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𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 — ⋆

༓ 𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒂 𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒖

↬ gn!reader, suggestive, language, in which he sends you a thirst trap to entice you to come over, based on this fanart that blessed my feed a few nights ago, he is a dork with a six-pack, 2170 words

(𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕)

Suna throws his phone to the other side of his bed as soon as he hits the send button. He’s never really understood the term “risky text” before, but now he wonders if his extreme aversion to even looking at his phone and waiting for a response from you is what he’s seen all the memes about. He sits up and tugs down his shirt, feeling a little embarrassed at his show of vanity. However the deed is done, and if you don’t respond, well that’s his own damn fault for taking advice from Atsumu.

Keep reading

feppydoodles

i like to eat eat eat opples and bononos I like to eat eat eat epples and benenes 🍎

mattsundaes

sugawara koushi

he's not at all what you were expecting.

you're a kindergarten teacher. you're a little too young to already be divorced with a thumb that too often runs over the bare spot left on your ring finger. you're a little too old to be dealing with dating apps overrun with flighty twenty-somethings that hardly even want to know your name.

you're a little too tired and more lonely than you'll admit with a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes lately, though you try for the kids—the eager little sea of faces that hang on to your every word each day.

daichi's vague on the details when he asks you for a favor, your younger cousin simply tells you he has a friend from high school who's studying to become a teacher. a university student who needs to interview one like yourself for a career project.

you're not prepared for it, for him—for sugawara koushi's bright eyes and soft smile. for his gentle, raspy voice and his warm, open laughter. an old soul with a smart mouth and a steady, knowing gaze that notices everything.

you're not prepared for him to want to know you. for him to listen. for him to make you suddenly realize the difference between being looked at and being seen.

(you're not prepared for all of the sunlight that filters in, the way it lights up all those dark places your mind has been.)

sugawara's patient when you're forgetful and kind when you're having a bad day. he's brilliant and he's funny and he's going to make an incredible teacher. he flirts with you. he makes sure you know he likes when you wear yellow, and his eyes crinkle in amusement when you make a self-deprecating joke about the decade of time that exists between the two of you.

(you're not prepared for it—how utterly wanted you feel the first time that you find yourself pressed up against your front door with sugawara koushi's mouth against yours.)

pyowos

iwaoi kasal real!!!

mattsundaes

brother's best friend!mattsun

"Like this?"

There's a part of Issei that knows he should feel guilty right now as he gazes down at you.

"Yeah," he nods, talking around the joint tucked between his lips as he inhales, a stilted vacuum of air hissing through his teeth. The exhale of smoke that follows is slow, measured. Late afternoon sunlight catches in the lazy trail.

“Just like that.”

He's yet to put the joint out, despite the fact that you're currently kneeling between his legs with eager eyes and swollen lips. Because, if nothing else, he knows the odds of him making this situation worse will in fact greatly increase if he has two free hands.

As if he hasn't already fucked himself entirely by agreeing to teach his best friend's sister how to suck dick in the first place.

You gag a little, trying to take him deeper. Issei nearly cups your cheek, but you quickly relax your jaw, and his dick twitches at the sight of a stray tear wriggling free from your fluttering lashes.

A small laugh escapes you.

The black ink that trails up the back of Issei’s hand flexes against his protruding veins as he grasps the edge of the couch cushion, heels pressed deep into the soles of his shoes as he resists the urge to buck his hips.

“Can I…” your fingers curl around his balls, stroking.

Beside him, his phone lights up, your brother’s name popping up on the screen. Issei ignores it, nodding, and he groans as he watches a sloppy trail of spit slide down your chin.

heich0e

wake up call suna rintarou/f!reader (haikyuu!) word count: 2k tags: sfw but suggestive, classic morning after meltdown, walk of shame (bedroom to kitchen edition), pining, fwb to lovers, idiots to lovers, instagram story repliers to lovers, bestfriend!terushima, implied teruyams. a/n: i heard suna rintarou has a 8 pack… i heard he’s shredded

I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up—

“I fucked up.”

“Good morning to you too,” Yuuji chirps from the other line as you answer his call. His bright tone is a stark contrast to your own hoarse, panicked whisper—having frantically fished your ringing cellphone from the bottom of your tangled bedsheets when it woke you. “What did you do this time?”

“I…”

You hear the unmistakable sound of your shower running down the hall of your one bedroom apartment, sucking in a breath.

“… am going to be late for brunch.”

