[favourite movie(s)] heathers, goonies, eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, fight club, everything everywhere all at once
[favourite artists] cortex, jiro inagaki & soul media, new order, depeche mode, lana del rey, the alchemist, aphex twin, grouper
[fandoms] chainsaw man, attack on titan, tokyo revengers, neon genesis evangelion, one punch man, mob psycho, saiki k, jujutsu kaisen, mob psycho, bungou stray dogs, junji ito, lookism, hunter x hunter, haikyuu (once in a while if i’m feeling nostalgic)
[random fixations i have right now] plato, scps, fran bow lore, quantum physics, typology
thanks for checking out my blog and interacting with it. In regards to my work, i’m open to writing requests my inbox is open at all times.
Kuroo x reader, Sugawara x reader, Hinata x reader
Kuroo,
You always had a nagging suspicion about Kuroo’s rather peculiar character. The thing about Kuroo was that nothing about him really screamed significant. He was well liked by his teachers, scored a perfect attendance, had a fair share of friends, and he cleaned up nicely. No one’s eyes lingered on him for more than five seconds. He was just that sort of guy. He fit right in.
However, around the half mark of the semester, Kuroo’s facade of picture perfect had been slowly slipping. He could never seem to make time for his friends anymore, he left the av club, volleyball club, and debate team. He could never go without 1 hour before slipping out of a function to tend to personal matters. He’d come to class in shambles. Bandaids never seemed to be in the same place as they had been the last time.
But every possible theory and possibly for what Kuroo indulged in after school hours were thrown out the window when the raven haired boy you so feverishly yearned for had plopped down from the rooftop in an alleyway you just so happened to be loitering in. It was humanely impossible for a boy of his build to go uninjured from such a high fall. You’ve seen that mask many times before. At first, you couldn’t wait to tell your friends about your run in with New york’s friendliest vigilante. But when the masked individual pulled his mask over his head to reveal a full head of ravenous curls that you never managed to get a proper glimpse of in the halls, the boy your eyes never lingered on for more than five seconds- in fear that he might catch you, you stood awe struck.
“Kuroo?” He hadn’t noticed you lurking in the shadows. He shuns himself for being so careless and stupid. His cat like eyes rest on yours. His eyes fixate on you.
“You’re the pretty girl from chemistry. What brings you to these fine parts of New York.” His hand gestures to your surroundings, graffiti and shit littered. The smell of urine and cigarettes plague your nostrils. He kept a suave demeanour but really, Spidey was losing his shit. He didn’t attempt to reason or deny any absurd allegations of him being the mask vigilante that always seems to hold the media in a chokehold. Besides, He’s always wanted to speak to you. The universe just granted him a kickass introduction into your life. Real smooth
Sugawara,
You were a curious person since birth. Your gift of getting to the bottom of things down to its last atom is what you’d say got you a position in New York Times. Assigned with a task to research a topic that involved a whole lot of system corruption, bad cops, and dirty politicians, danger became very hard to avoid.
Word of Spider-Man’s little reporter friend plagues the streets. It seems you always find yourself in sticky situations where he has to come save the day like a hopeless damsel in distress. You two just cannot seem to keep away from one another.
What started as harmless run ins became secret meet ups on top of buildings, alleyway kisses, and nightly escapades.
You knew if he revealed his identity he’d put himself in jeopardy so you never pushed it. But the thought that maybe it was because he didn’t trust you- you being a big shot reporter and all- never left your mind.
Though kisses where his mask stopped just above the bridge of his nose- hanging upside down so that your eyes and lips were the only thing in peripheral of his buggy vigilante eyes would suffice.
After it became very clear that Spidey boy had a very huge soft spot for you, your higher ups pestered you about getting insight on whose eyes really lay behind that red mask of his.
You only ever moved to New York- the heart and soul of the USA to prove to everyone how capable you could be in the writing field. We’re you really going to jeopardize your career and throw it all away for some masked hero whom you don’t even know the name of? Or will you take your boss up on that offer and make a name for yourself.
But every time he waits by your window sill perched on his fours, shows you the night city from a different aspect or rather right above it with his hand wrapped around your waist and the other swinging the two of your bodies through the skies, every time he beats the bad guy and hauls you into his arms of safety, it becomes clear to you where your priorities lay.
Hinata,
He couldn’t help it. He was a boy much too dorky for your caliber. He was in the robotics club, he argued passionately in the debate club, and his interest lied in which issue one piece just dropped. His idea of a good time was staying the night in with his equitably geeky friends. He never even held a girls hand. But he didn’t feel that way with his mask on. He felt like he was in control. With his mask on, he had so much more play? You’d hardly believe how many girls throw themselves into him when he poses as the friendly neighbourhood hero everyone so dearly loves.
He knew it was selfish to use the mask for his own personal motives. It went against his morals completely. But when he spoke to you for the first time behind his suit, it all just came so easy.
For the first time, you looked at him. For the first time, you spoke to him.
Eventually, he couldn’t leave you alone. And you were more than okay with it. You never understood why such a world renowned hero bothered giving you the time of day. Besides it was a little hard to stay away from him. His suave and witty personality always gravitated toward you. He made you laugh. Meet ups with the celebrity masked hero became your little secret.
Unfortunately for Spider-Man, you could never really manage to reciprocate his feelings fully. Because your heart ached for a rather futile situationship of your own with this eccentric and bashful ginger you could never seem to hold a conversation with at school.
content warning: swearing, sexual suggestive themes, they make out
not proofread
The train ride back was laborious and all Kuroo’s brain could muster and piece together was home— the smell of fresh sliced fruits and lavender bar soap sitting on the windowsill just above the sink, the feel of ice hugging his wounds, and falling into a nightful bliss of rest, but most importantly, who would be waiting there for him. With open arms and perhaps even antibiotics.
His body hushes over the row of seats, too torn up and beaten to even think about what other passengers around him may think of him at the moment. A lazy blue haze falls over his face, flickering every third staggering breath he took. His breath falls shorter by the minute and he’s not so sure he’ll make it off the bus but the how was the least of his concerns. He just needed to make sure he was home.
The blood is pooling onto his corduroy jacket. Beneath the breast pocket where the wound was all too present. He didn’t dare to move just yet. Not until the right stop. There’s a few gashes and bruises along the borders of his neck and cheeks but nothing as off putting as the knife wound embedded into his chest. Luckily, he would live; however, this wound could not go ignored. He could feel multiple pairs of eyes on him brainstorming the best possible story for their dinner tables tonight. A few were eager to help- but others just disregarded him as another city ruffian who happened to piss off the wrong person.
