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[benewol]

Masterlist

Lookism

Vin Jin:

beat the shit out of them

Durarara!!

Heiwajima Shizuo: 

Luck in Disguise [Soulmate!AU]

Haikyuu!!

Kageyama Tobio:

You Had One Job 

Iwaizumi Hajime:

Casual Conversations

Oikawa Tooru:

Of Mondays and Love

Kozume Kenma:

Arduous Activity [NSFW/Fem!Reader]

Hetalia

Turkey/Sadık Adnan:

Of Sweets and Guilt 

Kuroko no Basuke

Midorima Shintarou:

The Meaning of Spring

Marvel

Captain America/Steve Rogers:

Your Fuss

Mystic Messenger

ZEN/Ryu Hyun:

Of Rain and Love

[beccassweettooth]

[stxxrrgirl]

make out sesh w fwb!bakugo suggestive⋆｡°✩

inspired by this post

“Shouldn’t you be asleep, boom boy—Mmh!”

Even before the door closes, Bakugo’s lips are mouthing away on yours, his hand gently grabbing your hips, stirring you against the wall right there as he kicks the door closes. Your arm wraps around the back of his neck, the other pulling his shirt to get him closer to you.

His warm hands press against you through the thin cotton of your sleepwear, the heat making your nerves go haywire along with his lips moulding against yours in a sloppily exchange of spit. He pulls away a moment, a string of saliva connecting your mouths as he looks you in the eyes.

“Couldn’t sleep, just needed you.”

His voice is rough, eyes burning into his. He’s been restless all day, reckless more than usual, during the training session of third year UA students. Now you can tell it’s from pent-up…energy. Now he’s in those black tank tops he always sports in the dorms, sweatpants hanging how on his hips.

His words release a bundle of butterflies in your stomach, you know he needs you for his needs (and you with your needs, of course), but you can’t lie that you love hearing those words and he loved the effect they had on you.

Your lips quirk up to a breathless smile, your hands running circles on his bare shoulder now, “Good to know. Bakugo’s orange flaming eyes stay on yours as his palms slip down to the back of your bare thighs, hauling you up with such ease.

He doesn’t waste a moment to ravish your mouth again, pushing his tongue into your mouth, forcing a sound of pleasure from your throat. His hands are everywhere, touching any part of your skin that you present to him, his mouth moving passionately.

You bite down on his bottom lip, pulling at it and eliciting a rough moan from him. He leaves your swollen lips alone for a moment to explore down your throat, sucking and leaving love bites, his tongue hot against your skin and he moves with urgency as you pant ragged breaths, eyes fluttering.

He kneads the plushness of your hips before yanking it forward, pressing your front against his chest as he presses a kiss on your sensitive spot under your ear. A gasp that doesn’t leave your mouth fully before he steals it, back to nipping at your lips, tongue pressings being yours.

“Bed.” You barely croak out between kisses, setting Katsuki in motion and the next moment your back hits your bed and and his tank is thrown somewhere in your room.

[freaky-deaky-star]

bakugou would be such a freak for the tiny bits of praise u sprinkle on him before you have a relationship. he cooks for a group hang out and you’re moaning over how good the food is and going back for seconds and now he’s bringing snacks to every hangout you attend, even demanding you take some home.

you off handedly mention you think it’s attractive when someone looks put together and actually styles an outfit. he’s starts checking his reflection before seeing you. pulling out his front camera to check his teeth before saying hi.

you tell him his shoulders look good in the tank top he’s wearing and suddenly he’s wearing nothing but tank tops. ordering enough so he’ll always be able to wear them around you. pulling off his jacket as soon as he sees you just to watch your eyes bulge out a little as he intentionally flexes. your eyes flicking between the vein popping out of his bicep and the prominent tendon of his neck. smirking a when he folds his arms and you have to look away and collect yourself.

[realcube]

tomura shigaraki feels cuteness aggression whenever he looks at you

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

tw + tags ;; nsfw. vaginal, slight somnophilia, dubcon, rough sex, squirting mentions & creampie

it's dark outside. another restless night for shigaraki; distressing memories plague his thoughts and consume his psyche. it's like he can't escape them no matter what he does. he long since abandoned the notion of sleeping, but even when he tried to distract himself with other activities, his eyes would always end up drifting back to the clock.

hence, he was left with no choice but to visit you. he hated disturbing you in the middle of the night, while you were asleep, but he found himself walking to your home anyway.

the door to your room creaks open as he peers inside. the warm light from the lamp on your bedside table illuminates the area and casts soft shadows over your tranquil, sleeping form. you must've fallen asleep while reading; evidenced by the book that was laying near your hand.

it's such a sickeningly sweet sight. your sweet figure bundled all cozy in your pink linen sheets, and your face half-smushed into your pillow. protected under the watchful eyes of the many plushies that were not only piled on your bed, but decorating your whole room. there are so many of them on your queen bed, that you're left with around one quarter of the space, as the rest of it is their territory. they're also dotted around the room on your shelves and desk, infusing your room with a lively quality.

you're just so stupid cute. it doesn't make sense. without thinking, shigaraki staggers over to you until he's standing next you, towering over your sleeping form. clearly you can feel his presence, as you begin to shift and stir. eventually, one of your eyes lazily peels open and you look up at him.

and instead of gasping or recoiling in shock at the unexpected figure standing next to you, a weary smile spreads across your lips, and you murmur quietly, "tomura.." it's hard to tell form the limited light source, but he swears he can see a little sparkle in your eyes when you utter his name. "what're you doing here?"

so adorable. with that wobbly smile and pleading eyes; no ones ever looked at him with such adoration before. and that quiet, tired little voice, it's like he could feel his heart melting in his chest and he hated it. why's he grown so fond of you in such a short amount of time? why doesn't he want to little your pretty face with kisses and gently brush your hair like a cherished doll? this isn't him. you're turning him into something he's not.

not to mention the fact you're just so precious he could squeeze those cheeks til his thumbs broke. he grabs your duvet and pulls it off you in one swift motion, revealing the white tank top and pink shorts you were wearing. your body quivers from the sudden exposure to the chilly air, "tomura.." you whine again, crossing your arms over your chest and bending your knees, "stop. it's too cold."

"not for long." he rasps, voice getting lost in the shuffling noises of your sheets as he climbs onto your bed. you're laid on your side but it only takes a gentle nudge for you to flop onto your front, and you let out a prolonged sigh into your pillow.

he bites down onto his lip, hard, when he yanks your shorts off. the cold air nips at your bare ass, and your exposed folds too, since you aren't wearing any underwear. it's uncomfortable , especially since you were so warm n cozy before, but you're just lucky he didn't decay your clothes like he did last time.

your pink shorts are tossed across the room, and he digs his thumbs into fat of your thighs, then spreads you apart. his breath hitches and something in his chest sinks. fuck, everything about you is so cute. that pert asshole, twitching and teasing him, and those puffy lips which glisten with slick under the warm light of your bedside lamp. he could eat you alive. and he just might.

keeping you lewdly spread with one hand, he pulls his dick out with the other and guides it towards your sopping hole. once he's aligned himself, he doesn't even spare a word of caution before he plunges into you, stretching out your cunt with a burning squelch. and despite your staggered cries, he doesn't falter in beginning to furiously thrust into you.

your pelvis lifts off the bed each time his hips slam into you, and your back instinctually arches into it. his thick dick splits you open at a dizzying pace, but you're just so tired. all you can really do is lay there and enjoy it, babbling into your pillow and grasping onto the sheets for dear life.

but he was right about something. you don't feel so chilly anymore. firstly, after he slipped inside, tomura lovingly tossed a corner of the duvet back over you. it was brief and he didn't give it much thought so it only covered your mid-spine area, but that was enough. plus, the friction from his cock piercing into you caused a delicious warmth to spread through you. the only part of you that still feels cold is where his fingers dig into your ass.

"what're you—" you gasp sharply. causing your pussy to clench around his cock, "what's going on?"

"taking it so well." he heaves, and you swear you can almost hear a whimper escape his lips as he talks. "keep strangling me like that. won't be much longer, sweetie."

he's never called you that before, or any affectionate nickname, so you're not sure what's gotten into him. the name sounds midly scornful on his tongue, but you can't bring yourself to pay much attention to that, not when his tip is beating your cervix and stretching your pussy open just right. "nggh— ahh! tomura!"

you've never seen him so desperate before, with stern intention behind each rut. there's so much power and fury behind each thrust that your headboard rattles against the wall and your whole bed shakes, causing a couple of your plushies to fall off. it's for the best though. in fact, you kinda wanted to swat them all off the bed so they didn't have to witness you getting defiled like this.

"you're just the cutest fucking thing.. aren't you.." his cock twitches inside you, and with each harsh movement he rips up your insides, pushing you closer to your impending orgasm, along with his own. you can tell his drawing near his climax by his uneasy breathing and gravelly muttering, "even when you're screaming for me. precious little thing."

he grabs a fistful of hair and yanks back , which wakes you right up. eyes wide, your back arches and your face is raised off the pillow due to the force of his hand tangled in your hair. and since your screams are no longer muffled, he immediately gets an earful. "hah— fuck, oh god.. ahh!"

and your sultry cries tip him right over the edge, and his hot seed floods your insides in spurts. his eyes roll back in his head as your clingy walls clamp down on him and force every last drop of his cum into your tight pussy. "shit.." he keeps plowing into the entire time, hips faltering only slightly.

"perfect.." he sighs, letting his eyes flutter closed as he sits up straight. he pants, and remains stagnant, still fully buried in your creamy pussy and relishing in your heat for at least a couple of minutes. you're too fucked out to question it or even beg for more, despite the fact you were teetering on an orgasm, ready to be engulfed by the cock-induced bliss.

soon, he re-establishes a rhythm, his cock slowly dragging against your slick walls. now, you finally have the energy to groan, "what're you doing now? i thought we were done."

"you think i'd leave my pretty girl hanging?" he makes a noise, and you're unsure if it's a scoff or a chuckle. regardless, his fat dick was already causing light-headedness. "not going to stop until you squirt." he states blankly.

you moan, and reach out a shaky arm to pick up one of your plushies and feebly shove them off the bed. you don't want them to see what you're about to become.

[wingedstatesmanlandturtle]

Synopsis: izuku doesnt like to share you Warning: heavily suggestive content towards to end, protective!izuku, fem!reader, flirting, established relationship WC: 2304

The party had started easily enough.

Soft lighting. Music low but present. Too many heroes in one apartment, shoes kicked near the door, jackets thrown over chairs like no one there worried about public image.

Izuku had introduced you the way he always did.

Not as an accessory.

Not as a secret.

Just with quiet pride.

“This is her.”

And when someone teased, “Midoriya finally bringing someone around, huh?” he didn’t laugh it off.

He’d simply looked at you.

“Yes.”

The way he said it had made heat rise to your cheeks.

He stayed near you at first, hand resting at your lower back, thumb brushing idle circles when conversations shifted too quickly or voices got too loud.

He never hovered.

He anchored.

And you loved that about him.

But as the night wore on, the conversations drifted into more tactical territory. Agency budgets. Patrol rotations. New interns. Hero licensing reforms.

You didn’t want to cling to his sleeve while he talked shop.

So when he got pulled into a deeper discussion near the balcony, you slipped quietly toward the kitchen.

Water.

Just water.

You didn’t notice him glance after you.

You didn’t notice how his gaze tracked you automatically until you were out of his direct line of sight.

You only noticed when someone spoke beside you.

“Hey.”

You turned.

It took a second to recognize him — one of the newer sidekicks from Izuku’s extended agency network. You’d been introduced earlier, but only briefly.

“You’re Midoriya’s girlfriend, right?”

“Yes,” you said softly.

He leaned against the counter casually. “Didn’t expect him to date someone so… civilian.”

The wording made you pause.

“That’s not an insult,” he added quickly. “It’s just — most pros date other pros. Easier that way.”

“Oh.”

He studied you for a moment.

“You don’t seem like you’d enjoy parties like this.”

“I don’t mind them.”

“You look like you mind.”

You gave a small, polite smile.

“I’m fine.”

He stepped slightly closer, voice lowering.

“You know, people talk about him like he’s untouchable.”

Your fingers tightened around your glass.

“What do you mean?”

“Like he’s too disciplined. Too composed. Doesn’t slip up.”

You didn’t respond.

The sidekick’s gaze lingered a second too long.

“I’m surprised he leaves you alone in a room like this.”

You shifted subtly.

“I’m not alone.”

“He’s across the apartment.”

“That’s not the same as alone.”

He laughed softly.

“You’re loyal.”

The tone was different now.

Less teasing.

More probing.

“I just know where I stand,” you replied.

“And where’s that?”

You didn’t like the way he asked that.

Before you could answer, he leaned slightly closer.

“Does he get jealous?”

The question landed heavier this time.

“No.”

“Really?”

His eyes flicked toward the living room.

“Because if I were him, I wouldn’t let anyone stand this close to you.”

Your pulse jumped.

“I think you should step back.”

The words came out softer than you intended.

He didn’t move.

Instead, he tilted his head.

“You don’t sound very sure.”

That was the moment Izuku saw it.

Across the room, mid-sentence, he noticed your posture change.

Shoulders tightening.

Chin dipping.

The polite smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

He didn’t react immediately.

He watched.

Measured.

But when the sidekick’s hand came to rest on the counter beside yours — close enough to box you in slightly — and his hand gliding to your waist,

Izuku moved.

He crossed the room without rushing.

Without calling attention.

He stopped directly behind you.

Close enough that you felt him before you saw him.

His hand settled at your waist.

Firm.

Claiming space.

“She asked you to step back.”

His voice was calm.

Level.

The sidekick stiffened.

“Oh. Midoriya. We were just talking.”

Izuku’s thumb pressed slightly into your side.

“I heard.”

The sidekick smiled awkwardly. “Didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I’m sure.”

The words were polite.

But there was steel beneath them.

