sukuna . . . the soft & sensitive dip where your neck meets your shoulder. he has a habit of stalking up behind you when you’re distracted—cooking, reading, or working—and wrapping his massive arms around your waist to anchor you against his chest. he’ll bury his face in your hair first, letting out a deep, rumbling sigh that vibrates right against your spine, before planting heavy, lingering kisses along your collarbone. it’s a slow display of complete affection, a reminder that out of everything in his world, this quiet space with you is the only place he actually wants to be
gojo . . . the very tip of your nose or right between your eyebrows. because of his ridiculous height, he absolutely loves looming over you just to make you look up. he’ll slide his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, give you a bright grin, and lean in to press an exaggeratedly loud kiss right on your face. if you try to swat him away or complain about him ruining your focus, it only encourages him; he’ll just laugh, cup your face in his large hands, and shower your cheeks with quick, bubbly kisses until you’re completely giggling and giving up on whatever you were doing.
toji . . . the crown of your head or your temple. affection with him is always grounded, and deeply comforting, usually happening at the very end of an exhausting day. he’ll sit on the couch and pull you straight into his lap, burying his face into the side of your head while his large arms lock securely around your middle. he doesn't say much, but the way he rests his chin on your hair and leaves soft, slow kisses against your temple speaks volumes. it’s his way of unwinding, letting go of his usual guarded demeanor, and finding a moment of absolute peace with you and only you!
nanami . . . the inside of your wrist or the palm of your hand. his style of romance is incredibly classic, deliberate, and respectful. when the two of you are sitting together after dinner, winding down from a long day, he’ll quietly reach over and take your hand in his. his thumb will trace the back of your knuckles for a moment before he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss right against your pulse point. it’s a deeply grounding gesture that feels incredibly intimate, because he dosen't need grand actions to show his love for you.
geto . . . the corner of your mouth or along your jawline. he is extremely attentive and tender, always making sure to fully connect with you before he even leans in. he’ll gently slide his fingers through your hair, tucking a stray strand behind your ear while looking down at you with a soft, adoring smile. his kisses are always slow and warm, lingering right at the edge of your lips as if he's trying to memorize the exact feeling of the moment. it carries a beautiful & quite intensity that instantly makes you feel like the center of his entire universe.
higuruma . . . your forehead or the space right beside your eye. because his mind is constantly running a mile a minute with legal cases and heavy thoughts, being with you is his only true escape. he’ll come home, loosen his tie with a weary sigh, and immediately seek you out. he likes to cup your face gently, closing his eyes as he presses a long, deeply affectionate kiss to your forehead. it feels incredibly reverent—like a silent thank you for being his calm in the storm, a safe harbor where he can finally turn off his brain and just exist in your warmth.
choso . . . your cheeks or the knuckles of your hands. because he takes his role as a protector so seriously, his affection is fiercely sweet and entirely gentle. he gets a little flustered if you catch him staring, but he loves holding your hands in his. he’ll carefully lift your fingers to his face, kissing each of your knuckles one by one with an earnest, intense devotion that can make your heart skip a beat. if you smile at him, his expression melts completely, and he’ll lean down to press soft, tentative kisses all over your cheeks, looking incredibly proud and happy just to be near you.
satoru gojo . . . he already knows it’s his birthday because he’s been dropping hints for three months, but he absolutely does not expect you to be waiting inside his dark apartment with a tiny, candlelit strawberry shortcake. the exact second he unlocks the door and you start singing, his jaw drops so fast it's a miracle it doesn't detach.
his glasses slide down the bridge of his nose as he stares at you, completely frozen in the doorway while the little flame flickers in the dark. "sweets! oh my god, you actually did this?!" he instantly turns into a giant, over-excited kid, dropping his bags on the floor and practically lunging across the room to wrap his long arms around you. he doesn't even care about blowing out the candles first; he just buries his face in your shoulder, squeezing you so tight your toes leave the floor while letting out a muffled, giddy laugh. once he finally blows out the candle, he immediately swipes a massive dollop of frosting with his finger and puts it on your nose, grinning like the biggest idiot on campus. "best birthday ever. now you have to feed me the whole thing."
suguru geto . . . suguru comes home expecting a quiet, completely mundane evening because he purposefully told you not to make a big deal out of his birthday. but the moment he walks into the kitchen and sees the warm, soft string lights you hung up, along with a table full of his favorite home-cooked comfort foods, his entire exhausted posture just melts. he stops dead in his tracks, his dark eyes widening slightly before a soft, deeply emotional smile breaks across his face.
you walk over to take his coat, wishing him a happy birthday, and he just lets out a quiet, contented sigh, wrapping his arms securely around your waist and pulling you flush against his chest. he buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the familiar scent of you, his large hands gently rubbing soothing circles into your back. "i told you not to go through all this trouble, sweetheart," he murmurs, his deep voice incredibly low, warm, and thick with affection. "but... i'm really glad you did. thank you. this is exactly what i needed."
ryomen sukuna . . . he acts like he completely forgot it was even his birthday, so when you surprise him with a small, neatly wrapped box containing that specific, high-end leather wallet or tool set he’d been casually looking at weeks ago, he genuinely freezes. he stares at the box in your hands, then up at your face, his sharp eyes narrowing with a mix of suspicion and utter disbelief that you actually remembered such a passing detail. an incredibly fond smirk spreads across his face as he effortlessly snatches the box from you, tossin’ it lightly in his palm.
"you really think you're clever, don't you, sweetheart?" he rumbles, his voice dropping into a deep, gravelly register that vibrates right through you. he rips the paper open carelessly, but the moment he sees the gift, his eyes soften completely. he sets it down, immediately grabbing your wrist and pulling you straight onto his lap on the couch, his massive, tattooed arms locking around you so you can't escape. "you're stuck with me for the rest of the night now. that's your real punishment for being so cute."
nanami kento . . . kento walks into his apartment after a grueling, exhausting day at the office, fully prepared to just make a quick dinner and sleep. instead, he finds the entryway dimly lit, a jazz playlist softly humming in the background, and you standing there in a cozy sweater holding a perfectly baked apple tart. he stops, his hand lingering on the doorknob as he takes off his glasses, his expression entirely stunned. you can visibly see the stress lines on his forehead completely smooth out as he looks at you.
"y/n... you did all of this for me?" he asks, his deep voice carrying a wave of pure, quiet gratitude. he sets his briefcase down with deliberate care, stepping into your space to gently take the dessert from your hands and set it on the counter. before you can even say anything else, he reaches out, his large, warm palms gently framing your face as he leans down to press a soft, deeply lingering kiss to your lips. "you are entirely too good to me. thank you for making this day worth celebrating."
megumi fushiguro . . . megumi is notoriously terrible at celebrating himself, so he tries to just treat his birthday like any other tuesday. but when he walks into your room and finds a small pile of wrapped books he’s been wanting, alongside a giant plate of fresh, warm ginger cookies, his entire face instantly turns a beautiful, bright shade of pink. he pulls the collar of his dark sweater up over his mouth, his dark eyes looking completely flustered as he stubbornly stares at the floor to avoid your teasing gaze. "you didn't have to do this," he mutters, his voice all small and muffled, though his fingers are already nervous-twitching against his side.
you just laugh, stepping closer to pull his hands away his face and whispering a soft happy birthday. megumi lets out a quiet, defeated little huff, but a tiny, incredibly sweet smile finally breaks through his defenses. he reaches out, shyly wrapping his arms around your shoulders and hiding his burning face in your hair. "thanks, y/n. ...the cookies smell really good."
yuji itadori . . . this absolute sunbeam of a boy has zero patience when it comes to surprises. you hide behind the kitchen counter and jump out with a bunch of confetti poppers and a homemade cake, and yuji literally lets out the loudest, most joyful gasp you've ever heard in your life. his wide brown eyes light up like a stadium, a massive, face-splitting grin taking over his face instantly. "no way!! baby! did you make this for me?! look at the frosting!!" he doesn't even wait—he literally jumps forward, catching you around the waist and lifting you completely off your feet, spinning you around the kitchen while laughing hysterically.
the sheer, unadulterated happiness radiating off him is completely contagious. he sets you down just enough to plant a million messy, rapid-fire kisses all over your cheeks and forehead until you're gasping for air. "you're the absolute best in the whole world! i'm never eating another cake unless you make it! let's eat it right now!"
hiromi higuruma . . . hiromi is so used to his birthday being just another blur of endless legal paperwork and cold coffee that he completely loses track of the date. when he comes over to your place and you open the door wearing a silly little paper birthday hat, holding a single cupcake with a glowing candle, he genuinely blinks in total confusion for three seconds. then, the realization hits him, and he lets out a quiet, incredibly breathless laugh, rubbing the back of his neck as a rare, gentle warmth colorizes his cheeks.
"ah... i completely forgot," he murmurs, his deep, mature voice softening into something incredibly tender. he steps inside, his eyes locked entirely on the tiny candle flame and then on your smiling face. he carefully blows out the candle, setting the cupcake down before reaching out to gently pull you into his space. hiromi wraps his arms around you tightly, resting his chin on the top of your head with a long, relaxed exhale. "thank you, honey. i don't remember the last time someone made me feel this looked after."
choso kamo . . . choso takes his role as a protector and older brother so seriously that he never, ever expects anyone to do anything for him, let alone celebrate his birthday. when you surprise him with a small, handmade scrapbook filled with polaroids of the two of you, alongside a batch of sweet pastries, his brain completely shorts out. he holds the book in his large, slightly trembling hands, his dark eyes wide and completely glossed over with immediate, overwhelming emotion. "you... you made this for me? to celebrate the day i was born?"
he asks, his voice cracking slightly as he looks at a photo of you two at a festival. you have to quickly assure him that yes, it's a happy day, before he actually starts crying. he carefully sets the book down like it's made of fragile glass, and then he immediately collapses into you, burying his face in your shoulder and holding onto you with a desperate, incredibly fierce hug. "thank you, sweetheart," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion as he squeezes you close. "i will cherish this forever. i'm so glad i get to be here with you."
A/N THANK YOU GUYS FOR THE OVERWHELMING SUPPORT ON MY BLOG! this hobby gave me such a cute little community. i will keep spoiling you guys with fluff as long as i can while i experiment with more themes <3
uni!train ride with kuroo as your personal shield ; fluff
the university train was entirely packed due to a sudden downpour, forcing the evening commuters into a suffocatingly tight space. you were standing near the doors, losing your balance every time the car lurched, when kuroo suddenly shifted his weight.
he stepped closer, completely cornering you against the metal partition. he placed his left hand flat against the glass right above your head, his massive frame creating a physical barrier between you and the rest of the crowded train.
“don’t fall over, shortie,” he teased, his signature grin firmly in place.
“i’m not falling,” you muttered, looking down at his chest because his face was entirely too close.
the train suddenly screeched around a sharp bend. you lurched forward, your hands instinctively grabbing the fabric of his jacket for balance, your forehead bumping directly into his collarbone. kuroo let out a sharp, breathless oof.
when you looked up to apologize, the sly, teasing captain was entirely gone. kuroo was staring down at you, his golden eyes wide and completely dark, his jaw locked tight. a deep, violent shade of pink had exploded across his face, spreading rapidly from his throat all the way to the tips of his ears under the train’s dim lights. he looked completely short-circuited by the sudden proximity.
“kuroo?” you whispered.
