ilxo

Rinnosuke Mitobe adores me, i’m Mrs Mitobe💞

[ilxfa]

Girl can you not feed anything through you AI shit 🫩🫩🫩 omfg bruh

first of all I think you should try to fix your grammar. anyways thanks for taking your time to request this, my work is entirely written by me, i just use AI for polishing, the images are fully produced by AI, bexause i can't draw i am terrible at it. feel free to block me or just ignore my page if you don't like anything since i've been transparent about fully using AI to create the images! thank you <3

[wanmanheadcanons]

How I be feelin when I'm reading an x black!reader and the character calls y/n "ma" all the time- like bro you can call me normal pet names, you are NAWT a hood nigga 😭

[ilxfa]

rs

[hibi5cus]

when i’m reading a fanfic and have to pull out this bomb ahh move

[sp7-mr]

[ilxfa]

Aomine Daiki x Wife!Reader

Magazines & Midnight Confessions

The apartment was quiet at 1:37AM, the soft glow of a single lamp painting the living room in warm gold as you stood there barefoot in Daiki’s oversized shirt, staring at the scattered magazines on the floor. He sat hunched on the couch, elbows on his knees, hands covering his face like he was trying to disappear. You approached slowly, voice soft and steady, telling him you weren’t mad — just worried. He flinched at the gentleness, a tiny movement that told you more than any argument ever had. Earlier that evening, you had walked into the bedroom to find him reading one of those magazines again, and when you calmly reminded him you’d talked about this before, he snapped, insisting it wasn’t a big deal and stormed out. Now, when you sat beside him on the couch, not too close, just close enough, you asked him to look at you. He didn’t. You told him again, softer, that you wanted to understand, not judge. That finally made him lift his head, eyes filled with guilt and something even deeper — fear. You asked if he wanted to talk or just be held, giving him a safe choice, and the moment he whispered, “Just hold me,” he broke quietly in your arms. You held him close, feeling the shudder of every breath he’d been holding for years. When he finally spoke, his voice was small, raw, trembling as he admitted he didn’t start using those magazines because he liked them — but because of something that happened back in middle school, a party he’d never spoken about. He told you, haltingly, about the senior girls who cornered him and treated the whole thing like a joke, about how he couldn’t stop them, didn’t understand what was happening, didn’t have the voice to call it what it was. You kept your arms around him, whispering that you were sorry he went through something so terrifying, letting him bury his face against you as he confessed that the magazines made him feel safe, controlled, untouchable. When he asked, almost pleading, whether he was broken, you cupped his face and told him he was human, strong, that surviving trauma didn’t make him damaged. He admitted he’d been scared you’d think he wanted the magazines more than he wanted you, and your heart shattered at the vulnerability in his eyes. You told him he never had to compete with his own trauma for your affection, that he already had all of you, especially on the days he felt the most fragile. His body relaxed in your hold, tension slipping away as you guided his head onto your lap and stroked his hair, promising you weren’t asking him to give anything up overnight — only to let you help him heal. When he whispered that he wanted to try, you told him that was enough. He kissed your palm softly, gratefully, and asked you to stay. You did. You curled around each other under a blanket on the couch, his hand gripping yours, your fingers tracing slow circles along his back until he finally drifted into the first peaceful sleep he’d had in weeks. By morning, the magazines were still on the floor — untouched — because for the first time, Daiki felt like he didn’t need them the way he used to. Not when he had you to hold onto.

Good evening everyone! school's been stressing me out ngl but i got some time to write this piece. have y'all ever wondered if aomine isn' just a "gooner"? and that maybe he does suffer from hypersexuality after a traumatic event?

[ilxfa]

FLOPPED?!

i really expected this fanfic to not flop, genuinely thought i ate down🥀, does anyone have any KNB POVS i should make? or any other request

[ilxfa]

Kuroko Tetsuya x fem!Reader! oneshot

The things you notice

Kuroko Tetsuya wasn’t used to being seen. Even now, with a girlfriend who smiled at him like he was her entire world, that old instinct lingered — the quiet feeling that he could vanish at any moment and the world would keep spinning just fine.

He didn’t think it was sad. Just... normal. That was, until you came along.

It was a slow Sunday evening, the kind that smelled like rain. You and Kuroko were sitting together in the gym after his team’s practice — the others had already left.

He sat beside you on the bleachers, towel draped around his neck, sweat still glistening on his jaw.

“You’re quiet today,” you said softly.