Silence stretched.

Then the sidekick tried to laugh it off.

“Relax. I wasn’t going to steal her.”

Izuku’s jaw tightened.

“I wasn't worried”

The room didn’t notice.

But the air between the three of you changed.

The sidekick held Izuku’s gaze for a second too long.

Testing.

“You’re pretty territorial for someone so composed.”

Izuku didn’t blink.

“I don’t share.”

The words weren’t loud.

They weren’t angry.

They were fact.

The sidekick swallowed.

And stepped back.

“Right. Message received.”

He left.

Izuku didn’t look away from you immediately.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“You told him to step back.”

“Yes.”

“And he didn’t.”

A beat.

“No.”

His hand slid from your waist to lace with your fingers.

“Then I step in.”

The car door shuts with a heavier sound than it needs to.

Izuku doesn’t slam it. He doesn’t lose control like that. But the way he grips the steering wheel once he’s seated tells you everything you need to know.

The engine hums to life.

Silence stretches between you — not uncomfortable, but thick. Charged.

He doesn’t look at you right away. His jaw is tight. His shoulders are broader than usual somehow, like he’s still standing between you and that guy at the party.

You fold your hands in your lap.

“I didn’t encourage him,” you say softly.

“I know.”

Immediate. Firm.

That’s not what this is.

A red light stops the car. The glow paints his face in crimson. He finally looks at you then, and there’s something sharp in his eyes — not insecurity, not doubt.

Claim.

“He touched you"

It’s not a question.

Your breath catches slightly. “I moved away.”

“You shouldn’t have had to.”

The light turns green. He drives again, but his movements are deliberate now. Controlled. Every shift of the wheel precise.

“He leaned in too close,” Izuku continues quietly. “And he didn’t back off when you asked him to.”

You swallow. “You handled it.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks.

“I wanted to handle it worse.”

That makes your stomach flip.

He exhales slowly through his nose, like he’s recalibrating himself.

“I don’t share,” he says finally.

It’s calm. Almost too calm.

Your fingers twist together. “I’m not something to share.”

“I know that,” he says immediately. His voice softens just a fraction — not gentler, just lower. “That’s the point.”

Another red light.

This time he doesn’t look away.

“I don’t like other people thinking they get to try.”

There’s no jealousy in it. No fear.

Just possession. Just certainty.

Your heart pounds a little faster.

“He was looking at you like he thought he could have his way with you.”

A small, almost incredulous huff leaves him. “That’s not how this works.”

You shift in your seat, heat rising under your skin. “You didn’t seem very calm back there.”

“I wasn’t.”

The admission sits heavy between you.

His thumb taps once against the steering wheel, then stills.

“I’m trying to be.”

“For me?”

His eyes flick to you again, something dark flickering there.

“For both of us.”

The air inside the car feels warmer now. Thicker. You can feel the restraint rolling off him in waves — the careful, deliberate containment of someone who could have snapped and didn’t.

Not because he couldn’t.

Because he chose not to.

Your voice is barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to prove anything.”

His lips press together.

“I know.”

A beat.

The car finally turns onto your street. Streetlights pass in slow intervals, shadows sliding over his face.

He parks. Turns the engine off.

The silence afterward is louder than the drive itself.

He doesn’t move immediately.

Then — slowly — he unbuckles his seatbelt.

When he looks at you this time, it’s steady. Focused.

“I’m done being polite.”

And the way he says it makes your pulse stutter in anticipation.

The hallway outside your apartment is quiet when you step out of the elevator.

Too quiet.

The kind of quiet that makes every sound sharper — the click of Izuku’s shoes against tile, the soft rustle of your sleeve as you adjust your bag on your shoulder.

He walks slightly ahead at first.

Not rushing.

But purposeful.

You watch the way his shoulders are still set, how his hands are flexing faintly at his sides like he hasn’t fully come down from the adrenaline yet.

When you reach your door, you pull your keys out, but your fingers fumble slightly.

He notices.

Of course he does.

His hand closes gently over yours — not grabbing, just steadying.

“I’ve got it.”

His voice is lower now. Still tight, but not sharp.

He takes the keys carefully and unlocks the door.

The second you’re inside, the world shifts.

No music. No voices. No watchful eyes.

Just you.

And him.

He shuts the door behind you, and the click of the lock sliding into place feels louder than it should.

You barely get two steps into the entryway before you feel his presence behind you — close enough that your back brushes lightly against his chest.

He doesn’t trap you yet.

He just stands there.

Breathing.

You can feel the rise and fall of his chest. Slightly uneven.

“You okay?” he asks quietly.

The question surprises you.

“Yes.”

“You sure?”

You turn halfway to face him. His expression is different now — still intense, but less edged. More searching.

“I’m fine,” you say again. "I should be asking if you okay,"

His eyes scan your face like he’s checking for something you might not be saying.

“I just didn’t like that,” he admits.

“I know.”

“He kept testing the line.”

His jaw tightens again at the memory, but this time he exhales through it.

“I can understand if someone flirts with you. It's bound to happen no matter what.” His hand slides to your waist slowly, fingers resting there like he needs the contact. “But when someone tried to touch you…”

He trails off.

You feel it then — not anger.

Protectiveness.

“He ignored you,” Izuku finishes.

Your heart softens just slightly.

“I handled it.”

“You shouldn’t have had to handle it alone.”

His forehead dips forward until it nearly rests against yours, but he stops just shy.

“I was across the room,” he says, quieter now. “And I could see it.”

“See what?”

“That he thought he could get away with it.”

The hand at your waist tightens just a fraction.

“I don’t like people thinking they get chances with you.”

It isn’t possessive in a cruel way.

It’s resolute.

Steady.

Like he’s stating a boundary the world needs to respect.

Your fingers lift slowly, sliding up his chest until they curl lightly in the fabric near his collar.

“I chose you,” you murmur.

His breath hitches.

“I know.”

“And it'll always be you, Izu...”

His eyes close for a brief second, like that sentence hits somewhere deep.

When they open again, the sharp edge has dulled.

He’s calmer now.

Still intense.

But grounded.

His thumb brushes slowly over your hip.

“I’m not mad at you,” he says quietly.

“I didn’t think you were.”

A faint, almost sheepish breath leaves him.

“I almost lost it.”

“You didn’t.”

He nods once.

Because that matters.

For a few seconds, neither of you moves.

The tension shifts — not disappearing, but changing shape. Less volatile. More intimate.

His hand slides from your waist up to your jaw, thumb brushing just beneath your cheekbone.

“You deserve to feel comfortable,” he says softly. “Anywhere.”

There’s something gentler in his tone now.

Protective, not territorial.

“You don’t need me hovering. But I’ll always step in if you need it.”

Your pulse slows just slightly at that.

“You don’t scare me when you get like that,” you admit.

His gaze sharpens again — but not harshly.

“No?”

“No.”

You step closer.

His breath deepens.

“You scare everyone else,” you add quietly.

A faint smirk touches his mouth.

“Good.”

The word isn’t cruel.

It’s protective.

His forehead finally rests against yours.

And for a moment, the intensity gives way to something softer — something warm.

“I don’t like the idea of someone thinking they can push past you,” he murmurs. “You shouldn’t have to raise your voice to be heard.”

Your fingers slide into his hair.

“You’re very intense when you’re protective.”

“I know.”

There’s no apology in it.

But there’s affection now.

His hands settle at your hips, drawing you just a little closer — not pinning, not trapping.

Just grounding.

“Next time,” he says quietly, “I’ll be closer.”

Your heart flutters.

“Planning ahead?”

“Always.”

And when he finally leans in to kiss you, it isn’t sharp or claiming at first.

It’s slow.

Intentional.

Like he’s reminding himself — and you — that he’s here.

That you’re safe.

That no one else gets access.

The tension doesn’t disappear.

It deepens.

And when his grip tightens just slightly, when his breath grows heavier against your lips, you know the edge isn’t gone.

Your heart raced.

His mouth moved down to your jaw. You neck. Your collarbone.

Your breath hitched, and your hands slid into his hair.

He exhaled sharply against your skin.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured.

“So are you.”

A faint huff of breath left him.

His fingers intertwined with yours.

"I love you angel."

His grip on you got harder as you tensed from his words. You were already melting, and he loved it.

He stepped back from you, just enough to guide you down the hallway.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

“Tell me to stop,” he said quietly.

You didn’t.

One step.

Another.

Your back brushed the bedroom doorframe.

He paused there.

Breathing heavier now.

Eyes darker.

Still checking.

Always checking.

“Last chance,” he murmured.

You stepped backward into the room.

Pulled him with you. Your face burning.

The door shut behind you with a soft click.

And his voice, low and steady in the dim light, brushed your ear.

“Then don’t expect me to hold back.”

[rueclfer]

constant headache // tomura shigaraki

when your best friend hates your boyfriend

a/n: this behemoth is my formal apology for not dropping a smau in months probably soooorrryyyyy but yay this was super fun!!!!! eat ur hearts out

[akaashiit]

distraction

oikawa tooru x fem!reader

blurb: a 'secret' relationship between a manager and an opposing team's captain doesn't exactly remain secret for long.. wc: 1.7k a/n: i was supposed to make it under 1k but i got a bit carried away.. but i like this one its so silly

requested ☆

look, we all know oikawa tooru is a lot to handle. he's dramatic, he's pretty arrogant, and he's.. currently leaning against the gym wall at aoba johsai looking like he's posing for a magazine cover.

he does that thing where he runs his hand through his hair every time a group of girls walks by the gym windows, and it's making your head ache.

head, not heart. because no matter how much he pretends to flirt with his fangirls, you know what happens when the two of you are alone together. he whines and complains about how much he loves you

as one of the karasuno managers, you're supposed to be focused on getting the water bottles filled and making sure hinata doesn't pass out from nerves or throw up on someone's shoes.

but.. it's hard to focus when your boyfriend of three years is across the court blowing kisses at his 'fans' in the stands. it's even harder to focus when you see iwaizumi narrowing his eyes at the back of oikawa's head.

"he's so annoying," kageyama mutters from where he's standing next to you. he stares at oikawa with that scowl of his, the one that makes him look like he's just swallowed a lemon.

"he's not that bad, tobio," you say, checking your clipboard and marking something off.

kageyama looks at you like you've grown a second head. "you're just biased, l/n-san. i still don't get how you haven't dumped him yet. he's even more annoying - if, not when - he's winning."

"it's been three long years. i think i'm committed at this point. plus, i already bought him a birthday present for next month," you add with a shrug. kageyama scowls again.

kiyoko looks over at you, her expression neutral but her eyes curious. she's noticed you looking toward the aoba johsai side more than usual, but to her credit she hasn't said anything yet.

the rest of karasuno - tanaka and nishinoya specifically - are busy being intimidated by the 'great king' vibes oikawa is radiating.

they have no idea that the guy they're currently glaring at is the same guy who cried over a lost alien keychain you gave him last tuesday on call with you, sobbing about how 'the little green man deserved a better home'.

the practice match is already underway when oikawa finally goes on the court, and the atmosphere changes immediately. you have to act like you aren't checking out his form or noticing how well those shorts fit him, because damn there's nothing there to highlight.

sugawara glances at you, observant as always. "uh, l/n-san.. you alright?"

"what?" you blink, turning to him and smiling awkwardly. "oh- yep! im in tip top shape."

sugawara stares at you, his lips curling upwards as he eyes you. "hm. sure."

don't look at oikawa don't look at oikawa don't look at oikawa-

oikawa, being the absolute menace he is, doesn't make it easy. before he even picks up a ball to serve, his eyes scan the karasuno side. he isn't looking for kageyama; he's looking for you.

when he finds you, his entire face lit up. he doesn't just wave, he does that stupidly graceful two finger salute he always does, accompanied by a wink that is definitely intended to be charming.

"y/n-chan! did you come all this way just to see me lose? well too bad, im winning today!" he shouts across the net, ignoring the fact that his coach is staring at him incredulously.

the gym goes silent for a blissful second.

tanaka blinks, his face faltering into pure confusion. "wait. did he just call our manager by her first name?"

"and he added a 'chan'?" hinata squeaks, his knees shaking. "are they.. friends? does the great king have friends?"

tsukishima smirks, glancing between you and the court with that annoying look he gets when he figures something out. "friends might be an understatement, given how red her face is."

yamaguchi sniggers. "nice one, tsukki!"

you ignore tsukishima and look at oikawa, who's now spinning the ball on his finger. "just serve the damn ball, tooru! you're stalling and making everyone wait!"

"tooru?!" nishinoya shouts, his soul practically leaving his body through his mouth. "first name basis with the enemy?! this is a scandal! where is your loyalty?!"

daichi swats the second year libero on the head, and nishinoya yelps.

the match is intense, mostly because oikawa keeps targeting tsukishima and hinata with those lethal serves. every time he scores a point, he looks over at the karasuno bench and blows a kiss or winks.

it's getting rather embarrassing.

at one point, oikawa gets a bit too cocky and starts doing a little victory dance. before he can finish, a volleyball comes flying and smacks him right in the back of the head with a loud thwack.

"get focused, shittykawa!" iwaizumi yells from the back of the court. you hide a snicker in your jacket sleeve. oikawa doubles over, clutching his head. "iwa-chan! that was so mean! i was just showing y/n-chan my skills!"

"she's seen you miss a serve and cry about it, she knows you don't have skills!" iwaizumi barks back.

he then looks over at you and gives a small, respectful nod, which you return.

during a timeout, the karasuno boys huddle up. they aren't even talking about strategy - they're staring at you like you're a spy. kiyoko stands by, holding the water bottles, looking just as interested as the boys are. heck, even ukai is watching.

"okay, spill it," daichi says, his voice calm but his eyes demanding answers. "how do you know their captain? and why was their vice captain nodding at you?"

"we went to kitagawa daiichi together," you explain, trying to sound casual as you hand out water bottles. "iwaizumi, t- oikawa and i have known each other since we were kids. i used to make them snacks after practice."