“uh,” he cleared his throat, his hand on the glass trembling just a tiny bit as he slowly lowered his arm, wrapping it securely around your shoulders instead to pull you firmly against his side. he stared hard at the digital station map above the door, his chest rising and falling in heavy, panicked breaths. “the train is… really unstable today. yeah. just stay right there so i don’t have to carry you off the platform.”
n: bro i haven’t eaten a thing, idk how i thought of this.
a/n: huge credits to @emmyrosee!! she has such good dad!aus and those are 100% what inspired me to write this. the portions about post game interviews were heavily inspired by this fic by @miyaz6ki so credits there alsoooo
if u can't tell this is a dad!au, and there's multiple characters involved in this. it's mainly just headcannon style, but of course i got carried away and wrote paragraphs for some as well. i do not, in fact, have any children, so if things are inaccurate, i sincerely apologize. enjoy :3
wakatoshi ushijima:
this man quite literally views his daughter as the center of the universe. he loves her so incredibly much, and he’d give up literally anything for her. when she was born, that was the first time you’d ever seen him cry. but for him, seeing his little girl, so small and precious, knowing that he’d get to raise her and watch her grow up brought him to tears.
he was also very protective over her, not even telling the media he had a daughter until she was 3 years old.
he just carried her after a game to his press conference, sat her down on his lap, and acted like he hadn’t just broken the internet. An interviewer asked him, “wakatoshi-san, whose daughter is that?” and fully straight faced, he just answered, “mine. she’s 3 years old. i trust you all will manage your volume around her.” about a hundred cameras went off at the same time, and he immediately gently covered the little girl’s eyes, making her giggle straight into the mic. “peek-a-boo, dada?” and you, sitting at the side, watched everyone’s hearts completely melt at your daughter’s comment. wakatoshi, of course, was involved in this reaction, and he replied back to his daughter right away. “yeah, sweetheart. we can play peek-a-boo.”
your daughter stole the show the rest of the night. she was a talkative girl, and the mic picked up everything she said. “wakatoshi, about that spike you hit in the 4th set, just walk me through what was going on in your head.” “It was a crucial point. I think it definetly impacted the momentum of our team-” “mo… moo-me-tu?” your husband melted once again. “momentum, sweetheart. Mo-men-tum,” he corrected gently, sounding out each syllable. he cleared his throat, remembering where he was. “apologies. as I was saying, it was a turning point for the team-” “dada, i sleepy,” your daughter yawned, and you glanced at wakatoshi, raising a thumb up in a silent question of whether he was okay to keep holding her. he nodded immediately, adjusting her so her head was resting on his chest and his hand was gently stroking her hair.
you doubted a single interviewer was actually fully focused throughout that whole interview. the media would go insane in a couple hours as well, you were sure. but you also knew wakatoshi wouldn’t care, so long as he had his daughter with him.
tooru oikawa:
he is the definition of a girl dad. he’s always loved having conversations with your daughter, even when all she could do was eat, sleep, and cry.
but as she got older, she got so talkative. and it was all tooru’s fault. because this man would respond to even her most incomprehensible babbles, nodding as though it were the most precious wisdom coming straight from a prophet. and so, now that she could actually form complete sentences at the ripe age of 4 years old, the two of them would have conversations all day long.
“dada, i want a unicorn.” “i’ll ask your uncle hajime. i think he knows where to find them. what type of unicorn do you want, princess?” she paused for a moment, brow furrowing as she thought. “pink. fluffy. and big as you, dada!” she giggled wildly as tooru gasped in mock outrage. “as big as me? impossible.” he picked her up, tickling her and planting tons of kisses on her head. "the unicorn has to be smaller than me, okay, darling?" still laughing loudly from the tickles, your daughter nodded immediately with a grin that matched her father's one perfectly. the same grin you'd fallen for all those years ago, now on the little girl that you and tooru loved most in the world.
tooru also spoils her. a lot. one day, she'd gone up to you while tooru was taking a nap, looked up with those big brown eyes of hers, and asked, "mama, can i have ch-chocolate?" no. the answer was no, and she knew that. "sorry, sweetheart, remember the rule? only one piece a day, and you already had in the morning." but she only pouted and added, "but dada said i could." and boy do you hear that phrase a lot now. you couldn't even be mad at your husband though because he wasn't unreasonable or careless about taking care of your daughter. he simply gave into her puppy eyes just a little bit easier than you did.
tooru also brings his daughter to his games, but it's more rare than she actually joins him during the press conferences. because again, this girl will talk nonstop. once he brought her to a press conference, and within minutes, she was talking to the reporters, asking them about their favorite colors, foods, puppy breeds, the most random, adorable topics.
but as talkative as she is, she's also incredibly hardworking, focused, and dedicated to whatever she sets her mind on. she's silly and funny, but if you tell her to complete a worksheet, she's doing it right away. doesn't that sound just like someone you know?
tetsuro kuroo:
if there's one thing tetsuro loves doing with his daughter, it's playing games.
as soon as she could play rock paper scissors, tic tac toe, and chopsticks, they were playing those nonstops.
you knew your husband was competitive, but you didn't expect him to make your daughter just as competitive as well.
not all their games are competitive, though. you'd often see the two of them, tetsuro awkwardly hunched over her dollhouse or castle as they dressed up all of her little dolls and decorated her houses. and you were certain it was the most wholesome thing you'd ever seen.
tetsuro also loves impressing his daughter and getting to do things for her. for example, one evening, after you'd tucked her in already and were about to go to sleep, tetsuro asked you, very genuinely, "can i practice doing your hair? i want to be able to do it for her. properly."
and so you spent that night teaching him how to brush, tie, and braid, and you swore you hadn't seen him that focused since high school.
the next day, when your daughter asked you to do her hair for her, as you always did, tetsuro immediately perked up and looked you in the eye, communicating just through that look. you smiled and told your daughter, "sweetheart, what if daddy did your hair? would you be alright with that? he's been practicing a lot." she thought over it for a moment before responding with a happy, "okay!"
when she sat down in front of tetsuro, you could see his hands shake slightly as he brushed through her hair. this guy was nervous.
once he was done, though, your daughter loved it. "i love it, dada! but mama still does it better," she declared, to which he responded, "i know, princess. your mama's the best."
she hummed in thought before reaching out, wrapping her tiny hand around just 2 of his fingers. "can we go play fashion dress up now? pretty please?"
daichi sawamura:
the best dad out there. hands down. partially because he's had so much experience parenting the karasuno boys volleyball team.
but with his own daughter, he's the type of dad who's so protective and so proud of his little girl.
if the slightest thing happens to her, even something as small as a bug bite, he's so prepared. so imagine his complete breakdown the first time she got a fever.
his daughter's and wife's safeties are the most important things in the world to him, and he'd give anything to just see the two of them laughing and smiling.
he's also so proud of his daughter. always. she could hand him a paper with just 6 different colored scribbles, and he'd stare at it with pure admiration. "you wanna become an artist, huh, sweetheart? this looks beautiful."
he once brought her to the station just to show her off to the other officers there. and the others loved her so much. and she loved them too.
"dada, so many friends here!" she announced, earning her a collective "awwww" from literally everyone in the station.
and in a few minutes, she's been offered pens, paper, snacks, badges, whatever they had with them that could entertain her.
meanwhile, daichi was just telling stories after stories about his daughter, eyes lighting up as he talked about her hobbies, her stories, and the things she loved doing.
daichi hates having to work late shifts at the precinct because it means he often doesn't get to tuck his daughter in. but every evening, even if she's already asleep, he makes sure to come in, fix her blanket, and give her a kiss on the forehead.
one evening though, he comes in after a long, late night shift to find her still awake, reading a book using the light of her little night light.
"sweetheart.. it's so late, why are you still up?"
"i wanted to wait for you, dada. mama... mama said you'd be home late. 'm sorry for staying up..."
daichi felt himself actually melt. "no, no, it's okay. it's all good. that's very sweet of you, darling. does mama know you're awake?"
she looked down, clearly ashamed. "n-no... it was supposed to be a surprise.."
daichi slowly sat down on her bed, gently pulling her into his arms. "aww, sweetheart.. it's okay. i think it's a very, very sweet surprise. you just made daddy's day," he started, stroking her hair tenderly. "but we don't lie to mama, okay? and we also don't read books with this little light on. it hurts your eyes."
she nodded, fully burying her face in his chest. "mmkay, dada. 'm sleepy now... i love you.." "i love you more. goodnight."
sure, he'd always had experience being a leader and captain, and his everyday job was to protect those around him. but every day with you and his daughter taught him something new, and every day he'd swear to do everything he could to keep his two girls happy.
please notice tetsurō before he juggles kenma and fukunaga for attention.
wc: 1.8k
kuroo tetsurō had spent approximately four business days drafting the letter, destroying enough notebook pages to clear out half the amazon rainforest just to ensure his handwriting didn’t look like a chicken had dipped its feet in ink and had a seizure across the page.
the letter was, without a single ounce of exaggeration, a masterclass in classical romance. it was the kind of prose that would make sixteenth-century poets throw their quills into a well and give up. he’d written about the way your laughter sounded like the exact resonant frequency needed to shatter his ribs from the inside out. he’d compared your eyes to the stable nucleus of an atom—the only thing holding his chaotic, electron-cloud of a brain together. it was poetic. it was devastatingly tender. it was enough to make a grown volleyball captain weep into his knee pads.
and, with the tactical precision of a stealth bomber, he had slipped it directly into chapter four of your organic chemistry textbook during study period while you were distracted trying to untangle your wired headphones.
he’d gone home that night, buried his face into his pillow, and kicked his legs like a victorian maiden who had just been perceived by a duke. he fully expected a text by 8:00 pm. a tearful confession by 8:30 pm. perhaps a marriage proposal by next tuesday.
instead, you showed up to school the next morning, aggressively yawning, and used that exact textbook as a makeshift shield against the morning sun while sitting on the brick wall outside the gym.
kuroo watched you from five feet away, his soul slowly evaporating from his body like rubbing alcohol left out in the sun. you didn’t even open the book. you just used the heavy-weight cover to fan yourself when the humidity hit. the actual love of his life was using his bleeding-heart declaration of eternal devotion to circulate lukewarm morning air onto her collarbones.
“you look like you’re tracking a gazelle,” kenma murmured from beside him, eyes glued to a handheld screen. “and not in a cool, predator way. more like a very sad, hungry dog.”
“she didn’t read it,” kuroo whispered, his voice cracking like a dry twig. “kenma. the paper density alone should have changed the gravitational pull of the textbook. how did she not feel the shift in equilibrium?”
“maybe she just hates chemistry.”
“impossible,” kuroo hissed, clutching his chest. “i’m chemistry.”
phase two required a complete lack of subtlety. if you wouldn’t stumble upon his heart by accident, he would simply have to leave breadcrumbs.
the next afternoon, you opened your locker to find a small, neon-pink post-it note stuck directly onto the metal grated vents. written in shaky, black sharpie was a clue that looked less like a romantic hint and more like a ransom note from a criminal who specialized in stem subjects:
‘the elements of life are carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, and oxygen. but the element of my life is currently trapped on page 142. look closer, or i will literally spontaneously combust on the cafeteria floor.’
you blinked at the sticky note. you reached out, peeled it off, and stared at it for a solid three minutes. kuroo, who was hiding behind the corner of the hallway with his face pressed so hard against the brickwork that his nose was flattened, held his breath. this was it. the catalyst. the moment you would pull out the textbook, flip to page 142, and realize that he was completely, utterly, and devastatingly yours.
instead, you let out a soft snort, muttered, “yaku must have lost a bet to standard level science,” and stuck the pink note onto the front of your binder because you liked the shade of neon.
from behind the wall, kuroo felt his knees give way. he slid down the bricks until he was sitting flat on the linoleum, a hand dramatically draped over his eyes. his heart was performing a full, aggressive drum solo against his sternum, furious at the rejection it hadn’t even technically received yet.
by day three, the desperation had reached a critical mass. kuroo tetsurō was a man possessed by a singular, burning directive: make the prettiest girl in the third-year corridor realize that he wanted to hold her hand until their joints turned to dust. he couldn’t function. he missed three consecutive serves in practice because he kept visualizing the exact layout of page 142 and wondering if he should have used a highlighter.
“if you don’t fix whatever is rotting your brain, i’m going to set your shoes on fire,” yaku warned during evening clean-up, leaning heavily on a broom. “you’ve been staring at that volleyball like it owes you alimony.”
“it’s an intellectual standoff,” kuroo said, his voice hollow as he rolled a ball between his palms. “a battle of wits. she’s testing my resolve, yaku. she’s checking to see if my devotion can withstand the vacuum of her absolute oblivion.”