He blinked, turning his gaze to you. “I’m always quiet.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “No, this is different. You do this thing when you’re thinking — your fingers tap against your thigh, just once every few seconds.”

He paused mid-tap. “You noticed that?”

You looked at him like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Of course I did. You always do it when you’re trying not to worry me.”

His lips parted slightly, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

You leaned in just a bit. “You don’t have to hide things from me, Tetsuya.”

He met your eyes — steady, light blue, almost too gentle for how deep they looked. “I’m not hiding. I just… don’t want to take up too much space.”

You smiled sadly. “You don’t take up space. You make it. For everyone else.”

Kuroko’s breath caught, his heartbeat louder than the soft drizzle outside. No one had ever phrased it like that.

He reached for your hand then — a quiet, hesitant motion. You intertwined your fingers without hesitation, resting your head against his shoulder.

The gym lights buzzed softly above, casting a glow that made everything feel distant and still.

“You know,” you murmured, “when we’re in a crowd, I can always find you first.”

Kuroko tilted his head. “How?”

“Because even when no one’s looking, you’re still paying attention to everyone else,” you said, smiling. “That’s how I know where you are — I just look for the person who’s seeing instead of being seen.”

For a moment, Kuroko was quiet again — but not in the way he used to be. This silence was full, warm, safe.

He rested his chin lightly on your hair. “You make me feel visible,” he whispered.

You laughed softly. “You’ve always been visible, Tetsuya. People just don’t look close enough.”

When he walked you home that night, your hands stayed intertwined the whole way. Neither of you said much — there was no need.

Because love, for Kuroko, didn’t come with fireworks or noise. It came with small gestures — the squeeze of your hand, the way he always waited for you before crossing the street, the faint smile when you noticed his favorite flavor of milk and bought it before he could ask.

And for you, love didn’t need to be loud to be real. It lived in the quiet places — where he once felt invisible, and you made him feel like light.

[ilxfa]

Atsushi Murasakibara x fem!Reader!

🍬 “Sweeter Than Sugar”

The locker room smelled faintly of sweat, tape, and victory. Voices echoed down the hall—Kagami’s laughter, Kuroko’s calm replies, the thud of someone dropping a water bottle. The game was over, the cheers were fading, and the adrenaline was dissolving into silence.

Atsushi sat alone on a bench near the back, his long legs folded awkwardly, his right arm wrapped tight in a sling. Someone had handed him a towel and a box of chocolate pocky; only the candy had survived his impatience. He’d eaten half already.

When you stepped inside, the door clicked shut softly behind you.

“Hey,” you said. “Everyone’s wondering where you disappeared to.”

He didn’t look up right away. “Too noisy,” he mumbled, chewing lazily. “And my arm hurts.”

You crossed the room and crouched in front of him. His eyes were half-lidded—tired, but calmer than you’d ever seen. “You broke it for a good reason, though,” you said gently.

Atsushi gave a slow blink. “Yeah,” he murmured. “For once, I didn’t just play because it was easy. I actually… wanted to win.” His voice faltered on that last word, almost like he didn’t recognize it coming out of his mouth.

You smiled. “You did win.”

He stared at the pocky stick, then at you. “It doesn’t feel like before. Usually I don’t care about this stuff, but now… it kind of hurts that it’s over.”

You sat beside him. “That’s because it mattered.”

He frowned, the motion small but childlike. “Mattering is exhausting.”

“Yeah,” you said softly. “But it’s real.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The muffled celebration outside grew quieter—someone had turned the music down, maybe to rest their voices. Atsushi shifted a little closer, and the bench creaked beneath his weight.

You noticed the candy box in his lap. “Still eating even with one arm?”

“Mm,” he hummed. “It helps.”

“What does?”

“The sweetness. When I was a kid, candy was… the only nice thing. Whenever I was upset, I’d eat something sweet and pretend it fixed everything.”

You reached over, sliding one stick from the box. “Did it?”

He shrugged. “For a bit. But it never lasted.”

You snapped the stick in half and offered him a piece. “Maybe it wasn’t supposed to last—maybe it was just supposed to remind you what nice things taste like.”

He looked at the candy in your hand, then at your face, and for the first time his eyes softened completely. Carefully, he leaned forward and took the piece from your fingers with a quiet bite.

The silence that followed was strangely tender. You could hear the hum of the lights, the slow rhythm of his breathing, the faint buzz in your chest that always came when you were close to him.

“Hey,” you said after a while. “You know you don’t have to fix everything by yourself anymore, right?”