"and?" tanaka presses, leaning in so close you can see the sweat on his forehead. "people don't use first names just because they went to middle school together. kageyama went there too, and he calls him 'oikawa-san' – well, mostly he calls him 'that guy', but still!"

you sigh and look at kageyama, who's trying to pretend he isn't listening. "tobio, tell them so they stop looking at me like i've committed treason."

kageyama doesn't even look up from his water bottle. he just takes a long sip and wipes his mouth. "they've been dating since third year of junior high. it's gross. he buys her giant stuffed aliens and she apparently keeps them in her room. i had to see them holding hands in the hallway for a whole year."

you roll your eyes. "thank you, tobio."

the silence that follows is louder than the volleyballs hitting the floor. even kiyoko's eyes widen slightly in surprise.

"DATING?!" tanaka and nishinoya scream in unison, their voices echoing off the gym ceiling.

"the great king.. and our manager?" hinata's jaw is on the floor. "but he's.. he's a villain! he's like the final boss!"

across the court, oikawa notices the commotion. he walks right up to the net, looking incredibly smug. "are you guys bothering my girlfriend? don't be mean, or i'll double my power and aim for your faces."

"go away, tooru! go back to your own side!" you yell, throwing a towel at him. he catches it easily with one hand, laughing as he presses it to his face. "it smells like your detergent," he chirps, looking entirely too pleased with himself. "im keeping this as a trophy."

"..but that's a karasuno towel! give it back.." takeda says weakly, though no one hears him over the sound of tanaka and nishinoya weeping about the 'betrayal'.

after the match ends – with karasuno taking the win – the two teams start packing up.

you and kiyoko are gathering the stray balls when oikawa decides to make his move. he jogs over to the karasuno side before you can even grab the ball bag. he just walks straight up to you and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into a huge hug that lifts your feet off the ground.

"i missed you," he complains into your shoulder, sounding like a pouting child. "why did you have to go to a school with such an ugly uniform? black doesn't suit you as well as turquoise. you should just transfer."

"i like the uniform, tooru. and i like my team. let go, people are staring. you're being dramatic as always." which you love

"let them stare. they should know i'm the one who gets to take you to ramen after this."

oikawa looks over at kageyama, who is standing a few steps away looking like he wants to jump off a bridge. "tobio-chan! take care of my girl on the bus, 'kay? if she gets a bruise from one of your stray tosses, ill never forgive you."

"shut up, oikawa-san," kageyama snaps, turning his back on him. you muffle a laugh behind your hand.

oikawa then notices kiyoko standing nearby. he gives her a charming smile. "take good care of y/n-chan for me, okay? she gets cranky when she doesn't have snacks."

you slap his shoulder lightly, and oikawa pouts again.

kiyoko blinks at him, completely unfazed by his charm. "ill make sure she's fine." she says simply.

iwaizumi eventually walks over and grabs oikawa by the back of his jersey, dragging him away like a misbehaving puppy. "stop bothering them, trashykawa. we have to clean the floors and you have to apologise to the coach for being a distraction."

"WAIT! Y/N! text me when you get home! i want to hear all about how much you missed my setting!" oikawa yells as he's hauled away, feet dragging on the gym floor.

you just sigh, turning back to see the entire karasuno team staring at you in a mix of horror, awe, and deep suspicion.

"so," sugawara says, breaking the silence with a gentle, slightly concerned smile. "aoba johsai's captain, huh? you certainly have a.. unique type."

"i know," you mutter, picking up the ball bag. "im working on it."

"she's not," kageyama mutters. "she has a picture of him wearing glasses and posing as her lock screen, and she has him named as 'oikiwi' in her messages. it's pathetic."

"tobio, i will bench you for the entire season-!"

"you can't do that, you're just a mana- OKAY IM SORRY-"

ah oikawa ur such a silly guy ilysm just dont flirt with yo fan girls pls 🙏 to be called my girl by oikawa 🤤 jk being called love by akaashi is better

tags (form open): @leosxrealm @irethepotato @lithiumval @dreamayy @wanderless-musings @n-o-b-o-d-y123 @tc-selmarillian

© akaashiit

[offt0wonderland]

₊˚⊹♡

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

⁠♡ fem!reader x haikyuu!! boys

𝜗ৎ: during a late-night stroll, you had somehow found yourself in a whole new world… or more precisely, Nekoma's gym… during their annual training camp. yikes.

🎧ྀི: Karasuno, Nekoma, Aoba Johsai, Fukurodani Academy

part 1: a whole new world, part 2: a whole new world, part 3: a whole new world, part 4: a whole new world

(y/f/n = your friend's name)

Buzz.

You groaned at the vibration, ignoring the constant pleas coming from your phone. It was annoying, really. The tremors that pulsated your body each time your device took another message. It was supposed to be a day where you could sleep in, a known school holiday: but it appeared your friends had other plans. 

“y/f/n, why do you always text so early?” You mumbled, swiping away the loose strands of hair that covered the corners of your eyes. 

Technically, it should’ve been clear by now — that where you were was, in fact, not your room. But the darkness that enveloped you was misleading. Even with the soft glow of your mobile, flashing in quick batches, it wasn’t enough to showcase the piles of games in the corner; nor was it enough to display the shadow of the tall captain leaned against the doorframe. 

Your eyes narrowed, the rounds of your pupils constricting as you were met with the brightness of your screen. Yet, what you saw didn't quite line up with what you had imagined. Instead of y/f/n texting, it was a pile of unknown numbers. The dialing code was something you hadn’t seen before. At least, not as a text. 

And that’s when it hit; the flood of last night’s events. You could practically feel your body grow cold, the sensation of something sour creeping towards your throat. Oh God, it wasn’t a dream. Everything that had happened was most certainly not a fluke. You were here… in Kenma’s house… wearing Kuroo’s clothes. 

“You’re up.” Your neck craned to the right, observing as Kuroo’s teeth connected with an apple. “Did I wake you?”

Did he wake you? Oh this was infuriating, it was like this was a normal day for everyone except you. “No.” 

Yeah, you really needed to work on your conversation skills. 

“Quick question,” Kuroo moved forwards. “Do you have school… or do you even go to school?” 

Uh, how could you answer that question? Of course you went to school. Just not… here — wherever here was. Besides, it was a national holiday, so sitting through endless hours of studious lectures was the last thing on your mind. 

You peered to your side, eyeing the neatly made bed that Kenma used to occupy. It seemed the boy had gone already, the black bag under the desk now missing. “Is it not a holiday?”

“Holiday?” Kuroo knitted his brows together, glancing down at the calendar on his phone as if he missed some sort of nationwide announcement. “No?” 

Well, shit. Now you had no excuse. There was no clever deflection, no convenient lie that didn’t immediately unravel the second he asked that question. Anything you said would just sound completely insane: Your school was in a different world? Different country? (Who fucking knew at this point). The only thing you could think to say was that you dropped out. Except, with how disoriented you’d been last night, Kuroo would probably see straight through that anyway.

“It’s, uh,” your fingers prodded at the wood floor, endless streams of fibs circling your brain in hopes something would come afloat. “Transfer stuff.”

“Transfer stuff?” 

Technically, it wasn’t a full fabrication. You were transferred to this world. All you did was leave out the tiny, salient, context. “I’m between schools. They’re working on my paperwork, so just sort of in this limbo.” 

“What school?” Your eyes briefly widened at Kuroo’s follow-up query. Could he maybe not pry right now? 

Fuck. You were so fucked. You didn’t know a single name of a school around here. “You wouldn’t know it. It’s a tiny private school… Definitely not sports focused.” 

He dragged his tongue along his lower lip, his lids half-closed as if he went into a surge of thought. But he was quick to replace the expression, shrugging his shoulders and focusing his attention back to the apple he somewhat neglected. “I’ve got a chem test first period,” he noted. “But I can email my teacher and say I’m not feeling well.”

You tilted your head, confused at how the captain just spoke so absentmindedly about an exam: A test he was willing to skip. Sure, it was a kind gesture… but was he out of his mind? “Please don’t do that,” your hands moved out in front, waving frantically to disrupt that idea from digging deeper into the grooves of his brain. “I’ll be fine, seriously.” 

His canine gripped the inside of his mouth, gnawing at the skin as he went back into his usual ponder. He wasn’t exactly sure if you were being truthful; it was hard to read you. But either way, you were right. If he missed an exam, he’d be screwed. And as much as he wanted to pretend school didn’t matter, he wasn’t reckless enough to tank his grades — not with college on the horizon, not with the team relying on him to keep everything balanced.

“Okay. Well," Kuroo nodded in the direction of the desk. “There’s some money on the counter. For food or whatever.” 

Money? Did Kenma and Kuroo scrounge up their earned bills to give to you? No, that didn’t sound right. There was no way in hell you were warranted a hand-out like that. If anything, they deserved to be the ones paid for their hospitality. 

But you had to admit, you had nothing. Without it, the only thing you’d be able to rely on was whatever sat in Kenma’s fridge. And even that felt wrong. Taking food from a family you barely knew, from people who had already given you more than they had to, made something uneasy coil in your stomach.

Yet, that matter practically became trivial once Kuroo opened his mouth again. “Oh, Kenma went through your phone this morning.” Your eyes practically bulged at that sudden confession. “Everything’s still wiped. He isn’t exactly sure why.” Frankly, the verification of an empty cell didn’t quite help the situation at hand; so what if your content was wiped clean? That was beyond unbelievable — And if anything was there… Hell, just that thought alone made you want to hide under the blankets. “So, if you need to stay another night, that’s fine. Kenma doesn’t mind.”

Stay another night? Yeah, you were absolutely not doing that. In fact, your main focus for today was to figure out how you ended up in this web; to figure out the place that so oddly surrounded you. “It’s okay. I think I can find my way back home today.” 

“Do you know which direction you’d take? What line you’d get off on?” He asked.

You couldn’t help but hesitate; your shoulders hung low and your mouth tilted downwards “No… I guess not.”

Kuroo went quiet for a second. His previous smug grin shadowed by a crease in between his eyebrows. You could tell he was deep in thought, his mind running through an array of predictions. “Look, you don’t have a fully working phone and this station’s not exactly beginner-friendly. You’re bound to miss a transfer. End up somewhere far more inconvenient, like four hours away.” The boy adjusted the strap of his bag. “How about you wait until we’re done with practice? I’ll show you which line to take.”

What he said made sense; it was practical. You were still lost — no idea what station this was, what line ran through it, or how far you were from anything familiar. Hell, you don’t even know how the fuck to use the train in general. So, even if you tried to piece it together on your own, you’d probably end up somewhere bigger: The kind of place where you most definitely wouldn’t be able to act confused. “Fine.”

“Cool. Well, in the meantime, there’s a shopping street straight down and to the left. Anything you need, you’ll find it there.” Kuroo rolled his shoulders, the white button-down unclasped at the top. 

And you couldn’t lie, Kuroo looked good. You practically had to rip your gaze from his body, ignoring the grey sweater vest he had thrown over. God, did all the schools have such attractive uniforms? “Got it.” 

He huffed in acknowledgment before he turned on his heels. The strap of his bag pulled on his shoulder, the zipper half opened as if he preferred accessibility over protection. It was different from Kenma’s; a small ramen bowl keychain clasped to the front zipper. Besides, it seemed as though his backpack was geared more towards fitting his volleyball shoes than actual textbooks. 

Kuroo weasled his neck to the left, calling out over his shoulder. “If you need anything, just text me.” 

And that was it. Kuroo had officially departed from Kenma’s. You slowly sank back onto the floor, palms pressing against the cool wood as you stared into the open hallway beyond the bedroom. The space felt longer now, wider, like it stretched somewhere you weren’t supposed to follow. You weren’t exactly sure why you were so fixated on the open space — well, maybe it was the thought that Kenma’s parents could step out at any moment. 

Oh God, you most definitely did not want to run into them right now. Not when you barely had a believable explanation for their son’s friend. Not when you didn’t even have a solid story for yourself.

What would you even say to them? Hi, sorry for dropping by, but I can’t find my family and needed somewhere to stay. Hope that was okay!

You grimaced at that thought; and all it did was signify how much of an uninvited guest you were. I mean sure, it wasn’t a hostile environment. But it didn’t feel congenial, either. That meant, the best course of action was to leave before anyone saw. You could get some food, browse the area, and potentially hopefully run into someone familiar. 

Or, at least figure out where the fuck you were. 

You tossed Kuroo’s clothes aside, slipping on the outfit you originally showed up with. And, for a split second, you debated whether or not to utilize their offering. The weight of the money sitting heavy in your palm; yet once your stomach bubbled with hunger, you couldn’t help but adroitly shove it into the base of your leg warmers. I mean, c’mon, it wasn’t like you had to ask for their help — they were full willing participants. 

However, taking wasn’t exactly the issue. In fact, it was the least of your concerns, because the only thing that mattered was how in the hell were you going to cut across the apartment without Kenma’s parents sighting you. For fuck’s sake, one wrong creak of a floorboard and Kenma’s parents would probably materialize out of thin air — polite, confused, asking questions you absolutely did not have answers to.

So, naturally, you made the most mature decision possible: You dropped to your hands and knees… like an idiot. You crawled across the floor, wincing at every microscopic shift of wood beneath you, pausing every few seconds to listen to any stir of movement. And once you reached the door, painstakingly inching it open until you could squeeze through, were you finally able to breathe. 

Great, now you just had to go straight and to the left… easy enough.

Besides, it was a nice day out: The sun spilled between buildings, chatter floated lazily through the air. You watched as kids, in all sorts of different uniforms, trudged along the same path they always did. Some of them were in groups, others kept close to their notebooks. It was the same scene you’ve consistently observed at your old school — only, this was accompanied with school attire, which you weren’t all that familiar with. 