“Ohhh.” Your best friend’s tone of voice turns salacious. If there’s one thing you can count on, it’s that Terushima Yuuji is nothing if not insatiably gossip hungry. “Who did you do this time?”

drawnbymabel

Cozy Pokemon night💤

evamame

the air outside is sticky in a way that clings to everything—your sweat soaked t-shirt, your frizzy hair, your skin, and even the lenses of your blue light glasses. humid summer evenings like these never get easier, no matter how strong you run the fan in the living room or how many sorbet ice pops you eat.

you’re perched up on the bathroom countertop, the cool marble against your legs a welcoming contrast to the heat surrounding you. a buzzing aircon runs, albeit weakly, in the corner. the crappy college apartment you and atsumu share is pretty unpredictable, so it’s honestly a miracle it works at all. his hands brace the countertop on either side of your thighs as you brush the dye through his hair, making sure his dark roots don’t steal the show during his next big game.

the gentle movement of the brush through his bleached strands coupled with the tiring heat soothes his eyes shut as you work. without the heat exhaustion you imagine he’d be running his mouth right about now, but the only sounds that fill the space instead are the faint buzzing of cicadas outside the cracked window and the crinkling of foil. you crimp one last piece around the remaining section of hair with a satisfied sigh.

“all done, tin man,” you smile.

he opens his eyes then, murmuring a quiet “thanks” against your lips before leaning up to press his to yours.

“you’re all sweaty,” you tease when your arms wrap around his bare neck, even though you both just exchanged sweat mustaches.

“so are you,” he laughs.

“no i’m not,” you deny, but he pinches your side and your shirt somehow sticks to your skin anyway.

“walk around shirtless like me next time. you’ll stay cooler,” he smirks. when the temperature gets like this, he can’t wear anything other than his boxers around the house before he starts to complain more than you can handle.

“next time, you’re doing your own hair.”

generationalcrow

"you boys never bring anyone around," mama miya swats at both twins as she works around them to set the table. atsumu is trying to serve himself some protein while osamu already has half a cheek filled with rice. all she can do is sigh and click her tongue— but she wouldn't have her boys any other way.

atsumu groans at his mother's comment. "ma," more meat lands in his bowl and he dodges her attempt to stick some kind of vegetable he's never liked into his bowl. "datin' ain't that important."

from across the table, osamu's eyes narrow. that doesn't sound anything like the atsumu who's been openly moping about some girl he's been pining over for the past few months— a far cry from how his brother acted in high school. things weren't lining up.

"what about that one girl?" osamu pipes up, mouth still half full of rice. chopsticks motion in the direction of the blonde, lazy and almost mocking, in a way. "the sports reporter? for the school newspaper?"

osamu knows he hit a nerve the second he sees the flush appear on the tips of atsumu's ears.

"shut up!" atsumu snaps, scowling as he smacks at osamu's chopsticks. he can feel his cheeks warming, his heart rate picking up— all the signs pointing towards embarrassment. it's not a feeling atsumu is fond of, so immediately he turns defensive. "there was never a thing with a sports reporter—"

"but you've been bitchin' and moanin' about some girl you couldn't get a date with!"

the embarrassment stings worse. atsumu's always had luck in that department— girls practically tripped over their feet in high school just to talk to him. he always had a steady line of admirers, and while it was true— dating wasn't that important to him— all of that flew out the window the second he met you.

atsumu never stumbled over his own words. always had a pick-up line (no matter how cheesy), could flash a little teeth and a wink and score himself a date. it was fairly easy. he knew he was attractive.

so why the hell did none of it work on you? was it the fact he couldn't get his own name out of his lips when you interviewed him court side after his college volleyball match? was it the way he couldn't stop staring at you like a deer in headlights when you complimented his plays? surely you were just doing your job and supporting the team, supporting the school— but was it the way he stood like an absolute idiot court side after you cut the cameras after such an embarrassing interview?

atsumu felt like all his luck drained the moment he met you. even osamu is getting laid more than him now— a fact that should bother him, but doesn't. it hardly feels like a competition anymore now that he's got his sights locked on you.

"i'm workin' on it," atsumu finally mumbles after a beat, ignoring the rush of warmth to the back of his neck. he scowls into his bowl, and pointedly ignores the way his mother lifts a questioning eyebrow towards him.

and because atsumu can never help but start shit with his own brother; "how was umi? thought you two were gettin' serious."

"who?"