Atsushi tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t have to quiet things down with candy or pretend you don’t care. You have people now—your team, your friends…” You paused, lowering your voice. “Me.”

His mouth twitched into a crooked smile. “You?”

You nodded. “Me.”

He leaned his good shoulder lightly against yours. “That’s nice,” he murmured. “You make things quieter too, but… in a better way.”

You felt your face warm. “Quieter, huh?”

“Mm. Like the world finally stops spinning so fast.”

You laughed under your breath. “That might be the painkillers talking.”

He gave a soft huff of amusement. “Maybe.” Then, after a heartbeat, quieter: “Maybe not.”

You stayed like that for a long time—just two tired people sharing the same breath and sugar-stained peace. His head eventually tilted until it rested against yours, and his voice came out drowsy, almost slurred.

“I still like candy,” he said, “but it tastes different when you’re here.”

You smiled, brushing the crumbs from his fingers. “Maybe it’s because it’s not just sugar anymore.”

He opened one eye lazily. “Then what is it?”

“Something sweeter.”

Atsushi blinked, half-asleep, and murmured, “You, then.”

The words hung in the air, simple and unpolished, but they made your chest ache in the gentlest way. You watched him drift, his breathing slowing, his candy box slipping from his lap to the floor.

You caught it before it fell and placed it beside him, whispering, “Rest, Atsushi. You did enough.”

He made a small sound of agreement, somewhere between a hum and a sigh, and leaned fully against you.

Outside, the echoes of celebration faded into the distance. Inside, there was only the faint scent of chocolate, the steady rhythm of his breath, and the soft understanding between two people who’d found sweetness in the middle of all the noise.

For once, Atsushi Murasakibara believed that maybe—just maybe—things could matter.

[ilxfa]

Akashi Seijurou x fem!WifeReader! oneshot

The delivery

The contractions had started just before dawn.

At first, Y/N thought it was another false alarm — she’d had them for weeks now — but the sharp ache that followed made her grip the edge of the kitchen counter. Akashi was already awake, half-dressed in a crisp white shirt, preparing to leave for a meeting when he saw her stiff. The look on her face was enough.

Within minutes, he had her wrapped in his coat and carried her to the car himself, ignoring the driver’s offer. The sky was barely gray, quiet but heavy with rain. The windshield wipers beat a rhythm faster than his heart.

“Breathe slowly,” he murmured, one hand on the wheel, the other gripping hers. “I’m here. Just breathe with me.”

She nodded, sweat starting to bead at her temple. “It’s okay,” she whispered back between breaths. “We’ll be okay, Seijuro.”

He said nothing, only pressed a kiss to her hand before driving faster.

Hours later, the sterile scent of the hospital clung to his clothes. Akashi had faced world championships, corporate boardrooms, and his own inner demons — but none of it compared to this.

The doctors spoke in controlled tones. Words like complications, blood pressure, monitoring kept slicing into him. His composure, usually untouchable, wavered when one nurse rushed out to call for a specialist.

He wasn’t allowed into the delivery room at first. He paced the hallway, the cold fluorescent light making his reflection in the window look foreign — sharp red eyes burning, jaw clenched.

Then the door opened, and a doctor called him in.

Y/N was pale, her breathing shallow. Her hand searched weakly until he clasped it, lowering himself to her side.

“Seijuro…” her voice trembled.

“I’m right here,” he said, leaning close. His voice cracked slightly. “Don’t talk. Focus on your breathing.”

The machines beeped irregularly. The doctor said something, but he barely heard it — his eyes fixed on her face, the same face he once saw under cherry blossoms the day he asked her to marry him.

Then, faintly — a cry.

First one. Then another.

A boy. A girl.

The doctor announced it through a mask of relief. The nurses moved quickly to check the newborns, but Akashi couldn’t look away from Y/N. Her eyes were half-lidded, exhausted, her skin slick with sweat and tears.

For a terrifying moment, she didn’t respond to his voice. And in that moment, his left eye flickered — gold brightening, red dimming. That fracture of his soul — the fear of losing another person he loves — clawed back from somewhere deep.

He whispered her name again.

Her eyelids fluttered open. Her hand rose weakly, fingertips brushing his cheek.

“You… look scared,” she murmured, voice faint but warm.

He caught her hand, pressed it to his lips. “You scared me.”

Her smile was small but certain. “You’re a father, Seijuro.”

When she said it, the tremor in his eyes settled. Both irises — the same deep crimson — shone again.

And when the nurse placed the babies in his arms, one by one, he finally exhaled.

The house was quieter now — too quiet for Akashi’s liking.