With his consciousness slipping away every so often, his head strains back against the glass. His eyes are screwed shut— like the unbearing pressure of his closed lids will somehow steer the pain elsewhere. His lips twist in displeasure whenever the ride gets remotely bumpy too fixed on keeping his torso in one piece. Kuroo swallows plainly, his adam’s apple bobbing slowly. The train comes to an abrupt stop and he lets out a disgruntled moan when his body hurdles over.
“Fuck.” Kuroo plays the role of a heavy drunk who's just hit rock bottom as the passerby twist their faces at his incoherent curses and grunts. He wonders how the unreactive folk would respond if he simply cried out for medical attention. Would they avoid his gaze completely or call the police- would they report a druggie on the loose or a little boy bleeding out to death on the tracks. He figures it’s futile to seek help in this bustling crowd. There’s a buckle in his knee as he limps down the placid path back home, it’s neighborly area less invasive and loud. The air’s cleaner as well. The rancid stench of greying water and toxins is now absent. He holds a palm over the deep narrow gash across his chest— the red of what used to be an industrial orange material stains the pads of his fingers. He wasn’t sure how he’d explain the undenying pool of blood soaked into his newly worn coat. He’d rather admit to killing someone than explain his nightly exploits to his overbearing parents. So he changes paths. And in a matter of minutes, he’s home. He lazily throws himself onto a nearby tree as his eyes peer into your window. You’re curled up on your bedside with a book nestled in your lap. He admired how content you looked and dreaded having to break it once he’d burden you with his problems.
With ease- and the remaining strength he had left, he hauled himself up the bark of the tree, using the branches to hoist his limbs higher and higher until he hops onto your roof. He was careful not to break your concentration when he steps in all the right places just to emit the least noise. You turn and now your back faces him. He pulls the window up and when it swings open, he knows that you had been waiting for him the whole time. This was gonna hurt way more than he anticipated.
“Honey, I’m home.” He throws the weight of his body over the windowsill and into your bedroom. What once were swift and agile movements the hero had made had now been a sequence of shoving and throwing his weight around desperate to land on any surface that may envelope his aching body. A loud thud brings you out of your tranquil state of mind, slamming the book in your hands shut to a pinch.
“You okay?” Your mothers footsteps near the stairs and soon they falter.
“Fuck- Kuroo- yea! Just knocked the mirror down!” His name falls off your tongue in a whispered hush, practically begging both you and him not to cause a scene. Kuroo makes himself at home when he lets the curve in your sofa engulf him. He’s staring at you with his narrowed eyes, his lips twitched in a plotting grin.
“Kuroo what the fuck!” You tremble into a hysteric fit of laughter. He stiples a few laughs. But when you take in the sight of him, you don’t seem at all happy with him. You clasp your hand over your mouth, eyes glossy with concern.
His hair was usually messy, slicked upward and tufts of hair spiked everywhere. But somehow his hair was out of place. Now split down the middle— sticking to the sweat of his forehead and covering the black of his eyes.
“Kuroo, what the fuck” This time it wasn’t a question. You didn’t ask in a matter of tone that indicated you wanted to know what his deal was for throwing himself onto your bedroom floor at 11 pm. You wanted to know why your boyfriend was helplessly limping and why his blood was leaking onto your floor with that stupid unreadable gaze.
“Got a bit of a potty mouth, Y/n.” He wanted to hear your laugh again. And suddenly his laid back demeanour is gone. But only for a second. He grips his torso- the agonising pain splitting him in half.
“Don’t go quiet on me, come on, say something. Please.”
He sprawled his tenuous limbs against your bed and your teeth sink into your bottom lip.
“You’ll get blood on my sheets. Get up.” You catch the lump straining against your throat in a swallow before you’re able to gag. It stinks of copper and rain water.
“You don’t want that to be your last words to me, do you?” He teases. His eyes never leave yours.
“Shut up Kuroo I said get up.” He swallows thickly. He pulls his body over to the foot of your bed. His feet hang over your bed frame and perch his heels in the dents of the carving. He slumps over to rest his forearms on his knees. He bellows in pain.You weren’t sure if he was being dramatic or not.
He lays a bloody hand out and you reluctantly grab it. His forearms wrap around you loosely. He buries his face into your stomach and falls. He’s home.
His gaze falls low and his skin feels blue against your fingers. You ruffle a hand through his ink locks. “No matter what I say I know you’ll be off doing the same shit by tomorrow night. There’s nothing to say.” You mumble.
“Still, I was sort of hoping you’d offer your words of wisdom.” He offers you a guilty smile. His eyes dim narrow and pleading.
You part from him.
“Stop doing stupid shit that’ll get you wound up in a ditch.” You scowl and he only pulls you in close with a laugh. His charming gaze pulls you closer and in for a kiss. The curve of his lips were cold and unsettling but it only urged you to kiss him deeper to warm him and mend his condition in more ways than one. You push his body away. Your hands slide against the hem of his shirt- the hooks of your fingers tugging it carefully off of his glistening chest. You cringe when your eyes see the wound. It’s flesh hangs on by a thread to keep Kuroo in place as it gushes fresh pigments of cherry red. It wasn’t looking too good. Your eyes roam around the room hoping to catch a glimpse of a cloth or material that held little significance. Anything you didn’t mind being stained permanently by the blood of your boyfriend. His fingers trace the frame of your hips and he eyes you down all needily. The chilling touch of his fingers nipping against your backside gives you a sense of the winter breeze. You shuttered- your chest heaving and responsive.
“Use your shirt.” He reprimands. It was his in fact. A large graphic tee shirt hugging your mid thighs.
“Kuroo, you’re dying.” You seethed shrugging the dirty thoughts he placed in your head.
“Exactly.” He prodded further. You mutter a subtle fuck you before slipping his shirt from off your body. His gaze is pinned to your bare torso. You bunch it into a ball and press it into the stab wound. He winced hard, wrapping his arms around your wrists.
“Fuck.” He laughs. But you can tell nothing about this is amusing to him. You reach into the draw of your bedside table and pull out rubbing alcohol, gauze, medical tape, a needle, and thread.
“Come prepared, huh?” His voice lacks tone and you can tell he’s drifting off to sleep.
“Not a day goes by where you get the absolute shit kicked out of you.” You sigh.