"or was that kyojou?"

atsumu feels his shoulders relax when their mother's curious gaze whips into incredulity the moment she turns on osamu.

lumixnouss

akaashi keiji | it's feminine intuition .ᐟ

after watching your high school's volleyball game, a certain setter had caught your attention. what else does a bored girl supposed to do in bed but stalk through his socials?

note: this was insipired by drop dead by olivia! <3 also this is my first haikyuu work, i hope y'all like it ( ´ ▽ ` )

the screams inside the giant gymnasium felt as though they might burst your eardrums off. the game had been going on for so long, both teams on the court were locked in this seemingly endless rally that had your eyes going back and forth to both sides.

but obviously, you were rooting for your high school’s team. fukurodani academy was known for having a strong team, though guiltily, this was your first time watching any of their games.

it was competition season, as your friends called it—they had practically dragged you out here to watch a bunch of games—mostly that of your volleyball club’s.

at first, it took you a few games to understand the rules and what they were actually doing on court, but when you got the hang of it, you found yourself cheering along with your friends, eyes locked onto that ball.

your heart pounded inside your chest as the ball returned to fukurodani’s side. the ball was received by the libero, flying high in the air. then, your gaze locked onto that player that had stolen your attention for a while now.

number 5, the setter, as your friends called him.

he flawlessly tossed the ball to the tall guy running up to the net. and with a powerful spike that had you sitting on the edge of your seat, the team successfully earned their victory.

the gymnasium erupted with cheers, your friend grabbed your arm and pulled you up to jump and cheer with her.

“they’re so good!” one of your friends commented, grinning as she lifted a makeshift banner—or more like a piece of paper with the fukurodani name scribbled on it.

“i swear, that number 4 looks like he could rip arms off with his spikes!” your friends discussed the game, watching as the players approached your side of the bleachers to bow.

your eyes stayed glued onto the composed expression number 5 had on his face. he didn’t look that ruffled from the game save for the quick rise and fall of his chest—indicating just how exhausting that game was.

the team bowed in front of the bleachers, shouting ‘thank you’ to the audience. more girls around you cheered, waving their signs around and shouting ‘good job’ across the bleachers.

you couldn’t help but wonder what number five looked like up close.

your attention is torn away when your friends grab your arm, “we should head to the cafe before going home! i could really use a drink.”

the cafe was quiet when you arrived. it was already deep into the afternoon and everyone was probably headed home by now.

you sipped from your drink as your friends passed a phone around the table. you took a peek at the screen and found a social media profile opened.

it was that guy with white-gray hair that won the game with that terrifying spike. “this guy’s in my older friend’s class, he’s a third year.” one of the girls shared.

“i think his name was bokuto. apparently, he’s like one of the top aces in the country.”

“damn, really? no wonder his spikes were so clean.” you comment, eyes skimming over his profile.

then, you see it. a post that showed that familiar number 5 jersey.

bokuto smiled up at the camera with the setter you saw earlier standing just right behind him. he wasn’t even looking at the camera but the ball in his hands as though he was deep in thought. it looks like it was captured without him knowing.

now that you could see his face more clearly, you felt your heart skip a beat. he was cute—handsome, you couldn’t quite put the words together.

but the way he looked at the ball in his hands, eyes glimmering with determination made you lean closer to the phone, scrolling through more pictures until you found another.

it was another post, another candid shot. this time, he was sitting by the window of a classroom, chin resting on his hand. his eyes were trained onto the textbook before him, wired earphones dangling loosely.

a few other people surrounded him, casually tossing volleyballs around. yet, he seemed quite used to the ruckus with how unbothered he looked.

was this some sort of deja vu?

school had finally ended for the day, but before heading home, you’d forgotten your notebook somewhere on your table. you tell your friends to go on ahead as you ran up to the second floor.

you stopped in your tracks when you passed by an empty classroom—except it wasn’t completely empty.

near the window, a boy sat in his seat, fingers flipping through the pages of his textbook. your eyes grazed his dark—slightly messy hair, and that composed expression on his face, like this was just another one of his routines.

you swear you’ve seen this before.

“akaashi!” a loud voice echoed across the corridor. you quickly moved to the other side of the hallway and away from the door.

a guy you recognized to be bokuto sauntered into the classroom, a volleyball tucked in his arm. “let’s go!” he called out.

so, his name was akaashi, huh.

as soon as your head hit the pillow, you grabbed your phone and dialed your friend. for some reason, your heart was racing—feeling a bit nervous. but god, were you just so curious.

“hey! did you find your notebook?” your friend answered.

“yeah. but i… have a question.” you hesitated, feeling warmth rise to your cheeks.

your friend chuckled on the other line, “what’s up?”