He’d arranged for the twins’ nursery to be soundproofed just enough that their soft whimpers didn’t echo through the hall, but it made every small sound from the master bedroom sharper: the rustle of sheets, the steady rhythm of her breathing.

Y/N was finally home after a week in the hospital. She was still pale, her body weak from recovery, but her eyes had that same calm glow — a quiet strength that kept him grounded.

Akashi stood beside the bed, sleeves rolled up, feeding her soup with the same precision he’d once used to shoot free throws.

“Seijuro,” she whispered, laughing lightly between spoonfuls. “I can feed myself.”

He frowned, almost imperceptibly. “You’re not supposed to move. Doctor’s orders.”

Her lips curved. “Those were your orders.”

He hesitated, then said softly, “They were correct.”

The tray beside him looked more like something out of a luxury restaurant than a recovery meal — organic vegetables from Kyoto, bone broth simmered for eight hours, imported mineral water chilled to exact temperature.

He’d even replaced all the utensils in the house with BPA-free silver cutlery “for purity.”

When she caught him disinfecting the doorknobs for the third time, she sighed. “Seijuro,” she said gently, “you can relax. I’m not made of glass.”

He set down the sanitizer and sat beside her, brushing a few strands of hair from her forehead. “I almost lost you,” he said simply.

Her expression softened. “But you didn’t.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward — just full of things neither needed to say.

Later that night, he checked the nursery. The twins were asleep — the girl’s tiny hand curled around her brother’s sleeve.

Y/N appeared behind him, leaning on the doorframe. “Looks like they already have your sense of teamwork.”

He turned to her immediately. “You should be in bed.”

“I wanted to see them,” she said, smiling tiredly.

He sighed but helped her into the armchair by the crib. She sat down, eyes misting over as she watched the babies. “I still can’t believe they’re ours,” she whispered.

He crouched beside her, resting a hand on her knee. “Everything that’s mine has always been yours.”

When she finally fell asleep again that night, her head resting on his shoulder, Akashi didn’t move for a long time.

He just stayed there, tracing soft circles over her hand with his thumb — the same hand that had reached for him in the delivery room.

For the first time since the day he lost his mother, Seijuro Akashi felt truly at peace.

The early spring sunlight poured through the wide Kyoto windows, scattering gold across the tatami floor.

Y/N blinked awake to the faint sound of laughter — soft, breathy, and unmistakably Akashi’s. It was rare, gentle, and only the twins ever managed to pull it out of him.

She pushed herself up slowly, her strength finally returning after months of recovery. The faint ache that had once lived in her body was gone now, replaced by something lighter — peace, maybe.

Down the hall, she found them: Akashi kneeling on a blanket spread across the living room floor, wearing a white T-shirt and sweatpants, both babies balanced on his lap.

Their little boy was tugging on his father’s sleeve, while the girl reached up and caught a strand of his crimson hair.

Akashi smiled faintly, letting her tug it again. “You’ve inherited your mother’s determination,” he murmured.

“Or your stubbornness,” Y/N said from the doorway.

He looked up immediately. “You should’ve called me. You’re still—”

“I’m fine,” she said, crossing the room with that quiet grace he loved. “You’ve been up early again?”

He nodded. “They wanted breakfast before the sun did.”

She knelt beside him, taking the boy from his lap. The baby yawned, then pressed his small face into her shoulder. She smiled, rubbing his back in slow circles.

“I still can’t believe how much they’ve grown,” she whispered.

Akashi’s eyes softened. “Every day feels new.”

For a moment, neither spoke — just the hum of the morning air and the soft coos of the twins.

Then Y/N leaned against his shoulder. “You’re doing well, you know. As a father.”

He blinked, surprised. Compliments still caught him off guard when they came from her. “I have good teachers,” he said quietly.

She laughed softly. “Flattery doesn’t suit a genius.”

He turned, pressing a kiss to her temple. “It suits a husband.”

Hours later, after breakfast, Akashi found her standing at the window. The twins were napping, sunlight spilling over the crib.

“You were right,” he said softly from behind her.

She turned. “About what?”

“That life can be ordinary and still be perfect.”

Y/N smiled. “You only just realized that?”

He slipped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. “You keep proving it to me.”

Outside, cherry blossoms began to fall. Two petals drifted through the open window, landing in the cradle between the twins.

And for a long, perfect moment, everything was still — their laughter, their breathing, the small sounds of the home they’d built together.

The kind of peace Akashi once thought he’d never find again.