But before you even knew it, you came upon a small stand. It wasn’t flashy by any means — just a narrow little space wedged between a craft store and a slim flower shop, barely wider than a vending machine. A sun-faded curtain hung over the open side, its fabric accompanied by characters spelling out Onigiri.

And it smelt… amazing. Perhaps, that was the reason why your feet had guided you to this corner. Either way, it would be stupid of you to pass up the opportunity. I mean, not only did it look delicious, but the price was undeniably inexpensive too. There’d be a nice cushion of cash left to return to Kenma and Kuroo. 

“Salmon, please.” The older lady nodded, accepting your cash and trading your now empty palm with a triangle of rice. 

Not once did you hold back, diving into the onigiri like it was your lifeline. As if no matter how many bites you took, it was never enough. It was a reasonable sensation, though; after last night? You deserved a nice warm breakfast. Besides, you had skipped dinner. 

Hell, you were so engulfed in the rice that you didn’t realize someone had dropped in from behind, their head lowered to sit right above your left shoulder. “Oh yeah! Great choice!”

You practically dropped the last bit of food on the ground, your body impulsively jumping a few inches forward. Did he really need to shout? He was right fucking next to you. You swiveled your body around; your eyes now gazed upon a tall boy. He wore a blue striped tie, a grey blazer draped over his button-up. But what really stood out was his hair; the roots a raven black with streaks of silver coated over the tips. The style resembled electrocution, his hair practically defying gravity with how pointed it was. 

Well, he was most definitely keeping the hairspray industry in business. 

“I usually go for the Umeboshi,” he ran his fingers upwards, combing his hair even further towards the sun. “But salmon is good too.” 

You raised a brow. “Thanks,” I mean, what the fuck else were you supposed to say? “I’ll, uh, get that next time.” 

He grinned at that response, his broad shoulders pushed back. And you meant to turn away, to say a quick goodbye in order to escape the uncomfortable interjection. But then your eyes met a familiar keychain on the side of his backpack: a small ramen bowl. Honestly, it looked alike to the one on Kuroo’s bag — possibly bought from the same store by chance? No, that would be too much of a coincidence. Besides, the volleyball pin on his strap was a dead giveaway. “Do you know Kuroo?” 

The boy's eyes virtually shined. “Yes — do you?!” He lowered his head, his nose almost touching yours. 

“Yeah, I stayed with him and Kenma yesterday.” 

It wasn’t long before the air left his body. It was like he just hit a 404 error, the idea of you sleeping with one of his friends a glitch in the system. “Stayed? Like slept there?” 

You nodded. “Yeah.” 

“Give me two seconds…” The boy whipped out his phone, the pads of his fingers dashing across the screen. He was most definitely entranced by something on his mobile; but you weren’t sure by what exactly. “Why are you out here and not at Nekoma?”

“Um, transfer student. Different school.” 

“What school—” You cut him off, the expected comment abruptly halted. 

“A tiny private one,” you tilted your head, your irises dancing across his uniform. “Why aren’t you in school?”

He placed his palms on his hips, his shoulders reeled back once again. “Akaashi and I are on a mission to find new shoes! Mine got busted.” The boy shifted his right arm, pointing his thumb to the center of his chest. “I’m Bokuto by the way!”

♡ The reason behind Bokuto's concentration ♡

♡ Responding to Karasuno's groupchat ♡

♡ Responding to Kenma and Kuroo ♡

₊˚⊹♡

author's note: kind of spoiling the next chapter in these text messages but whatever. Also, not kuroo and kenma getting (potentially?) jealous lmao. I know the pacing is slower, but I was hoping of doing a slow burn with some tension... that way when you finally get with a character it's like intense (y'know what I mean?) - or should I not do that?

♡ tags: @dreamlessnight , @fanboilingwriter, @mo072806, @rinizitos

[offt0wonderland]

₊˚⊹♡

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

⁠♡ fem!reader x haikyuu!! boys

𝜗ৎ: during a late-night stroll, you had somehow found yourself in a whole new world… or more precisely, Nekoma's gym… during their annual training camp. yikes.

🎧ྀི: Karasuno, Nekoma, and Aoba Johsai

part 5: a whole new world

(bold = shouting)

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Technically, you were comfortable: The borrowed clothes were soft, the makeshift bed warm, even the inundated darkness gave you space to breathe without the weight of inquisitive stares. But still, comfort didn’t quite mean belonging.

So, even with Kuroo’s shirt wrapped around you like a purloin hug, it felt wrong — tainting your dignity, hanging loose in places it never would on him. And each small shift only emphasized it further, a constant reminder that this wasn’t your pillow, this wasn't your blanket, and this wasn't your room.

You instinctively shifted to the right, observing as Kuroo’s head tipped back against the headrest, messy hair falling into his eyes, long legs stretched out awkwardly beneath the desk. Even his arms hung loose at his sides, as if he’d innately given up on finding anything remotely resembling repose. Truthfully, he looked… uncomfortable. And you couldn’t help but let guilt twinge in your stomach for allowing him to volunteer for such an intolerable slumber. I mean, c’mon, a chair like that couldn’t have been meant for someone his height. 

The ends of your fingers dipped the blanket low, your torso now in an upright position to take a small glance over at Kenma: He was curled in on himself, hands clasped together like he was caught between a deep prayer and an intense dream. His hair spilled across his forehead, and a faint line of drool traced the corner of his mouth.

God. Even asleep, they were complete opposites. 

You couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at that avowal, allowing the blanket to fall back into place as you carefully settled onto your side again. And for a moment, the room returned to its original consolation; Kuroo’s soft snores, the low hum of electronics stubbornly clinging to sleep mode.

But there was something else: A faint whisper of movement beyond the door.

Your heart rate quickened instantly, the thought of Kenma’s parents suddenly barging in becoming far too plausible as the soft tapping drew closer. You shut your eyes instinctively, willing yourself into stillness. Maybe if you looked deep asleep, they wouldn’t bother to bombard you with queries. Maybe they’d close the door and leave you alone.

Except your eyes didn’t stay glued for long. The tips of your lashes fluttered open, focusing in on the thin sliver of light beneath the door. You scrunched your nose, narrowing your gaze onto two small shapes that somehow bobbed into view.

Were those… paws?

The small toe beans hovered underneath, uncertain, before retreating. And all that remained was a quiet, questioning meow. You glanced toward the two boys flanking you: Kuroo’s posture hadn’t changed, still folded awkwardly into the chair. Kenma remained curled tight in bed, breathing slow and steady — they were both still fast asleep. 

Good. 

Carefully, you pushed forward, the blanket slipping off your shoulders as you crawled toward the door. Every movement was done with caution, every breath that slipped your lips done with an attentiveness. For fuck’s sake, even when your hand gripped the handle, you paused at every soft squeak, checking behind you each time to ensure neither of them stirred. You almost felt like a fugitive; one wrong movement and Kuroo and Kenma would most definitely be in panic mode. 

But you weren't trying to escape — so why were you so nervous?

You pushed down that thought, body sliding behind the small crack you had managed to conjure with the door. And before you knew it, you were met with the cutest little creature you had seen all night.

Orange stripes patterned its body, nose a soft shade of pink, eyes narrowed into what could only be described as the most judgmental expression imaginable. Your chest tightened immediately. You had to physically stop yourself from scooping him up on the spot. “Missing Kenma?” You whispered.

The cat responded with a meow, circling once before strutting toward the couch. He paused at the cushions, glancing back at you like he was checking for your attendance. You followed without hesitation, knees scraping softly against the wooden floor as you hurried after him, one hand gripping the waistband of your shorts to keep them from slipping.

It was odd, neither Kenma nor Kuroo had mentioned a cat. Not once. “Y’know,” you murmured, “I have a cat back home too.” The cat didn’t react, just lazily flicked his tail; but you kept going anyway. “His name’s Binx. He’s… kind of a menace. But he’s a sweetheart.”

Your fingers stilled against the warm fur in your lap, the words hanging there longer than you expected them to. And then came the uninvited images: Binx perched on your bed, whining as he waited for you to come through the door like you always did. “I don’t think he likes it when I’m gone too long… Binx, I mean.” 

Your voice wavered, the all too familiar knot being tied up in your chest again. It was heartbreaking. All you could do is imagine his reactions, his poor cries as he’s left with a hollow room. Yet here you were, warm and cozy while a brand new cat took Binx’s original home with such ease. 

The guilt rushed back; the notion of you throwing up becoming more prevalent as the minutes ticked by. Sure, it was hard enough imagining your family in panic over your disappearance — but your cat? You didn’t even know if he’d understand the reasoning of your absence. Or if he’d just assume you’d left him behind… abandoned and forgotten.

You dragged in a shaky breath, pressing the back of your head lightly against the couch cushion to ease your intrusive thoughts. The cat, however, seemed completely unbothered by your quiet unraveling. His body settled more comfortably in your lap, purring like it was the most natural place to be. And, for a fleeting shameful moment, you almost wanted to shove him off. Because all it felt like was betrayal. Utter perfidy.

“I didn’t even get to say goodbye,” you whispered. “I was supposed to come back.” 

And suddenly, the warmth of the animal wasn’t enough anymore. This poor creature couldn’t shield you from your incessant fears — I mean, who knew if you were ever getting back home? If you would ever see a familiar face?

Your mind ran circles, too fast to catch up with. Honestly, it was draining. Your eyes began to droop, your bottom lip parted slightly as your body weighed heavy from the fervent trepidation. And before you knew it, you had drifted off, your fingers lazily falling back onto the furry pet. 

But while you slipped into your first real moment of peace, Kuroo and Kenma fell into a frenzy.

Kuroo didn’t mean to wake up. He tried his very best to stay content on the chair Kenma graciously allowed him to lay on, but the growing ache became harder to ignore. He grunted at the flared pain; his hand connected to the base of his neck as he shifted left. Frankly, the poor guy was regretting his poor choice of slumber. “Fucking chair.” he muttered, rolling his shoulders once before glancing down toward the floor.

That was when he noticed it: The empty space, the blanket tossed askew, and you... missing.

That woke him up faster than any game ever could. Kuroo ignored the sharp protests of stiff joints, grabbing the nearest figurine and lobbing it onto the bed. Kenma just let out an annoyed grunt as it bounced harmlessly off him. “She’s gone.” Kuroo said.

Kenma shot upright, hair sticking out at impossible angles. He scrubbed a hand across his mouth, wiping away the crusted trail of spit. “Huh?” Then he looked, observing the same empty space; the same discarded blanket.

Neither of them said another word after that. They were on their feet instantly, moving in sync as they rushed into the hallway. Poor Kuroo and Kenma had thought the worst; that you had somehow wandered off without your phone or your clothes. 

Wow, did they really think that little of you? 

But it wasn’t long until they were stopped cold, their eyes now locked onto you. Your torso was leaned back, legs crossed, your breaths slow and even while the cat curled deeper into your lap. For the first time since they’d seen you, you looked… unperturbed. 

Kuroo’s gaze, unadmitted, lingered longer than it should have, trailing over the way his clothes swallowed you whole. He hated to acknowledge it, but he liked the contrast. Liked how much bigger his clothes looked against your frame. It was a brief, harmless thought. Still, heat crept up his cheeks before he could stop it.

Fuck. He needed to get a grip. I mean, you were probably leaving tomorrow. By dawn, your phone would be lighting up with missed calls. He was sure there'd be panicked voicemails, desperate pleas from your parents begging you to come home. 

At least, that’s what he thought.

Kenma’s view of things was a bit different than his friend Kuroo’s, though. His first reaction wasn’t to linger on the way the clothes hung off you, or how your shoulder dipped out from underneath the fabric to display a little more skin than necessary. 

Kenma’s eyes instead went to the details that didn’t quite present themselves. He was drawn to your hands, the way they curled loosely in the cat’s fur like you were afraid the creature’s safety net would disappear if you let go. Even your shoulder stayed sunken, a clear sign that, even in rest, your body was prepped to wake itself up if it went too deep. 

Besides, he couldn’t stop watching as Mochi padded light biscuits into your thigh. That little traitor didn’t do that for just anyone.

“Should we wake her?” Kuroo whispered. 

Kenma shrugged, a little unsure of what to do at this moment. “She looks… fine sleeping out here.” 

Kuroo agreed in a huff, but the uncertainty didn’t ease. You weren’t an open book: Quite frankly, you were far from it. Your thoughts stayed tucked away, guarded just as carefully as theirs did. And because of that, he couldn’t be sure which option you’d actually want. So he did what he always did when instinct failed him: he overthought it. Pros and cons lined up in his head, every reaction you’d had so far mentally cataloged, rearranged like building blocks as he tried to piece together something resembling a pattern.

If you stayed out here, you were bound to run into Kenma’s parents eventually. That conversation would be abrupt at best— waking slowly from sleep, his shirt hanging loose on you, everyone fumbling for the right words. Kenma’s parents were chill, sure. But you? You’d probably be terrified.

But if he picked you up, if he moved you, there was the risk that you wouldn’t be able fall back asleep. Or worse, that you’d wake up and go back to your 'original' plan of leaving.

“What are you thinking?” Kenma butted in. 

“I’m going to pick her up.” 

Kenma practically jumped at the statement. His lips tugged downward, brows knitting together like Kuroo had just said the most outlandish thing possible. But Kuroo had already made up his mind. You didn’t strike him as someone who’d want to wake up to unfamiliar adults hovering over you. Not after everything.

“Fine. Just don’t wake her.” Kenma said finally.

Kuroo moved slowly, his body now postured into a tight crouch as he reached for the cat that was so contentedly curled in your lap. The creature barely stirred as he slid a hand beneath its chest, lifting it just enough to transfer the weight to the couch behind you. Mochi, however, was quick to give him an unimpressed look after that action, turning his back to the boy who had just inconceivably moved him from your warmth. 

“Don’t,” Kuroo muttered under his breath. “Don’t look at me like that.” He couldn’t help it; the poor volleyball player felt judged by the small being in front of him. Sure, he wasn’t doing anything out of the ordinary, but it was about the principle.

