves. You suddenly feel insecure, did you even bother fixing your hair? Is your skirt too long? Face too blemished? You feel your sweater cling to you, in a unflattering way.

You avoid his eyes and walk past, not sure what to do with this flush of emotions. “See you tommorrow.”

"Wait," you quickly turn and Futakuchi awkwardly walks up to you, face slightly pink, "I'll walk you to the gate."

"Why?" He avoids your eyes and instead looks to the side.

"Loser's etiquette," he gives a dorky smile and you can't help but laugh.

"Sure, it's dangerous times to be walking alone to a school gate." He snorts and lightly pushes you.

"Shut up," despite his tone, he's smiling. You push him back and you both are in the strange game of pushing each other until the end of the gate. You take a deep breathe and look at Futakuchi, who's looking around to see if there's any other students.

“Thank you, I would’ve never noticed that mistake. I will actually talk to the teacher about it.” You have a serious face before Futakuchi laughs, eyes crinkling and you have to laugh with him over your dramatic style.

“No worries, it has to be a fair competition after all,” you shake your head giving a small smile. You lightly punch Futakuchi, who acts as though you have the strength of a body builder.

“Your mercifulness is going to be the end of you.” You start to walk off, your heart feeling a bit lighter.

“This is my first and last time helping you, y/n.” You give a small wave before giving him the finger.

“Good to know, because I won’t need it again!” You shout, not taking a second to glance at him despite the temptation to do so. Futakuchi laughs before disappearing back into the school.

<3

“Thank you for telling me l/n! Jeez I can’t believe I missed that.” Your math teacher gives a thumbs up, a big smile on his face. He couldn't be more than 25.

“Uhm, Futakuchi told me, actually,” You shyly give credit to him, and you see your teacher's surprised face appear, his mouth wide open.

“Futakuchi helped you? Even though he’s second?” You nod, your face heating up the more you think about it, last night you had been asking yourself the same questions. Your teacher gives a chuckle, “I have never heard of him helping anyone besides himself and Aone.”

“Yeah… He said he wanted a fair competition.” Your teacher let out a loud laugh.

“God, he’s a softie. What a stupid excuse,” he adds a red circle to your new mark. “I’m glad you’re seating next to him,” He gives a smile, “you're too nice to everyone.” Your eyebrows slightly frown as you recall Futakuchi said something similar.

“Mister Moniwa, do you know Futakuchi?” You ask, seemingly out of nowhere and your teacher tilts his head, pondering how he should answer.

“Our mums are friends,” you let a small ‘oh’, “plus, my little brother is Futakuchi’s captain.” You nod, still feeling curious about Futakuchi.

“Do you like Futakuchi always coming up to you to fight about his grade?”

“Well, I’ve known him since I was young,” he says, smiling, “funnily enough, I was his tutor when he was in middle school. So, I don't really mind. I know he's competitive.”

"I could tell early on," you laugh as you think about all the other times Moniwa has made a lesson a competition so Futakuchi would actually participate.

“Is there a reason you’re so curious about Futakuchi?” You feel your face heat up as he peers into your face.

“Uh, no,” you fiddle with your fingers, “he just seems, so confident.” Your comment surprises Moniwa, who’s eyes widen before giving a soft smile.

“That's one way to see him."

As you walk away you finally look at your paper you see a ‘96’ scribbled and a small comment.

Clearly Futakuchi ‘missed’ the other mark you got on the last page! Tell him off for me.

You shake your head; he definitely saw that mark. You practically speed walk to the class, excited to see your 'rival'.

“You asshole,” you slam your paper on his desk, “you saw the other mark, didn’t you?” Futakuchi eyes widen before giving a smug face.

“Why, I have no clue what you mean, dear y/n.”

"Oh my god,” you laugh before sitting down in your chair, giving him a shocked look. “Here I thought you were genuinely trying to help me achieve my maximum potential.” He laugh before sitting up straight, stretching his body.

“Nope,” he pops the ‘p’, “I can’t give you all the answers, now can I?”