“You should see the other guy.” He smiles, like a little boy eccentric to show his parents a pleasant family stick portrait. You shake your head and gesture him to turn on his back. You climb onto your bedside and with his more than willing okay, you straddle his thigh. He lifts his leg sliding you closer to his body and your cheeks reddened.
“Y/n, I’m dying.” He teases. Your thoughts are shaken and you waste no time in spilling the alcohol down the elected area. His core tightened— the remnants of alcohol spilled down his waist and soaking through your cream coloured duvet. You knot the thread through the needle and waver it in front of him for a moment. You reach over to the head of your bed and grab a throw pillow tossing it into his clutches.
“I don’t need an emotional support pillow?”
“Hold it over your face, pussy.”
“Y/n, I can assure you I can handle a small—
The sharp end pierces his flesh and he lets out an inaudible scream. You clasp your hand over his lips.
He’s flexing his muscles as the threaded needle prods at his wound. He can’t seem to think straight but ultimately, his eyes stick to your frame.
“Shit. Y/n.” Kuroos fingers dig roughly into your thigh.
“Sorry. Just hang in there.” His touch softens. You double loop the end of the thread and snip the excess string.
His body moulds together with yours underneath the covers. Your body clings to his torso while his arm slings over your shoulder– his fingers trace over your skin.
“You want me to order something- or we can pick someth-”
“No. Just talk to me, Y/n. That’s all I need.” He hums and you nod.
You turn your body gently and his hand rests on the nape of your back. Your hands cup his jaw and he flashes you a jaded smile.
“This is cool too.”
You peck his cheek and he melts beneath your touch. He leans in and bites your bottom lip. You giggle and pull your body upward so that you can access his face easily. His tongue stirs with yours. Everything feels hot and heavy. His hands trail to your hips positioning you almost on top of him completely– aware of the fresh wound you had sewn up. He leaves a trail of wet kisses across your neck and chest.
“You smell-so good.” You can feel the curve of his lips moving against you. With ease. He hoists you on his lap; your lips never parting. Your legs cross over one another behind his back while he continues to kiss you. His cold hands trace upwards and with a few tugs and dopey chuckles, your bra unclasps.
“Is- this- okay?” He mumbles in between each kiss. You nod at him pleadingly. The friction between your hips and his thighs make you rock slowly and he pants. And when his need to feel you becomes unbearable, he flips himself forward along with you.
Suddenly, he lets out a slight cry. You two had gotten too carried away.
“This sucks.” He mewls. You kiss his lips once more.
“How about we relax, big guy.” You smile and he returns it– his much more pathetic looking; like a kicked puppy.
“Yeah, okay.” He engulfs you in his arms.
His heart begins to stabilise and it becomes evident that he has fallen asleep. All that can be heard is the sound of tires compacting the blanket of snow that covers the roads. You know that by the time you wake up the absence of his presence will linger until the cycle continues and he’s perched outside your window waiting for your okay to come in and get his wounds tended to. You know that you’ll get into it with him about how careless he is and perhaps even scream at one another. But by the very end of it every time, you’ll end up on his lap– straddling and kissing him. You want this cycle to stop but in some sick way, you wouldn’t have it any other way.
+ summary: saiki has never been the one for love. in fact he despises it. it’s a distraction and nothing good comes out of it except a forced friendship and occasionally a couple of children. But what happens when Saiki has a hyper specific dream about you and can’t detach himself from you.
note: This was dramatic😐😐 i feel like the only way you could get saiki to like you is if you were someone how affiliated with him when you were younger or somehow appeared in his dream randomly so here we are
Italics: Your thoughts he can read / or his thoughts
He remembers the dream quite vaguely.
Some parts of it more prominent than others.
But the pinnacle of his dream seemed to pick at his brain.
It was you.
You didn’t say or do anything that really stood out so he wasn’t quite sure as to why you were the part of his dream he couldn’t seem to forget.
You stood there— more awkwardly then attractive.
You flashed your stupid little smile about.
There was some sort of haze over you— one he couldn’t forget.
Not like Teruhashi’s- no. It was genuine. Everything about you was genuine.
You only appeared for what felt like a millisecond in his dream so why is it that you were the milestone.
He’d dismiss his dream.
Drag it into the deepest depths of his mind. And for a while, it was successful.
But then the dream occurs once more.
The same one— you and your smile.
He figured it’d pass.
He’d only ever see you in school.
You’ve never spoken to him nor has he ever striked a conversation with you.
He’d pass by you in the halls and you’d never give him the time of day— but it was a mutual conception. He was as equally uninterested.
Until, now.
He’d scurry through the halls, agilely dodging incoming shoves by other students eager to arrive to class on time.
He’d lift his heavy wilt— his eyes absentmindedly scanning the crowds to find another pair and then—
‘There.’
You stood with your hands gripped around your backpacks straps. Your eyes staring all doey like. Your lips would flutter when you laughed at your friends stupendously idiotic jokes.
And then the feeling begins to fester.
Like a dagger laced with poison, it roots from his heart and begins to consume him completely.
And when he sees you turn to him- for just a moment, he feels a certain unease.
Perhaps he’s disgusted by you... yes that had to be it. It was disgust.
But he knew better. He knew the fluttering in his stomach weren’t a couple of invasive moths no- they were butterflies.
He scorns the cherub from above, cussing at cupid for the curse that was placed upon him.
It was different... seeing your smile for himself— without the dream like haze over you.
‘Shit.’
‘Shit.’
‘Shit.’
You’d noticed his sudden peak in interest.
He’d jerk his head the other way— He’d let other students thoughts consume him but one voice out of the others stood out.
Yours.
Did I look at him weird? Shit I-
He’d block your murmuring in an instance— careful not to invade your privacy as he focuses on ones other voice.
He’d begin to pack up for school in a foul mood.
Whatever was festering in him was evolving and- quickly.
Today was like any other day. Saiki, calculative as always, schemed his escape from school before having to bump into Nendō, Teruhsashi, Kaidō, Toritsuka, or Hairo.
He would reach absurd legs to avoid the select few. Jumping out windows, use telekinesis to destruct their clear paths, or spawn clones of himself to lead them to a completely different direction.
He was careful. And once he thought he was in the clear, he’d walk freely- proud and smug of his accomplishment.
But just as he’s able to exit school grounds, he hears the meek call of his name.
He pretends not to hear it. Besides, the voice is so pathetically quiet.
But then he hears the voice grow eager.
But then he stops in his tracks. His traitorous legs keep him glued to the floor beneath him.
‘Why aren’t you moving?’
‘Walk. Walk. They’ll catch up if you go on like this.’