“you know that setter from the volleyball club? number 5.” you mumbled, trying to keep your voice steady. but of course, your friend has none of this and laughs from the other line.

“akaashi keiji? i’m on it!” she announces, voice filled with excitement.

not even a minute later, his username was already in your chat.

“he’s a second year like us, and oh my god look! he’s the vice captain of the volleyball club!” she giggled over the phone, almost sounding as though she were endorsing him to you.

“and you know, i heard he’s really smart—and isn’t he cute too?!” she spoke quickly and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes while fighting a smile.

“i didn’t ask for all of that.” you mumbled, fingers already typing in his username.

“you wanted it anyway.” she teased.

when you opened his profile, you were greeted with basically nothing. although he had a good amount of followers, he only had two posts in his feed. one being a picture of his table with a few mangas scattered about.

the other post seemed to be his volleyball team, they were at a restaurant, big smiles and drinks raised up. akaashi sat quietly beside bokuto, smiling softly. he held up a peace sign and had an onigiri on the other hand.

a small flutter in your stomach tells you everything—you need to see his smiles up close, and maybe how his voice would sound too.

it was almost as though you had manifested him. ever since you noticed him at the game, you just kept on running into him.

at first, it was at the convenience store near your school. you were buying yourself a quick drink before class and ended up grabbing the same one as akaashi. when your hands touched, you both flinched and pulled away, murmuring apologies to each other before awkwardly grabbing something else.

but that ended up with both of you standing in front of the cashier, offering the other to go on ahead. the cashier switched his gaze between the two of you, smiling to himself.

the next time was on the train. by the time you managed to get on, the train was practically full and you had no choice but to stand somewhere off to the side. just as the doors were about to close, a person squeezed in just at the last minute.

you recognized your school’s uniform on him and slowly looked up. akaashi was already staring back at you, eyes a little wide from recognition.

the two of you exchanged a short, awkward greeting before you pulled out your phone and stared at the screen—your mind reeling from the sudden proximity between you.

at this point, your heart was already pounding in your chest. you snuck quick glances at him and noticed how he just looked out the window, eyes tracing the view outside, completely indifferent from the world around him.

and of course, just as fate would have it, when your stop came, he also got off the train. you quietly trailed behind him, noticing how the two of you were taking the same path home.

but of course, you wouldn’t let an opportunity like this pass up. you started visiting that convenience store near school more often. who knew akaashi would go there everyday like clockwork? that he seemed to buy that drink almost habitually every morning before school?

or maybe the fact that when he didn’t have practice you’d find him sitting across from you on the train ride home.

what mattered the most was how he looked at you. first, he was curious—of how often he’d see you around when he didn’t notice before.

curiosity turned into familiarity, and whenever akaashi keiji found himself looking for you. his morning convenience store runs had become a complete staple of his day, sometimes he’d see you already heading inside and find himself walking faster to catch up.

“when did you start drinking these sweet drinks, akaashi?” bokuto asked during lunch, his finger poking the drink carton on akaashi’s desk.

akaashi shrugged, “i like it.”

it reminded him of you.

it’s probably feminine intuition. your fate was sealed the moment you saw him at that volleyball game. you knew it then, akaashi keiji had your whole undivided attention, without even trying.

the court was filled with loud cheers from the audience. fukurodani academy had just taken another win, advancing them further into the competition. you got up from your seat, hands clapping as a smile tugged at your lips.

“they’re on a roll! akaashi’s doing well today too! did you see those dump shots?” your friend laughed, waving her banner around.

but just like a routine, you slipped away from the stands and found your place near the court and in the shadows of the door.

you clutched his favorite drink in your hand, feeling the cold seep against your skin.

after the players were free to leave the court, akaashi’s legs were already moving towards you.

“keiji!” you smiled, waving your hand. akaashi smiled, feeling the exhaustion ebb away from him the closer he got to you.

akaashi stood in front of you and walked right into your open arms. his own automatically coming up around you.

“good job today!” you commended, feeling his arms tighten around you as he rested his chin against your shoulder.

“thank you.” he mumbled quietly. akaashi had practically melted onto you.

maybe it was really intuition. because the moment you saw him that day, a part of you had already imagined what it would feel like to be this close to him.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ 1.86k wc, @lumixnouss on ao3 and wattpad <3 ℒ ove, lumi.

kkumri

MSBY & BABY!! 🦊🍼 rip papa…

seumyo

husband!iwaizumi thinks you’re hot (literally).