Kuroo shook the thought from his head, hesitating for just a second before he slid one arm beneath your shoulders. His free forearm weaved between your crossed legs, securing itself just right underneath your knees. You stirred slightly at the sudden touch, and Kuroo could’ve sworn Kenma could hear the pounding of his heart from across the room.

But once it became clear you didn’t wake, he finally let out a quiet sigh of relief… however, what did move was your clothing.

Kuroo froze.

The waistband of your shorts slipped dangerously low, fabric threatening to betray both of you in the worst possible way. He reacted on pure reflex, tightening his grip and awkwardly hitching his wrist to keep them in place. “Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me.” He breathed.

From behind him came a very pointed, very awake Kenma. “Kuroo.” 

“Don’t,” Kuroo hissed, adjusting his hold as innocently as possible. “Do not say anything.”

Kenma’s eyes flicked once, observing the precarious situation his friend had found himself in. “I wasn’t going to.”

“Good,” Kuroo muttered. “Because you’re never mentioning this. Ever.”

“Again, I wasn’t going to.”

Kuroo shifted his grasp once more, finally managing to secure both you and your traitorous shorts before trudging back towards the bedroom. Each step was slow, like one wrong move might wake you — or, more precisely, ruin him socially forever.

And once he laid you down, easing you back onto the blanket without incident, he straightened with a long, silent exhale. He glanced at Kenma, dead serious. “If this ever comes up, I will deny everything.”

But who was he kidding? He knew he wouldn’t be able to stop the heat from creeping up his neck if Kenma ever brought it up. Not because he’d meant to look, he hadn’t, but because his eyes had caught, briefly and unintentionally, on the waistband of your underwear.

And unfortunately, that was one image he didn’t think his brain would be letting go of anytime soon.

♡ meanwhile... as you're asleep ♡

Kenma:

Hinata:

₊˚⊹♡

author's note: first time doing fake text messages and that was so fun. also, sorry that it's shorter than the last post...my brain has not been braining. might also change things idk if I like this. (do you guys think naming his cat Mochi works for his character?)

♡ tags: @dreamlessnight , @fanboilingwriter

[offt0wonderland]

₊˚⊹♡

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

⁠♡ fem!reader x haikyuu!! boys

𝜗ৎ: during a late-night stroll, you had somehow found yourself in a whole new world… or more precisely, Nekoma's gym… during their annual training camp. yikes.

🎧ྀི: Karasuno, Nekoma, and Aoba Johsai

part 4: a whole new world

(bold = shouting)

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

A fun little sleepover?

What in the hell was going to be fun about being stuck in a house with two random strangers? You were lost, alone, and completely disoriented. There was no room in your vocabulary for that word — that heinous term that seemed to roll off the captain’s tongue so effortlessly. 

Besides, you couldn’t understand why Daichi didn’t just have you accompany him to his own residence. He was the only one soft spoken, the only one careful with his words. I mean, not once did he exhibit such absentminded behavior. Daichi was kind; and you knew, for lack of better words, you’d feel safe in a room with him.  

Kenma and Kuroo, though? You had no idea how that ordeal would play out. For fuck’s sake they barely had even spoke to you, let alone stand near you. Their intentions were unreadable; a little too neutral, actually. At least with the loud ones their objective was clear. 

“Is that okay with you?” Daichi’s voice pulled you out of your spiral, your gaze snapping away from the tall boy you hadn’t realized you were staring at.

You should have said no. Hell, you didn’t know them and they didn’t know you. This whole situation was completely insane. But you had always been a people pleaser; something your sister had tried, and failed, to beat out of you. So, you nodded automatically. 

“Alright, then that’s settled,” Daichi said, rubbing the back of his neck once again as if it was some sort of nervous habit. “Kuroo, try calling her parents again in the morning.” 

“Aye aye, captain.” Kuroo replied.

Oikawa scoffed, stepping forward and throwing an arm out like he was calling a foul. “Hold on. This is completely unfair.” The boy practically shot Kuroo a glare. “I said I have an extra futon. How does Kenma get first dibs?”

“Oikawa,” Daichi said flatly, “that question is the exact reason you’re second choice.”

“Oh, come on,” Oikawa protested. “I’m not going to climb into bed with the poor girl—” He stopped his thought abruptly, his eyes now glinting with some sort of light. “Unless you needed me to?” 

Iwaizumi surged from the doors before Oikawa could say anything else, fist snagging the back of his teammate's jersey and yanking him toward the entrance. “I swear,” he growled, dragging him along, “one of these days I’m just going to let you get hit, Shittykawa.”

“Drop the nickname, Iwaizumi!” Oikawa shouted.

And, crazily enough, despite everything, a quiet breath of laughter slipped past your lips. Their dynamic was oddly comforting — friendship built on equal parts respect and irritation, sharp words masking a solid companionship underneath. It was strangely familiar, in a way you hadn’t quite anticipated. 

But that moment didn’t last long. Your attention harshly drifted back to the thought that refused to loosen its grip: Tonight you were to stay with the Nekoma boys. 

Oh God… what would your mom say to this? 

“Sorry about him,” Daichi muttered. “Not everyday a girl needs to stay at one of our houses, haha.”

You could tell the poor captain was trying to lighten the mood, create some sort of escape from your endless thoughts of negativity. “It’s fine.” 

And really, it was. Which is why when Daichi asked if you wanted to head back inside, you shook your head without hesitation. The gym felt too loud, too full of eyes and questions. Out here was easier. You were fully content on staying in the dark, back against the buzzing vending machine. 

But Kuroo seemed unsure. So, every once in a while, the doors would crack, the muffled thud of volleyballs bleeding louder into the courtyard as he stared. He didn’t say anything right away — just leaned against the doorframe, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes flicking over you to ensure that you were still there.

Eventually he worked up the courage, like he’d been weighing whether his voice might startle you, or worse, make you disappear altogether. “You doing okay?” 

You nodded. 

“Cool. We’re almost done.” And then he vanished. You counted the minutes without meaning to, eyes flicking toward the gym doors every time they creaked or swung open. It seemed as though you were waiting for him to appear; but, for some reason, you were met with someone new. 

Kenma didn’t linger in the doorway like Kuroo, he just stepped out, phone in hand, thumb hovering uselessly over the screen. “They’re wrapping up,” he said. “I’d say ten minutes. Possibly less.” 

“Okay.” He nodded once to your answer, like that was all the information exchange required, and retreated back inside without another word.

And you couldn’t lie — the closer the clock hand crept toward eleven, the more your palms dampened against your sleeves. You had no idea what had been said inside. No idea what conclusions had been drawn, what theories passed between teammates when you weren’t there to hear them.

But mostly, you were embarrassed.

I mean, how were you supposed to look Kenma’s parents in the eye? What did they know already? Did they think you were some runaway? A problem dropped at their doorstep because you couldn’t keep your life together?

The knot in your chest tightened again, your chin dipping as you wiggled your fingers together. It was a small gesture, but it was something to ground yourself, something to keep yourself from spiraling. Yet frankly, you didn’t have much time to dwell on the consternation anyway, because soon the gym doors burst open. Familiar voices spilled into the night; laughter crowded the once quiet walkway. Even their jersey colors were a distraction; the hues blurring together as they passed by. 

“Y/n!” Your eyes flickered up, observing as the small redhead evaded Kageyama’s grasp and headed your way. “Have you heard of the Spring High Preliminaries?” 

You shook your head. “No, I haven’t.” 

Of course you hadn’t — what kind of question was that? 

“You should come watch!” the boy grinned, pride clear in his voice as if inviting you to cheer for them was an honor in itself. Truthfully, it was… unexpectedly sweet.

Apparently, Kageyama didn’t agree. “Hinata, you dumbass,” he snapped, shooting him a glare. “Can you read the room?”

“I can read the room just fine!” Hinata shot back.

You couldn’t help it — you laughed. God, they were ridiculous. Somehow even worse than Oikawa and Iwaizumi, which felt like an achievement. But Hinata, unfortunately, took your laughter for tears. The poor boy practically panicked, his shouts now ranging from ‘nevermind’ to ‘I wasn’t trying to make things worse’. 

At this point, most everyone was staring: Black jerseys erupted all at once, voices overlapping as half the team scolded Hinata for his horrible timing and complete lack of awareness. “I’m fine!” you finally managed, laughter still bubbling up. “You guys are just… hilarious.”

That statement practically killed Hinata with relief. His wide-eyed panic melted instantly, replaced by a spark of pride. “I’m so happy I’m funny.” he breathed, hands clenched into little fists at his sides like he’d just won something monumental.

“You’re not,” Kageyama deadpanned. “She laughed at us.”

Hinata gasped. “That still counts!”

A snort slipped from Tanaka. “Kid’s got a point.”

Kuroo chuckled, shaking his head as he slung his bag over his shoulder. “See? Emotional crisis averted. Miracles really do happen.”

Kenma glanced up from his phone, eyes flicking briefly to you before dropping back to the screen. “Statistically speaking, it was bound to happen eventually.”

Hinata didn’t care about the logistics though, your sign of laughter practically made him beam like he’d just been knighted. Oikawa, though, was prepped for this sort of scenario. “Technically, I made her laugh first.”

“Didn’t see it, so it doesn't count.” Hinata said. 

Oikawa only looked away, his arms crossed at how ridiculous the younger boy’s response was. “I don’t need witnesses to my appeal.” 

Hinata’s pursed his lips. “Yes, you do!”

“Iwaizumi, back me up here!” Oikawa called, spreading his arms like a victim of injustice. Um, isn’t that literally a witness, Oikawa?

Iwaizumi groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Honestly, I’m embarrassed for both of you. Just… stop whatever this is.”

Tanaka coughed. “Well, I can see who’s gonna be the drama queen on the court.”

Kageyama, meanwhile, muttered under his breath, “Only him… only he would act like this.”

Kenma, still standing quietly a few feet away, didn’t look up from his phone again. But the corner of his mouth twitched — just slightly. That was enough to let you know he’d clocked the whole ridiculous exchange.

Even Daichi let out chortle. “Alright, alright. Everyone just grab your stuff, clear out before the neighbors call security. We’re not explaining ourselves again.”

“I’d like to say that was Lev’s fault,” Nishinoya commented. “Which by the way, you’ve been a little too quiet — it’s kind of weird.”

Lev furrowed his brows, as if the answer he was about to speak was so obvious. “Well, last time I tried to speak to a pretty girl y’all told me to shut up.” He practically began to sweat after he realized what he just spouted. “I mean — sorry if that made you uncomfortable. Objectively, you’re very attractive.” 

“Shut up.” Tsukishima chimed. 

Lev quickly closed his mouth, a deep shade of red coating his cheeks after his sudden word vomit. But again, you just laughed. Really it was all you could do. You weren’t close enough with the team yet to fire back with playful insults; anything sharper might have landed wrong. So instead, you let the moment pass with a smile, easing the embarrassment without drawing more attention to it.

Kuroo slung his gym bag over his shoulder, his distance from the group growing just slightly to signal his desire to leave. “Ready?” 

Again, Kenma didn’t look up from his device, just absentmindedly lingered over to where you were sitting, waiting for the moment you decided to follow. And that caused a few curious glances. But it wasn’t until Kuroo fell into a step beside you and Kenma hovered just behind that someone said something. 

“Is she going with them?”

Kuroo didn’t even look back. “That is correct.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t get dibs.” Oikawa grumbled, earning yet another hit from Iwaizumi.

Still, it wasn’t long before you heard bickering growing from behind, most likely a string of insults being hurled at one another over the fact some of them didn’t get a say in who you stayed with. But Kuroo and Kenma paid no mind; their long strides steadied at a pace you could follow. 

Their bodies automatically locked side by side, their personalized struts prevalent under the streetlamps. And really, for the first time, you got to take a nice, good look at them. I mean, up until now, you’d been too distracted to notice anything more than a blur of black and blonde hair.

Kuroo was tall, his body toned from what you could see. Yet what really struck you was his posture; effortless and relaxed, as if he had never had an ounce of unease before. His black hair was stuck up in messy, sharp tufts, almost like he ran his fingers through it once and never bothered fixing it. 

Kenma, by contrast, was slightly shorter and leaner, though it was probably his hunched posture that made him seem even smaller than he was. His skin bordered along pale, his hair in uneven layers that framed his face in an intricate way. 

They seemed to be complete opposites, yet for some reason, they were inseparable. Perhaps it was volleyball that kept them so close… no, that didn’t seem right. You scrunched your nose, trying hard to find the little details that would showcase the foundation of their friendship, but Kuroo just clicked his tongue at you. 

“You tend to stare a lot,” Kuroo noted. “Any particular reason why?” 

You could feel the heat rush to your cheeks; completely mortified that you were just called out for your lack of spatial awareness. I mean, he wasn’t wrong. You did tend to stare a lot, but it wasn’t for any particular reason. “No.”

He hummed in response, shoulders slyly giving a shrug. “Kenma, you think your parents are asleep?”

“Probably.” Kenma’s response bordered along yours: blunt, short, and quite bleak if we’re being honest. 

“Well, guess we’ll see,” Kuroo abruptly stopped, and you barely had time to react before your body bumped straight into his back. A hand shot out behind him, gripping the fabric of your sweater to steady you. Damn, his back was solid… very solid. “Welcome to Kenma’s humble abode.” 

Kenma groaned from beside you as he unlocked the door to a small apartment complex. “Please stop acting like my home is yours to present.”

Kuroo lifted his hands in mock surrender, stepping aside and gesturing for you to go in first. The apartment was modest; just a tiny kitchen, a small couch, two rooms, and a single bathroom. But it felt lived-in. Even the entryway carried a soft vanilla scent, like a candle had been blown out not too long ago.

Yet the turning point was Kenma’s room: The sudden darkness was illuminated by the glow of multiple screens, each attached wire coiled in neat tangles. “Huh, I didn’t figure you gamed.” You said, blinking as your eyes adjusted.