“Yes, you can.” You say, lightly hitting your shoe against his.

“I can’t believe you got 96,” his tongue clicks, “impressive.”

“Why thank you, but it’s…” You try to maintain eye-contact, despite your face becoming a hot mess, “it’s, uhm, thanks to you, Futakuchi.” You rub your neck awkwardly as you wait for him to say anything at this point. His eyes widen as you say his name, and you quickly realize you've never called him by his name.

“Uhm, it’s okay, you already got a higher score than me so why not give you a bit of a boost up.” He coughs, clearing his throat up, ears slightly red. “You clearly needed it… Plus, probability is my bitch, so I’ll ace the next test.”

You slowly glare at him, a million thoughts going through your head.

“I’ll bet… That I’ll ace it harder than you,” you leave your hand out for a handshake, “probability is everyone’s bitch.”

His classic smug smile comes out, his hand drumming on his desk, actually thinking about the logistics of this bet. However, his hand slides into yours, giving a small squeeze.

“Deal.”

note: hope u enjoyed it, first time writing futakuchi ahh, can u tell the parts i rlly enjoyed writing??

[sysig]

It clearly wasn’t important to you (Patreon)

[jotatetsuken]

sunkissed

features: shoyo hinata x gn!reader | trope: friends to lovers, domestic au | type of writing: oneshot | final dish for: @rexy26

warnings: hq timeskip spoilers, hurt/comfort (reader goes through a break up not with hinata), majorly fluff (lmk if i've missed any tags)

song: sunkissed - khai dreams | wc: 2440

beta reading: @krystalgaia @portfolio-of-dreams @tsukisdarling (thank you so so much darlings <33)

networks: @tokyometronetwork @hanayanetwork

prompt: “You said you needed me - the feeling’s mutual. You make me believe in the beautiful. You said I held your heart together, made you better. You made me fall, every day, and I’d do it all the same.” “I don't know how to fix a broken heart, but we could learn together.” - @sleepyprompts

a/n: a week ago, it was my anime character bestie's birthday, and i figured that the best way to celebrate his birthday was to write a birthday special fic on him <3 so happy birthday shoyo bestie!! keep flying high!! also i have more than 100 followers lol, but i thought it best to write these requests whenever possible <3 as always, likes, reblogs and comments, especially reblogs are appreciated. ^_^

Made with Love: 100 Followers Event (closed) | MWL Masterlist

As both of you stepped into the most popular cafe in all of downtown, which was organizing a salsa dance night, you turned to your right and looked at Shōyō Hinata, who you’d been friends with since you first transferred to Karasuno. Your mind was then transported to the time he decided to leave Japan and go to Rio de Janeiro to work on beach volleyball so that he’d get better at it.

Whenever he felt like a fish out of water and lonely, you always assured him that this feeling of loneliness that he was going through wouldn’t be forever and that eventually, he’d have to learn to be okay with himself whenever possible. When he came back to Japan and started playing for MSBY Black Jackals, you were so excited to see him play and eventually bring home the victory for his team in his finals against the Schweiden Adlers. 

You ran to him and hugged him, congratulating him on his success and his growth in volleyball, and after throwing a beaming smile your way, he held your hand, dragged you to meet his team captain,  Shugo Meian, and introduced you to him, saying, “Meian-san, this is (Y/N) (L/N), my best friend. They’ve been there for me since school and I was wondering if the team had a manager position available.” 

Your eyes widened as Meian chuckled and replied, while looking at you, “Sure, Hinata-kun, anything for our star. I’ll ask the coach and let them know.” 

When you realized that you were still holding on to Shōyō’s hand, he turned to you, his brown irises gleaming with excitement, as you felt butterflies fluttering in your stomach. 

“(Y/N),” he smiled, “I’m so excited. I can’t wait for us to work together.”

As you started your new job as the manager of the MSBY Black Jackals, you were clearly in awe of how everyone was playing, how everyone was working hard to be better. 