In the stillness, he’s able to identify the voice. Now aware of why his legs betrayed him.
He’ll turn on his heel— a visible scowl on his face.
Which... quickly fades when he sees you standing before him. You stand awkwardly— much like his dream.
He remains emotionless. He doesn’t have to speak. His scrutinizing glare is enough to scold you to get on with it.
“Hey, Saiki.” He can make out your fingers fiddling with themselves behind your back.
He’ll quirk an eyebrow— ears open to your thoughts, curiosity getting to the best of him and blinding his sense of judgement.
Shit my stupid hands. Where do I put them?
Is my voice too low?
Why do I stand so fucking weird?
Should I ask him another time?
Shit. Shit. He’s annoyed.
And for what felt like the first time this year- he speaks.
It’s straightforward and blunt.
“Can I help you?” Saiki tries to phrase his words kindly though, the lack of expression in his tone only makes it seem disinterested and stand-off-ish.
Oh god, he’s mad.
“Sorry... that came off as rude. What can I do for you?” His voice remains stoic.
Maybe I shouldn’t ask him...
‘Oh god she isn’t asking me out, is she?’
“No worries... So I was wondering...”
‘Good grief. I should end this right here and now.’
“My friend...”
Saiki’s eyes dull.
‘...friend?’
“Today... you were staring in our direction and- my friend- she’s asking if you like her.” You confess.
‘What in the middle school...’
There’s a sharp pain that pulls at his heart.
“Oh. No. Sorry.” He mumbles through close lidded eyes- pushing his finger against the bridge of his glasses in one upward motion.
“Ah... okay sorry. Well- bye, Saiki.” You smile broadly.
He watches you walk off in a distance- your figure shrinking even smaller than it already was.
His throat will tighten and his palms grow sweaty.
With every dreadful step toward the exit, the faster it dawned upon him.
Was that the reason you spoke to him?
He couldn’t be more disappointed.
His knees would weaken by the thought of your brief interaction.
The feeble feeling in his gut grew.
He wasn’t looking at your friend. He was looking at you. How could you not see this. We’re you trying to anger him?
How could you think he liked your friend when clearly- he-
Oh.
His thoughts are interjected by his own ego. When he stops the train of thought, acknowledging the pulsating sound of his heart swallowing him whole.
He’d choke on his own blood dribbling down his chin- as the heart shaped arrow plunged through his heart.
Good grief. There was no getting out of this one.
How could this happen?
He questions cupid from above the clouds as he holds his arch in front of him, ready to strike Saiki once again.
He’d figure he could erase the dream from his head completely to stop it from picking at his conscience. Not that he had the willpower to do so anyway.
summary; What the boys are pulling up in with you at a halloween party
cw; suggested sexual themes, swearing, atsumu
A: grammars so shit. ik this post is late but whatever these have been on my mind
all content belongs to @peakgenko ; enjoy
♱ Suna Rintaro - ANGEL AND DEVIL: i solely believe that he would do the basic ass devil and angel dynamic with you but super slutty and hot. when you originally suggested the idea he was so hyped. i feel like the costume caters to one of his kinks. starts with c ends with orruption.
TATE LANGDON AND VIOLET HORMAN (AHS S1): I definitely see this as well. He’d rock the whole skeleton school shooter ensemble and you wear a pair of skinny jeans, a sweater and some converses.
♱ Bokuto Kotaro - DILDO/ DILL DOE: i do not take constructive criticism he’s pulling up to the homies crib with you in one of those really dumb ass pun costumes. He’d be the one wearing the dill (pickle) and you’d be the one wearing the doe costume. He’s so proud of himself for the costume idea that he contemplated putting it on his résumé. He spends the whole night placing you by his side and forcing people to put two and two together.
♱ Oikawa - LOLA BUNNY AND BUGS FROM SPACE JAM: he 100% came up with this. yep. you two are that basic it couple keep scrolling. he will NOT be able to keep his hands to himself though (consensually)
♱ Tanaka - PLAYBOY BUNNY AND PLAYBOY MANSION OWNER: he also came up with this. your costume literally carries the party. however, the whole night YOU’RE the one wearing the robe while he parties with his whole upper body exposed. Sure he’s feeling a little exposed and vulnerable but it never hurts to show a little bit of that six pack he’s been working hard on and besides all of its worth it when he sees you eyeing him.
♱ Kuroo - RICK AND MORTY: You two are going as rick and morty. no he will not participate in something hot or edgy this man is either going in peanut butter and jam or rick and morty. he’s corny asf. but so fine. you’d wear a yellow baby tee with a short denim skirt along with some alien antennas. he however is pulling up in the whole ensemble. lab coat (because he just has that lying around), blue tee, some brown baggy jeans, and a ferocious looking stick on unibrow.
♱ Kageyama- no. he insists that you be him for halloween and to just wear his jersey. lamo.
♱ Kenma - N/A
♱ Tendou- EDWARD SCISSORHANDS & KIM: OHHH I KNOW THIS MAN GOES ALL OUT. IM TALKING THE BEST HIGH QUALITY FX MAKEUP. I WHOLE HEARTEDLY BELIEVE IN THIS ONE!!!!! you two are winning every god damn costume contest in the nation.
♱ Iwaizumi- REN AND NANA: if you convinced him hard enough maybe JUST MAYBE he would go as ren and take you as his nana
♱ Daichi- BUFFERING????: hate to break it to you babes but you’re gonna have to ride solo this year because he’s the type of guy to just wear a graphic tee with a stupid ass corny pun that has omething to do with halloween and say it’s his costume.
♱ Atsumu- DISNEY PRINCE AND PRINCESS: most definitely the type of dude to be those cringey ass couples costumes like barbie and ken but a little more originality. He’s definitely gonna get made fun of.
♱ Nishinoya- AKATSUKI MEMBERS: yup. he definitely made this executive decision and stuck with it. a little bit incel-ish but y’all look badass.
♱ Hinata- ANIMAL ONESIES: he pegs me as one of those people who just gets lazy during halloween and settles for onesies or goes overboard like digging through the trash for props there’s no in between. but this year you two are just dressed in matching brown bear onesies. basic but so cute.
♱ Sugawara- PHANTOM OF THE OPERA: yupp this man always has the need to look suave as hell each halloween. This year he wears a slick black suit with a complementary cape with his hair brushed back in a classy slick. The white mask covers half of his face but you can still vividly see the smile creeping up on his lips when you show him your costume. voluminous loose curls drape over your shoulders— you swipe a hand over the waist of the white gown. He’s mesmerized. He starts barking. Mood ruined.