“she doesn’t know you left a note, does she?” kenma called out from the bench, not looking up.
kuroo threw himself backward onto the polished gym floor, starfish-ing beneath the bright fluorescent lights. “i made it so obvious! i used neon! i referenced atomic structures! what else does she want from me? a billboard? a sky-writer? should i tattoo the chemical equation for dopamine onto my forehead?”
the next morning, he forfeited all remaining scraps of his dignity. if poetry wouldn’t work, and clues wouldn’t work, then raw, unadulterated public exposure would have to suffice.
you walked down the science wing at 7:50 am, holding a half-eaten convenience store bun, only to find a small crowd of second-years hovering around your locker. they were whispering, giggling behind their hands, and pointing at the metal door.
as you approached, the crowd parted like the red sea, revealing the monstrosity kuroo had unleashed upon the school infrastructure.
there, stuck entirely to the center of your locker with roughly four entire rolls of heavy-duty, industrial neon green painter’s tape, was the original, beautiful, cream-colored love letter. it was trapped beneath a lattice of green adhesive so thick it looked like it could withstand a category five hurricane. and slapped right on top of the whole mess was a giant piece of cardboard ripped from an old volleyball equipment box, featuring a frantic, jagged scrawl:
“please for the love of god notice my affection. page 142 was an innervation of my entire soul. i’m begging you to interact with this literature.”
you stood frozen, your bun halfway to your mouth.
from the far end of the hall, leaning against a drinking fountain with his arms crossed in a position he clearly thought looked casual but actually made him look like he was suffering from severe muscle spasms, was kuroo. his signature bedhead seemed even more chaotic than usual, a few strands sticking straight up like frantic antennae. his face was completely flushed, a deep, dark crimson that started at the tips of his ears and pooled all the way down into the collar of his school uniform.
you looked from the neon green monstrosity on your locker, to the heavy-grade paper trapped underneath, and then finally down the hall at him.
the silence stretched. a second-year student cleared their throat nervously.
slowly, you walked over to the locker. instead of tearing the cardboard off, you carefully slipped your fingers under the edge of the painter’s tape, working at the thick adhesive until you managed to pull the cream-colored letter out from its bright green cage. it was a bit crinkled at the borders, but the elegant, sweeping ink was fully intact.
you flipped to the back, your eyes scanning the dense, beautiful paragraphs where he had written about how your presence made his brain short-circuit like a faulty capacitor. you read the lines where he confessed, with terrifying honesty, that he spent his biology lectures drawing the exact curve of your shoulder blades in the margins of his notebook.
your chest did something strange—a sudden, warm domain expansion that felt remarkably like a small firework detonating right behind your ribs. your face grew hot, the heat spreading rapidly across your cheeks as the sheer weight of his ridiculous, beautiful, overwhelming feelings hit you full-force.
you folded the paper carefully, tucked it into your blazer pocket, and began marching down the hallway straight toward him.
kuroo’s eyes widened. the cool, leaning posture evaporated instantly. he straightened up so fast his spine made an audible clicking sound, his hands dropping to his sides like a soldier caught off guard. “uh. hey. so. the tape is entirely bio-degradable, if you were worried about the school property damage—”
you stopped right in front of him, reached out, and grabbed the lapels of his uniform jacket, tugging him downward so he was forced to bend his absurdly tall frame until his face was level with yours.
“you absolute menace,” you breathed, your voice a mix of a breathless laugh and total disbelief. “you could have just told me you liked me during lunch. you didn’t need to sacrifice a perfectly good moving box.”
kuroo stared at you, his eyes auditing your lips and then back up to your eyes, his brain completely liquefying under the proximity. up close, you could see the tiny, frantic flutter of the pulse point in his throat.
“but the prose,” he squeaked out, his voice a full octave higher than normal before he cleared his throat and tried to recover his usual low drawl. “the prose was exquisite. i compared you to a stable isotope. that’s high praise coming from a guy who fails literature.”
“it was incredibly dramatic,” you agreed, your thumbs brushing against the fabric of his blazer. “and it’s the most beautiful thing i’ve ever read. even if it was buried under three pounds of adhesive.”
kuroo’s expression softened, the frantic, manic energy draining out of him all at once, replaced by something so profoundly tender and vulnerable it made your stomach do a backflip. he reached up, his large, warm hand covering yours where you held his lapels, his thumb gently smoothing over your knuckles.
“so,” he whispered, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through his nerves, making his eyes crinkle at the corners. “does this mean the experiment was a success? are we experiencing a mutual reaction?”
“we are,” you said, letting go of his jacket only to slide your fingers into his, locking your hand with his large, calloused one. “but you’re still helping me scrape that green tape off my locker before the vice principal sees it.”
kuroo let out a loud, booming laugh that echoed down the corridor, squeezing your hand so tightly it felt like he never intended to let go, his chest swelling with enough joy to lift a house off its foundations.
n: my beloved @ryomenlettuce asked for this, huehuehue.. it’s from my scrapped ideas
If you asked anyone from Nekoma about Kuroo Tetsurō, they’d probably describe him the same way.
Confident. Flirty. Smooth-talking. The type who could charm literally anyone in five seconds flat.
And honestly? Kuroo encouraged it.
He loved grinning lazily at people. Loved teasing underclassmen. Loved acting smug like he knew everything about romance and life. As captain of Nekoma, he carried himself with this relaxed confidence that made people think he had everything under control.
But that image shattered immediately the moment you were involved.
Because somehow—against all odds—the so-called charismatic captain became the shyest person alive around his crush.
“Kenma.”
“Hm.”
“I saw her today.”
Kozume Kenma didn’t even look away from his game. “Congratulations.”
Kuroo pulled a chair dramatically beside him anyway, already spiraling. “No, but listen. She walked past me in the hallway and we made eye contact for, like… two seconds.”
“…Okay?”
“And then she smiled a little.”
Kenma pressed another button on his console. “You’re acting like she proposed marriage.”
Kuroo leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling dreamily. “…Maybe she was thinking about it.”
“You’re insane.”
The worst part was how little interactions affected him.
One greeting from you? His entire week was made.
If you sat beside him in class because every other seat was taken, Kuroo would sit there so stiffly you’d think he was being held hostage.
“Morning, Kuroo-san,” you’d say politely.
And suddenly this six-foot volleyball captain forgot how human speech worked.
“…M-Morning.”
Meanwhile, internally?
She said good morning to me.
We’re basically engaged.
I can hear church bells.
Our future children will probably have your eyes.
“Kuroo.”
“Hm?”
“You’ve been staring at the same notebook page for ten minutes.”
“Sorry. I’m thinking about my future wife.”
Kenma finally looked up slowly. “…You mean the girl who borrowed your eraser once?”
“She touched my hand, Kenma.”
“You need help.”
The thing was, Kuroo wanted to approach you normally. Really.
He’d rehearse conversations in his head all the time.
“Hey, Y/N, how’s your day?”
Casual. Cool. Mature.
But then you’d actually appear in front of him, and suddenly his brain blue-screened.
One afternoon, he saw you struggling to reach a book from the top shelf in the library.
This was his moment. His romantic comedy protagonist moment.
Kuroo confidently approached from behind, reached over your head, grabbed the book easily, and handed it to you with what he thought was a smooth smile.
“…Here.”
You blinked up at him warmly. “Oh! Thank you, Kuroo-san.”
And that should’ve been it. Simple. Successful interaction.
Instead, Kuroo panicked so hard from your smile that he accidentally knocked another stack of books over with his elbow. The crash echoed through the entire library.
Kenma, who witnessed the whole thing from another table, slowly lowered his game console.
“…Pathetic.”
Kuroo crouched on the floor in humiliation while helping stack the fallen books. “I hate feelings…” he whispered weakly.
But despite all the embarrassment, despite how nervous you made him, Kuroo couldn’t stop himself from talking about you constantly.
“Kenma, she tied her hair up today.”
“Wow.”
“She looked really cute.”
“Incredible.”
“And yesterday she asked if practice went well.”
“She wants you carnally.”
“RIGHT?!”
Kenma stared at him blankly. “…I was joking.”
Meanwhile, the Nekoma team suffered daily.
Yaku got tired of hearing Kuroo sigh dramatically during breaks.
Lev thought their captain had developed a fever.
Kai looked genuinely concerned for his mental stability.
Because apparently, the loud, smug, teasing captain turned into a nervous wreck over one girl smiling at him in the hallway. And the funniest part?
You actually thought Kuroo disliked you a little.
Because every time you approached him, he’d get weirdly stiff, avoid eye contact for two seconds, then immediately start rambling nonsense.
One day, after class, you finally asked him directly:
“Kuroo-san… are you nervous around me?”
Kuroo stopped functioning. Completely. His soul left his body.
Kenma, sitting nearby, didn’t even bother looking up from his game when he muttered:
“…There he goes.”
Because the captain of Nekoma—loud, clever, charismatic Kuroo Tetsurō—was secretly just a shy idiot hopelessly in love with you.
Can i request? Kaiju no 8 boys x reader? Romantic, fluff headcanons? Any kind of plot, up to youu!
Take your timee sweet bunny!! And thank you as always (≧∇≦)/
I procrastinated over this because I got lazy with the aesthetics KWNDNANDN
ENJOY MY DARLING ANON
༊*·˚ Kafka Hibino
✎ Meeting him – You first notice him during a kaiju cleanup shift. He's wearing a worn-out uniform, muttering to himself while trying to lift a chunk of concrete twice his size. It doesn't budge. He trips over a rebar and lands face-first in the mud. You offer a hand. He looks up at you, mud dripping from his chin, and says, "I'm okay! This happens all the time!" His smile is so bright you forget to be annoyed.
✎ Falling in love - He starts finding excuses to work near you. "Oh, you're sweeping that rubble? I'll just… sweep this rubble. Over here. Next to you." He talks about his dream of joining the Defense Force like it's a secret he's scared to admit. You're the first person who doesn't laugh. One night, after a close call with a yoju, you see him transform into Kaiju No. 8. He expects you to run. Instead, you step closer and ask, "Does it hurt?" His eyes go wide. "No one's ever asked me that before."
✎ Who confessed first – He blurts it out during a thunderstorm. You're both huddled under a collapsed overpass, waiting for extraction. He's rambling about how he doesn't deserve to be near you, how he's a monster, how you should leave him. You grab his face—gently, careful around his kaiju markings—and say, "Kafka, I'm not going anywhere." He freezes. Then whispers, "I love you." Like he's been holding it in for years. Like it hurts to let out. You kiss his cheek. He cries a little. He'll deny it forever.
✎ Fluffy moments—He saves every note you write him in his locker—even the ones that just say "buy milk." When you're sick, he shows up at your door with seven different kinds of soup because he couldn't decide which one you'd like. He doesn't sleep well unless you're nearby; his hand finds yours in the dark, and his thumb traces small circles until his breathing evens out. Once, you catch him practicing how to say "Will you go out with me?" in front of a mirror. He's on his thirtieth take. You never tell him you saw.
༊*·˚ Reno Ichikawa
✎ Meeting him – You're both standing in line for Defense Force registration. He's quiet, flipping through a dog-eared handbook, underlining passages with a mechanical pencil. Someone cuts the line. He doesn't say anything—just shifts his weight and keeps reading. You're the one who calls out the line-cutter. Reno glances at you, then back at his book. But the corner of his mouth twitches. Later, he finds you during break and says, "That was smart." Not "brave." Smart. He noticed.
✎ Falling in love – He watches you train from across the field. Not in a creepy way—he's cataloging your form, your stamina, your tells. One day, you stumble during a drill, and he's the first one beside you. "Your left foot is landing too hard. Adjust your stance." No pity. Just help. You start studying together in the library. He talks more at 2 AM—about his parents, about why he joined, about how he's scared of being average. You listen. He notices you listen. That's when he knows.
✎ Who confessed first – You do. He's been dropping hints so subtle that even Kafka didn't catch them. (Kafka catches nothing.) One night, you're walking back to the barracks. The moon is bright. You stop walking. "Reno. I like you." He stops breathing for a full three seconds. Then: "I know." A pause. "I mean — I like you too. I've known for a while. I just didn't know how to —" You take his hand. His palm is warm. He doesn't let go for the rest of the walk.
✎ Fluffy moments – He always carries an extra energy bar because he noticed you forget to eat before missions. When you fall asleep on his shoulder during briefings, he doesn't move—even when his arm goes numb. He fixes your gear without being asked; you'll find a loose strap tightened, a scratched visor replaced. His love language is I noticed. You once mentioned in passing that you liked a certain brand of tea. Three days later, there's a box on your desk. No note. Just the tea.