FIN

[ilxfa]

Aomine Daiki x fem!Model!reader 4 (finale)

The next campaign isn’t indoors this time.

It’s on a rooftop — soft sunset bleeding into the Tokyo skyline, orange and violet clouds reflected on the slick surface after a sudden rain.

The air smells clean. Quiet. Like a fresh start.

Y/N stands at the edge of the set, wrapped in a light windbreaker, watching the staff reset lights. Her curls brush her cheek, damp from the drizzle.

Aomine walks up behind her, hands tucked in his jacket pockets. “You good?”

She smiles softly. “I’m okay. It’s beautiful up here.”

He glances at the skyline, then at her. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “It is.”

The photographer waves them over. “Alright — last scene! Simple. Natural. Just the two of you, walking close, like you’re sharing a secret.”

They nod.

The camera clicks. They walk.

The city hums below them, traffic like a heartbeat.

She laughs quietly at something he mutters under his breath — something about how they never get normal jobs like “catalog modeling.”

He grins. She laughs again.

“Hold that,” the photographer calls. “That’s the moment.”

When it’s over, the crew packs up, the lights dim. They stay a little longer, leaning against the railing.

A breeze lifts her hair, brushing it across her face. Without thinking, Aomine reaches out — gentle — tucks the strand behind her ear.

She freezes, heartbeat in her throat.

“Why do you do that?” she whispers.

He tilts his head. “Do what?”

“Say things that make my heart race.”

He laughs quietly, eyes softer than she’s ever seen. “’Cause it’s true.”

A pause. The wind carries a faint hum of city life below them — taxis, chatter, the world still spinning.

He leans closer, voice low. “I like you, Y/N. I think… I’ve liked you since that first shoot.”

She looks up at him — eyes bright, shy, searching. Then smiles, small but certain. “I know.”

They don’t kiss. They don’t need to.

The camera flashes one last time from somewhere behind them — a candid shot, the kind that’ll end up on billboards.

Two silhouettes, close but not quite touching. Sunset light between them.

The Beauty of Contrast.

FIN

[ilxfa]

Aomine Daiki x fem!reader!model! 3

The Interview

Two weeks later, the studio hums again — but this time, it’s not for a shoot.

It’s for press day.

Rows of cameras line the back wall. Journalists murmur quietly, flipping through notes. Nike banners hang behind the long white table where Y/N and Aomine sit, side by side.

She’s composed — back straight, hands folded neatly in her lap — but her heart thuds hard enough to make her fingers tremble.

Aomine slouches next to her, tapping his foot, pretending not to notice. But he does. He always does.

The interviewer smiles too wide. “So, Miss Y/N… people are calling you ‘the mysterious model with the soft eyes.’ How has the attention been treating you?”

She gives a polite smile. “I’m grateful. It’s been… new. But I’m thankful for the chance.”

“New indeed,” the interviewer laughs. “There’s a lot of curiosity about you. Some fans say your look is ‘unconventional.’ How do you feel about that?”

The words hang.

Unconventional.

She smiles again, but it falters at the edges. “I think… beauty isn’t one thing. I’m just doing my best.”

Aomine shifts beside her, jaw tightening.

The interviewer keeps going. “And Aomine-san — how did you feel working with her?”

He leans forward, elbows on the table, eyes steady. “How did I feel?” A pause. “I felt lucky.”

Cameras click. Y/N turns to him, startled.

He doesn’t look away. “She’s professional. Calm. Makes everyone else focus. So yeah — lucky.”

The room stills for half a breath.

Then the photographer clears his throat, trying to move on. “That’s… good to hear! Thank you, Aomine-san.”

But she’s still looking at him, soft confusion in her eyes.

After the interview, she catches up to him by the exit. “You didn’t have to say that.”

He shrugs. “Didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”

She hesitates, voice low. “You made me sound… better than I am.”

He grins faintly, finally glancing her way. “You don’t see what I see, then.”

Her breath catches. Before she can answer, someone from the staff calls his name, and he turns to go.

But she’s left standing there with his words still echoing — not loud, but steady, the way rain hums on a quiet night.

Backstage lights fade. Flashbulbs pop outside the door. And somewhere between the noise and silence, something shifts again — small, quiet, undeniable.

[ilxfa]

Aomine Daiki x fem!model!reader! 2

The rumors

The Nike campaign drops on a Wednesday morning.

By noon, it’s everywhere. GIF sets. Reblogs. Screenshots. Hashtags like #AomineAndTheModel trend across Twitter and Tumblr.

