stellarbirth

Bri. 28. Smut Peddling Weeb. Main blog: lilacnlaurel. 18+: MINORS DNI I'LL EAT YOUR FUCKING FACE!!

[stellarbirth]

all the stars are closer

☆stellarbirth navigation☆

► Rules & About Me ► Masterlist ► AO3

☆in orbit☆

◄ Prev:

rockabye baby | Reader -x- Kotaro Bokuto cherry | Reader -x- Shoyo Hinata

► On The Horizon:

room for more - 1/2 | Reader -x- Shoyo Hinata/Kenma Kozume chantilly lace | Reader -x- Tooru Oikawa harrogate nights - chp 1 | Reader -x- Atsumu Miya

last updated 6/13/21

[melo-9ba]

Aki Hayakawa and Megumi Fushiguro (Chainsaw Man/Jujutsu Kaisen)

[va-nnahs]

Tiddy buddies

Todo was declared winner of the competition

[keljnap]

[yuki119]

kakashi hours 🤌

[shinobibook]

[aeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-deactivate]

i finally drew the thing

[dreamingpartone]

one late afternoon ☀

[tbartss]

bro i could never talk about naruto to someone who's seen/read it in real life because the whole time I'll be like what did you think when they kissed in the same chapter that sasuke was introduced what did you think when sasuke sacrificed himself and his dreams for naruto's what did you think when Naruto cried because he realized sasuke was trying to kill him what did you think when naruto said he would be a fool the rest of his life if that meant he'd never give up on sasuke what did you think when naruto cried after he saw sasuke for the first time in three years what did you think when naruto wished for sasuke on a shooting star what did you think when naruto said he would carry sasuke's hatred and die with him what did you think when sasuke said that he knew naruto's heart and naruto knew his what did you think when they died at the same time what did you think when they got soulmate tattoos what did you think of their last fight when everything is over but they are not and they blow each other's arms off into a pattern that looks suspiciously like holding hands but none of them care and sasuke cries because he realizes how much naruto loves him and that he reciprocates his feelings for him do you get what i mean like how am i ever supposed to be normal about this

[kulluto]

this is the funniest fucking tweet ever

[namchyun-deactivated20250926]

[edotenseii]

[jurassic-cunt]

"u almost 30 what u readin fics for?"

dude what else ima do at work when i don't wanna work? work????

i'll read fics til i die

[heich0e]

a piece of you with me kageyama tobio/reader (haikyuu!) word count: 1.5k tags: soft boyf tobio, domestic bliss, long distance relationship woes, mans has never worn an ankle sock and you cannot change my mind

Kageyama Tobio has only ever owned two kinds of socks.

White ones, and black ones.

Same brand.

Same style.

He receives a new 5-pack of each colour for every birthday from his mother and father, retiring the oldest 5 pairs of each shade to replace with the new ones each time.

He owns 30 pairs total, which may seem like a lot, but he’s a strong proponent of a midday sock change, and his training schedule as a professional athlete necessitates more than one pair per day between training and morning runs and practices — plus he’s bad at remembering to do his laundry.

You know a lot of things about Kageyama, that’s a normal part of dating someone. But you learn new things about him all the time, like how when he was a kid he had a reoccurring dream about being a magician’s assistant, or that he sometimes gets hives if he eats too many strawberries but eats them anyway in the summer time.

Or how he only owns two kids of socks.

It’s still relatively early in your relationship when you figure this out, less than a year in — you’re at Tobio’s apartment, having let yourself in with the key he’d given you after only a few weeks of dating, much to your own surprise, and you decide to put in a load of laundry when you get a text letting you know he’s running a bit later than expected and you spot the overflowing hamper in his room.

You’re sitting cross-legged on the floor sorting the clean laundry to fold when you notice that the socks are easily divided into two practically identical piles, save for the shade of the cotton.

You blink down at the two masses of fabric.

“I’m home,” Tobio’s voice cuts across the apartment, pulling you from your stupor. He calls your name, and his head pops through his bedroom door before you can reply, only to find you staring at the socks in your hand - white in left, black in right.

“Did you do my laundry?” he asks. It might have sounded cold to anyone else, but you’ve learned to decipher the nuance in his tone well enough to detect appreciation, if not a little bit of incredulity in his words. “You didn’t need to do-“

“Do you only own two kinds of socks?” you can’t hold the question back any longer.

He looks at you strangely for a moment.

“Technically it’s one kind. Just two colours,” he explains.

Like that’s any better.

But this is just another part of him that makes him who he is — and like the childhood dreams and occasional hives, you accept it and move on.

Until the next Christmas rolls around.

Call it divine intervention, but in the midst of some last minute gift shopping on your way home from work one day, you spot them: a pair of bright blue socks with little white volleyballs printed on them. You make your way home with them tucked safely in your bag — to your shared apartment, now that half of the things in Tobio’s apartment are yours.

When Tobio opens the little gift on Christmas morning it takes him a moment to even figure out what they are.