༊*·˚ Soshiro Hoshina
✎ Meeting him – He's running a sword drill when you first see him. The way he moves is almost lazy—loose wrists, half-lidded eyes— until the blade connects. Then it's a blur. You're standing too close to the practice ring. He finishes his set, turns to you, and says, "You're in my light." Not angry. Just stating a fact. You step aside. He doesn't look at you again. But the next day, during your own training, you feel someone watching. It's him. He's leaning against a post, arms crossed, that same lazy expression. "You're dropping your shoulder on the recovery," he says. "Fix it." Then he walks away.
✎ Falling in love – He starts giving you "pointers" that are really just excuses to stand close. His hand adjusts your grip on a practice sword. His breath is warm on your neck. "Like that," he murmurs. "Now don't mess it up." You catch him staring during meals. He doesn't look away—just smirks and takes a bite of his food. The moment you know it's real: You're both pinned behind cover during a live-fire exercise. A kaiju's tail swings toward you. He pulls you behind him, blades out, and says, "Stay down. I'll handle it." Not "stay safe." I'll handle it. Like it's obvious. Like he'd never let anything touch you.
✎ Who confessed first – He does, and he makes it a game. During a sparring match, he disarms you (easily) and pins you to the mat. His face is inches from yours. "You know," he says, voice low, "I don't let just anyone get this close." You're breathing hard. "Is that your way of saying you like me?" He grins. "Depends. Is it working?" You flip him over—you'd learned his tells by then—and kiss him. He laughs against your mouth. "Yeah," he says. "That's what I thought."
✎ Fluffy moments – He leaves his favorite sword oil on your workbench because he noticed you struggling with yours. When you're tired, he pulls you into an empty storage closet and holds you for exactly five minutes—no talking, just his chin on top of your head. He calls you by your last name in public but whispers your first name in your ear when no one's listening. One time, you catch him sharpening your blades instead of his own. He shrugs. "Yours were dull. Annoying to watch." But the tips of his ears are pink.
༊*·˚ Iharu Furuhashi
✎ Meeting him – He shoulder-checks you in the hallway on your first day. Not on purpose—he's just running at full speed, as always. You both go down in a tangle of limbs. He's on his feet instantly, offering a hand, already talking. "Oh man, I'm SO sorry, I wasn't looking, are you okay? That looked bad. That looked really bad. Are you bleeding? You're not bleeding, right?" He's still holding your hand. You haven't said a word yet. "I'm Iharu! Iharu Furuhashi! What's your name? Wait, don't tell me—let me guess—" You tell him your name just to make him stop. He grins. "Nice name. I'm gonna remember that."
✎ Falling in love – He's loud about it. Everyone knows. He shouts "GOOD MORNING" a little too enthusiastically when you walk into the mess hall. He volunteers to be your training partner every single time. During a break, he throws an arm around your shoulders and announces, "This one's my favorite person here." Kafka raises an eyebrow. Reno hides a smile. You shove him off, but you're laughing. The moment you know: He gets hurt in a mission—a gash on his arm, nothing serious—and you're the first person he looks for. "Did you see me out there? I was so cool, right?" You're cleaning his wound. Your hands are shaking. "Don't do that again," you say. Your voice cracks. His eyes go soft. "Hey," he says, quieter than you've ever heard him. "I'm okay. See? I'm okay."
✎ Who confessed first – He yells it. Of course he yells it. You're walking back from the training grounds, and he's been uncharacteristically quiet for about thirty seconds. Then he stops dead in the middle of the path. "I LIKE YOU. LIKE, A LOT. GO OUT WITH ME." A bird flies away. Somewhere, a door slams. You stare at him. His face is red. His fists are clenched. "That was the plan," you say. "The whole time?" "The whole time." He makes a sound like a deflating balloon. Then he grabs your hand and starts walking again. "Okay. Cool. Great. I'm gonna be normal about this." He is not normal about this.
✎ Fluffy moments – He gives you his jacket when you're cold—even if he's colder. He shows up to your bunk with snacks at 2 AM because he "couldn't sleep" (he was thinking about you). During group photos, he stands next to you and throws up peace signs, but his other hand is always hovering near your back, not quite touching. Once, you fell asleep during a movie night. You woke up to him carrying you to your room. "Didn't want to wake you," he whispers. He tucks you in. He steps on the corner of your blanket and almost trips. You pretend to stay asleep. You're smiling too hard to open your eyes.
༊*·˚ Gen Narumi
✎ Meeting him – You're assigned to a joint exercise with the First Division. He doesn't show up on time. When he finally strolls onto the field—yawning, uniform half-untucked_he barely glances at you. "New faces," he mutters. "Great." He wins the exercise in four minutes. You're the only one who noticed he cheated. Later, you find him alone in the equipment shed, cleaning his combat suit. "You used a banned stabilizer," you say. He doesn't look up. "Got proof?" "Your left gauntlet has a scratch pattern that doesn't match standard issue. Want me to keep going?" He finally looks at you. Really looks. "Huh," he says. "You're not boring."
✎ Falling in love – He starts "coincidentally" being where you are. The mess hall. The training yard. The armory. He never admits it's on purpose. "I eat here sometimes," he says, sitting across from you with a tray. He's never eaten here before. During a mission, you get separated from your squad. He finds you first—not because he was looking for you, he insists, but because "your comms signal was weak." His voice is calm, but his hands shake slightly when he checks you for injuries. The moment you know it's real: You're both pinned in a collapsing building. He could escape easily—he's faster, stronger. He doesn't. "Go," you tell him. "I'm not leaving you," he says. Flat. Final. Like there's no other option.
✎ Who confessed first – Neither of you say the words for a long time. It's a game of chicken. He shows his feelings through actions: he leaves his favorite protein drink in your locker, he "accidentally" saves you the last seat next to him in briefings. One night, after a near-fatal mission, you're both sitting on the roof. He's looking at the stars. "You scare me," he says. You wait. "Not because you're dangerous. Because I don't scare easily. And you—" He stops. Rubs his face. "I think I'd burn the whole world down if something happened to you." You lean your head on his shoulder. "That's a lot of pressure, Narumi." He laughs—a real laugh, not the sarcastic one he uses on everyone else. "Yeah," he says. "Welcome to my life." You never say "I love you." You don't need to.
✎ Fluffy moments – He falls asleep on your shoulder during transport. His head is heavy, but he looks younger, softer. You don't move. When he wakes up, he pretends it didn't happen—but he stays close for the rest of the ride. He learns your coffee order without asking; one day, your usual cup just appears on your desk. No note. He's the only one who could have known. On rare quiet nights, he lets you play with his hair. He doesn't admit he likes it. But his eyes close. His breathing slows. Once, he whispers, "Don't tell anyone about this." You pinky swear. He rolls his eyes. He pinky swears back.
✦ BONUS: Haruichi Izumo (Tech Nerd Sweetheart)
(so this is extra. I couldn't write the others if ever it's cause I barely did any character analysis of them.)
✎ Meeting him – You walk into the tech bay with a broken comms unit. He takes it, fixes it in seventeen seconds, and hands it back without a word. "Thanks," you say. He grunts. You come back the next day with a "broken" tablet. He fixes it in twelve seconds. "This wasn't broken," he says. You blush. He doesn't smile, but he doesn't tell you to leave either.
✎ Falling in love – You start bringing him snacks. He starts saving you a seat in the corner of the tech bay. One night, you fall asleep on his workbench. You wake up with a blanket over your shoulders and a sticky note on your forehead: "You snore." It's written in his handwriting. You keep the note.
✎ Who confessed first – He leaves a folded piece of paper in your locker. Inside: "I would like to date you. Please initial below if interested." There's a checkbox. You write "YES" in all caps and add a smiley face. He initials it back. It's the most romantic thing he's ever done.
✎ Fluffy moments – He sets up a secondary monitor on your desk just for your favorite shows. He never explains it. When you're stressed, he wordlessly pushes a cup of tea toward you—perfect temperature, every time. He doesn't say "I love you." He says "Your left bootlace is untied." That's how you know.
Helloo mafuyuuu, hopee you doing well! Can you do gen headcanons??? Likee, f!reader (gentle yet strong reader pls) is slow learner, she need time to understand things, techniques, new stuff, or anything. Yknow gen right?? He is understanding everything so quick. She feel so upset about it, and one time she asking gen, if that bother him. (Comfort, fluff can smut too , idkk)
But there a things that gen doesn't understand but she did, she thought is was common, like everyone should know right. That why make other officer call her "female version of gen". She just have a different way of learning.
I'M SO SORRY THIS was LONGG, hopee this was alright :3 and I'm so sorry about my bad english :p
Pairing: narumi gen x reader fluffy (slightly suggestive at the end.
Characters: 2694
authors note: this was a bit late since I had 0 motivation but anyways... And I tried a little different layout :>
✦ Gen notices before she ever says anything
At first, he just thinks she’s careful.
During strategy meetings, everyone else is already moving on while she’s still staring at the board, brows slightly furrowed, quietly replaying the explanation in her head.
Meanwhile Gen understood the whole plan in like… seven seconds.
But then later?
She’s the one catching flaws no one else noticed.
Tiny inconsistencies.
Behavioral patterns.
Emotional details.
Things people like Gen overlook because he moves too fast.
That’s when he realizes:she’s not slow.
She just learns thoroughly.
✦ He starts adjusting without making it obvious
Gen would NEVER make her feel stupid on purpose.
So instead of repeating things impatiently, he naturally changes how he explains them.
Breaks techniques into smaller pieces
Demonstrates physically instead of verbally
lets her practice at her own pace
answers questions seriously, even if she asks multiple times
And if another officer gets annoyed?He immediately shuts it down.
“If she’s asking again, it means you explained it badly.”
Absolute silence afterward.
Because if Narumi Gen says your explanation sucked, you just have to live with that.
✦ She gets frustrated with herself
This is the part that hurts him.
Because she tries SO hard.
She stays up later than everyone else training.
Rewrites notes.
Practices techniques until her hands ache.
And one night she finally asks him quietly:
“Does it bother you?”
Gen looks up from his game immediately.
“What?”
“That I can’t understand things as fast as you do.”
And ouuugh. That question genuinely stuns him.
Because in his head she’s one of the smartest people he’s ever met.
He scoots closer without even thinking about it.
Probably takes her hand absentmindedly while talking.
“You know what bothers me?”
“People assuming fast equals better.”
Then he starts listing things SHE understands better than anyone else.
predicting kaiju movement patterns
reading people emotionally
noticing environmental shifts
Adapting under pressure
remembering details everyone forgets
And then he says the thing that completely breaks her defenses:
“You see things I miss all the time.”
“I get answers quickly. You understand them completely. Those aren’t the same thing.”
She genuinely tears up a little.
Gen panics internally because OH GOD SHE’S CRYING—So now he’s awkwardly cupping her face like:
“Wait no no no I said the right thing, didn’t I??”
✦ The “female version of Gen” allegations
The first time another officer says it, she’s horrified.
Because in her mind Gen is a genius and she’s just… trying her best.
But the officers explain:
“No, you’re terrifying in the same way.”
Apparently she does things that make NO sense until suddenly they work perfectly.
Her instincts are absurdly accurate.
She notices patterns subconsciously.
Sometimes she’ll explain something and everyone else just stares like:
“How did you even figure that out?”
And SHE thinks it’s common sense.
Meanwhile Gen is in the background looking unbearably smug.
Like yes.
That’s HIS girl.
✦ He starts bragging about her constantly
Not directly.
He’d die before sounding sincere for too long.
But he starts casually saying things like:
“Ask her instead.”
“She’ll catch it faster.”
“Told you she’d figure it out.”
And when she does?
He gets this ridiculously pleased expression.
Like he’s personally winning every time she proves herself.
✦ Training together
Their styles become weirdly compatible.Gen is explosive precision.
She’s adaptive intuition.
He teaches her technical combat efficiency.
She teaches him flexibility and emotional reading.
Eventually they become horrifying together because she starts predicting what HE’LL do in battle.
And Gen, who nobody can usually keep up with, is just—staring at her like:
“…that’s kinda hot.”
✦ Soft relationship things
She falls asleep studying and Gen quietly carries her to bed
He leaves little notes in her notebooks correcting things with tiny doodles
he gets irrationally annoyed when people underestimate her
she’s one of the only people who can tell when he’s genuinely exhausted behind the jokes
He learns he doesn’t always have to be “the smartest person in the room” around her
That last one matters more than he admits.