Some posts are kind — “Who is she? She’s gorgeous.” “The chemistry is unreal.”

Others aren’t.

“Why’d they pick her? Doesn’t even look Japanese.” “She’s clearly nervous — so awkward.”

Y/N scrolls through the comments once, maybe twice, then sets her phone down. Her reflection in the window looks calm, but her chest feels tight.

She tells herself not to care. She tells herself she’s used to it.

But it still stings.

That evening, she shows up to the studio for a quick follow-up interview. She’s early — always early. The set is quiet, the lights low.

And then the door swings open.

“Ayo, you saw the posts?” Aomine’s voice, lazy as ever. She looks up, startled. “Oh. You’re here early too.”

He drops his bag on a chair, sighing. “Couldn’t sleep. My phone wouldn’t stop buzzing.”

There’s a pause.

“Some people said stuff,” she says softly. “It’s okay though, I don’t mind.”

He frowns, leaning against the wall. “Don’t say that.”

Her head tilts, confused.

“They’re wrong. You were amazing in that shoot.” His tone is flat, firm — no teasing this time.

She blinks. “You really think so?”

He pushes off the wall, walking closer until the distance between them fades into quiet air. “Yeah. You made the whole thing work. Without you, it’d just be me standing there, looking stupid.”

She laughs quietly — nervous, soft. “You don’t look stupid, Aomine.”

“Then stop looking like you’re the one who should hide.”

Silence.

Her throat feels tight again, but this time for a different reason.

He steps back, breaking the tension. “C’mon,” he says, grabbing her tote bag for her. “Let’s grab something to eat before the next shoot. My treat.”

She opens her mouth to protest — but he’s already halfway out the door.

And for the first time since the campaign went viral, she smiles.

Outside, the sky is heavy with clouds. Somewhere in the distance, camera flashes still pop — but under the neon lights, walking side by side, she doesn’t feel small anymore.

[thebilliondollarbitch]

this blog is a safe space for black women ❤️

[ilxfa]

Aomine daiki x fem!model!Reader

The shoot

The studio hums with noise. Assistants rush around, lights flashing, camera shutters testing focus. Y/N sits quietly in the makeup chair, scrolling through the campaign notes she studied the night before.

She’s polite to everyone — bowing slightly, whispering “thank you” each time someone passes.

Then the air shifts.

Aomine Daiki walks in, hoodie half-zipped, bottle of sports drink in hand. She looks up for half a second — just enough to meet his eyes — then lowers her gaze again. Respectful. Reserved.

“Our theme is The Beauty of Contrast,” the director says, grinning. “We want natural chemistry, not acting.”

Y/N nods softly. “I’ll do my best.” Aomine smirks. “I’m not used to posing. Guess you’ll have to teach me.”

She glances up, voice quiet. “I can help if you’d like.” He wasn’t ready for how gentle her tone would be — not flirty, just kind.

The shoot begins. Flash. “Closer,” the photographer says. “We want connection.”

Aomine leans in, teasing under his breath. “You’re nervous, huh?”

She shakes her head, faint smile. “Just focused.”

He laughs. But when he places his hand on her waist for the pose, she flinches — only for a second — then steadies herself.

The photographer whispers, “Perfect. That softness. Hold it.” And suddenly, Aomine’s the one blushing.

Rain falls outside.

Y/N steps out of the building, pulling her bag close. Before she can open her umbrella, Aomine jogs after her.

“Hey. You’ll get soaked.” She hesitates… then steps under his umbrella, careful to keep her space.

Silence. Rain. Streetlight reflections in the puddles.

“You surprised me in there,” he says. She looks up. “How so?”

“You don’t try to stand out… but somehow, you do.”

She blushes. “I’m just doing my job.”

He smiles — softer now, less teasing. “Then I hope we work together again.”

The umbrella drips quietly between them. The city hums. And maybe, somewhere between the flash of the camera and the rain, something begins.

[ilxfa]

Junpei Hyuga x Y/N (fem!Reader!), oneshot?

☀️ One-shot: “Summer Afternoons”

The sunlight was kind to Tokyo that day—golden and warm, the kind that made the world feel like it was exhaling after a long week. Y/N sat with Hyūga at a small riverside café, sipping iced lemonade and teasing him about Seirin’s latest scrimmage.

“You’re seriously still letting Kagami dunk over you?” Hyūga rolled his eyes, smiling. “He’s a walking springboard, Y/N. Gravity doesn’t apply to him.”

Before she could reply, a familiar laugh cut through the chatter of the café. “Hey, long time no see!”