♱ Akaashi- SPIKE AND FAYE VALENTINE (COWBOY BEBOP: OMG THIS IS THE ONEEE. you know this man looks sooo good in a suit. you two are literally the hottest couple to walk the earth
♱ Ennoshita- VINCENT AND MIA (Pulp Fiction) or SCOTT PILGRIM AND RAMONA FLOWERS: as i’ve established on my page before ennoshita is a cinephile. he’s so tasteful and cultured.
♱ Yamaguchi- FINN AND JAKE (ADVENTURE TIME): awe he’d wear a fluffy blue sweater with some baggy tailored blue pants (finn wears blue shorts but i head canon just yams dresses very well) and his docs and his white head piece/hat. You’re wearing white arm warmers, a yellow cross body top along with a matching yellow skin tight skirt and a pair of white gogo boots.
I don’t even know how i made this connection but i feel like tsukishima hums a lot of old songs and so this would be one of them
Or slow dancing in the dark by joji. it’s his favourite song. because of you.
Yuu Nishinoya
So Good At Being in Trouble- Unknown Mortal Orchestra
You’d rock back and fourth with him slowly while his lips press against the back of your hand— his eyes staring intently while he hums the lyrics
Shoyo Hinata
I’m Yours- Jason Mraz
So it’s not really something you can slow dance to but this is definitely his song for you. He sings this to you in the showers, during pillow talk, or drum the rhythm with his fingers against a Tupperware when he’s cooking something for you.
He’ll pull you in by the waist and nuzzle his head up against your back with a grin.
At this point it’s his favourite song because it always gets him in the mood. But that’s only because he thinks of you when he hums it.
Rintarō Suna
Versace On The Floor- Bruno Mars
OMG
okay so I imagine the two of you on some dance floor. Like at a club. I head canon that he’s good at dancing. Effortlessly too.
The music stops and and they choose a slow song to end the evening
You’re wearing a dress that cuts off mid thigh. And he’s in a little suit. His blazers loose and his collared shirt is buttoned down since it got a little heated in the midst of sweaty bodies practically grinding up against eachother
Underneath the red and purple spotlights, specks of iridescent lights from the disco ball hanging from the ceiling arrange themselves on your faces.
He’s singing the lyrics wholeheartedly with a fox like grin while his hands roam down to your ass. Although it’s intent was far from sexual.
Atsumu Miya
Corduroy Dreams- Rex Orange County
LOVE LOVES WHISTLING IT TO YOU
Definitely does kiss you in the shower for a couple hours.
He’s fresh out of the shower and he’s wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants. Drops of water race down to his feet as they roll down his bare chest. You have your towel wrapped around your chest
One hand laced with his, he leads you in a slowing pace around the room with a chirpy smile.
Osamu Miya
Blessed- Daniel Caeser
i’m not sure how i made this conclusion but i’m gonna go with it
He has the prettiest voice when he sings along.
It’s not really dancing though. He has your back facing his chest while his arms enveloped on top of your collar bones and shoulders. He’s pecking gentle kisses against your cheek while rocking back and fourth to the song while you two prepare breakfast.
Keishin Ukai
Fly Love- Jamie Foxx
I imagine you two on some sort of resort of beach. You two are soaked of water but this song just happens to pop up so you stand there in his arms while he teasingly blows a cloud of smoke into your face.
Keiji Akaashi
HENTAI BY CIGARETTES AFTER SEX!!!!
okay for those of you who don’t know that song i know by the title of the song it looks sus and trust me he was definitely skeptic of it as well but give it a listen because now you’re all he ever thinks about when he hears this song.
he swears he’ll dance to this with you in his arms on your wedding day.
if you’re feeling angsty, he’d definitely hold you close and dance with you to the swan by camille saint-saëns
Wakatoshi Ushijima
I Hear A Symphony- Cody Fry
He loves how classy it sounds and it perfectly describes how he feels about you. hell it may even be his favourite song.
He felt like volleyball was his only purpose and for a while he was more than okay with that. until he met you and now he strives for more in life. Hence the whole “I used to hear a simple song” verse. loves putting emphasis in his tone when singing “perfection is so quick to bore...you are my beautiful by far” (only to himself of course) homeboy gets a little embarrassed when it comes to singing.
Daichi Sawamura
Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby- Cigarettes After Sex
I don’t even need to have a scenario for this like he just radiates this energy:((
Like imagine his cheek pressed against yours while his hand weaves through your hair
Tadashi Yamaguchi
You say I’m in love- Banes World!!!!!!!!
Head empty just you and yams dancing to this song underneath LEDs and a ceiling projector
you’re all he thinks about when he sings this song
and bubblegum by clairo- he’d tell you not to focus on the lyrics but instead the instrumental portion. he says the comforting mellow beat reminds him of you.
Kenma Kozume
Nothing- Bruno Major.
Sings the lyrics to you
You’d think he’d be too shy and youre right but it’s because he does it subconsciously.
BRO THIS WOULD LITERALLY BE HIS SONG IN A RELATIONSHIP
Aran Ojiro
Ugotme- Omar Apollo
Such a good singer as well
When the two of you dance, you two dance.
His ability to dance is almost mesmerizing along with his singing.
Sings while covering your neck and collarbones with kisses
Satori Tendou
How Deep Is Your Love- Bee Gees
Also dramatically lip syncs the lyrics to you
Lifts you up into the air and into his arm almost five times mid dance.
He’ll shake his head with his lips pressed up against your neck while his hands trail upwards and toy with the hem of your shirt, his hands hungry with anticipation to just rip it off.
and you scold him when you feel his lips contort into a devilish grin.
Kotaro Bokuto
Hopelessly Devoted To You- Olivia Newton John
hear me out. He only knows this song because akaashi made him watch grease bc he says bokuto should be exposed to the “classics” and since watching it at age 12 with akaashi and bo’s two sisters, he’s prayed that one day he’d meet someone that’d make him feel the way that song did.
He does now and everytime that songs on he’s practically carrying you in his arms.
Tobio Kageyama
Love Me Please- OCTAVIO
this is the only song he knows with the exception of old kanye west because he considers his music grind music but you definitely put him on this song.
He’s literally a psychopath who doesn’t listen to anything EXCEPT like popular rap songs from 2017-2018. And even then he’ll only tolerate it when he needs to work out.
And then he meets you. Now he listens to music in a different aspect.