"What am I supposed to do with these?” he asks you with a furrow in his brow.

"Wear them?” you laugh, sipping your steaming cup of coffee.

And so Kageyama suddenly finds himself the owner three kinds of socks, but he only wears two — the third remaining tucked safely in his otherwise monochromatic sock drawer, unworn.

Something else you learn about Kageyama relatively early on in your relationship is that he’s pretty good at goodbyes. A necessity, you gather, from a professional athlete who is constantly travelling for away games and training and various other opportunities.

What you learn about yourself is that you are not good at goodbyes at all.

Tobio is exceedingly patient as you gather with the rest of the Adlers players and their families outside the arena to say your final goodbyes before the group of men boards their team bus for the airport, to catch a flight to Europe where they’ll be playing for six weeks.

Six weeks.

It feels like a lifetime to you, but Tobio thinks otherwise. He tells you as much as you hold him tightly outside the arena, your puffy face buried into his chest, eyes red and watery from the tears you’ve been shedding from the moment the alarm on your bedside table went off at 5AM.

“That’s not even two menstrual cycles,” your boyfriend reminds you, in what you’re sure he thinks is a helpful way, patting your head gently.

“Tobio, don’t talk to me about menstrual cycles when we’re saying goodbye,” you whine, your words lightly muffled by his coat. While you appreciate that he’s been trying to learn more about you lately, you didn’t expect him to absorb the information he’d found on the female reproductive system quite so readily.

“Okay,” he says, and you can’t see his face but you think he might be smiling a little bit.

When he's unpacking his bags in his hotel room a million miles away he finds them, the bright blue socks with volleyballs on them that you’d secretly tucked into his suitcase when you were helping him back the night before he left.

And he wears them when he misses you while he’s gone (i.e. a lot.)

Five weeks and six days later, it’s like the middle of the night when you feel Tobio’s side of the bed dip, and a familiar warmth wrap itself around your half sleeping form.

“You’re home early,” you croak out wiping at your eyes so you can see him better in the dim light of your bedroom.

He hums, his eyes already closed as he rests his head on his pillow next to yours.

“You should change out of your travelling clothes,” you point out to him after a moment.

He simply kicks off his sweatpants and pulls off his sweatshirt, hardly rising from his horizontal position on the bed. You catch a peek of bright blue on his feet and you pause, looking over at him.

“Nice socks,” you say, smiling, as he slips under the covers with you.

He simply grunts, pulling you down to rest your head on his chest, right over his heart.

“I think they might be lucky,” Tobio says sleepily, already halfway to unconsciousness after his long day of travelling, and weeks apart from you.

“Is that so?” you ask with a quiet laugh.

“Yeah, when I was wearing them I always won,” he replies, and your heart flutters in your chest when you realize his choice of hosiery was not due to simply running out of other clean pairs. “Maybe it’s cause I missed you less because i had a piece of you with me.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as he presses a soft kiss to the crown of your hair, and you know he has no idea how sweet what he just said is.

So you start buying socks for him all the time, in every fun colour, pattern and texture you can find.

And he always wears them.

No one understands the sudden fashion change, because he's Kageyama — Shoyo even sends you a frantic text when the two of them are at lunch one afternoon asking why your boyfriend is wearing socks with blueberries printed on them.

But you’re the only one who knows it’s because they remind him of you.

Years later, one of the pairs of socks gets a hole in them, and Tobio is devastated. It’s the first pair you ever bought for him — the pair he wore to his first olympics, the pair he wore when he asked you to marry him, and the pair he was wearing when you met him at the altar.

“Can you fix them?” he asks you, his eyes wide and desperate as he cradles the precious pair of socks in his hands.

“Tobi, I only paid 100 yen for these — it’s a miracle they lasted as long as they did,” you wince, examining the way that the toe of one of the socks has ripped almost entirely off, and the other is only faring marginally better.

“Please,” he asks, earnest and resolved, “can you try?”

You smile softly and nod.

And a few days later, you bring them back to him — and he looks up at you with wide, glistening eyes as he cradles the bright blue fabric with little white volleyballs printed on it that you had carefully cut and stitched back together.

Into a teeny tiny pair of baby socks.

[ginsichimaru]

                HAPPY BIRTHDAY BOKUTO KOUTARO!!

[1005s-deactivated20220208]

no shade, but why does everyone think atsumu doesn’t know how to take care of himself?

in my little, corrupted brain he usually smells like expensive shower gel ‘n aftershave. and yeah, maybe he’s a little musky at times ‘cause he’s always practicing or working out but he still smells so good and prefers to take a shower before you pounce on him usually he doesn’t make it very far though. and he keeps himself very well groomed, unless you tell him that you’d prefer him with some stubble and a happy trail. he doesn’t mind either way!

i don’t know— maybe not maybe, definitely, without a doubt i’m just hopelessly in love with him.

[juiche]

🏐💨🔥

get your own print here ❤️