Both turned—and there he was. Teppei Kiyoshi, grinning from ear to ear, dressed in his usual relaxed style. But what really drew everyone’s attention was the woman beside him.

Her rich ebony skin caught the light like warm bronze, her curls tied in a high ponytail. She smiled shyly. Kiyoshi’s arm rested around her waist, steady and proud.

“Whoa, Teppei!” Hyūga stood, grinning. “You didn’t tell me you were bringing company.”

Kiyoshi rubbed the back of his neck. “Right! This is Yvonne. We met during my physiotherapy in America.”

Y/N blinked once before smirking. “Damn, Teppei, I didn’t know you were into ebony babes!”

Hyūga groaned immediately. “Babe, behave.”

Yvonne blushed, hiding her face behind her hand, while Kiyoshi laughed that big, open laugh of his.

“She’s helped me through a lot,” he said softly, glancing at Yvonne with that unmistakable warmth in his eyes.

Y/N’s teasing smile softened. “She’s gorgeous, Teppei. You really lucked out.”

Kiyoshi’s grin widened. “I think we both did.”

They all laughed, the four of them glowing in the sun, drinks clinking in rhythm with their easy conversation.

Later that afternoon, as the sunlight began to fade, Hyūga stretched and stood. “Hey, let’s head to the court. I’ve got something to show you guys.”

The tone in his voice was casual, but Y/N noticed the quick glance he exchanged with Kiyoshi. She didn’t think much of it as they walked—until they reached Seirin’s gym.

The doors opened, and inside, the court glowed under soft golden string lights. The whole Seirin team was there—Kagami, Izuki, Kuroko, even Riko, all smiling as if they knew something she didn’t.

“Hyūga… what’s going on?” she asked, her white two piece set catching the light as she turned toward him.

Hyūga took a step closer, rubbing the back of his neck just like his best friend always did. His voice was softer now. “Nothing big,” he said, smiling nervously. “Just wanted everyone here to see me do this right.”

Before she could reply, he knelt down, pulling out a small box that caught the light.

Y/N’s breath hitched.

Kiyoshi grinned in the background, Yvonne covering her mouth in excitement.

Hyūga’s voice wavered just slightly, but his eyes stayed steady on hers. “Y/N… I’ve been trying to find the right time to say it. You make me better—on and off the court. So…” He opened the box, the ring gleaming. “Will you marry me?”

For a second, time froze. The only sound was the hum of the lights and the thudding of basketballs from the racks nearby.

Then Y/N smiled, tears spilling down her cheeks as she whispered, “Of course, you idiot.”

The court erupted in cheers—Kagami shouting the loudest, Riko nearly crying herself. Kiyoshi threw an arm around Hyūga, laughing as Yvonne snapped a quick photo.

Under the gym’s soft glow, surrounded by their friends, Y/N and Hyūga kissed—quietly, lovingly.

And for that one summer evening, Seirin felt like home again.

A few hours later, the celebration had migrated to a small hotel lounge near the river. The Seirin crew had taken over the entire place—music low, laughter spilling out into the summer night.

Kagami was the first to go down—face flat against the couch, muttering about “just closing my eyes for a second.” Izuki was next, slumped over his chair mid-pun. Kuroko blinked slowly, eyes half-lidded as if even his ghost-like stamina couldn’t save him.

By the time the clock hit midnight, the scene was chaos: Hyūga snoring on the floor, still clutching the ring box; Teppei sitting cross-legged beside him with a sleepy grin, mumbling about “celebrating friendship”; and Kagami’s fiancée Carmen draping a jacket over him while shaking her head fondly.

The women stood together, quietly amused.

Y/N leaned against the counter, still wearing her white dress—now slightly wrinkled but glowing under the soft hotel lights. Momoi handed her a drink and sighed. “They look so peaceful when they’re unconscious.”

Anne chuckled. “Yeah. You wouldn’t believe they used to run national tournaments like this.”

Yvonne giggled softly, resting her chin in her palm. “Teppei said he could handle his sake… he lied.”

They all burst out laughing.

Carmen crossed her arms, smirking. “So, Y/N… future Mrs. Hyūga, huh?”

Y/N grinned shyly, touching her ring. “Guess so. I just didn’t expect my fiancé to pass out before midnight.”

Momoi clinked her glass against Y/N’s. “Welcome to the Seirin wives club.”

“First rule,” Anne added. “Keep them hydrated.”

“Second rule,” Yvonne said with a teasing smile. “Pretend you don’t hear their snoring.”