He knows he’s not the most romantic guy out there but he’s trying his best and you tell him that’s more than enough. He loves you so much.
Koushi Sugawara
This Side of Paradise- Coyote Theory
he’s dragging you out of the house to dance with you to this song. bonus points if it’s raining
he’s also the type to scream-sing to love songs.
There aren’t any cars in the vicinity due to the pouring rain so the two of you make your way to the road.
Your hand in his, he twirls you underneath the storm and into his arms.
Toru Oikawa
Pretty Boy- The Neighborhood
He’ll put so much emphasis in his tone on the “Even if the earth starts shaking, you’re the only thing worth taking- with me. Even if the sky’s on fire, got you here it’s alright.” verse
You’re literally everything to him
he won’t let you go even for a second until this song is finished even then he’ll have trouble parting.
Hajime Iwaizumi
Baby I’m Yours- Arctic Monkeys cover
It’s not even dancing at this point, it’s just you two cuddling and him pretending like he hates it even though he’s the one who refuses to let go of you.
Ryonusuke Tanaka
Knockin’ Da Boots- H-town
if he’s not dancing to this with you in his arms he’s definitely ironically grinding on the floor to this with a fuck boy face.
Hitoka Yachi
two queens in a king sized bed- girl in red
I just imagine the most “call me by your name” scenery type shit.
Or maybe like a field of flowers? You just have her in your arms on some sort of picnic date she planned for the two of you
Semi Eita-
I Wanna Be Yours- Arctic Monkeys
your arms wrap around his neck and his lips press onto yours while the two of you sway back and fourth underneath red led lights.
don’t be surprised if things get sexual.
Tetsuro Kuroo
Careless Whisper- George Michael
okay first he played this song when you were over once and he had it on so that he could initiate a little make out sess with you but when you could tell how nervous he was on making a move on you you told him that there was no pressure on anything and he sort of just danced with you instead. he ended up unironically really liking this song because of that.
(bonus: if it’s fanon kuroo he likes to dance to sway by Michael Bublé with you and the whole time he’s just eyeing you down with a sly grin)
Kiyoomi Sakusa
Beach Baby- Bon Iver
Space Song- Beach House
I imagine it’s raining horribly outside to the point where the thunder outside is retro boomin
but the windows are open because both you and Sakusa love the sound of rain pouring
he has this song playing from his record player while he hums against your neck.
prologue: Fate has never been on your side. Whether it was someone blocking your path or a spilt coffee cup, it seemed your chances of speaking with the black haired man were dim.
He has his satchel kept in his fists, a silk black blazer sprung over his shoulder— and his usual circular frames riding down the bridge of his nose.
He picks his usual spot— a booth positioned just in the centre of the window.
In the winter, he drags the pads of his thumb across the window pane to create small doodles.
In the spring, he’d meticulously watch one rain droplet race against another.
In the fall, he’d watch the fall leaves drape over the window sill— eyes trailing after the vibrant orange and yellows as they tumbled to the ground.
And in summer, he’d accentuate his features under the sun peaking out from the crevices of the blinds.
His head was always faced to the windows, his posture straight as always and his hands— always busy with a pencil in between them. He kept his sketchbook in his lap so no one was ever able to catch glimpse of what he was sketching.
But occasionally, when he’d jerk his head in your direction time is nothing but a nuisance.
You’ll see his gunmetal eyes narrow and almond like.
They change colours. Sometimes he’ll stare with his eyes blue- like a calm sea or a tranquil green much like a vegetation of pine trees. But never at you. He’d turn your way only to beckon the waiter over to him who stood just behind you. But in that slim window of 15 seconds, you’re able to capture his features to the best of your ability.
You figure you should probably do something about your infatuation. And so, you decide you want to talk to him. It really shouldn’t be that hard. He looked soft spoken and gentle so even if he were to reject you, he’d do it in the most pleasant way possible.
You knew every gesture.
Every habit- every mannerism.
The way he’d cover the lower half of his face underneath his turtleneck when he was lost in thought.
He’d roll up the corners of his sketchbook when he was frustrated.
He’d click the top of his pen to the chorus of an ufamiliar chime. You’d hope that one day you could ask him what song it belonged to.
But it seemed fate just wasn’t on your side.
The first time you tried to strike up a conversation, you reached over to pick up a pencil that had begun to roll off his booth. But when he began to turn your way, a waitress interjects your plans terribly. She stares at him eagerly— her eyes hungry with anticipation and her fingers wrap around the pencil flirtatiously before handing it back to him. He nods her a smile and grants her a small thank you before turning back to the window once again.
The second time you built up the courage to speak to the man, the waitress called out your order number.
The third time, quite confident with your chances, you got up and strided over to his table when suddenly a group of girls surged toward him. You could hear them giddily pining over him.
He’d turn down each of their requests every time which was a relief to you for the most part. But if anything, it only discouraged you further. Because if he rejects them, what makes you think you’ll be any different? For how high could his standards be? Besides, he doesn’t even take the time of day to glance your way nevermind sparing you a minute of his time.
But, there was no harm in trying. And today you were going to test that theory.
You slowly slid out of your seat— teeth gritting together in discomfort as the chair drags across the floor to produce an unsettling screech.
He’s leaning onto the table with his forearms, his finger is hooked around a petite coffee cup, and the other holds a book open.
In the stillness, your stomachs churns.
With every step, you’d scold how stupidly you walked or how dumb you stood. You began to point out insecurities you weren’t even aware existed. You’d critique yourself heavily, breaking the confidence you were sure you had the moment you stood up on your two feet.
But nonetheless, you disregard yourself completely and continue to step closer. Every treacherous step was a stab to your gut.
You’re scared you’ll choke on your own stomach.
You’re just about close enough that- if he had his head upward, he’d see you.
But alas, like every other day, his nose was buried in a book— too alienated from everyone else to notice his surroundings.
With a single deep breath, you pronounce yourself ready.
The feeling of unease began to calm itself as you picked up your pace.
Your chance is apparent. Right now.
But, to your disappointment, your head betrays your heart when your legs continue to walk on right past him.
Perhaps not today.
You scold your traitorous legs for being too afraid.
But they don’t stop. They continue to walk on in defeat.
And then a voice interjects your path.
“Wait.-” The voice is deep, like a low growl- a scratchy texture etching at his throat. It’s soothing and warm.
Your head jerks the other way to meet a pair of green eyes. Enticing and welcoming.
His book is set down as he repositions himself.