You’ve just gotten cozy in bed when your husband tells you, “You’re hot.”

“Thank you?” you replied, confused. “I’m not really in the mood tonight, though…”

Iwaizumi looked at you as if you’d grown another head. His brows are drawn together, mirroring your confusion.

“What? No, love, you’re hot.”

“I know I’m hot, Haji. You told me. And I told you I’m not in the mood.”

He sighed. “Hot-hot. You have a fever.”

“Oh?” You put a hand on your neck, feeling the temperature a lot warmer than usual. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

“How’d you know?”

He shuffled around your bedroom, going through the cabinets that had extra blankets, medicine, and a thermometer he kept in your nightstand. Iwaizumi sat next to you, the bed dipping under his weight.

“You’re quieter than usual,” he answered eventually.

“That’s it? That’s not even—mmph!”

You could only glare at your husband when he unceremoniously gives you the thermometer.

“Rude. Is this how you treat your wife? That is ill?”

Iwaizumi chuckled. “Sorry, sorry. I forgot to tell you.” He offered you the blankets and pressed a soft kiss to the back of your hand to show that he truly was sorry. You’re not sure if you want to believe him given that cheeky smile on his face. “Be right back. I’ll make you something warm and get some water.”

“But we just had dinner—”

“Just a little hot soup? Please?”

“But I just brushed my teeth, Haji.”

“I’ll help you brush your teeth after.”

You stared at him. There was no way you could win this argument. Iwaizumi was quite stubborn when he wanted to be.

“Fine. I want egg drop soup, though.”

He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

You’re about to fall asleep when Iwaizumi pulls you closer to him, murmuring, “You okay?”

“Mmh. Feels like it’s going to come down on me t’morrow.”

He shifted slightly, kissing your temple. “Weekend tomorrow. I’ll take care of you.”

You smiled, nodding along. Having a husband who could tell that you were about to fall ill just from the subtle tell-tale signs was a blessing.

kawaluvs

.ೃ࿔*:･ TALKING ABOUT THEM IN AN INTERVIEW

pairings: Bokuto x reader, Oikawa x reader, Kuroo x reader

content: one-shot!, model!reader, post-timekip, fluff

note: Let me know who else you guys would like to see when I write multifics.

BOKUTO . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Interviewer: "And the question on everyone's mind: do you currently have a special someone?"

You tried to hold back your smile but felt your cheeks rising anyway, warmth spreading across your face before you could do anything about it. Your eyes dropped softly to your lap for just a moment, thinking about him.

Interviewer: "Oooh! That's promising! Who is it?"

YouL "Well, all I can say is he's a ray of sunshine. I could be in the worst mood and just seeing his face fixes it."

You let that sit for a breath.

You: "And his biceps are the size of my face."

The audience erupted, a wave of laughter rolling through the room, a few dramatic gasps scattered in between.

You laughed along with them, raising a hand like you were done taking questions.

But although you'd said it to get a reaction, you meant every word. You always did. There wasn't a single thing you'd say about him, even offhandedly, even to a room full of strangers, that you didn't mean completely.

That was just what he did to you.

"You said all of this about me?"

Bokuto leaned back against the couch cushions to glance over at you through the kitchen doorway, you washing dishes with your back to him like you hadn't just described him to an entire audience.

He always played your interviews or runway clips on the TV like it was a one-man watch party. You'd come home to find him already three hours deep in clips, completely invested, like he hadn't seen all of them already.

"Who else would I say it about," you chuckled to yourself, keeping your eyes on the task in front of you.

For about two seconds there was complete silence from the living room and then "THAT'S ME! SHE'S TALKING ABOUT ME!"

He was talking to absolutely no one. Just the walls and the TV, expressing whatever energy he had left from the day.

You heard the couch cushions shift, then footsteps, fast ones, and then you were completely enveloped from behind before you'd even had time to set the dish down properly. Both arms locked around you, his chin dropping to your shoulder, rocking you back and forth with an enthusiasm that nearly took you both into the counter.

"You are an angel," he said, pressing kisses into your neck between words. "If I couldn't make you smile I'd have no purpose. I'd be utterly useless. A shell of a man—"

"Kou—"

"A hollow, joyless shell—"

"Bokuto."

"Yeah?"

"I'm trying to do the dishes."

"Okay," he said. And kept rocking you anyway, whispering baby into your neck like that was a completely normal and reasonable response to what you'd just said.