Kenma sheepishly glanced down, placing his phone on the corner of his desk. “Sorry if it’s a bit cluttered.” 

You tilted your head; I mean, his room was anything but cluttered. Everything had its place — games stacked neatly, small figurines lined up along the shelves, the bed made with almost meticulous care. “You would hate to see my room.” You muttered.

“Ah, you aren’t rigid like Kenma?” You turned to Kuroo, who was leaning casually against the doorway, arms crossed and smirking.

Kenma shot him a look. “You don’t get to comment about my living conditions.”

The two of you chuckled at Kenma’s backlash to Kuroo's tease, but it wasn’t long before the room fell into an uncertain silence. To be fair, it was quite awkward. You were a stranger… a female stranger and for some reason, they were letting you sleep with them. 

They must be crazy.

Kenma was quick to shut down his monitor, the screens dimming until the room was lit only by the soft glow from the hallway. “You can put anything you need to over here,” Kenma said, gesturing toward the corner of the room. “It won’t be in the way.”

Kuroo stretched after Kenma’s brief hospitality, glancing between you and the bed before speaking. “Alright. Let’s get settled before everyone crashes.”

“I, um… I don’t really have anything to sleep in.” In reality, you’d planned to ignore the way the romper restricted you. You’d been fully prepared to endure numb legs and poor circulation if it meant avoiding the awkwardness of admitting you needed to borrow someone else’s clothes. Anything was better than drawing attention to yourself. But the tight fabric clung too much, the tights beneath it itching relentlessly against your skin. There was no way in hell you’d be able to relax, let alone sleep like this.

Kenma froze for half a second. “Oh. Right.”

But before the discomfort could deepen, Kuroo waved a hand. “That’s no problem. Kenma, you still have that drawer full of clothes I leave here, right?”

“Sadly.” Kenma replied.

Kuroo ignored his friend's comment and rummaged through the wooden dresser, tugging out an oversized shirt with a pair of loose athletic shorts. “Promise they’re clean.”

“Thanks.”

Kenma turned his back a little too quickly once you grabbed the outfit, focusing all his attention on pulling a folded blanket from the end of the bed. “Bathroom’s down the hall. You can take your time.”

You nodded, murmuring your gratitude for the leeway they so easily gave. But the moment the door shut behind you, the knot in your chest pulled tight all over again. The cramped space of the restroom only made your head spin, the walls suddenly too close. It was like being alone just gave your thoughts too much room to run — your family, their panic, the questions that must be piling up by now. You could only picture them calling your name into empty rooms, voices breaking, hands searching where you should have been.

And all you were left with was the hope that they were safe, too.

You tightened your jaw, ignoring the tears that threatened to spill as you threw on the clothes Kuroo handed you. Truthfully, they engulfed you. The shirt brushed past your thighs, and the shorts slipped low enough that you had to hold them up just to keep them from falling. And when Kuroo took one glance at your posture, he burst out laughing. “You look…” He wiped at his eyes, grin wide. “Comfy.”

You shot him a glare, heat creeping up your neck as you crossed the room, placing your old clothes in the corner Kenma had pointed out earlier.

Kenma didn’t laugh, though. He was solely focused on laying out a thick blanket on the floor beside the bed, a pillow placed neatly at the top like he’d planned it out in advance. But that didn’t stop him from taking at least one glance; it was brief, but you could swear the tips of his ears turned red. 

“I can just take the chair.” Your irises pivoted towards the seat.

“Nope,” Kuroo cut in immediately, already testing the weight of Kenma’s gaming chair. He leaned back until it clicked into place, long legs stretching out with a satisfied hum. “This thing reclines. I’m sold.”

Kenma stared at him. “That chair was expensive.”

“Key word: was. Besides, now it’s multifunctional,” Kuroo replied, kicking off his shoes and reaching for a spare blanket. “You should thank me.”

Kenma sighed but didn’t argue further. Instead, he closed the door, allowing the room to fall into complete darkness. You lowered yourself onto the blanket, the borrowed clothes still hanging loosely off your frame. 

“Let me know if you need anything.” Kenma said quietly, already settling onto his bed, careful not to face you directly.

Kuroo shifted in the chair, pulling the blanket up over himself. “Rules for the night,” he murmured. “No disappearing before morning.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” You replied. 

“Good, because I think your pants would fall off anyway before you took two steps,” Kuroo chuckled at his own joke. “Also, if I wake up sore, I’m definitely blaming both of you.”

₊˚⊹♡

author's note: idk why but I feel like Kuroo would definitely sore.

♡ tags: @dreamlessnight , @fanboilingwriter

[offt0wonderland]

₊˚⊹♡

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

⁠♡ fem!reader x haikyuu!! boys

𝜗ৎ: during a late-night stroll, you had somehow found yourself in a whole new world… or more precisely, Nekoma's gym… during their annual training camp. yikes.

🎧ྀི: Karasuno, Nekoma, and Aoba Johsai

part 3: a whole new world

(bold = shouting)

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You knew it was an idle situation. There would be no family member coming; hell, if you didn’t know where you were, they most certainly didn’t. And you were fucked. How would you even make it back to your own home if you didn’t know what street you were on? Or more accurately, what city you were in. 

So, all you could do was sit against the wall, legs pulled tight to your chest while you watched the boys play in front of you.

Thankfully, the gym had fallen back into its previous rhythm. Shoes squeaked in sharp bursts, hands clapped against the ball, voices rose and fell in familiar patterns. But it didn’t erase your presence. Every so often, a few of them would glance your way, eyes lingering a second too long before snapping back to the game. Their expressions varied: confusion, curiosity… intrigue. You could practically feel the questions forming behind their gazes. They wanted answers; that much was obvious.

The problem was, you didn’t have any. Nothing real, anyway. Just half-assed fabrications. Thin lies you could toss out if cornered, excuses meant to keep them at arm’s length and keep yourself from confronting the reality of it all. Because the truth was too weird, too confusing, and you didn’t even know where to begin without sounding like a lunatic. 

“I’m so sorry!”

There was a low grunt that followed that declaration, and you peered up just in time, watching as a tall first-year with raven hair glared daggers through the small redhead. “Maybe if you quit looking at her in the corner, you’ll hit the ball… dumbass.”

“I — I wasn’t staring, Kageyama!” Number ten rushed the words out, hands flying up in defense. Now that just made it worse. He had most definitely been staring at you.

“Can you blame him? I mean look at her.” Daichi retrieved the volleyball, his tight grip hurling it at Tanaka’s chest. “I mean… It is not okay to gawk at hot — uh, pretty girls, please forgive me.” His voice had suddenly softened, the bark of a spiker replaced by something more considerate.

And frankly, it felt like the commotion would never end. Even as the teams returned to their drills, your presence lingered: Your body pulled glances, your existence broke focus, your attendance turned routine plays into stuttered mistakes. It only reinforced what you already knew. You needed to leave.

You pressed your palms to the wall behind you, pushing yourself upright, steadying your legs as you stood. But the movement didn’t go unnoticed. Daichi glanced over, concern flickering across his features as he stepped off the court. “Hey, you need some water?” He offered a small, reassuring smile. “You’re not a bother, y’know. This practice isn’t as intense as it looks.”

And then it dawned on you. Where were the coaches? This practice wasn’t being supervised by any adult. It was run by the boys themselves, or more frankly, by the captains who spouted strings of odd orders. Honestly, an adult would’ve made this easier. Someone with authority. Someone who could drive you to a police station, or hell — hand you a map and point you in the right direction. Anything other than this strange limbo where you were stranded in a gym full of strangers who weren’t supposed to be responsible for you.

But it appeared that detection was written clear across your face. “Y’know,” A voice chimed in. “If you’re waiting for an adult to appear before your family arrives… you’re wasting your time.” You looked up to find the tall boy in aqua leaning against the post, arms crossed like this was all mildly entertaining. “Tonight is an unsupervised practice,” he continued. “No coaches. No teachers. Just a bunch of overworked captains pretending we know what we’re doing.” He smiled, thumb tapping against his chest. “Which I do, by the way.”

Iwaizumi smacked the back of his head without hesitation. “Again, ignore Oikawa.”

Oikawa hissed, swatting his hand away. “I’m just saying.”

“I’m surprised no one has connected the dots,” Tsukishima said. “Why don’t you just call someone… on your phone.” 

Mentally, you hit yourself. You couldn’t believe such a small, obvious detail had slipped right past you. So, with a sudden urgency, you snatched your phone from beneath your sweater and swiped it open in a heartbeat.

…Nothing.

No photos. No messages. No contacts. Just a blank screen staring back at you like it was mocking the panic building within you. Every trace of your existence was wiped clean. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Oh wow,” Oikawa drawled, a smirk tugging at his lips. “She curses.”

Iwaizumi didn’t even look at him when he swung an elbow into Oikawa’s ribs. “Stop.”

Oikawa barely flinched at the expected hit. “What? I’m just observing.”

“Is your phone broken?” Number five on the red team spoke up again, leaning forward as if he might be able to inspect it himself; like this was a mechanical problem he could fix with the right angle and a steady hand.

You didn’t want to admit it. I mean honestly, it sounded ridiculous. A random girl wanders into their gym, dressed wrong, lost, and no proof she even belonged here. It sounded less like an accident and more like a setup. “Uh… yeah,” you said finally, forcing a shrug. “It’s a goner.”

“Nice going, Noya.” Kageyama muttered. 

“Hey!” Nishinoya protested. “That’s not even remotely my fault!”

The same boy, still fixated on your phone like it was a puzzle he couldn’t solve, pulled his own iPhone from his pocket and held it out. “Use mine. You can call from it.”

Hesitantly, you obliged. You grabbed the phone, typing in the digits of your moms number. There were two short rings before it went dead. A small robotic tone following suit: The number you have dialed is not in service. 

You tried again. And again. You even tried your father’s, your sister’s, your friend’s cell — Anyone. But each call ended the same way: Unregistered, like they had never existed in the first place.

I mean, surely they didn’t hear that monotone voice. For all they knew, your parents could’ve just forgot to charge their phones. It was a small hiccup, something that didn’t seem like much to worry about. But when your eyes locked with Daichi’s, it was clear he was focused, as if he was piecing a puzzle together… and he didn’t quite like the outcome. 

“Alright,” he said, clapping his hands once. “We’re crowding her again. Also, we only have an hour left until we have to leave, so let’s keep practicing,” Daichi shifted his gaze over to the boy with silver hair. “Suga, can you take over for a bit?”

Suga nodded, ignoring the few groans that followed suit from Daichi’s declaration. Even Oikawa, who opened his mouth to say something, zipped his lips immediately once Suga shot him a look. 

The teams scattered once again; returning to their previous positions, voices slowly picking back up where they’d left off.

But even as the teams diverged, it didn’t quite erase the suspicion hanging thick in the air. Everyone had seen it by now. Fifteen calls and fifteen rejections. No matter how much you tried to play it off, they knew something was wrong.

And it was mortifying.

Your stomach twisted, bile creeping up your throat as the weight of it finally hit all at once. Oh God, you were going to throw up. Or cry. Or both. Reality came down hard, snapping the only thin piece of sanity you had left, uncovering the horrid realization you tried so diligently to ignore. 

You were utterly alone.

No one was coming for you: No family, no friends, no familiar street to stumble back onto. You didn’t even know where here was. You had nothing to your name: Just a plain clean slate you never asked for.

And despite that realization, you still heartbreakingly longed for your mom. Your chest ached for her voice, her words of wisdom that always seemed to ease your fears, even if it was just for a second. But that wasn’t going to happen. 

You were utterly alone, remember? 

Your vision blurred, tears threatening to spill from the corners of your eyes despite your determined effort to blink them back. But Daichi, as always, noticed immediately. “Hey, you wanna step outside?”

He didn’t wait for an answer; just angled his body slightly, creating a shield from the prying eyes. Yet somehow, that made it all the more worse. You could feel yourself sink deeper into panic, your once steady pulse now overshadowed by a rapid beat. You couldn’t breathe. 

No, you could. But your brain didn’t quite know that. 

You followed Daichi’s guided palm, the tips of your fingers latched tightly to the hem of your sweater as if that would miraculously make things easier. But even as the door creaked open, and the noise dulled, nothing could undo the tightening knot deep in your stomach. 

The captain stopped a few feet away, giving you space to take a deep breath. “What happened?” Daichi asked. “Did your parents answer?”

Frankly, you could tell he already knew what your reply would be, but you swallowed anyway, responding to his query in a quiet tone. “I called the right numbers, I swear.” 

“Hm,” Daichi sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Do you want to go to the police?” 

It was a reasonable idea. Sensible, even. But you couldn’t remember your social security number. Hell, you didn’t even have your license on you. Still, they could find you by name though… right? 

But there was that gnawing feeling, like somehow your identity had been erased too. Your record of birth was along the same lines as your contacts and family: gone. And if that were the case, involving the police would only land you somewhere colder. “No, I don’t need to do that.” 

“Okay, no police,” Daichi started. “But I can’t just leave you alone.” And then came the real question, the one that had been playing on your mind since you sat down. “Do you have anywhere you can go tonight?”

The query was simple, expected even. Yet it still made you contrite; because all it did was remind you of the absence of your home. Every nighttime routine, every cozy plushie was only a hazy memory at this point. You couldn’t laugh off this undeniably atrocious moment. You were stuck, facing a random stranger instead of curling under your sheets. And at this rate, you were bound to be sleeping on a hardwood floor that smelt of sweat and feet. 

You shook your head. “Not at the moment.”

Daichi nodded. “Alright. Then uh, we’ll figure something out.” He gestured back toward the gym, a small cue that he was going to head back into the cluster of bodies. 

And for the first time, you had room to just... be. There were no watchful irises, no badgering questions being thrown every which way. You even thought about running for it — Until you realized you’d still be lost… and in the dark. 