Kōtarō Bokuto and Atsumu Miya were fun company to hang around with, and you were able to communicate with Kiyoomi Sakusa despite him being distant from everyone. The practices were so full of vigor and energy that it felt somehow different from the matches with Karasuno, and yet, still the same. 

You were especially in awe of Shōyō, as you clearly started noticing how Shōyō grew taller and how he maintained a lean, muscular physique. Your breathing would hitch every time you’d see Shōyō and the perspiration sticking on his skin. It was then that you realized that all these years, you clearly had feelings for him, but would wait for the right moment to tell him.

“(Y/N), (Y/N), (Y/N)!” Shōyō called out to you as your train of thought was broken, and you chuckled, realizing that you had brought him to this cafe, out of your comfort zone, for a reason. 

It was the 20th of June, the day before his birthday, and while he was in town, you wanted to make it special for him. You’d gotten in touch with his team, who thankfully still remembered you, especially your first-year peers, Tobio Kageyama, Tadashi Yamaguchi, Kei Tsukishima, and Hitoka Yachi. 

Hitoka especially created the group chat for the birthday of the sunshine of the team, with Daichi, the former Karasuno team captain, taking the initiative to organize the party at the Tanaka household, with Kiyoko and Ryuunosuke being very excited to host everyone. Even Nishinoya, who was busy travelling, was ready to video call. 

So, it was planned that you’d take him for a salsa dance night, especially because he had picked up a little bit of steps, having been acquainted with beats of the fast paced music in Brazil, while everyone would be preparing for the surprise birthday party. 

In the meantime, you texted the MSBY team, Tooru Oikawa, now the setter for the Argentinian Volleyball Team, and even the popular Kenma Kozume, a popular youTuber and one of Shōyō’s friends, and his best friend, Tetsuro Kuroo, of the Japanese Volleyball Association.

As the both of you entered the cafe, your feet were graced by the wooden tiles, and your eyes were met with the sheen of the rice lights hanging from the ceiling. The cafe had a space large enough for couples to learn to dance, with the tables pushed to the walls, and you were captivated by the gallery of paintings displayed throughout the cafe. 

A tall man clad in all-black welcomed the both of you, and the moment he instantly recognized Shōyō, he then paved the way for everyone to move so that the both of you could sit in one corner in peace. 

Shōyō then asked you, “Are you excited? I know I am, because I get to dance with you!” 

You felt your cheeks flush as you replied, putting one of your hands on his, “Yes, of course. However, just know that I’m a slow dancer. I can’t pick it up easily.” 

He then dragged you to one of the less crowded spaces in the room, intertwined his fingers with yours, his gaze fixated on yours, and spoke softly enough for you to hear, “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you,” and then winked at you, causing you to fluster. 

As Shōyō led you through his footwork and turned you, being swift on his feet and having been acquainted with the beats of the music in Brazil gave him an advantage as he picked up the moves quite quickly. However, you struggled to pick it up, and so he taught you. As you both learned the moves, your gazes were locked on each other, and you both laughed, being lost in each other. In the swaying to the music, at a certain moment, his gaze on you turned nostalgic, as he remembered the time he started having feelings for you. 

Years ago, when Kiyoko brought Hitoka and you along to the team as new managers, Shōyō was especially eager to have new members on the team, but he was lost in your gaze, as the rays of the sun passed through the window and kissed your face, elevating your beauty. 

During that day, he couldn’t stop looking at you. This caused him to lose focus on his games. As he started interacting with you more and took note of the way you genuinely laughed, it gave him a boost of confidence he didn’t realize he needed. So, he started channeling that into his practices, eventually becoming better. One day, he wanted to go to you and ask you to hang out with him alone. 

However, that’s when he saw you in another man’s arms. He stopped in his tracks as he watched the both of you. His heart was breaking a little, and in addition to the fight he had with Tobio Kageyama during the Tokyo Practice Camp after losing to Aoba Johsai, this broke his heart all the more, and he felt very burdened and lost his focus entirely. 