✦ Tiny suggestive/fluffy bit
One night she’s upset after messing up a technique again.
Gen ends up pulling her into his lap while explaining it slowly from behind, guiding her hands with his.
And every single time she gets something right he quietly says:
“There you go."
“Knew you could do it.”
“See? Pretty girl’s learning.”
Which should NOT affect her as much as it does.
But then he kisses the side of her neck after she finally masters it and suddenly she cannot remember a single combat technique anymore.
Work has been draining me beyond belief, but here are some fluffy headcanons that sprouted in my mind yesterday, and I had to share them!
Dividers by: @thecutestgrotto
What it would be like to wake up to ...
Soshiro Hoshina
1. A certified cuddlebug. His head lies snug against your chest, your arms around his shoulders as you both sleep facing each other.
You wake to the feel of him burrowing further into the blankets, or against you, still sleeping like a stone. Such luxury is reserved for your exclusive time together, when he has days off, when a kaiju alert is still a distant dream.
2. You wake to his warm weight settling between your legs, his chin propped on your stomach so he can watch you slowly come to wakefulness.
He may flick your nose and grin as he compliments your 'radiant' morning face. Even in the most tender moments, Soshiro is an inescapable and ruthless tease.
3. You wake, disoriented, perhaps after a fleeting and disturbing dream, to the full length of his back pressed to yours. It's grounding, warm, and you often drift back to sleep, finding reassurance in the slow cadence of his breathing.
4. He rouses you by nibbling on your ear, or kissing your cheek softly. It's his favourite way to wake you when he wants to spend the day with you.
You must, of course, start early, so that every precious hour is bracketed, preserved, stolen moments of bliss layered between the golden mundanity of walking along a sun-warmed pavement, hand in hand.
5. Your head is tucked against his shoulder, one arm draped over his solid abdomen as the first light of dawn breaches the gap in the curtains.
He likes resting his chin on top of your head. It affirms his role as a protector, the contact assuaging any doubts about your safety. You're always most secure when you're with him, of course.
You half-wake to him slipping out from beneath you to get ready for work.
6. You wake fully, half an hour later, to the feel of him kissing the top of your head, the edges of his unbuttoned jacket draping cool against your skin. Every goodbye should be a proper one, after all.
7. You wake at midnight, or some other ungodly hour, to the feel of him climbing in beside you, his cool skin warming against yours.
For the first time that day, he shows his exhaustion, sighing and hissing slightly as you ease your hands over sore muscles, carefully feeling for the edges of bandages.
Soshiro never speaks of his pain, and you've taken it upon yourself to seek it out, to soothe it in the ways that only you can.
8. You wake to the sight of him, naked, the firm, sinuous lines of his bare back visible above the blanket where he lies sprawled out, in the kind of dreamless sleep that comes after a night of lovemaking.
His hair is tousled, mouth half open, deep breathing audible, a rare sight. He cracks one eye open the instant you brush his hair away from his brow, his smile lazy, content and utterly yours.
Gen Narumi
1. A cold foot shoves against the back of your knee, the rest of Gen's body spread out away from you. This is how he sleeps when he's been restless, eager for a new challenge, until the desire inhabits him, body and soul. He dreams vividly, tossing and turning.
2. Gen can mimic a koala bear with frightening strength. His arms surround your waist as you sleep on your side, his head planting solidly against the middle of your back. It is his breathing that tickles you awake.
This usually occurs when he comes in tired from a mission. He knows he's going to wake you, but the weight and warmth of his body, the security of his arms, will lull you back soon enough.
3. After he's well fed, showered and ready to hit the hay, Gen can also resemble quite a fetching starfish, lying on his back, arms outstretched, light snoring waking you in the middle of the night.
There is, however, plenty of room on that chest for you lie on. Gen may tuck one arm around your shoulders as you sleep, nose buried in your hair.
4. You may wake up to an empty bed. Beating the next level on his new game is sometimes worth forfeiting sleep.
He's been surprisingly considerate, though, by shoving a pillow between your arms and bent knees. You've had a blissful sleep, and your annoyance evaporates when you find a steaming mug of coffee on the counter as he mutters over the muted sounds of the game.
5. You might wake up to cackling befitting a foggy Scottish moor before Macbeth makes an entrance, Gen's elbow lodged in your ribs.
He's posted something else on social media that has gone viral, and he's risen early to see the number of likes and comments. As soon as you're awake, he launches into a rundown of the highs and lows. His elbow stays wedged against your side, in case you fall asleep while he's gloating.
6. You rise a little late, and can tell, immediately, that he is pretending to be asleep. You play the game and shake him awake, aware that he was watching YOU sleep. He grumbles about how pushy you are, as if his voice isn't gruff with early morning tenderness.
7. Gen doesn't really have preferences on whether he's the 'big' or 'little' spoon. Both positions have their merits.
If it's post-coital, he's usually the big spoon. You wake up to his body pressed against yours, nose buried against the back of your neck, and impossibly soft kisses pressed to your shoulder.
This is Gen's most precious, private self, the face only you get to witness, and neither of you break the silence spun by unspoken intimacy.
8. He brings you cup noodles and an onigiri in the morning. The scent wakes you, and if it doesn't, he waves the cup under your nose until the spice makes your nostrils twitch.
He calls it the breakfast of champions, and he would know, because he's the strongest in Japan, even when dressed in rarely-viewed fleece pyjamas with a bear embroidered on the front (they were comfortable).
He sits cross-legged across from you and eats his own cup ramen. He splashes a bit on the bedcovers, and you scold him, half-heartedly, already plotting ways to steal his pyjama bottoms.
HCs: How Would The JJK Men Comfort You From A Nightmare
Pairings: Toji x F!Reader, Gojo x F!Reader, Nanami x F!Reader, Sukuna x F!Reader, Geto x F!Reader, Yuuta x F!Reader, and Higuruma x F!Reader
Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Younger man (Yuuta) x older woman, Mentions of Nightmares, Slight Crack
A/N: a HUGE thanks to my soulmate who helped me write this when i was having nightmares of my own :'c
Toji
♡ Toji would hold you in his arms.
♡ “It’s not real. Just a bad dream.” he mumbles sleepily.
♡ His snores tell you that he’s fast asleep yet he still holds you in an iron grip. His heart beats and snores lull you to sleep.
Satoru
♡ He can’t comfort people to save his life.
♡ So comedy and lame puns are his go to. “Damn aren’t you worried your eyes are gonna be swollen in the morning?”
♡ He’s met with a pillow to the face.
♡ The face he makes finally has you laughing.
♡ “The great gojo is here!”
♡ “No one can get past my infinity. You’re welcome <3”
Kento
♡ Sits you on the arm chair.
♡ Warm drink at the ready.
♡ Maybe a muffin to eat with the drink.
♡ Doesn’t say anything. Wait till you’re better to go back to bed.
Sukuna
♡ Squishes your face in his hands, says, “Do you know who I am? I am the great Ryomen Sukuna. Nothing can stop me. Do you hear me?”
♡ You nod, “But my brain doesn’t get that.”
♡ “Listen here, brain! If you don’t stop messing around with my girl I’ll show you what happens when you mess with what belongs to Sukuna!”
♡ “How are you gonna do that?” 😭
♡ The ridiculousness of it all has her forgetting the nightmare cause sukuna’s so STUPID!
Suguru
♡ Distracts you by talking about the randomest things ever.
♡ Your conversions make no sense cause he asks you things like “would you rather be stuck in an elevator with gojo or go to a haunted house with nanami?”
♡ He only sleeps when he hears you slurring your answers.
Yuuta
♡ Guard puppy mode
♡ He’s usually the one being babied but in this case he babies you back :(
♡ Yuuta’s talking you in a baby voice because aww his strong brave adult pro max wife is scared :(((
♡ His fingers are gentle when they wipe your tears help.
♡ Holds your hand until you fall asleep :(((((((
Hiromi
♡ Places your head on his chest.
♡ One arm around your waist as he listens to you telling him about your nightmare.
♡ He’s mostly silent but he doesn’t say anything unnecessary because he knows you know that and he knows that sometimes you just need to let things off your chest.
♡ “You’re here now. With me. Nothing will take you away from me.” He kisses your forehead
JJK flaws ● what I see their biggest flaw(s) in a relationship being
○ Satoru Gojo ○
Struggles with true vulnerability + being there for you
Gojo is busy with missions and teaching and when he isn't doing either of those he has meetings and lesson planning to do. He gets home after you fall asleep, heads out before you wake, and spends hours at home reviewing reports and lesson outlines. His role as 'the strongest' would make him uncomfortable with long-term vulnerability and displays of anything he feels is weakness in a relationship, and would lead to conflict over him not sharing his feelings and avoiding long physical contact like cuddling due to his preference to have the limitless active.
○ Suguru Geto ○
Superiority complex + prioritizing other things
Geto isn't the type to directly talk down to you, but his long rants about the flaws of the world and Jujutsu society begin to feel like lectures without his intending for them to. Inside, he feels as though he's the only person who understands the issues he cares about, which leads to an unspoken but very real issue in the relationship of him subconsciously looking down on you. In addition, his days are spent handling things at the cult, with his family, and regarding any cursed spirits he may wish to exorcise, meaning dates and plans get pushed aside or rearranged often.
○ Kento Nanami ○
Burnout + excessive focus on the future
Nanami has every intention of having you with him when he retires. But often, it's all he thinks about. He works long hours, overtime, and takes on extra tasks at work while saving up for it, but comes home running on empty. His mornings are spent readying himself for the shift, and his evenings are spent winding down before sleeping. Weekends end up full of errands as a result, and though he takes you along, you have very little time alone that isn't spent handling something practical. He has a habit of neglecting the present to plan for the future, and winds up with little to give you in the way of time or emotional availability.
○ Ryomen Sukuna ○
A lack of consideration for you
Sukuna isn't an easy person to know. You love him dearly, and he reciprocates, but it's a rose with plenty of thorns. His unintentional rough handling of you combined with a red-hot temper and general irritation with most things lead to the relationship being...tumultuous. He views sympathy as pity, and believes pity is a waste. There's very little tenderness for you, save for the occasion when he can relate to your feelings. As such, you often find yourself needing comfort but lacking it, while being self-conscious about seeming weak.
○ Toji Fushiguro ○
Vulnerability issues + a lack of direction
Toji doesn't want to end up like anyone from his family, but he's not exactly okay with being emotionally open or seeking comfort either. Often bottles it all up. He's the type to reply with "fine" when you ask how he is regardless of how he's really doing. On top of that he doesn't really know what he wants to be doing. Now that he has other things to do in life besides just surviving, he has a tendency to drift from job to job without firmly deciding upon a set life path, and avoids discussing it at length.
○ Hiromi Higuruma ○
Burnout + slight savior complex + bringing work home
If a case ends in a client receiving prison time when he truly believed they were innocent, he'd carry it with him deep down. If there were multiple such cases in a short period of time he'd become withdrawn and irritable, though he'd try not to. The long hours and emotional weight would leave him tired and often unwilling to go out much, so you'll often find yourself at home or alone when you do go out. Even if he apologizes, it would be rough to handle just how engrossed he could become with work, and just how much a ruling could effect the mood at home.
○ Choso Kamo ○
Differing commitments + difficulty adapting to modern dating standards
Choso's brothers have been crucially important to him his whole life, and that continues on, especially with Yuji in his life, and an ongoing desire to give the others a good life. It would be something that takes quite a bit of time, and would sometimes take from his time with you. Expect for him to talk about it at length, and often. Dating is also new to him. The concept didn't exist in his past, so he struggles to adapt to the standard of planning dates, celebrating anniversaries, and choosing specific jewelry for different occasions. At times he'd likely slip back into practices of the past, with a 'courtship' mindset.
○ Kenjaku ○
Dehumanizing + disrespecting you
He doesn't necessarily do it to be mean, but Kenjaku is with you to satiate curiosity. He expects you to go along with his ideas for dates, activities, intimacy etc without objecting. If you said no, he'd most likely get to work 'convincing' you until he got a dubious yes. Swaps bodies without warning, often scaring you on purpose before you see the stitches and realize who it really is. Condescending when he thinks you need to take care of yourself better, and forceful if you oppose him too much.