Except it wasn’t long before Daichi came back out, two other captains following behind. And then it struck you — were they all number one? 

“So, we’re in a bit of a situation,” Daichi started. “Are either of you able to let y/n stay at your house until she can contact someone?”

Oikawa was the first to open his mouth. “I got an extra futon in my room.” 

There was a snicker behind the door, one that sounded a little too familiar. “Yeah, no you don’t.” It was iwaizumi. Was he listening from inside?

“Actually, Kenma already asked his parents and they said it’s fine.” 

Daichi paused. “Kuroo, why did he already ask?” Yeah, Kuroo, how the hell did he already know? 

“Easy,” Kuroo said, holding up a hand when he caught the look on your face. “We tried dialing back through the recent call list and just got an automated voice. Seemed like you were out of luck, so Kenma was ahead of the curve,” Kuroo smiled. “As always.” You scrunched your nose, still unsure how you felt about any of this. It all sounded too casual for something that had just turned your world upside down. “Ah, don’t worry I’m staying at Kenma’s too. It’ll be like… a fun little sleepover.” 

₊˚⊹♡

a/n: sorry if this is rough, legit unsure which route I want this to go

[offt0wonderland]

₊˚⊹♡

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

⁠♡ fem!reader x haikyuu!! boys

𝜗ৎ: during a late-night stroll, you had somehow found yourself in a whole new world... or more precisely, Nekoma's gym... during their annual training camp. yikes.

🎧ྀི: Karasuno, Nekoma, and Aoba Johsai

part 2: a whole new world

(bold = shouting)

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You weren’t exactly sure how you got here. 

I mean, one minute ago you were lagging behind your family during a casual stroll through downtown, neon lights reflecting off wet pavement and chatter filling the night air. And the next, you were standing face-to-face with a concrete building washed in a muted beige hue. 

Sure, seeing a tall building wasn’t out of the norm, especially being in the center of a metroplex. But this… this felt off. There were no flashy advertisements plastered against the walls, no stained-glass windows revealing rows of glowing office desks. Just minimal decorations and cold metal railings, guiding foot traffic forward like they expected you to already know where you were going.

And then there were the people. You couldn’t quite grasp when it had happened, but everyone around you had shifted into the same uniform: Every boy had a black gakuran jacket on, their collars tucked high and their buttons glinting of rough gold. Even the girls had a similar style — only theirs came with a red ribbon. 

Your gaze dropped to yourself. And for a split second, you wished you’d worn literally anything else. Thin tights did little to shield your legs beneath the small black romper you’d thrown on earlier that evening. It felt painfully out of place here — too modern, too casual, too wrong. Well, at least you had leg warmers… and a sweater. Small wins. 

You lifted your gaze again, scanning the walkways beneath dim streetlamps, trying to spot a familiar face. If only you hadn’t taken that wrong turn into the alley. 

But your family was nowhere in sight; only five people remained within observation, clustered further down the path. And that should’ve been your first sign, the first warning bell that alarmed in your head. Yet you were hopeful, and you could’ve sworn you saw a familiar figure slip their way into a broken building to the right. 

So, you blindly followed. Ignoring the growing sounds of shoes squeaking against some sort of glistened hardwood floor. In fact, you even shielded out the guttural yells as your hand slipped between the double-doors. 

“One touch!” Someone shouted, sneakers screeching as they cut across the court.

Your mind couldn’t even keep up with what was displayed in front of you. How the hell did you find yourself here? “I got it!”

“Hands up, read number 10!” 

The ball cracked against waiting palms, echoing through the gym as voices overlapped — commands, praise, warnings — until it was impossible to tell who belonged to which team anymore. But worst of all, the person you had so blindly followed was in fact, not, a family member. So you now found yourself stuck in a gym full of sweaty, roughed up boys for absolutely no reason. 

Your eyes instinctively widened, palms slick with perspiration as the weight of it finally sank in. You wanted to leave. You needed to leave. And you were so close too, your heels dug deep into the wood to prepare for a quick spin and a swift exit — if it wasn’t for that fucking ball. 

“Hey! Watch out!” Before you could even process the warning, a smaller boy in light orange came barreling toward you, his fist slamming into the ball just inches from your face. The impact sent it flying back across the court. Yet that didn’t come without consequence: Sure, your nose was spared, but the boy’s momentum didn’t stop with the ball. He crashed into you instead, the two of you tumbling to the floor in a tangle of limbs and startled breath.

And for half a second, the gym went completely silent. Which, in itself, was quite nice. You hadn’t realized how frantic the noise had driven you. But it wasn’t long before someone’s voice echoed right through, bringing you back to reality. 

There was a boy… on top of you. 

“Nishinoya!”

“What is wrong with you?!”

The shouts were endless, constant badgering directed at the boy who had abruptly slammed you into the ground. It was humiliating enough without the commentary: This just made it worse. 

Weight continued to press against your chest, warm and solid, knocking the wind clean out of you. You barely had time to register the shock before the boy above you froze, irises wide, hands hovering like he wasn’t sure where they were allowed to be.

“Oh — oh no!” he yelped, scrambling back so fast he nearly slipped again. “I’m so sorry — are you okay? I didn’t mean to, the ball, you were—” He cut himself off, panic written all over his face as he finally really looked at you.

You weren’t a teammate, definitely not a manager, and very definitely a girl.

“Noya,” someone barked, already striding over. “What did you—” The voice stopped short.

You could feel it then; the shift. Eyes on you from every direction. Players lining the sidelines. Someone at the net craning their neck. Even the far court had slowed, attention drawn like a magnet.

“Who is that?” Someone muttered.

Nishinoya swallowed, offering you a hand with the urgency of someone trying to undo a crime. “Here — sorry… again. I swear I wasn’t aiming for you!”

You obliged, letting him take hold of your palm and guide you back to your feet. It felt like the least you could do; besides, you had the distinct sense that if you didn’t, he’d keep shouting in your ear. And that was already starting to get irritating.

“It’s okay,” you said softly, trying not to draw any more attention to yourself.

But it was a pointless hope. Around you, murmurs buzzed — boys asking who you were, whether you were related to someone on the team, and the most aggravating of all: why you were standing there in the first place. As if you’d personally aimed the ball at your own face.

Fuck. You wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

“Hey everyone, reset!” A stronger voice cut through the noise, sharp enough to make the whispers falter. The gym began to settle, but their eyes never left you. “That means clear the court!”

A taller boy emerged from the crowd, his tussled brown hair drenched in sweat as if he had been playing for hours. “Are you okay?” 

He leaned down, his hands pressed tight to his knees as he tried to gain some sort of eye level stance with you. Oh my God, why is everyone asking that right now? “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“I truly am sorry!” Nishinoya bowed forwards, his little blonde streak pointing upwards. “Also, you look super good!”

You waved your hands out, trying your hardest to prompt him to stop screaming. Yet it was futile. It seemed as though he was wired on sport mode; his vocals growing louder with each reaction. “Noya, shut up,” The taller boy snapped. “Did you need something from here? Or someone?” 

You could only muster a small shake of your head. I mean, how could you even explain this mishap? That one wrong turn downtown had somehow landed you here, surrounded by strangers in uniforms that didn’t belong to your world? All it would do would cause more of a stir. “I thought I saw my sister, but I was mistaken,” Technically, it wasn’t a lie. You had thought you’d seen a member of your family; just for a split second. “Sorry to intrude, I’ll be leaving now.” 

“Wait!” Another boy, a little further away, cried out. “Don’t leave!”

“Great. Another distraction.” 

“Tsukishima, you’re on the shit list.”

You tilted your head, puzzled at the random outbursts. “I agree with baldie over there, we didn’t even have time to introduce ourselves.” Yet again another boy came marching forward, and he was tall. His uniform was a shade of aqua and white, a large number one smacked in the middle of his chest. “Do you go to Nekoma?” 

“She definitely doesn’t — I would for sure remember her face.” 

The fuck does that mean?

The towering figure moved forward, hand outstretched. But before you could even react, another member of his team slid in front, grabbing the collar of his uniform and tugging him back. “Ignore him.” 

“Iwaizumi, come on. I just got broken up with!”

“She belongs to Nekoma boys — we will gladly claim her as our new manager.” A sudden sharp slap followed that comment. 

“Yamamoto, shut the hell up.” 

It was all too much. The crowding faces, the judging eyes; it only made you more self-conscious about your outfit. You tugged at the hem of your sweater, trying to cover up as much as possible. And it seemed as though one of them noticed. “Relax, everyone. You’re making the poor girl nervous. Not everything has to be a competition.” The boy who spoke had the same number as the one in aqua, except his shirt resembled the hue of bright red.

“Came at quite a crazy time, huh?” An individual with grayish-white hair smiled, a small beauty mark just below his eye.

You had no idea who these people were, and all of their conversations just jumbled into one. It was like your gaze couldn’t keep up with their ramblings. They were complete strangers; unknown variables that all just stood and watched. Each passing second felt like an eternity, and all you wanted to do was find a way out. “I’m really sorry to have barged in. I didn’t mean to.” Apologies seemed to be all you could manage, though.

The earlier boy, the one who had sparked the halt in chaos, spoke again. “Do you know where your sister is?”

You shook your head. “No, I’m a bit lost… Honestly.”

“Do you at least know your name?” You peered through the crowd, eyes falling onto another red jersey with the number 5 written on it.

“Um, yeah, it’s y/n.”

“Soon to be y/n Tanaka.” And another slap.

“She wouldn’t go for you baldie… Unless she’s concussed,” It was like number one had a sudden revelation; or more accurately, a good reason to insult the other team. “Nah, she’d have to lose both her eyesight and her taste for that.”

Now that earned a few chuckles around the room. And soon a small redhead came rushing between everyone. “Does your s-sister play?” The poor boy’s cheeks turned a faint sheen of pink, his initial thought being shut quite abruptly by his nerves. 

“Actually, I digress. This is quite entertaining.” Tsukishima chimed.

“I should probably actually go find her.” You lowered your torso in a small bow, ready to back away. “Thank you for your time.” 

Thank you for your time? Yeah, you were officially an idiot. “I don’t think you should wander alone at night.”

“I agree with Daichi. Maybe you should just stay here until someone finds you.”

You should’ve rejected them. Should’ve tried to make your way back to your family. But you were too overwhelmed, their constant gaze fixated on you like you were some specimen to study.

So, you stayed. You stayed and sat on the sidelines, watching everyone return to practice. And as you tried to process everything, a new worry settled in: you had no idea where you were going to sleep tonight.

₊˚⊹♡

author's notes: Honestly, would be super fun to make this into a series. I just don't know who you should end up with... or who's house you should stay at.

[bfbkg]

thinking about your habit of not closing the curtains when you change. never have never will. if someone sees you then oh well. it’s not like anybody ever has. until one time you’ve just come out of the shower, skin soft and dewy and you’re about to lather yourself in cream, when you see a very handsome man on the street outside your apartment staring up at you.

your silk robe you put on after your shower isn’t tied around your waist. the fabric that should rest on your left shoulder has fallen to your elbow and your breast is showing. nobody is usually outside, there, looking. but you can tell this man has just got out of his matte black car, sunglasses on due to the beaming sun and upon noticing you now looking at him, he spins around like you gave him the finger, overcome him with swears and insult. you’re still just staring back. you can tell something’s itching in him because he looks from his car window, tapping his pockets anxiously to check if he has his keys and wallet, then he’s flicking his eyes up to you to check if you still notice him staring. you do. and now you’re even closer to the window.

closer, you can confirm the man is attractive. you reward him by removing the fabric off your other shoulder, the fabric at your bent elbows like you would a shawl. your chest is revealed, you’re aroused by his attention.

now he knows you’re doing this on purpose, after looking around the street to check if anyone else notices you, the man does stare. he stares and doesn’t look away. your naked upper half for him and him only.

he inhales deeply when your hand brushes over your perked nipple. chews on his lip when you pinch one. he forgets completely why he has driven to this area in the first place when your hand splays across your stomach.

he’s not sure why he’s been given this show. why he’s been chosen this random morning when he’s just supposed to be doing his job. the gift of seeing a beautiful woman’s body.

it’s risky, inappropriate and erotic. especially, when you decide to drop the robe to your feet and reveal yourself completely to this stranger outside your apartment. he knows he’s not supposed to see this, you know you’re not supposed to be exposing yourself but your hand dips into your open tub of cream and you smother the white all over your arms. down the length of one, then the other.

it’s a rather methodical process, a boring one you dread and wish it wasn’t necessary when you came out the shower. but this man still hasn’t shifted from his spot. his eyes are unable to be pulled away from you. another dip in the cream and you’re rubbing your chest. your stomach. your body is catching a glow from the sunshine and you’re golden every time your body shifts and contorts. back bending to rub cream into your shins, then your thighs. kneading your flesh because the result requires this daily effort.

when you are finished, after a show of ensuring all is absorbed into your ass cheeks, you wonder if he too is aroused. this stranger standing by his car. if his cock is hard against his shorts. you can only assume shorts in this weather because he is still behind his car. you can guess his height since you can see the majority of his upper body.

you wonder if he finds you attractive. doing your daily morning chore, now sexual with the eyes of a voyeur. or perhaps the attraction is in the fact that this isn’t something that is allowed and upon noticing him staring you should have slammed your curtains shut.

though he is still there. unmoving minus his mouth. his teeth sunk into his bottom lip. then his tongue running across it. tongue poking his cheek and his upper lip brushing against his septum.

you cock your head at him, then grab panties from your drawer. it’s one of your normal hipster navy pairs. nothing sexy about them unless you make it so. you shimmy your hips when you pull the fabric up and you spot a clean tee to throw on top. so girl next door. you want to believe you look like a fantasy. it feels like you are from how he’s yet to do a thing. so you wave.

three waves of your hands back and forth and it is only when your hand is down that his rises. he gives you two waves, then his hand drops.

that seems to wake him up. as if he realises you are in fact real and he is alive. he can now feel the burn of his cheeks and the vibration of his phone in his pocket. you think he is reading something on his phone. he shoves the device away, then circles his car to make his way to your apartment building.

shorts. he’s wearing shorts. you wonder if he’s crazy, if he’s about to find you, search every floor for your door and if your show was an invite for more. it wasn’t. you don’t think it was?

he’s gone. you pull on some shorts of your own.

it’s about ten minutes later and somebody knocks on your door. you’re flicking your radio to put on some music whilst you start your breakfast. you enjoy choosing the station but not the songs like those apps.

you swing open your door. careless. not closing your curtains and not checking your peephole. it’s the guy from outside. up close and personal. though less personal than when he was across the street.

he doesn’t expect it to be you. you can tell from how his eyes widen and his mouth drops. same plush lips. the berry red of his cheeks have sprung back, or maybe never left.