At one point, when Shōyō’s moves became sloppy and (Y/N) rushed to his aid, he curtly responded, “Please, leave me alone. I can take care of myself.” He then took the towel and the water bottle and left the hall, causing you to be confused, until Yachi whispered in your ears, “It’s probably because Hinata-kun had a fight with Kageyama-kun and that’s been hurting him. Also, he saw you with another man, and that caused him to be upset.” Hearing that caused you to be profoundly shocked, as you took time to process this. 

The following week, as Shōyō walked to the club room to get ready for practice, he saw you being admonished by your boyfriend, and he announced that he was breaking up with you. While the whole world around you stood still, as you heard this news, this caused Shōyō to be irate at you being mistreated. 

So, he paced urgently towards the both of you, and threw the volleyball at his face, smacking him and causing him to fall down. He then held one of your hands, and dragged you to the club room, causing you to stop breathing raggedly and start to sob incessantly. 

You closed your eyes as fear and immense grief struck them all at once, causing Shōyō to ask them, “Is it okay if I hug you?” 

You nodded, and closed your eyes while Shōyō enveloped them in a tight embrace as your tears soaked into his gakuran, but that didn’t matter, as long as you were able to feel better again. 

As his teammates started entering the club room, he opened his eyes and mouthed out the following words: “Their boyfriend broke up with them. Can someone please help me calm them down?” to which Kiyoko and Hitoka came to your aid, and helped you calm down by helping you ground yourself with deep breaths. They gave you water to drink, and as you opened your eyes, you only saw Kiyoko, Hitoka, and Shōyō, while everyone else had gone for practice.

With your mouth agape, you ended up profusely apologizing., “I’m so sorry, all of you, for keeping you waiting.” 

Everyone present shook their heads in denial, with Kiyoko replying, “It’s totally alright, you don’t have to worry. If you want to be left alone, we wouldn’t mind. We’ll look out for you.”

You shook your head and continued, “No, no. I’d like to distract my mind and come for the practices,” causing both Kiyoko and Hitoka to nod.

Hitoka then turned to Shōyō, replying, “Hinata-kun, would you mind walking with them?”

Shōyō then replied, “Of course not. I wouldn’t mind at all. I’d love to walk with them back to the court.”

The other girls then left the club room, leaving the two of you alone. You sheepishly looked into Shōyō’s eyes and replied, “Thank you so much, Hinata-kun,” to which he then held your hands in his, and replied, “Call me Shōyō, it’s okay.”

He then smiled at you and continued, “Look, (y/n), I know that this is not the right time to say anything to you. However, I want to assure you that sometimes, things happen for the best. We’re all here for you, and I’m especially here for you. Please don’t hesitate to call me, and I’ll find a way to distract you and help you get over this. I need you to be okay, (Y/N). I need you.” As he touched his forehead on yours, he continued, “(Y/N), I can say this one thing with certainty. I don't know how to fix a broken heart, but we could learn together,” causing the both of you to smile and hug each other. Over the years, when he helped you get through one of the lowest phases of your life, you were clearly in awe of his nature, and it caused you to live every moment to the fullest. 

“Shōyō!” you called out to him as he broke out of his daze. As you chuckled, you told him, “Shōyō, Tanaka-san wants us to come over to his house. Shall we leave?” 

His eyes widened as he stopped dancing and inquired, “Yes, but what about the food-”

You interrupted him as you dragged him out of the cafe and into the car as you drove him back home. As you started driving, you felt something in you that you needed to get off your chest. 

“Shōyō, there’s something I need to tell you before we reach Tanaka-san’s place.”

Furrowing his eyebrows at you, he asked you, “Tell me, (Y/N). What’s up?”

Taking a deep breath, you continued, while looking at Shōyō from one corner of the eye, “I want to thank you.”

As he said, “For what?” 

“I want to thank you for helping me get over my ex and be confident in myself and in the world. Thank you for keeping in touch with me and never giving up on me. Thank you for taking me with you to be your manager wherever you are. All those years ago, when you said you needed me – the feeling’s mutual.”