The girls laughed again, the sound mixing with the soft hum of the summer night.

Outside, fireflies flickered along the riverbank, and from the floor, Hyūga mumbled something about “best team ever.”

Y/N looked down at him, her heart full.

Yeah, she thought, definitely the best.

The hotel suite was quiet now — only the soft hum of the air conditioner and the distant sound of the city outside. The laughter, the champagne, the flash of photos — all of it had faded into a pleasant memory.

Hyūga sat on the edge of the bathtub, head tilted forward, still a little dizzy from the drinks. Y/N kneeled beside him, gently pressing a cold towel to his forehead.

“You were supposed to toast, not finish the bottle,” she teased softly.

Hyūga groaned and managed a grin. “In my defense, Teppei kept challenging me.”

She laughed — that light, musical laugh that always made him melt. “And you never back down, Captain.”

He looked up at her then, eyes warm and a little glassy from the night. “You know... I still can’t believe you said yes.”

Y/N’s smile softened. “You’ve been asking me with your eyes for months. I just finally answered out loud.”

He chuckled quietly, reaching for her hand. Their fingers intertwined, her thumb brushing over his knuckles — a small, grounding motion that said everything words couldn’t.

She helped him up, steadying him as he stood under the warm water. He blinked, water running down his hair, and Y/N laughed again. “You look like a wet puppy.”

Hyūga tried to protest, but the sight of her — sleeves rolled up, face glowing under the light — made him forget his embarrassment. “You’re beautiful,” he said suddenly.

The words hung in the air — simple, raw, and honest. Y/N blinked, momentarily flustered. “You’re drunk.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, smiling faintly. “But I mean it.”

She looked at him, heart catching for a moment. Then she stepped closer, pressing her forehead to his chest. “We should talk about the wedding tomorrow,” she murmured.

He nodded, resting his chin on her head. “Tomorrow. Tonight, I just want this.”

“Just this?”

“Us.”

She smiled against him. “That sounds perfect.”

The night passed softly, filled with quiet laughter, shared warmth, and the kind of peace that only comes from loving someone who makes you feel safe.

The Morning After

The sunlight slipped through the hotel curtains, landing softly on the tangled sheets and scattered clothes from the night before — nothing scandalous, just the mess of celebration and exhaustion.

Y/N stretched with a small groan, shielding her eyes from the light. Beside her, Hyūga was still half-asleep, hair a complete disaster.

“You’re snoring again,” she teased, brushing his bangs out of his face.

He opened one eye, grinning lazily. “That’s how you know I slept well.”

“Or how I know you were out cold,” she said, laughing.

By the time they both made it downstairs, the hotel restaurant was already half-full — Kagami with his head on the table, Kuroko sipping his coffee quietly, Izuki laughing at his own puns while Teppei was dramatically telling the waiter he needed “revival juice.”

Momoi waved from the corner table. “There they are! The newly engaged lovebirds!”

Hyūga scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed. “Morning…”

Y/N smiled sweetly and lifted her hand, showing off her ring — a large, dazzling stone that caught everyone’s attention. “I can’t even lift my hand anymore,” she said dramatically, pretending to wobble under the weight. “This thing’s too heavy, Junpei!”

The whole table burst into laughter.

Teppei nearly choked on his coffee. “Bro, did you buy her a meteor?!”

Hyūga turned red, groaning. “I didn’t realize the jeweler would give me the deluxe sparkle package!”

Y/N leaned her head on his shoulder, smirking. “Guess you’re stuck with me now.”

“Gladly,” he said quietly, smiling down at her.

Kagami mumbled something like “Get a room…” while Kuroko added in his usual calm tone, “They already have one.”

The group laughed again — loud, genuine, and full of warmth. It wasn’t just breakfast. It was family.

Outside, the day was bright, the start of something new.

[first off i'd love to apologise about y/n's breast size since each reader has their own breast size and shape, but AI didn't want to create y/n with a flat chest so that the reader could imagine their breast size on the OC i always try my best to be inclusive! that's why y/n's OC is bald and gray so you can imagine ur desired skin tone, body type and hairstyle on her]

(the reason why they're barefoot it's because they're at the sea side!)

[ilxfa]

requests?

does anyone have a one shot or head cannons request about any KNB character? pls let me know💋

[ilxfa]

Atsushi Murasakibara x Iman Leonee my OC

even AI believes my OC and atsushi deserve a sauna date

And y’all please tell AI to stop playing in my face cause wth is this…?