“oh, shit, oh… i didn’t think…,” voice gruff, every word slightly mumbled. he’s looking at your clothes like he’s shocked they’re there. like he’s used to them being off.

“your neighbour isn’t in.” he completes.

you blink a few times, then reply, “really? she’s elderly, she rarely leaves unless she’s going to the bodega.”

he’s attractive. blonde, which isn’t your type but everything else he’s got makes up for it. stubble across his jaw. biceps the size of your head. you wouldn’t predict that he’d be nervous.

“fuck,” he sighs, rubbing his forehead roughly. you notice the scars on his hands. “she must have forgot i was seein’ her today.”

“what’s it for?” you reply, because now you’re curious.

he doesn’t seem like he’s lying about wanting to see your neighbour, but you don’t know the guy.

“i’m a hero, i do checks on citizens if they were about during an attack.”

that wasn’t what you were expecting. it does, however, explain the scars and the build. you wonder what colour his eyes are behind those sunglasses.

“oh. well do you have a business card? you can pop it in her letter box or i can give it to her when i see her next.” you offer.

“yeah, i’ll do that.”

he nods like a solider, grabbing his wallet from his pocket and grabbing two from the sleeve. one for your neighbour and one for you.

“you’re beautiful. i dunno if you do what you did to everybody—,” you gasp like you’re the pinnacle of innocence, “but, fuck.”

“i don’t.” you blurt like you need to defend yourself and it’s the right time for him to pull of his glasses. pretty ruby gems meet your eyes. you can’t sense any judgement from him.

you’re rewarded with a slow smirk. so slow that he manages to bite it down half way. “i’m not sayin’ you wanted anythin’ from me but if you ever do, then here’s my number.”

you snatch the business card out of his hand. it’s that expensive card with pointy corners and rough, reminiscent of the tree it came from. he is a hero, that wasn’t a lie. you get his hero name, his real name, an email address and a phone number.

“huh.” you breathe, “and if i happened to want anything… this won’t go to your receptionist? i assume you have one?”

he shakes his head, a little amused. “i have one but it’s my personal number.”

“okay.”

he allows the smile to break out. all sharp canines and a singular gold tooth. did he break a tooth or is it purely cosmetic? you’d love to know how it will feel against your tongue.

“nice.” he replies, then backs away from your door. “see you later possibly. i’ll be back in a few days again for your neighbour so you don’t think i’m a stalker. i can take rejection.”

that makes a laugh burst out of you. “okay.” you repeat because what else is there to say.

“good.” then he begins to walk down the corridor, “see you. possibly.”

“see you.”

you pin the orange and black business card to your fridge, pairing it with your hometown place magnet.

[lovelyruins]

pro hero privileges ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

prohero!katsuki x fem reader

synopsis: you accidentaly call your boyfriend by his hero name while fucking

warnings: 18+mdni, smut, dirty talk, slight degradation, established relationship

pt. 2 here

the apartment is dark when katsuki gets home at 11:23 p.m., only the soft glow from the streetlights sneaking through the blinds.

he kicks the door shut harder than necessary—still wired from patrol, gauntlets left at the agency, mask stuffed in his pocket, black compression shirt soaked with sweat and clinging to every hard line of muscle. he smells like smoke, concrete, and the sharp bite of his explosions.

you’re on the couch, legs tucked under you, scrolling on your phone in one of his old hoodies that swallows you whole. you look up when he enters, eyes lighting up in that quiet way that always makes something in his chest loosen.

“hey,” you say softly. “long night?”

he grunts. drops his keys on the counter. stalks over.

“too fuckin’ long.”

he doesn’t sit. just looms over you for a second, then grabs your ankles, yanks you flat on your back across the couch cushions. the hoodie rides up your thighs. he settles between your legs, knees sinking into the cushions, caging you in.

his mouth crashes into yours. hungry. desperate. teeth and tongue and the faint taste of mint gum he chews after fights.

you moan into it. hands flying to his shoulders, nails digging through the damp fabric.

he breaks the kiss only to rip the hoodie over your head, toss it somewhere behind him. then his mouth is on your neck—sucking, biting, leaving marks no one else will see under your clothes tomorrow.

“been thinkin’ about this all night,” he growls against your collarbone. “fuckin’ villains, fuckin’ reporters—couldn’t stop picturing you like this.”

his hand slides down, under your shorts, fingers finding you already soaked.

“shit,” he hisses. “ready for me before i even got home?”

you nod, breathless. “couldn’t help it… kept thinking about you too.”

he groans. shoves your shorts and panties down in one rough tug. frees himself—thick, hard, flushed dark at the tip.

he doesn’t bother with teasing tonight.

lines up. pushes in with one deep, hard thrust.

you cry out. back arching off the cushions.

he starts moving immediately—fast, rough, hips snapping forward like he’s trying to fuck the entire patrol out of his system.

the couch creaks under you. your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into his lower back.

“katsuki—” you gasp, voice high and needy.

he smirks down at you, red eyes dark with want. kisses you hard again, swallowing every little sound.

another thrust. deeper. harder.

your head falls back against the armrest. eyes fluttering shut.

“f-fuck—dynamight—”

the name slips out. soft. breathy. completely unintentional.

he freezes mid-thrust.

you freeze too.

the living room is suddenly very quiet except for your shared heavy breathing.

then he laughs—low, rough, dangerous. the sound vibrates through you.

“the hell did you just call me?” voice wrecked. amused. so turned on it’s almost painful.

your face burns. you try to hide it against his shoulder.

“i—i didn’t mean—”

“bullshit,” he cuts you off, rolling his hips forward slow, deliberate, making you feel every inch. “say it again.”

you whimper. thighs trembling.

he grips your jaw. gentle but firm. tilts your face up so you have to look at him.

“say it,” he repeats. “say my hero name while i’m fuckin’ you stupid on our couch.”

your walls flutter around him. hard.

you swallow. voice shaking.

“dynamight…”

he growls—real, feral—and starts moving again.

harder. faster. brutal.

the couch rocks with every snap of his hips. cushions sliding under you.

“louder,” he demands. “let the neighbors hear who owns this pussy.”

“dynamight—fuck—dynamight—!”

every time the name leaves your lips he drives in deeper. hits that spot that makes stars burst behind your eyes.

his hand slips between you. thumb on your clit. rubbing fast. rough.

“come on,” he pants against your ear. “come screaming for dynamight. come all over my cock like a good fuckin’ fan.”

you shatter.

hard.

crying out “dynamight!” as your orgasm crashes through you. walls pulsing. legs shaking. clinging to him like he’s your lifeline.

he follows right after—few more punishing thrusts, then burying himself deep with a guttural groan. spilling hot and thick inside you.

for a long moment you just lie there. panting. tangled. the couch cushions a mess beneath you.

he kisses your temple. soft. almost sweet.

then, smug as hell against your ear:

“next time you call me that, i’m fuckin’ you in the hero suit. mask and all.”

you laugh—breathless, flushed, happy.

he smirks.

pulls you closer.

the night’s still young.

and dynamight’s definitely not done with you yet. ♡

[hinagiiku]

jealous!bakugou who doesn’t know how to control his face when other guys are around you. there’s always that sour expression he puts on that scares them away.

jealous!bakugou who’s too wary of embarrassing himself to even talk to you in person. but that doesn’t stop him from being possessive. he’s always in your personal space, staring guys down without even realizing it. you don’t really question it. that’s just how he is.

jealous!bakugou who hates that this happens with everyone, but it’s unbearable when it comes to izuku midoriya.

jealous!bakugou who got extremely jealous when he saw midoriya and you talking together normally.

“deku could you hand me a fork?” “yeah, sure!”

its stupid, meaningless. it’s almost like you guys are the real couple here. the kind of simple exchange couples have without thinking twice about it. the kind of thing bakugou overthinks through, fumbles, explodes over. gestures that come easy to midoriya make bakugou stutter when it comes to you.

his jaw tightens. his palms spark uncontrollably, heat burning on his skin as he forcefully clenches his fists.

he puts on a tight lipped smile, trying to hold it in. it barely works.

jealous!bakugou who loses it completely when midoriya compliments you on something, hell it could literally be anything.

“i think it’s cool that eri looks up to you!” “your new technique surprised me!”

his palms go directly in midoriya’s direction, blowing him up into a crisp.

jealous!bakugou who doesn’t even want midoriya near you.

“he got everything we both wanted” he admitted, once. “i don’t want him to get you too.”

jealous!bakugou who immediately regrets letting that explosion slip out of his grasp, but apologizes stick in his throat. covering it up with excuses like “just wanted to see your reaction timing” or “that damn fly”.

jealous!bakugou who pretends he doesn’t care when you compliment todoroki’s fire side.

“woahh i’ve never seen you do that before!” you say, eyes following the way todoroki exhales steam, heat still curling off of him.

when he sees your eyes twinkle at todoroki’s new fire technique, he wishes he could just pull a new technique out of his ass to impress you even more. but its not as simple as he wished it was.

todoroki just nods, calm as ever, like your praise didn’t touch him. like it doesn’t linger. like it doesn’t crawl under bakugou’s skin and stay there.

bakugou scoffs, the flames in his palms flaring sharper than necessary. his explosions crack louder in his next training round, nearly killing his poor opponent, kirishima.

jealous!bakugou who hates how much the thought of you probably preferring todoroki is eating him alive. he thinks about you wondering to yourself how much quieter and easier it would be with todoroki. about how his palms wouldn’t sweat if you held them.

jealous!bakugou who takes his jealousy too far sometimes. people think he’s just really angry. volatile. impossible.

but when your alone with him, it’s different.

jealous!bakugou who’s body goes completely shallow when you ask the question. bodies tangled together in his bed after training.

“were you jealous today?”

“m’not jealous” he mutters, too fast. his grip tightens a little, hoping you don’t notice his insecurities.

jealous!bakugou who buries his face into your chest, trying to hide his facial features when he speaks his vulnerable words. though, it doesn’t completely hide him unraveling in front of you.

“…maybe i am.”

his pulse quickens when he hears you exhale.

he assumes that you're already sick of him. and that you’ll just leave him for someone who can express their emotions better. he braces himself for your next words, expecting the worst.

then you.. laugh??

“everyone’s jealous of me” you say, fingers rubbing slow circles into his back. “because i get to be with you.”

his ears perk up from the sudden praise.

you just keep going on and on about how he’s the best thing ever, while rubbing his back subtly.

jealous!bakugou who immediately falls apart, hearing your reassurance. his grip falters, his breath stutters. as he leans down to kiss you, it’s like the tension he felt the past few weeks has drained out of him.

you immediately melt, the only effort you make being pulling him closer. like there was never anyone else to begin with.

a/n: icl i might have butchered the last 2 sentences but we gucci 🩷👅🩷🤑🤑

© HINAGIIKU 2025-26 all rights reserved.

my smau’s , main masterlist

[katsukikisser13]

I have a girlfriend!! / drunk!katsuki

katsuki had went out for a hangout with the guys an hour ago, and right now, you were standing infront of the club they were at in your hello kitty slippers. you watched as kirishima carried out katsuki by his shoulders, a very drunk katsuki

“heya! so sorry to bother you, but— bakugo was yapping about how much he missed you so I just.. I thought it’d be better to give him back to you!” kirishima exclaimed with an almost guilty tone, rubbing the back of his neck. he almost stumbled from katsuki’s weight against him

“hi kirishima, he was talking about me?” you ask, a small smile threatening to spread across your lips as you took katsuki’s hand, gently guiding him closer to you. just as you grazed his arm, he jerked back. “eijirou!! who the hell is this, hah? I have a girlfriend!!” katsuki barked, eyes drooping lazily as he pushed kirishima away

katsuki mumbled more nonsense like “she’s very pretty” you were a bit worried, wondering how much he drank. “hey—! katsuki!! this is your girlfriend!” kirishima grunted as katsuki stumbled into him, “I’m so sorry, yn.. I think I should’ve kept an eye on him” he apologized

you chuckled as katsuki almost tripped into kirishima, “it’s fine” you smile. katsuki stops to take a better look at you and suddenly, his whole face softens. he pushes kirishima out of the way, not even caring that he wasn’t in his way at all and ran towards you

katsuki ran into your arms, completely melting into your touch as he buried his face into your neck. katsuki didn’t even care that kirishima was right behind him, everything but him and you faded from his mind at that moment. he literally picked you up as he held you, arms wrapped around you in a warm bear hug as your feet dangled from the ground

“where were you” he murmured into you neck, his voice muffled by your skin. you couldn’t help but giggle as he spoke, his breath tickling your skin. you wrapped your arms around his neck, palm cupping the back of his head, “at home?” you cooed

“don’t laugh at me” he whispered almost sheepishly, and you smiled. “of course not, baby” you murmured, trying to stifle another chuckle as you look awkwardly to kirishima. kirishima was trying not to laugh, pulling out his phone to snap a photo for blackmail

katsuki was even clingier when you got home. he stared at you like he was falling in love all over again as you scolded him softly for drinking so much, all the while pressing soft and aggressive kisses to his cheek