“Shōyō, I,” you took a deep breath again as you noticed his gaze fixated on yours, “I love you, more than a friend. You make me believe in beauty. You said I held your heart together, made you better. You made me fall, every day, and I’d do it all the same. You’re the sun in my life that I’d like to treasure forever. I’d like to be yours, if that’s okay.” 

As you pumped the brakes and stopped in front of the Tanaka residence, you turned to Shōyō, who seemed really dumbfounded by your confession. He then cupped your cheeks with his calloused hands, brought your face forward to his, and gave you a peck on your lips, but as you opened your mouth, you gave him permission to lock his lips with yours, and as your fingers raked through his orange hair, both of you felt the burden of pining for each other for years be lifted off your shoulders. 

As you released yourself from the kiss, he finally spoke, “You have no idea how difficult it was for me to keep my feelings from you.” As you two smiled at each other, he then said, “Come on. Let’s go to Tanaka-san right now.”

Both of you got out of the car, and as you knocked on the door, you realized the door was unlocked, so both of you entered the house, only to find the living room empty but a pleasant aroma coming from the kitchen. 

“Do I smell tamako kake gohan?” 

His eyes widened and he grinned at his favorite dish being made while a large group of people jumped from the back of the couches and yelled “Surprise! Happy birthday, Shōyō!” 

His mouth gaped wide open as he noticed everyone that’s been a part of his life, from his closest friends in middle school, to the Karasuno Volleyball Team, to the Tokyo friends: Kenma, Kuroo, Lev, Inuoka, Bokuto, and Akaashi, to Atsumu and Sakusa from the MSBY team, to even Tooru Oikawa and Yuu Nishinoya wishing him via a video call. 

As his eyes were welling up with happy tears, he turned to you, and asked you, “Did you plan all this?” 

You nodded in return, and he hugged you. After releasing himself from the hug, he kissed you on the lips, earning a lot of “oohs,” “aahs,” and “finally” from everyone. 

Shōyō was so grateful that he had a lot of people who loved him, and he was especially grateful to you. 

© Shyna 2022 - reposting on any other platform or even tumblr is not allowed. likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated.

tagging: @21-06-1996 (especially for you <3) @akaashi-todorki @trueformsukuna @jordyn-degas @arminsomnia @wakatshi @aizumie @indaybella99 @coffeeauthorvibing @ffsg0jo @hyeque @ohtobiors @cirigiri @beware-of-the-rogue @kiiraes @miikoos @satosugulovechild @mrskenmakozume  @kagejima (taglist form / @shynahasabookshelf , turn on notifications for the latter)

[polyfrogsadorer]

Swear to be Overdramatic and True

relationship: polyfrogs <3  

rating: general audiences

word count: 1.4k

summary: Derek Nurse has birthday anxiety, but his boyfriends get it. 

read it on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45051367

author’s note: so this is my first omgcp fic i’m publishing aaaaaa. I wrote this really quickly at work this morning so it’s NOT that great but i just wanted to get some cuteness out for today. also I accidentally projected my birthday anxiety onto Nursey, oops! Happy Valentine’s Day!!!

Derek Nurse was pretty familiar with the concept of crying on one’s birthday. Birthdays have always been kind of a Thing for him. It’s not that he needs them to a spectacular affair, but there was always this weird amount of expectation that his brain put on the day. Growing up, he’d spend the week leading up to February 14th with butterflies in his stomach. Not the fluttery, excited kind he’d pretend they were, but the heavy, nauseous variety that sunk like dread. He was plagued by indecision about how to celebrate, and often ended up with thrown together plans that were more stressful than anything.

By his late teenage years, he’d made it a point to hide his birthday from his friends and teammates. If there were no expectations, there’d be no disappointments, and no guilt for having expectations in the first place, so he’d stopped celebrating altogether.