○ Naoya Zenin ○
Unrealistic expectations + sexism
Naoya sees a woman like a customisable doll, and would enter a relationship with the mentality that he could alter you to suit his fancy, body and mind. Not changing on his whim would sour his mood and lead to him getting angry and frustrated. He both expects you to follow antiquated standards while also pushing back enough to keep him entertained, and he'd start arguments if he were especially annoyed. If you weren't performing some ridiculous balancing act of all his desired traits, he would deem the relationship pointless.
⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ when you call the haikyuu boys by their first name for the first time
characters: bokuto koutarou, kuroo tetsurou, kita shinsuke x gn!reader
synopsis: their last names have always been at the tip of your tongue, so what happens when you do the unthinkable, and finally, call them by their given name?
cw: fluff all the way, unestablished relationship
wc: 3.0k words
i've actually been a hq fan since 2019... and the old tumblr fics always make me argahrgarhg, i used to love fic titles like this :') but they're so rare, so here's my writing abt it! hope u enjoy :) if you enjoy my fics, feel free to tip me on Kofi (no pressure :))
link to masterlist!
⋆.𐙚 ̊. BOKUTO KOUTAROU, he wonders, how is it possible for you to be this beautiful?
Your lips purse together tightly, forming a straight line. You grip the metal handrail, hard, as you watch the ball once again, get hit out of bounds. Not even a single breath leaves your lungs. Things are getting too heated even to take a moment to breathe.
The numbers on the scoreboard for both teams are like heaven and earth. Fukurodani High School is losing against their rival school team, causing the tension in the court to rise so high that your relaxation techniques are no longer working.
You turn around, and notice the people supporting Fukurodani are already beginning to laze off from cheering. Their expressions are dull and bored, seemingly out of energy, lacking motivation to support their team anymore.
You do not blame them. It’s a tough spot for Fukurodani, the chances of them turning the tide are way too slim.
Then, there’s also the ace of the volleyball team, the captain. His once spiky hair, and eyes filled with a lovable glimmer— now reduced to a gloomy deflated state. You notice how he loses his focus on the game, and ends up missing the ball multiple times.
Bokuto is currently experiencing his emo mode, and even Akaashi’s efforts are futile in cheering him up, “Bokuto-san…”
The disheartened captain laggardly perks up, his limbs swaying around weakly, “Huh…?”
Heck, Akaashi looks like he can’t even handle his own emotions well. No one in his team can. Their hopes are crushed by not a rock, but an entire meteor.
A twinge of hurt aches at your heart, seeing Bokuto acting so clueless and depressed while he wanders around the court like a lost baby owl. You know he can do better. You know he has potential that’s yet to be unlocked. You know you have to do something.
At the same moment, Akaashi locks eyes with you. In the pool of gloominess, you catch a tiny spark of desperation, as if he is pleading with you to act.
And so, you did.
In a heartbeat, before Bokuto brings the ball up to the sky to serve, you stand up tall. Gritting yout teeth, you hear all the curious whisperings about your action. Red humiliation fills your face, but you clench tight on your fists, unwilling to back down, not now, not when Bokuto needs you.
A newfound courage overwhelms you when you lean over the handrail, letting your whole existence be known to this little world in this little court. Then, you shout:
“KOUTAROU—!”
As if suddenly, this little colourless world has transformed into a serene oasis, where the sunshine kisses the most beautiful parts of the universe. Bokuto turns his head. He sees it. The way the overhead lights glow up your being. This enchanting ray of light falls gracefully on your face, framing your beauty, and even the little details, making you appear in a way that Bokuto has never seen.
He doesn’t want to look away. His heart is racing a bit too quickly for his own good, and he knows it.
Somehow, an invisible force pushes Bokuto to fly high.
“—YOU CAN DO THIS!”
And his palm, as if he’s accumulated his years of sweat and hardwork, everything at stake at that one moment— he slams hard onto the ball, letting a loud thud echo throughout the silent court. It takes flight, and before anyone in the rival team can react, the ball becomes a sharpened arrow, then crashes perfectly into the centre.
…
Everyone goes quiet.
Then, a shaky, last breath is released, and Bokuto balls up his fists. He shouts at the top of his lungs with surreal vigour as he swings his head to look up at the sky, “HEY HEY HEY!”
All the cheers and yells begin erupting like a hot volcano. The thick tension has dissipated, and has been replaced by a brand new layer of hope. Hope for their captain, their ace, Bokuto Koutarou.
At that moment, Bokuto lets his head look up, and oh gods, he looks good. Drenched with sweat that drips off the sides of his forehead, his heavy pants leave his chest panting for air. Yet, a wide, very wide smile rises on his lips. It grows so bright that it even rivals the sunshine.
You hear the people behind you scream in delight at Bokuto beaming at them.
However, you do not know why, but you feel like his eyes are pinned onto you, and only you, as if he’s trying to tell you, ‘I did it!’ to your face.
Bokuto turns around, and walks forward with a dense aura of confidence surrounding him, ready to serve another win. The rival team’s arrogant grins drop to the floor at the sudden turn of events, their feet standing at the edge when Bokuto suddenly becomes this huge, towering predator about to feast.
Meanwhile, his teammates rejoice at the return of their ace. Akaashi even offers you a grateful smile from below, which you gladly return.
The whistle blows, putting the court into silence again. Everyone, including you, has their gaze on Bokuto, but then, the unexpected occurs.
Bokuto grips the volleyball, and looks up at you in the bleachers with the most vibrant grin you’ve ever seen. He points his index finger towards you, as if he is passing on the spotlight to you. His voice, radiating pure energy and… admiration, declares:
“Y/N… THIS NEXT ONE IS FOR YOU!”
⋆.𐙚 ̊. KUROO TETSUROU, he tries to appear fine, but his brain goes all haywire before you.
“Kuroo. You have to stop. You have been repeating the same joke for days, it’s not even funny anymore,” You facepalm, hiding your face in your palm because you are so done.
Your ears are nearly bleeding from hearing the familiar joke for five days straight. Somehow, Kuroo still finds it funny, even altering the tone and build-up of the joke every time he says it. He has gotten to the point where you don’t have energy to even react anymore, yet he continues laughing by himself like a lunatic.
“You’re probably thinking that your facial muscles deserve to relax from my amazing jokes, but…” Kuroo breathes in deep, “What kind of fish is made out of two sodium atoms?”
A loud agonising groan leaves your mouth, barely audible from you pressing your face closer to your palm. You wish to dig a hole, and bury yourself in it, never leaving it to see the sunlight. You especially do not wish to see Kuroo Tetsurou’s face again while you are embraced by the soil. You do not want him to be the gardener who tends to the soil.
You do not want to hear his chemistry jokes again, but you still force yourself to answer with a monotonous tone, “2-Na…”
As if you tickled his pickle, Kuroo bursts out into a big fit of laughter again, cackling so hard he holds onto his sides to prevent himself from sliding off his chair. He wheezes, attempting to catch his breath, but then breaks out into continuous laughter again.
You are too humiliated to face him. Everyone is looking at you in the cafe. The staff, the customers, the ones who are busy having a Zoom meeting, and the ones who have earphones plugged in with music. You don’t dare to stare back at them. You can already feel their annoyance drilling at the back of your head.
In a state of great embarrassment, you silently mumble, “Tetsurou… Stop laughing, oh my god, everyone is looking at us… I’m gonna cry.”
Like the gods have finally taken pity on you, or maybe the world is about to reach its finale, the laughter suddenly ceases.
“Seems like calling you by your first name does take you off guard, huh?” You mutter to yourself, still shielding your face.
You thank whoever is aiding you in the background, the gods, your guardian angel, whoever it is. The long-earned silence eases into your mind, making your shoulders relax. The near sounds of typing reach your ears, followed by the humming noises of the cafe’s espresso machine.
However, the silence reaches the point where it feels… Strange. Too strange. Kuroo is too quiet. Is he alive? Perhaps he laughed too much, his lungs gave up and popped like balloons?
Your head looks up, expecting to witness a lifeless Kuroo spread on the table, but the sight before you, deems you speechless.
Kuroo Tetsurou is blushing. He’s not just blushing red in the cheeks, but his entire face, to the tips of his ears. Crimson red brushes over his tanned skin like fairydust. Not to mention, his eyes, both unfocused and in a daze, with nothing in them. He gawks at you stupidly, as if he’s drunk too much alcohol into his system.
Kuroo opens his mouth to speak, but nothing, not a word, manages to stumble out of his throat. He immediately shuts up, and quickly covers up the lower part of his face. The way he is currently acting elicits great concern from you. This is not the confident and playful Kuroo you know, more like a high school girl who has taken over his tall, muscular body.
“Um… Kuroo, are you okay? You look like you are about to die.”
No shit, he’s about to die because of you. He doesn’t say it out, and instead, takes in a very deep breath, slowly easing the tightness of his limbs, letting his high-valley shoulders relax. He counts himself down: three, two… no, five, four, three… He tries. Keyword, tries.
He attempts to speak again, but only a jumble of mess is enunciated.
He groans in anguish, and in one quick second, lets his head fall onto the table. A loud thud reverberates through the cafe’s walls, making heads turn towards the commotion. Your concern grows even larger at Kuroo’s uncharacteristic antics, so you reach out for his hand at the side, but to your surprise, he ends up yelping.
You blink in astonishment when he lets out a sound like that, exposing a terrible red mark on his forehead that somehow blends in with his flustered expression.
“T-This…” He gulps, gripping the corner of the table so tightly, his knuckles turn bony white, “This is so unfair…”
Wait, is Kuroo Tetsurou pouting?
The raven-haired boy takes a swig of the hot black coffee in front of him. Bitter! He nearly spits it out, but forces himself to chug through it. The strong bitterness conquers his throat, and hits him like a truck, bringing him back to reality.
“This is fine. I’m fine,” Proceeds to drink another big sip of black coffee.
Kuroo doesn’t bring this up again, never. When you dare bring it up in front of any of his friends, he clamps your mouth shut as fast as lightning. This leads to his friends, especially Bokuto, getting on his knees to beg for this precious piece of gossip. He swears loyalty to Kuroo, but in the end, he has also been rejected.
The reason is simple. He doesn’t want anyone knowing this, a little secret shared between the two of you— solely yours, and his.
He remembers how his heart fluttered at the sound of his first name rolling off your tongue. It was and still is the most perfect memory he will hold close, to the childlike heart of his that beats only for you.
⋆.𐙚 ̊. KITA SHINSUKE, he doesn't react dramatically, but he does like it a bit too much.
The volleyball team is busy with diving drills again, their shoes squeaking against the smooth tiles of the practice court. The entire team has been working hard for days, only taking breaks when necessary. They might even die of dehydration if you aren’t there.
A big match is coming soon, and the coach has been pressuring them to be at the top of their game for it, ensuring that every flaw is fixed, and that they don’t commit any mistakes.
You huff, crossing your arms in deep thought. Just how important is this match anyway? It’s not like they aren’t the best. Your pride and joy is this volleyball team, and your trust in them has never faltered.
At the corner of your eye, you have noticed that the team’s morale is getting low, especially with how exhausted they are with practising endlessly. Even Atsumu, fantastic setter, mood-maker, the one who’s always shouting ‘one more!’ can’t take it no more.
Kita is no better. Although he is one of the most disciplined, hardworking, stable members of the team, you can see the tiniest cracks beginning to form at the edges. Being a captain means having multiple responsibilities, but he’s always managed to handle them without breaking a sweat. Yet, you notice the slight sluggish movements when he heads to receive the ball.
It doesn’t take long before your other friends approach you in aid of your support.
“L/N, please. Aran tried, and he left lookin’ like he jus’ saw a ghost. Yer the closest to him, so ya need to help him. He’s gone bonkers,” Osamu voices out his concern in full seriousness.
Suna shakes his head, and adds, “Our captain is suffering from a mental illness. He’s nearing death, I can feel it.”
Then, the blond twin screeches with agony, “PLEASE, YA OUR ONLY HOPE. I JUS’ SAW HIM GIVIN’ OUT A WATER BOTTLE TO NO ONE! EMPTY SPACE! INVISIBLE MAN!” He pauses, and continues after a deep exhale, “KITA ALSO SMILED AT ME TODAY, FOR THE FIRST TIME! HE’S SCARIN’ ME, L/N. I CAN’T—”
Cut to the scene where you are standing in front of the door to the court, anxiety prickling on your skin. Regret drowns out the loud hits of the ball inside, and also your own peace. You can’t believe you are doing this, throwing away your pride and dignity, just for the sake of the team. A living sacrifice, that’s what you are.