His adam’s apple bobs as he fixates his eyes on you— glasses riding low, the subtle glare from the sun accentuates his black frames.
“I figured one of us would have to build the courage some day. I guess the coward in me was just sort of hoping you’d be the one to do it.” He tilts his head upward to look up at you.
And at first you weren’t quite sure what he meant by that but when he beckons you over, it dawns upon you that he too, had been planning to speak one on one.
“Keiji.” He smiles kindly with his hand out.
And when your hands elope, fingers slowly grazing against one another, it is then that you have found your forever. Though, it was best to take it slow for now.
Maybe later would you tell him your countless embarrassing attempts to approach him and maybe then- would he confess that it was you who consumed his sketchbook pages that he hid so carefully.
+ summary; when Suna and Y/n decide to take a stroll through a a pristine art museum while they’re zooted out of their minds.
The car interior of Suna’s BMW E30 M3 reeked of Big Mac’s and weed.
His seat is adjusted backward— his head backward through a close lidded grin. One hand on the steering wheel and the other- wrapped around a flawlessly rolled blunt. Y/n sits in the passenger seat watching and listening to Suna intently while munching on a few fries. He’s mumbling to the music blaring in the back. Suna’s voice was tranquil and soft. Y/n and Suna sat in a deserted parking lot a bit of a distance away from an art museum. The windows are rolled down as streams of smoke spill out of the interior.
“Alright, sweetheart. Smoke up.” He fixated his eyes onto Y/n—eyes ablaze as he hands the blunt over to her.
With a swift inhale, she purposely emanated into Suna’s direction.
“Bitch.” He sneered with a shit eating grin. Y/n hears the seat snap back into its original position as Suna pulls himself upward. Slowly, he shifts his torso forward. His dainty fingers trail over to Y/n’s bare thighs— dancing freely from her bodycon dress. They graze against her arms and soon his fingers lace through hers. Teasingly, he grabs hold of the blunt and drops her hand. With every passing second, he’s crawling closer. His hand presses up against the window— entrapping Y/n between him and the seat. With the blunt in between his plump lips, he soothes Y/n’s cheek with the pads of his thumbs. He places the blunt in between his thumb and his pointer finger and throws his head back in order to inhale without getting any of it in her eyes. He whips his head forward but this time, his eyes look even more fox like then they already had been before. He grabs ahold of her chin and positioned Y/n’s head upward so that she’s able to look directly up into his direction. With his nimble fingers, he drag his thumb against her bottom lip and beckons her to part them. He leans in closely— his forehead pressed up against Y/n’s as he exhales into her mouth. Once the smoke clears, he laps his tongue into her mouth, moving it rhythmically to her desire.
He parts from Y/n with a playful grin before slipping out of the car and helping her out as well. The two walk arm in arm toward the art venue. One hand is entangled with Y/n by his very pinky and the other is gripped around the knot of his tie— adjusting it to his liking every now and then.
He stops Y/n just in front of the entrance— each of his hands holding her waist in place. “Tell me when it hits.” He lets out a boyish laugh. With a gentle nod, the fox like boy linked pinkies with Y/n upon entree.
It was difficult to say the least. Since Suna wasn’t really the smoker nor was he notorious for doing drugs, he had quite the low tolerance to which he reacted quite terribly upon immediately entering the venue.
“Oh- fuck my body is going br-” He grabs y/n’s shoulders for stability— the arch in his back curving.
The grip on her shoulders is almost lethal and the bruising purple is already apparent.
“Rin- stop you’re hurting.” Y/n tries to rip free.
With a subtle laugh, she turns to face two little beady bloodshot eyes staring back.
“You look like you just went through three divorces.” Y/n teases- slight panic and concern laced in her tone.
“I think I just went through the five stages of grief, Y/n. I’m flipping the fuck out.” He whimpers, raking a hand through his brunette locks.
“You look hot while you’re flipping the fuck out.” Y/n grins.
“Hold- hold my hand.” He mumbles.
Y/n laced her fingers with his and began to head to the booth.
With her elbows pressed up against the counter and her fingers knitted together, she greets the worker. Suna stands still. His hands are gripped around a railing and his lips tighten in a fine line.
“He-hel-hello.” Y/n throws her hand up in a wave when her body begins to hurdle over. She lets out a groan as she tightens her grip around a pamphlet.
“Ma’am- those pamphlets aren’t going anywhere.” The worker teased.
“Are you and- your boyfriend alright?” The worker stiffened.
Suna drags over to Y/n and drapes his arms over her shoulders— rocking her back and fourth.
His breath is hot against her— teasing at her throat.
“She’s shit talking us.” He sneered.
Y/n was unable to answer. But it was a clear “no”. Beads of sweat rolled down her face and her grip around Suna’s sleeves were deathly.
The conversation was a bit of a blur and she wasn’t sure if the conversation went even a tad normal but she reckoned it was successful when she dragged Suna behind her— two entree tickets pinched between her fingers.
Suna had calmed down a bit and now the hammered couple strided against the carpet path quietly.
Suna comes to an abrupt stop causing Y/n to practically tumble over.
“This is pretty. I fuck with this so heavy. Can I get a picture of you in front of it.” Suna pleads.
“With a single glance you can interpret how complex this piece is. This- is ethereal. The use of colour~ the visual spacing....” He continues.
The canvas was painted white with a single red dot stamped in the middle.
“It’s so abstract, Y/n.” Tears are welling from his eyes.
Y/n strolls over and poses in front of the bland painting. Her pose is stiff and much like the “mom I frew up” stance.
Suna positions his phone in front of him and admired his prettily prepped girlfriend. With his thumb over the button, he takes numerous photos. Unfortunately for him, his camera had been on selfie mode and you would later find out in a much more rational state.
There were now thirty selfies of Suna— the same stoic expression taken at the lowest of angles.
Y/n continues on her way, her hand held in Suna’s as he occasionally stops to snap a few pics. But, because Y/n interjected his sudden stops, all the photos were unclear and blurry— which he would find out much later on.
The two strolled behind the line of observers, critiquing the pieces heavily.
The paintings clouded their visions— dancing about and even talking to them from a distance. The hallucinations were everything they hoped for.
Exiting the first portion of the museum, they enter the second. Each room is a minimalistic white with the exception of the sculpture standing in the middle of the room- its bright colours clash with the white interior of the building.
Suna and Y/n are seated on a bench— entrapped between two walls riddled with art pieces to be gazed upon for hours. They sit back to back, each of their heads thrown back and positioned on the others shoulder.