You thought he had walked away, but instead you felt an arm wrap around you from behind, not harshly, just cradling your chin in the crook of his elbow and tipping your face up toward the ceiling.

"Bokuto!" You giggled, surprised, hands still sudsy from the dishes.

"How about this! Does this get your attention!"

"You always have my attention," you managed through the giggling.

That was apparently the wrong thing to say if your goal was to get him to calm down.

"ALWAYS?!"

"Kou, I am trying to finish the—"

"The dishes can wait," he said, and there was zero negotiation in his voice about it, though he was still smiling so wide you could hear it. He turned you around by your face with all the care of someone handling something precious.

When you were facing him properly he looked down at you with that expression he got sometimes, the one underneath all the noise and the yelling and the dramatic declarations. Big gold eyes gone a little soft.

"You really said that about me," he said again. Quieter this time.

Not a question anymore. Just Bokuto, saying it out loud one more time because he wanted to.

OIKAWA . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Interviewer: "And the question on everyone's mind: do you currently have a special someone?"

It was a behind the scenes interview, caught in the middle of getting ready for a runway show. The makeup artist was lightly dusting powder across your cheeks when you turned your eyes toward the camera.

You: "Usually I'd lecture you about not always needing a man, but this time, I do."

You smiled to yourself like it was some enormous personal achievement.

And honestly, to you, it was.

THE Toru Oikawa was dating you. Out of everyone who practically lined up to throw themselves at him, he had chosen you. You, who had seen through the charm on day one and made fun of him for it to his face.

You'd always known being nonchalant would pay off eventually.

Interviewer: "Oooh! Who is it?"

You: "Here's some advice."

Your eyes did a quick scan of the room checking to see who was listening before settling back on the camera with a small, satisfied smile.

You: "People say you can't find someone who is smart, attractive, and respectful. But it's possible. Never settle, ladies."

Oikawa clicked off his phone and tossed it to the side on the bed.

He was leaned back against the headboard, blankets pulled up to his waist, bare chest catching the low light of the bedroom lamp.

You were standing at the nightstand taking out your jewelry, makeup already off, hair down from where it had been pinned up all evening. It fell against your shoulders and he watched it happen from across the room without saying anything.

Then he spoke, "Smart, attractive, and respectful."

You paused, earring halfway out.

"You were watching the behind the scenes, weren't you?" you said flatly.

"Never settle, ladies," he quoted back at you, in a pitch that was not even close to your voice.

"Oh my god." you roll your eyes.

"So when you said smart—" he started.

"Oikawa—" you cut him off laughing.

He smiled wide and completely pleased with himself, the way he always looked when things went the way he wanted them to. You climbed into bed and he reached for you immediately, arms pulling you into him without any pretense about it.

"Attractive though," he said into your hair, "That was the part that got me. You could've said a lot of things."

"Tooru." you said in a soft voice, trying to interrupt his absent minded speech.

He went quiet for exactly one second.

"Really sexy or just handsome?" he asked. "Because I think that's an important distinction."

You buried your face further into his shoulder and he laughed, low and warm, arms tightening around you.

He'd be bringing this up for weeks and you both knew it.

"Well, I'm glad to know it's not just me bragging about you," he said, and his voice had shifted, the teasing gone quiet underneath something softer.

You pulled back slightly from where you'd been tucked against the warmth of his chest and just looked at him.

He raised an eyebrow. "What? Not surprised?"

"No," you said flatly. "Iwaizumi told me you never shut up about me." You tilted your head at him. "It sounds like you need a new topic of conversation."

"Telling me not to talk about you is like trying to breathe without air," he said immediately, "Not possible."

"That's so dramatic."

"It's so true."

You looked at him for a moment, trying to hold onto the flat expression and not quite managing it. He caught the exact second it slipped and his eyes lit up the way they always did when he felt like he'd won.

You dropped back against his chest mostly to hide your face, and he caught you easily, arms wrapping back around you with the quiet confidence of someone who knew he had won in life.

"It would be nice to hear you say it to my face too," he said again, pressing a kiss to your hair.

"Goodnight," you muttered into his shoulder.

KUROO . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Interviewer: "And the question on everyone's mind: do you currently have a special someone?"

You were mid red carpet, having already answered questions about the dress, your current projects and what was next. There was always only one topic left.

You also knew the photos from two mornings ago were already everywhere. You leaving his building in his oversized t-shirt and your tall brown leather boots from the night before, sunglasses on, coffee in hand. The internet had called it chic but others speculated about who the man could be.

You: "You could say that,"

A smile broke through before you could do anything about it.

