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.
it’s unsurprisingly loud when you step into nekoma’s gym.
there’s the loud clap of volleyball’s ricocheting off the floor, yaku’s voice is loud in an attempt to get lev to work, yamamoto’s trying to get kenma to do something he doesn’t want to.
and kuroo’s standing in the middle of the chaos, hand on his hip like he owns the place. his lips curled in that familiar smirk.
kuroo doesn’t notice you yet, pretty obvious since his back is turned to you. but lev does, and he announces your presence loudly, making everyone turn to you. including kuroo.
‘-y/n, you’re here! look kuroo-san-’ kuroo immediately turns to you after lev’s incredibly loud announcement. his eyes sparkling at the sight of you, like a little kid in a toy store.
he walkes over with another usual cocky grin on his face, wrapping his arms around you the second he’s close enough.
‘-tetsu, you’re choking me.’ you’re trying, keyword trying to get out of his hold. but he has you in a very tight hold, chokehold more or less.
your face is completely smushed into his chest, all the words leaving your mouth muffled by his shirt.
‘kuroo, let her go. she’s choking.’ kenma murmurs, and that’s what finally makes him let go of you.
‘sorry not sorry,’ he says with a chuckle, instead of nearly choking you to death with his hold, he settles for holding you, but looser. giving you the well needed room to breathe.
‘sorry, i missed you.’ he whispers now, pressing one chaste kiss to your temple.
‘ ‘s okay, i missed you too.’ you mutter, looking around the gym to see everybody staring at you two, shocker.
the only one that isn’t staring with a look of either disgust or shock, is kenma. he’s used to kuroo’s somewhat strange antics with you.
kuroo doesn’t care that everyone’s looking, he’s proud to miss his girlfriend that he hadn’t seen for 2 hours.
kuroo tetsuro, the perfect and persuasive businessman. kuroo tetsuro, jva’s golden boy. but you don’t know that guy, you rather be with tetsu.
he’s objectively perfect, indeed. the pipe under the sink is leaking? don’t worry, don’t call anyone. he will fix it in ten minutes — looking extremely hot, by the way. you’re late to a place? it’s okay, he’s always ready to take you anywhere.
but when his friends from high school come over to your house, most of them volleyball players, he’ll show off about how he kept his form despite not becoming professional and being in his early thirties. smirk on, eyebrow arched and an smug bickering with bokuto that makes iwaizumi huff and want to throw someone through the window.
“don’t know how you put up with him. you’re quite normal” he would say while glaring at the pair — who right now are showing off their biceps and daring each other to play in your backyard. you chuckle and take a sip of your beer, “love makes you do unnormal things, i guess”
“babe, that was so cheesy” kuroo snorts smugly, and you smirk back, holding back a laugh. “you married me anyway” you shrug, and atsumu miya cheers your beer with his protein shake. bokuto gasps and tetsuro clicks his tongue, walking towards you, “and i’ll let you know that i’d do it again. mouthy woman” he huffs and shakes his head, amused. wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close before whispering loudly enough for everyone to hear, “you’re feeling my arm now, say i’m stronger than bo’, c’mon”
“that’s not fair! call a referee” kotaro points at him, and kuroo just stretches you against him, playfully. his biceps defines at his grip and you sigh, yet lean against his broad chest.
oh, he’s not some higher up in the jva, not some scary man in a suit. he’s just a dork, and yours, truly.
thinking about kuroo rubbing circles on your lower abdomen when you have your period. his big, firm hand massaging you at the right spots while your back is pressed against him in a spooning position in bed. he plants kisses on your shoulder, whispering an i know as you writhe in pain from the cramps.
he knows this is your monthly occurrence, him almost cursing the air everytime because how dare this period making you curl up in pain every month? you see him when he playfully punches the air, pretending to have this one-sided fight with your cramps because screw human anatomy that's hurting his girl. you giggle and it makes you forget the sharp pain on your lower abdomen for a little while.
kuroo says he's going out for a bit to buy you medicine because he checked your drawer and knew you ran out. he changes the water on your hot compress and kisses your forehead before leaving, placing your favorite plushie beside you in bed and says he's gonna watch you while i'm outside. you smile contently and whisper a be safe as he leaves. next thing you know, you fell asleep waiting for him, and he's back with... an amalgamation of groceries. a bouquet of your favorite flowers. a bag of chocolates and snacks. your favorite drink. a new plushie so the current one beside you has company (he tries to justify his spending habits). but really, you appreciate the gesture, and it's almost predictable now because every month, without fail, kuroo willingly does this for you, on your period or not.
HAIKYUU BOYS ✰ HOW THEY WOULD BE IF THEY HAD A CRUSH ON SOMEONE
FEATURING. Kageyama T., Kuroo T., and Akaashi K.