At Samwell, he’d found a happier medium. He didn’t hide his birthday, it wasn’t really possible when you played in the NCAA, so there wasn’t much of a point in trying. But he stressed that the day wasn’t a big deal, falling back on his “chill” persona to ward off any attempts at excitement. No parties, he’d insisted repeatedly to his kegster-happy teammates.

His final birthday at Samwell was going exactly as planned. His day was booked with back-to-back practice and classes, so there wasn’t much room for the overthinking to set in. He woke up to peppered kisses from his boyfriends, got his free muffin from Annie’s, and dove headfirst into his typical day. He tamped down on the dreaded fluttering that stirred occasionally in chest. This birthday wasn’t much different from the last ones at Samwell, which were perfectly fine, but it was different. This was the first birthday he’d be celebrating with Dex and Chowder as official boyfriends. He tried not to let his mind get wrapped up worrying about what they were going to do, but moments passed where he couldn’t help it: will it be overwhelming? what if it’s underwhelming and I can’t hide my disappointment? Am I a bad person for even doubting them? Or wanting anything at all?

Nursey took a deep breath as he pulled himself out of the thought spiral. The sun was already falling towards the horizon, and it was time for him to head back to the Haus. I love them. I trust them. Today is just another day and whatever happens is okay. The repeated mantra soothed him as he approached the Haus, pulling his coat tightly against a gust of winter wind.

--

“So, you’re sure it’ll hold up in the oven?” Dex asked, carefully tilting a baking tray towards the webcam on his laptop, stacked hazardously on a pile of assorted textbooks.

“Yeah honey, just pop it in the freezer before baking and it should be just fine!” Bitty reassured through the screen. Chowder peaked around the corner into the kitchen, a bundle of blankets piled in his arms.

“Aw, it looks so good! Is that the hazelnut chocolate chip like you made last month?” Chowder asked. “Yeah, here” Dex answered, holding out a spoon where he’d saved a ball of extra dough for his boyfriend to snack on. With no free hands, Chowder just opened his mouth expectantly and Dex fed him the bite without missing a beat.

“I made everyone donate a blanket and then kicked them out. Where should I set up?” Chowder asked around the mouthful, “ugh this is so good.” Dex blushed from neck to ears at the praise.

“Not up here. I doubt the others will mind their own business for long. Set up in the basement, I cleared a space” Dex instructed, sending Chowder off with a kiss on each of his happily flushed cheeks.

“I haven’t forgotten all the fines you gave me and Jack!” Bitty’s chirp sounded from the other end of the kitchen.

“I’ll pay up when my fiancé's an NHL star,” Dex fired back as he slid the the baking tray into the freezer.

--

The Haus was empty and silent when Nursey shuffled inside, much to his relief and suspicion. Before he could spend any time questioning where his boyfriends were, a text from Chowder lit up his phone screen: come downstairs :))

An involuntary grin spilt across Nursey’s face. He headed for the stairs, shedding his coat, shoes, and bag in a trail behind him. As he descended, the fluttering rose through his stomach and chest, but it was only half dread, and half that sweet excitement he always hoped for. I love them. I trust them. Today is just another day and whatever happens is okay.

“He’s coming!” He could hear Chowder whisper as he approached the bottom of the stairs. Dex shushed him, but Nursey could hear them both laughing softly together. He grinned to himself again as he reached the bottom step.

“Happy birthday!!” His boyfriends whisper-shouted together, “and Valentine’s day!” Chowder tacked on, thrusting a bouquet of pink and cream-colored flowers in Nursey’s direction. The room was dim, lit only by twin table lamps and candles that Nursey knew from the scent they’d swiped from his bedroom.

“Why are we whispering?” Nursey whispered back with a wide smile.

“We’re being chill!” Chowder answered, voice noticeably rising above a whisper.

“Oh yeah,” Nursey smirked, “super chill.” As he approached them, he took in the scene they had set up. Piled on the rug in front of Dex’s bed was a mountain of blankets he could tell were arranged artfully for maximum comfort and coziness. Where Chowder clutched the flowers, Dex held a plush frog with a bow tied around its neck. “These are for you,” Dex said, holding up the frog and nodding towards the bouquet. Fondness bubbled in Nursey’s chest. He knelt in front of them, the thick layer of blankets soft under his knees, and accepted the gifts. Before he could say anything, the three boys were startled by an alarm on Dex’s phone cutting loudly trough the air.