Atsumu owes you a month’s worth of banana milk.
“Here goes nothing…” You mutter to yourself, and step inside, walking towards the members practising their receives.
You stand behind Kita, a few metres away from his back, and call out, “Shinsuke, it’s time to take a break.”
FWOOSH!
The ball that he has initially prepared to receive suddenly bounces off his wrists at a weird angle, sending it soaring to the side. Thankfully, no one has gotten hurt, except that everyone has gotten stunned not at your sudden appearance, but at Kita’s reaction.
The captain, his back still facing you, slowly shifts back to a normal standing position, like a robot low on battery. For some reason, your heart thumps loudly in your ears, in fear of him not liking you calling him by his first name.
Just when you are about to say something, Kita turns around with an evident look of worry, “I apologise for that, L/N.”
“No, it’s okay…” You internally punch yourself, because Kita doesn’t seem to be fazed at all.
However, to your surprise, he does listen to you, and announces to the team, “Take a break, everyone. Good job. Be back in fifteen.”
That’s how you end up sitting on one of the benches, rethinking your life’s decisions, when Kita joins you. He takes a seat beside you, back straight, and the two of you sit in awkward silence.
Your shoulders tense up like bricks built on top of bricks, while Kita drinks water calmly without a care for your crumbling world.
“I’m sorry for calling you by your given name without asking, Kita. I won’t do it again,” Your head dips down low in self-disappointment.
The silence returns, even thicker than before. You sigh internally, unsure of what to do anymore, feeling helpless as the situation unfolds.
“Ya don’t need to apologise,” Kita continues to gaze at the cascading sunset rays, peeking from outside the door. It’s beautiful. Then, his gaze drifts off to the side, and he sees you in your full appearance.
The way your lower lip slightly juts out when things go wrong, like now. When your shoulders slouch a little from feeling dejected. Your fingers that twirl when you are faced with silence, and the way you call out to him, like it’s the most natural thing anyone can do in this universe. He notices it all, the tiny things that make him yearn.
So, he doesn’t stop his yearning, and fishes out a handkerchief from his pocket, and uses it to wipe off the sweat on your forehead.
Your heart is going a thousand miles per hour. You are sweating even more now, but Kita continues to brush the fabric across your skin, like you’re the world’s most fragile item to him.
Kita Shinsuke allows the corners of his lips to quirk up into a rare, gentle smile. One that makes people fall straight into his arms, a smile that even Aphrodite gets jealous of. Kita is attractive, but a smiling Kita is the end of the world.
Caringly, he tucks the fallen strands of hair behind your ear, and you know it’s already too late, there’s no going back when he admits to you—
“I like it. Ya can continue usin’ it all ya like.”
If the gods are watching all the time, as his grandma said, he thanks them for giving him the greatest blessing of all time, the chance to hear his name fall off your lips.
Who knows, he might just get a little bit closer to you, day by day, just to hear it again.
…
“OH MY GOD, ‘M GONNA CRY, THEY LOOK LIKE THAT ONE K-DRAMA WE WATCHED, ‘SAMU!” Atsumu screeches from outside the door, his tuff of mustard hair poking out at the side.
Aran shuts him up by clamping his hand over the loud boy’s mouth, forcing him to yell out incoherent words. Yet, Aran’s eyes remain pinned on the newly established situationship, “Lord, have mercy on me, ‘m becomin’ a godfather soon…”
request: can you do a Hoshina Soshiro x Reader fic whose main context revolves around Taylor Swift's Guilty As Sin song? Basically, the reader's feelings towards Hoshina is exactly as the song depicts, and he found out later on.
notes: not nsfw! just the concept is there, based off of guilty as sin by taylor swift (obviously)
You couldn't be doing this. You knew well in your head that these thoughts should go— but so what if you knew. Having full control of your thoughts is not something most can do, and you knew for sure these thoughts would stay with you. Because you've tried to distract yourself from them— think about anything else— and nothing would work.
Your head was filled with thoughts of your Vice-Captain all the time.
You imagined what his hands would feel like around yours. Perhaps a little bony, but larger than you'd initially expect. You thought about returning to a shared place after a mission. Patching up his wounds while he dried your hair. You daydreamed about how your first kiss would go. Would it be romantic or would it be in the spur of the moment?
These fantasies would fill your head, constantly. Without a doubt, you were his entirely— he lived in your mind day and night. Yet, this stayed in your mind forever. And that made you wonder if these thoughts really were so harmful. If thinking of him in this way was so horrible, if he was forever out of your reach.
However, there was a shift. You couldn't quite point out an exact event, but something was different now. If your eyes met, his gaze would linger for a second too long. If his fingers brushed your skin, you'd sense it'd be for a moment extra. Oh, he knew you felt this way about him.
But something in you told you he felt the same way. Perhaps these thoughts weren’t so bad, if the feeling was mutual. Perhaps they’d be forgiven, if he too, had the same thoughts about you. You weren’t sure for the longest time, but today, you’d finally find out.
The sun had just set as the two of you worked through files, researching away in this messy office. You got up to stretch a little, and took a sip of your coffee before sitting back down. Giving yourself a little break, you looked over at him, and perhaps your eyes lingered for a moment too long.
“Hey,” he said, his eyes meeting yours, instinctively making you look away. “Don’t look away.”
You brought your gaze back to meet his, and his eyes were serious, but also a little hopeful.
“Do you give everyone that look?” he asked, and you slowly shook your head. You weren’t certain where this was going, but your heart thumped so loudly you could hardly hear him. “I think about you all the time. I see you in books I read and the songs I hear. I’d been assuming you did the same, but had I been wrong?”
“No,” you said, shaking your head. “You know how I feel about you.”
He smiled. “I could never be certain.”
“Do you really feel the same?” you asked, your voice a whisper, and he laughed. He got right out of his seat and threw his arms around you.
A kiss to your lips and a whisper only you could hear, “I love you a million times more.”
𝜗℘ ˖ ࣪ . ˖˙ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. height difference + jjk men — seeing you struggling to initiate a kiss, ft. gojo, nanami, toji, choso
tags \\ warnings. jjk men x gf!reader (separately). fluff, suggestive themes. size difference obviously: reader is shorter than the characters. little hint of an age gap in toji’s part (you; early 20’s, he early 30’s). reader gets referred to as ‘small, short, adorable’. nicknames used ‘baby, sweetheart, princess, little girl, angel’. includes drabbles for each character :: mlist.
𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔
“what’s the matter, baby?” satoru easily notices whenever you’re internally debating something. you’d fidget with your clothes, look around and nibble on your bottom lip.
even if you say that it’s nothing, your lover knows that you mean the exact opposite. he walks hand-in-hand with you out of the boutique where he had bought you a pretty dress. his thumb rubs your skin gently, hoping to comfort you with whatever you’re struggling to say.
“it’s uhm,” you finally speak up. satoru halts his steps and tilts his head with a curious pout on his lips. he doesn’t want to pressure you into anything, so he keeps quiet.
his blue eyes follow your movements from behind his sunglasses. you step closer to him, your small hands travelling up to gently hold onto his jacket. you gulp before balancing your entire body on your toes—creasing your shoes a bit by doing so.
at this point, satoru knows what you’re trying to do. your actions are absolutely adorable and make the man giggle. he wants nothing more than to squish your cheeks together for being so cute.
especially because you’re failing to reach his lips.
“oh, do y’need help maybe?” satoru asks with a smug grin. you frown and try to stand on the tips of your toes, though that didn’t seem enough. your lover needs to lower his head a tad more for you to kiss him.
satoru tilts his head backwards instead. he loves to see you pout and struggle to carry out such an affectionate act.
he can’t help it—you’re so fun to tease, “c’mon, you can do it, baby!”
when you give up due to his constant teasing, the white-haired man gasps dramatically. you smack his bicep and turn around with a huff, “forget it.”
before you can take another step away from him—satoru’s hand reaches out to hold your wrist. he pulls you back against his chest, warm palm holding your cheek and tilting your head up so his glossy lips could meet yours.
“sorry,” satoru mutters against your mouth. his tongue sneakily swipes against yours which causes you to squirm. he gives your bottom lip a playful nibble in response, “couldn’t resist teasing you a little.”
𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎
“welcome home, dear!” you greet kento at the front door as per usual. he sighs in relief and smiles tiredly, appreciating your appearance before him. he seems utterly exhausted from his most recent mission.
“it’s good to see you, sweetheart,” kento shuts the door behind him. he takes off his shoes and places them where they belong before doing the same with his coat. he looks down at you as you help him tidy his belongings, “you’re looking beautiful tonight.”
to say you’re flustered is an understatement. kento always knows just how to get you shy and embarrassed from the casual way he compliments you. you’re in your pyjamas and apron—barefaced with nothing extra going on and yet your lover is completely engrossed by your looks.
“thank you,” you murmur back with a bright smile. kento smiles as well after seeing your happy expression. that’s what he does it for.
you hold kento’s hand and feel its warmth engulf your skin. his palms are a little rough; probably from the hard work he put into those recent missions he did. you look up at the blonde man in front of you and want nothing more than to kiss him—show your gratitude for everything he does for you.
thus, you lean in and stand on your toes, balancing on one foot whilst the other floats a few centimetres above the wooden floor. it’s hard to find a balance, though your attentive partner is quick to lend a hand.
“careful,” kento whispers, his voice so husky that you feel a shiver run down your spine. his big hands settle on your waist and he doesn’t waste a single second after that.
he leans in as well, head lowered to yours and your noses lightly brushing against each other. kento’s lips find your soft ones—interlocking them in a passion filled kiss. you can feel his entire body relax even more. as if he’s waited all day to be back home. to be back to you.
to kiss and hold you close.
𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈
“over here, princess,” toji calls you over with a subtle wave. he’s leaning against a brick wall, hands in the pockets of his black jacket. you walk over to him with an excited smile—happy to spend some quality time together with him today.
“hey, i missed you,” you comment and wrap your arms around his waist. you nuzzle your face against his chest to which toji reacts by giving you an awkward head pat.
the older man lifts your head up and away from his body by holding onto your chin. his eyes run over your face, letting out a short content hum. he’s missed you a lot too. not that he’d tell you that directly.
“how’s uni for ya?” toji asks. the pad of his thumb rubs your cheek and you lean into his touch. it brings a little smirk to his face—seeing how easily you become putty in his hands is rather amusing.
“been okay for most part,” you shrug and fail to maintain eye contact with your boyfriend. he probably doesn’t do it on purpose, but his half-lidded eyes makes your lower abdomen feel funny.
you’re still so nervous around him, though you’ve got the guts to at least kiss him first. you missed the feeling of his lips against you after all. the constant, soothing rubs of his thumb against your cheek only intensifies your desire.
you lift yourself up on the tips of your shoes. your cold hands cup toji’s face and he immediately gets what you’re trying to do. he snickers at the sight of you struggling to reach him and acts like he doesn’t know what you want.
. . until you whine about how you really want to kiss him. that man is sold the moment he hears your whiny voice.
“fuck. c’mere, little girl,” toji’s veiny hands go around your waist and move down to cup your ass, his lips crashing down onto yours with a desperation he’s never kissed you with before.
𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎
“do i need to add salt? she’s talking too fast,” choso ask whilst scratching his head. he’s watching a youtube video on his phone; specifically a cooking one. he’s attempting to copy a recipe in his kitchen and you’re helping him since he doesn’t know too much about phones. and cooking apparently.
you giggle and grab the phone from the counter. the lady’s words are incomprehensible due to the video being on two times the usual speed. you return the settings to normal with a light hearted chuckle, “yeah, because you’ve sped up the video, silly.”
“oh,” choso smiles sheepishly. he checks the stove and makes sure the food isn’t burning before turning towards you, “thank you. you’re a lifesaver, heh.”
you can’t help but admire the view of choso in front of you. he’s in an apron which is too small on him since it’s yours—his chiseled chest accentuated by the fabric. his black hair is up in a small ponytail and his cheeks are red. probably from embarrassment.