Interviewer: "Oooh! Who is it?"

You: "I don't kiss and tell, but—"

You paused just long enough to let it breathe, glancing briefly down at yourself the way you did when you were choosing words carefully, then back up at the camera with a small, composed smile that gave away considerably more than you intended.

You: "He's really charming and he knows exactly how to use it. But I like when it's just the two of us and he realizes he doesn't have to. He doesn't have to charm me or impress me."

You paused for just a second, not for effect this time, just because you were actually thinking about it.

You: "I'll tell him the most boring stories and he always listens. And he'll send me things he thinks I'll laugh at at completely ungodly hours."

The interviewer laughed softly.

You looked briefly away from the camera, just for a moment, then back.

You: "I don't want to jinx it, But I think he's the one."

The front door clicked open, the sound of the TV shutting off following right after.

His eyes glanced over toward you. You were wobbling back and forth in the entryway, trying to get your heels off, dress slightly unzipped, hair ruffled from the night, eyes droopy in an exhausted way.

You would never let anyone see you like this.

Except him.

"Tetsu, help me please," you whined, the fitted dress making it nearly impossible to bend far enough to reach the buckles.

"Y/N," he said softly.

Something in his voice made you look up.

"Hi!" Your face broke into a bright smile the second you found his eyes. "Did you watch? How did I look? Hopefully better than I do right now," you laughed, tipping your head toward your current state.

He didn't laugh back. Just looked at you.

"Kuroo? What's wrong."

"You really meant that?" His voice came out gentle. His arms stayed straight at his sides, like he was afraid that if he reached for you right now you'd somehow slip through. "You think I'm the one?"

You blinked at him.

"Yeah, I mean—" you straightened back up, completely forgetting about the heels. "We've talked about moving in together. Kids. All of that." Your brow pulled together slightly. "You didn't think I meant it?"

"It's just—" he paused, "You said it out loud. To the public."

"Because Kuroo," you said, closing the space between you and looping your arms up around his neck, "I really, really, really love you." You tilted your head up at him. "Have I never made that clear until now?"

"You have," he said. His hands found your waist, unhurried, like they always did. Then something shifted at the corner of his mouth. Not quite the usual smirk but something softer. "It's just different when you tell the whole world." He exhaled once through his nose. "Like you're claiming me or something."

"Oh yeah?" You raised an eyebrow. "And what if I am?"

He looked down at you for a moment, and the smile that came across his face wasn't the charming one he used on everyone else. It was the one you only got in moments like this.

You lifted yourself onto your toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

His grip on your waist tightened just slightly.

"Then I'd let you," he murmured, low, lips close to your ear. "In more ways than one."

showhay

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.

iloveu

showhay

dumdogs

I WAS NEVER YOUR BOYFRIEND - SUNA RINTARO

a mini smau

suna needs a girlfriend. you’re the last person he hooked up with, so that’s close enough, right?

SUMMARY: all it takes to ruin suna rintaro’s reputation is a scorned ex-lover and a damning voicemail. his manager seems to think that the best way to turn it all around is to make the public see that suna’s a loving, loyal, relationship kind of guy. the only problem being, he’s not actually in a relationship - so he decides to fake one with you.

CONTAINS: suna x reader, fake dating, hookups, hints of angst, written parts, longing, mutual pining, kms/kys jokes, warnings may change

TAGLIST: open, reply to this post to be added

INTRODUCTIONS: bitches who shit

INTRODUCTIONS: boys trip to st. petersburg, fl

CHAPTER ONE: the day suna rintaro was banned from tinder

CHAPTER TWO: guy who thinks i’m his ramona flowers or some shit

CHAPTER THREE: employee of the month at the telling lies factory

CHAPTER FOUR: the lion king 1½ on dvd

CHAPTER FIVE: signs of domestication

DUMDOGS: do not copy or repost or feed to ai

aeonmnei

— “do i really need to be shirtless for this?” hajime asks gruffly, sitting neatly on your dorm floor as you write on a piece of tape, godzilla t-shirt tossed unceremoniously on your bed.

your anatomy exam is coming up, and you’ve been studying like your career depends on it (spoiler alert: it does), but you’ve been going batshit crazy just staring at your notes. so what better way to get off the books than to hang out with your boyfriend?