“Shit, the cookie! We’ll be right back,” Dex promised, pulling Chowder with him as he dashed up the stairs. As Nursey waited, he took in the comfortable setup and sweet gifts with a small, private smile. Whatever worry had been bubbling in him all day had tempered down, and he couldn’t even think to find it again as footsteps sounded on the stairs once more.

“Careful, careful.” Chowder’s soft warning carried through the distance as they came into view, balancing a small, flat tray dotted with lit candles. Nursey stood at the sight, stepping forward for the assist if things went south.

“You could have lit those down here,” he informed with a touch of concern.

“It’s more special this way, and it’s fine, see?” Dex insisted as he reached the bottom step safely. Now at eye-level, Nursey could see what the candles were stuck into. A giant, flat, sheet of cookie shaped meticulously into a heart. In runny icing, the words ‘We Love You!’ were piped above a drawing of three stick-figures holding hands. Nursey laughed at the sight, loud and full and fond. Chowder and Dex grinned in response, and he stepped forward to blow out the candles.

“Dex made the cookie! It’s hazelnut chocolate, the one you liked!” Chowder explained.

“C did the decoration,” Dex added sheepishly.

“Wow, careful guys, people might catch onto the fact that Samwell Men’s Hockey’s ruthless captain and star goaltender are just two big softies” Nursey chirped, halfway between smugness and adoration.

“Shut up,” Dex laughed, handing the tray off to Chowder and pulling Nursey forward into a sweet kiss, “happy birthday,” he whispered against his lips.

“My turn!” Chowder said, pulling Nursey over towards him and connecting their lips. They moved back onto the blanket pile, tucking into each other seamlessly.

“Do you like it?” Dex asked gently, once they were settled. Nursey let himself take it all in one more time. All comfort and thoughtfulness and chill (ha!). There was no pressure, no expectations. “It’s perfect,” Nursey assured, pinching Chowder’s cheek and Dex’s ear between the fingers of each of his hands, affectionately shaking their heads as they laughed and protested in the same breath. “My boys,” he sighed contently as the moment calmed.

--

They didn’t leave the basement for the rest of the night, snacking on chunks of cookie and half-paying attention to a comfort show. The night grew slow and sleepy, Nursey laying on his back as Dex and Chowder pillowed their heads on each side of his chest.

Nursey was no stranger to crying on his birthday, but when his fingers fidgeted with the flower that Dex had blushingly tucked behind his ear, the rush of emotion that stung the back of his eyes was different than ones before. And when he couldn’t help but check for hitches of disappointment or guilt in his chest, all he found was warmth.

[powerfultenderness]

i simply must know is neighbor könig ever going to get what he wants? (what he wants, of course, being his face used like a LayZboy recliner until be passes out from oxygen loss)

lmaooo! eventually! but now when i get there, lol, that's how i'm gonna think of it now 🤣

[baronessblixen]

are you going to write for ficmas ?? or ficember i don’t remember the exact name lol

I'm planning to write! I want to participate in the Eight Nights of Mulder and the X-Mas Files Challenge msrafterdark posted. I love writing holiday fic.

I just hope I can cause as it turns out, I have three slightly broken bones in my elbow and I'm supposed to rest that thing. But as of right now, I'm determined to make it happen.

[more-than-a-princess]

As it's currently playing out in replies:

Teenage Sonia's flirt game (non-despair especially): awkward, stilted, far more nervous as she's not used to being the one doing the flirting.

Adult Sonia's flirt game: bolder, far more coy and with considerably less word vomit, one look can go a long way. Still unintentionally blushes when she's looked at someone she loves, or at least is very attracted to, for a bit too long.

Bonus: they notice and tease/snark at her about it.