“you’re adorable,” you comment lovingly. choso’s cheeks turn even redder by your compliment and he sputters some words about how he ‘needs to focus on his cooking’.
you interrupt his stammers by getting closer. your lover stops and his lips are parted—giving you the perfect chance to capture them into a kiss. well, you try to at least
choso notices your silent struggles and blinks. it takes him a second to fully grasp the situation before he decides on helping you. he smiles warmly, his beefy arms effortlessly lifting you up to his height, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist.
one hand is on your thigh, the other holding the back of your head to deepen your shared kiss. choso pulls away and attaches his lips to your neck, settling you the counter, “want more, angel. you drive me crazy.”
jjk men reacting to seeing their mii on your tomodachi life island
includes: gojo, nanami, higuruma, ino, geto
warnings: not beta-read, probably ooc, established relationship, geto is an elementary school teacher because i said so, i've never written most of these characters before be nice pls
gojo
"Wow, how come my glasses instead of my blindfold?" You jump when you hear Satoru's voice in your ear. You had been playing on your switch on the couch, but you hadn't heard him walk up. He must have been watching for a bit.
"You scared me!"
Satoru just laughs and leans on the back of the couch even more so he can keep watching you play, "Don't mind me. Just wanna see what you've been doing all day."
He keeps watching you play and as you play, you explain what you're doing and what the dynamics between different miis are. He loves how excited you are over this game and listens as you explain everything without interrupting, for the most part--
"Did Suguru just throw a fridge at me?"
"Yeah, you guys are really mad at each other."
"What?"
nanami
Nanami isn't one to watch tv often, so you're usually the one using the tv in the living room. Today is no exception, but you're not watching anything or playing one of your usual games.
"What's this?" Nanami sits next to you on the couch, laying back and instinctually putting a hand on your leg just because he can.
"Tomodachi Life, I'm adding more paths right now."
"More paths?"
"Yeah!" You say it like it's the most obvious thing ever, "So my miis can get places easier and the island looks nicer." As if on cue, as soon as you close the building menu a mii with blonde hair, a tan suit, and... crooked bangs walks by on the screen.
"Is that me?"
"Of course, my boyfriend has to be on the island, obviously."
"I wear things other than my suit," Nanami tries to argue, but you just give him a not-so-assuring mhm.
higuruma
It's a rare day off for both you and Hiromi, but he feels like he hasn't seen you all day. He walks into your shared room and sees you playing on the switch in bed, "What've you been doing all day?"
"I've been playing Tomodachi Life," you don't even look away from the screen as he walks over and gets into bed next to you.
"Can I see?" he asks, and of course you oblige. Unfortunately, the game decides that now is a good time for a news broadcast.
Hiromi blinks, confused, "Am I the news reporter?"
"Well, you're not the news reporter. All of the miis switch jobs, it's random who it'll be. Sometimes you're the cashier in the grocery store."
He hums, "Overworked even on your island."
"Of course you are," you say, laughing to yourself.
He watches you play with the sound of miis talking being the only thing to fill the silence. It's a very relaxing game. He notes that your two miis are the most detailed, and then he falls asleep.
ino
Ino had just come back from a mission with Nanami, but you're already home and settled it seems. He sees you on the couch, incredibly focused on your switch. He walks up behind the couch to give you a quick hello kiss, "What're you playing?"
"Tomodachi Life."
"Oh yeah, I saw a few videos about that. Is it fun?"
"Very, wanna see my island so far?" You're already shifting to provide him a better view of the screen, knowing he'd say yes.
"Yeah, duh, but make it quick I gotta shower."
"This is my house, this is yours-"
"What?" Ino interrupts, "Why don't we live together?"
"I can't pick that!" As you're speaking, ino's mii walks out of his house.
"Oh my god! You even got my beanie, that's so cool."
As you're explaining, you think Ino is more excited about this game than you are, if that's even possible.
geto
Suguru walks into your shared apartment confused, you usually greet him when he comes home. He calls out your name and discovers that you're just on the couch once you yell out, "Here!"
"What are you doing?"
"I'm playing my new game." Suguru hums at your response and takes a seat next to you to look at your screen.
"Tomodachi Life?"
"Yeah, how'd you know?" You eye him suspiciously.
"I had some students mention it today."
You take it upon yoursel to give Suguru a tour of your island even though he didn't ask, "I just expanded the beach."
"Looks very nice. Is that me... and Satoru?"
You start to laugh as you zoom in on them fighting, "Yeah you just threw a fridge at him."
"It looks like a threw more than that. He probably deserved it." That just makes you laugh even more.
tags: higuruma x reader, dad!higuruma, mom!reader, domestic fluff, your kids have names haha, content inspired by a bluey episode, also yes im still not done with my dad!hiromi agenda (and i dont think i'll ever be)
you wouldn't say married life with hiromi is like a fairytale—it's more... realistic, with a lot of compromising, staying, and understanding. still, life with him is good. though you both work well together, you two can't help the moments where you forget how to 'romance.'
your little girls, harumi and aimi, sit entranced in front of the tv. they watch as the cartoonishly pretty cocker spaniel sips a spaghetti noodle with a terrier until they meet in a kiss.
“haven't seen mommy and daddy do that,” aimi whispers to her older sister.
harumi nods thoughtfully. “i haven't seen them do any romance, too,” she whispers back.
you almost miss it when you pass by the living room, laundry basket perched on your hip. you pause by the doorway, overhearing their hushed conversation.
“but you know two people love each other when they romance,” aimi murmurs, little fingers fidgeting on her lap. “does that mean mommy and daddy don't love each other?”
harumi is quick to turn the thought down.
“no!” she points at the tv. “mommy and daddy love each other—we just have to help them romance!”
romance.
the word sits strangely in your chest.
onscreen, the dogs finish their shared noodle, blushing and shy. soft music swells. everything is easy there—simple, sweet, predictable.
real life isn't like that.
real life is missed dinners, tired sighs, hiromi coming home late with his tie half-loosened and his case files still in hand. it's you falling asleep before he does, or him leaving before you wake. it's love, yes, but quieter. worn into routine.
still... your daughters are watching that screen like it's something to aspire to, like it's something you're missing.
and maybe it is.
harumi then straightens, like a lightbulb's gone off.
“i've an idea!”
hiromi quietly kicks his shoes off to the side, shoulders hurting from his heavy briefcase and an even heavier day. before his hand could meet the doorknob, the door swings open, revealing two, tiny, suspiciously pleased chefs.
“hello,” harumi, wearing a fake mustache and a little chef's uniform on. “welcome to haru-aimi's restaurant!”
aimi squeals before shoving a crumpled paper—er, menu, on hiromi's stomach.
“welcome, welcome! a reservation for mr. daddy, yes?”
hiromi blinks. he may be exhausted and confused, but anything for his little girls.
“...yes.”
harumi nods excitedly. “pleasant!” she opens the door wider and says, “over here, please, mr. dad.”
the two girls eagerly lead him towards their playroom. inside, the room is dim, save for the nightlight at the corner and the soft electric candles on the tiny table.
hiromi stops when he sees you by it, sitting on the chair patentienly. his eyes lock with yours. you're dressed as nicely as you would have during your date nights, and it melts him.
“what's all this?” he asks, amused.
aimi puffs her chest out proudly. “your new date! she is mrs. mom.”
hiromi raises a brow, amused. “...she's a beautiful woman, but i'm afraid i'll have to decline. i'm already married.”
“wait—!” harumi points at you. “u-um... you're also married here!”
“...i see.” he looks at you softly. “then i'm fortunate.”
he sits down in front of you. you try to stifle your laughter as he tries to fit, not complaining once despite looking uncomfortable.
“okay,” harumi starts dragging her little sister to the kitchen. "me and my sous-chef aimi will be making tonight's special dinner!"
as the children disappear to the corner, you and your husband look at each other in sheer disbelief.
“our kids set us up,” you murmur.
hiromi hums. “i don't mind,” he says. “my date is quite pretty.”
you feel your face warm a little at that, even after all these years.
“that so?” you murmur, playing along. “mine's quite handsome tonight, too.”
for a moment, it's quiet again. the soft glow of the little candle flickers between you, casting shadows that make everything feel... oddly intimate, despie the plastic cutlery and toy plates.
hiromi exhales, shoulders finally easing for the first time since he got home.
“...they think we don't do this anymore,” he says.
you nod faintly. “we haven't. not really.”
he doesn't argue. instead, his gaze softens. “we should,” he says simply. “we can't just forget how to 'romance' just because we became 'mom' and 'dad'.”
you giggly faintly. “and because we get interrupted every—”
“dinner is served!”
harumi marches back in like a proud head chef, holding a plastic plate with exaggerated care. aimi follows close behind, carrying her own share of gourmet plastic.
the little ones set the late down in front of you both, colorful toy food arranged with surprising precision. harumi clasps her hands behind her back, posture straight.
“please enjoy the food,” she says.
“looks excellent,” hiromi praises.
aimi leans forward, eyes sparkling. “you have to kiss while eating the spaghetti, like in lady and the tramp.”
“i...”
you sigh in resignation. before you could complain jokingly, hiromi's already leaning in, softly kissing your lips. you sit there, surprised, before your eyes flutter close. you hum against him, heart fluttering inside your chest.
hiromi pulls away after another peck on the corner of your mouth. he turns to your daughters and asks, “like that?”
“ewww,” harumi immediately whines. “too romance-y. you didn't even eat the spaghetti yet!”
as the girls continue to whine from the disgusting display of affection, hiromi quietly reaches his hand across the table—not for the fork this time, but for your hand. he laces your fingers with his, thumbing your knuckles.
“after this,” he says, voice low, meant only for you, “we'll go on a real one.”
you blink at him, but he holds your gaze.
“i'll make the time.”
the restaurant closes early.
because the girls insisted the 'date' happens past their bed time of eight o'clock, they're already passed out asleep in their play kitchen thirty minutes later.
after tucking them in their actual beds, hiromi returns to you. “they're asleep,” he says, taking a seat beside you this time. “no interruptions now.”
you hum, leaning your head on his shoulder. you two stay like that for a moment, the colorful murals on the wall serving as your view. the silence is comfortable, something rarely shared in between busy schedules and tiring days.
“...i missed you, sweetheart,” hiromi murmurs, tilting his head to press a kiss on your crown.
“missed you more, 'romi,” you murmur.
your fingers find the sleeve of his shirt, idly smoothing the fabric like you used to back when things were slower. when evenings weren't split between responsibilities and exhaustion.
“we used to sit like this more,” you say after a while.
hiromi hums in agreement, eyes still trained on the doodles on the wall. “we did.” he pauses, and then quietly adds, “i kept telling myself it was temporary.”
you tilt your head slightly, looking at him. “what was?”
“the distance,” he answers simply. “i thought once things settled, once work eased up... we'd go back to how it was.” his thumb brushes absentmindedly against your arm this time, grounding himself in your warmth. “i didn't realize we were getting used to it.” the room feels a little heavier all of the sudden.
“i'd come home,” hiromi continues, voice low, “and you'd already be asleep. or i'd leave before you woke up. i told myself that's fine, that it's part of life.”
his hand finds yours again, this time more firmly. “but it didn't feel fine. i missed you, and i'm not supposed to 'cause you're right there.”
you stay quiet, letting his words sink in. he's right—you missed him just as much. you paw at your eyes quietly.
“i'm serious about the date, by the way,” hiromi says after a moment. “i already planned it.”
“you're serious?” you laugh. “since when?”
“since i sat down in that chair and realized i couldn't even remember the last time i took you out properly.”
you let out a soft, breathless chuckle. “wow. felt called out by a six year old and a four year old, huh?” hiromi hums. then, he lifts his hand, brushing his thumb lightly under your eye before you even realize something had gathered there.
“don't cry,” he murmurs.
“i'm not,” you protest weakly.
“mn, you are.”
hiromi leans forward then, slow and unhurried, and presses a soft kiss to your lips.
“i love you, sweetheart. even when work swallows me whole. especially then.”
ok FINE it's lowk boring... but tbf im weiting this half asleep on a school night. i just needed that fluff after a very hell-sent month!! sorry, i'll get back to it soon (VERY soon)! i have a couple cooking in my drafts, just need to recuperate my creative juice raghhh #burntOUT haha ily guys!
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