“yes,” you reply, placing ‘pectoralis major’ on his chest. “it wouldn’t work the same if you had a shirt on. active recall, visual learning, and such.” “right,” he mutters, brow furrowed as he watches you. “so…?” “so, flex your deltoid,” you demand. “c’mon, haji. this is important.” he flexes his shoulder obediently, looking away as you stick another label on his body.

you’re kind of surprised hajime agreed to this in the first place; though honestly, you really didn’t give him much of an explanation, simply texting him, “come to my dorm @ 10pm,” with no further instructions. you laughed when he called at 9:42 saying he was at the building, having to hold it in as you led your bright-eyed boyfriend into your room.

“you will be to blame if i don’t pass this,” you tell him, revelling in the slight twitch of his body as you slide a finger over his skin to pat down the adhesive. “right. can’t have that,” he says under his breath. you snicker. despite his reluctance, he’s not angry. maybe just disappointed. you’re not worried, though. he’d get what he came for soon enough.

sneaking a glance at him, you quickly scribble ‘teres minor’ on another scrap of tape. hajime’s ears are bright red, but his bottom lip is pursed up and his jaw is tight. tell-tale signs of his enjoyment.

“i know you’re a little embarrassed, but i need you to lift your arm up for me,” you tell him sweetly, tape hanging from your fingertips. hajime lets out a flustered grumble in reply, dim light highlighting hard planes of muscle as he accedes.

“it’s kind of itchy,” he says, after a moment. “well, it’s tape,” you answer matter-of-factly, pasting ‘frontalis’ on his forehead, then look at him doubtfully. “also, you need to stop scowling. you look cute when you’re not scowling.” “‘m not scowling,” hajime says under his breath, but his eyebrows relax immediately. you bite the inside of your cheek. cute.

another couple minutes pass by as you continue to stick labels on him, humming a tune while you treat your poor boyfriend like a whiteboard.

“...how long will this take?” hajime asks, stiffly, two pieces of tape hanging off the hollows of his cheekbones. you stretch out, making a big show of checking the clock on the wall. it’s almost midnight. “i’m basically done,” you reply. “i’m not going over the accessory muscles.”

hajime tilts his head, narrowing his eyes knowingly at you. “yeah, just wanna know, so i’m not peeling gemellus inferior out of my butt tomorrow,” he remarks wryly. you mirror his expression, enthused. “hah. i forgot you know this already.”

hajime pinches your inner thigh playfully. it doesn’t hurt—he could never hurt you—but you yelp anyway, more tickled than anything. “hey, i’m pretty smart, you know,” he reminds you, smoothing over the subtle sting with a callused thumb.

you scoot over towards him, running your hand down the label reading ‘rectus femoris.’ “i know you’re pretty smart,” you say, gaze locked on his, “otherwise i wouldn’t allow you to be sitting shirtless on my floor.” you pull, and the screech of tape being taken off skin is the only sound in the room for a second.

the sudden dilation of his pupils makes you laugh through your nose. “oh, that’s all,” hajime says lightly, body hot under your touch. “because i’m smart.” “and muscular,” you add, leaning over him as he sits back on his forearms, watching you intently. “mm, that’s part of it?” he asks, voice just breathless enough to make your stomach tighten.

“yeah,” you murmur, hooking a fingernail under ‘external oblique.’ your eyes drop to his bare chest, then drag back up to his face as you smile. “do you take a makeout session as gratuity for your model work?”

hajime swallows, his jaw fluttering. a blush blooms over his cheeks and he rolls his eyes. “that’s what i thought you called me here for,” he mumbles, warm hand coming up to rest on the curve of your lower back as you giggle. “c’mere.”

he peppers your face with soft kisses, leaving wet marks. your laughter fills the small room when you feel something sticky on your cheek.

“haji, i can’t take you serious with that stuff on your face!” “take it off, then!”

hello. folks. birfday post 4 me and him cuz we junebugs like dat

ottocre

˚✶ * skinny dipping or you convince atsumu go skinny dipping with you

atsumu m. x fem!reader m.list / wc: 1.4k

“it’s still ridiculously hot for the sun having already set,” you lay out on a beach towel, the lake’s sandy beaches barren besides you and atsumu, who’s splayed out next to you, “you should’ve told me we were coming to the lake, i would’ve brought a swimsuit.”

“well the whole idea was we could look up at the stars, y’know stargazing?” he raises an eyebrow, one hand reaching over to grab yours.

just as your fingers intertwine, you sit up, a mischievous smile grazing your lips. looking down at him, you run your thumb along his knuckles, trying to give him the sweetest look you can possibly make. “well, what if we went skinny dipping?” the question comes out quiet, like a little worried someone may hear the two of you.

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