The hallways is lowly lit and all Y/n wants to do it sleep.
Suna turns his head to face her. His eyes capture every feature before him. “Wow. this might be my favourite piece right here.” Suna mumbles, brushing his nose against hers.
“You’re such a simp.” She hums with a sly grin.
“We should fuck in front of the mona lisa.” Suna eyes are narrowed.
“Definitely- definitely, Rin. Except the mona lisa is in a different museum- in a different country.” Y/n shakes her head.
“Temporary setback. Oh well. That only means I have to take you there someday.” Suna breathes heavily.
“Rintarō? You’re taking me to Paris?” Y/n speaks with insincerity and sarcasm.
“Anything for you. I’ll take you to the moon.” He whispers— the rasp in his voice slowly breaking.
Y/n leans in for a kiss.
“That’s going in the cringe compilation.” Y/n taunts.
“Shut up.” Suna’s nose flares- threatening to burst into a fit of laughter.
He had the munchies so boy was he hungry.
Although the taste of her- should suffice.
He grips her by her hair although his hold is gentle. The two of you manage to meet in the middle, lips heated with anticipation. His tongue slides against hers— a kiss so heated she’s afraid she may melt. The way her throat bobs is almost entrancing. It causes Suna’s mind to linger. His collar is torn open enough to reveal his toned chest, riddled in silver chains and necklaces. Y/n’s dress strap falls to her arms as Suna fondles her body softly.
But, before it’s able to progress any further, Y/n parts from Suna. His eyes are puppy like, eager for her touch. Though she doesn’t allow his tricks to cloud her judgement. “Come on, Rin~ we’re in public.” She groans as Suna rubs his thumbs against her inner thigh. Y/n stands still while Suna remains seated— his head pressed up against her waist in a desperate hug.
Y/n forces Suna to journey further into the gallery. The two walk hand in hand.
The twos laughter fill the hallways and every now and then, the other security guards threaten them with stern flares.
they spent a huge portion of their time in the hall of sculptures, giggling about as they made fun of the naked sculptures like little children. A few “homeboy a little shrimpy” and “Imma beat to that” are spewed out. Jokingly of course.
Upon being lost in his train of thought, he loses sight of Y/n momentarily.
His smile returns once he catches sight of a very grabable waist.
Y/n is still, her legs shuffling back in fourth to indicate she’s lost in thought. She’s standing in front of a particular painting. The piece is abstract.
He towers over her and kisses her cheek to greet her warmly. His arms envelope her waist and he allows hers to drape over his embrace so that she’s able to wrap her dainty fingers around his thumbs.
“Rin, what does this look like to you.” Her voice is soft and serene.
Suna turns his attention toward the painting— his eyes are narrowed. “Mm... it sort of looks like a mutilated penis.” Suna answers truthfully. Y/n nudges his side playfully.
“Oh you bastard- I see it.” Y/n huffs. “I like this one.”
Suna parts from her.
He straightened his posture and adjusted his suit. Before burying his hands in his pockets, he rakes a hand through his hair. He jerks his head the other way and beckons a worker over.
“Good evening, sir how may I assist you?” The lady is sweetly spoken.
“Ma’am, I would like to purchase this painting.” he stands tall. Y/n’s eyes grow wide.
“I-I’m sorry?”
Suna looks over to Y/n reluctantly before engaging further.
“M-must I repeat myself? I said I would like to bargain for this painting.” Suna states all matter-of-a-factly.
“Sir... that’s not how this works.” The worker stares dumbfounded.
Suna runs his hand through the back of his head, scratching the back of his neck nervously.
“Well- how does it work?” He stares wide eyed.
“You cannot just buy a painting— this is a gallery. There are photos in the gift shop.” The lady’s brows are knitted before walking off.
“Well- that didn’t work out sorry, shortcake.” Suna turns to face you— lips pressed against eachother to conceal his laughter.
“What the hell was even that, Rin.”
He shrugs and turns to face you once again.
“Alright, shawty to the gift shop we go.”
She’d trail behind him closely out of the gallery. He has her hand in his and in on the other- is a 24 by 36 inch painting he insisted on buying for her.
Hinata- Khalid, Ed Sheeran, G-Eazy, and The Chainsmokers. Juice WRLD. XXXTENTACION. Mf is stuck in 2017.
Kageyama- literally whatever is on the radio except for rap or alternative rock. He’s a little bland<3 He’s not sure who Mistki is but- he likes that one song that goes nobody nobody-he doesn’t know what it’s called but he finds himself listening to it more often than he should.
Yamaguchi- Old Bruno Mars, some Drake, REX ORANGE COUNTY, Still Woozy, Cuco, Mac Demarco and probably has an unnatural amount of knowledge about 80s music.
Tsukishima- Joji. 😐 respectable choice of course but there is probably no range. (Secretly listens to Clairo)
Nishinoya- Playboi Carti, Lil Uzi Vert, Kid cudi, Gorillaz, MF DOOM, and a little bit of SZA
Tanaka- Ski Mask the Slump God, Polo G, MF DOOM, Thundercat, and Drake. Tanaka listened to Marvins Room and cried.
Sugawara- Brent Faiyaz, Daniel Caeser, Tyler the Creator, SZA, Tame Impala, Frank Ocean, and Giveon. Probably listens to K pop too. HUGE ABBA FAN. All talented artists no hate but Sugawara probably makes it a personality trait.
Daichi- has a soft spot of 60s music but would drag his bare ass against a highway before ever telling anyone that. So his alternatives are Rich Brian, Mac Miller, The smiths, The Neighborhood, and Arctic Monkeys.
Ennoshita- GOOD TASTE OMG- The smiths, New Order, The Strokes, björk, Childish Gambino, Mac Demarco, and Ricky Montgomery
Asahi- He has a guilty pleasure for Post Malone. But ultimately, it’s Cigarettes After Sex, Harry Styles, or some of the rap from Nishinoya rubbed off on him but other than that he’s not too big on rap. JAPANESE 80S MUSIC
Yachi- Clairo, girl in red, Melanie Martinez, GRIMES, NICKIIIIIII (she’s def a barb), SZA, Red Velvet, TWICE, and probably owns so many K drama soundtracks. Queen shit.
Kiyoko- Lana Del rey. That is literally it. Or she’s a hard stan and we will never find out.
Coach Ukai- 90s 90s 90s. HE PROBABLY LOVESSS TLC LIKE SM.
Takeda- he took one look at Mozart and said this is it. Huge Neil Diamond guy
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