NOTE. i’m giggling at these ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ ) + starting to lean into more headcanon posts because it’s so fun!
KAGEYAMA TOBIO — SUDDENLY FULL OF QUESTIONS
When Kageyama Tobio has a crush, he’s suddenly full of questions.
He doesn’t realize when it starts, only that something feels different, like a switch flipped quietly in his brain without his knowledge. One day he’s focused on his volleyball, on keeping his head in the game, and the next he’s glancing sideways at you without meaning to, his thoughts drifting away from volleyball formations and subjects that he badly needed to pass to play volleyball. The questions come before he can stop them, slipping out of his mouth as if they’ve always been there, waiting.
“Hey,” he says from his seat, eyes still glued to his notebook like that might hide the heat creeping up his neck. It doesn’t help that his notebook’s blank. “What’s your favorite food?”
He sees you look surprised, eyebrows raising before you smile at him. “Huh? Curry, I guess.”
He nods slowly, committing the information to memory even though he has no idea why it matters so much. His pencil scratches against the page, writing nothing important. “Spicy or not spicy?”
You tilt your head. “Medium.”
“…Okay.” The word comes out firm, decisive, as if he’s just confirmed something important. He forces himself to look back down at his notes, shoulders stiff, ears burning red.
A few minutes pass. He manages to last exactly two minutes before the need to ask another question becomes unbearable.
“Do you like cats or dogs?”
Your shoulders shake as you try not to laugh, turning in your seat to face him properly. “Cats.”
“Why?”
“They’re quiet,” you answered after a second. “And cuter, personally.”
He hums under his breath, satisfied. That makes sense. He likes that answer more than he probably should.
After practice, you walk home together, the air cool and the sky painted in warm shades of orange and pink. Kageyama doesn’t think about it when he slows his pace to match yours; he just does. His bag hangs heavy from one shoulder, the sound of your footsteps falling into an effortless rhythm.
“Do you get cold easily?” he asks suddenly, staring straight ahead.
You laugh at him again, light and surprised. “That’s kind of random.”
“I’m just asking.” His tone is defensive, even though there’s no real reason to be.
“Yes,” you answered, still smiling. “Why?”
“…Nothing.” He shakes his head once. “Just—good to know.”
You wrap your scarf tighter around your neck, glancing at him from the corner of your eye, clearly amused. Kageyama doesn’t say anything after that, because he could barely look at you—too focused on the thoughts that are running in his head.
The next day at lunch, he notices it without meaning to. The empty space on your table. The way you pause, looking around like you’ve forgotten something. Without thinking, he slides his unopened milk carton toward you.
“You didn’t bring a drink.”
You blinked at the carton, then looked at him, your expression soft albeit surprised. “Oh. Thanks.” You nodded. “You noticed.”
“…Yeah.” He looks away quickly, pretending to adjust his bangs, his heart thudding too loud in his ears.
You eat in comfortable silence for a while. Ten seconds pass. Fifteen. It becomes unbearable.
“What music do you listen to?” he asks.
“Soft stuff. Acoustic. You?”
“None.”
You snorted. That figures.”
He frowns, genuinely confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re cute,” you reply easily, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Kageyama immediately chokes on his rice, coughing as his face turns red. You pat his back between laughs, apologizing even though you’re clearly enjoying this. All Kageyama could think about was the pressure of your hand on his back as he almost had a near-death experience. Your hand was very light and gentle.
Later, when you’re assigned to clean the classroom together, the room feels quieter than usual. Sunlight spills through the windows, dust floating lazily in the air. Kageyama works quietly, but his attention keeps drifting to you as you wipe down the windows, humming softly under your breath. The sound sticks with him, like a lullaby.
“Do you hum when you’re happy?” he asks before he can stop himself.
You paused, turning to look at him. Your pout is thoughtful but fond. “Yeah. Do you ask questions when you’re nervous?”
“I’m not nervous,” he says instantly, too fast.
You shrug your shoulders, clearly unconvinced. “Uh-huh.”
He doesn’t understand it. He just knows he wants to know everything—what makes you laugh, what you eat when you’re tired, whether you prefer sunsets or sunrises. The questions feel endless, and none of them feel unimportant.
You step a little closer to him when you finish. “You know, you can just say you want to spend time with me.”
Kageyama freezes, every muscle locking up as his face burns hotter than it ever has. He stares at the floor, fists clenched at his sides.
“…Is that ok?” he asks quietly, completely serious.
Your laughter is music to his hears—what is wrong with him? “Yeah, Tobio. It is.”
He nods once, like he’s made a decision in a match. “Okay.” He swallows. “Then—can we walk home together again tomorrow?” Tomorrow because he knows that volleyball practice today will end late, and he doesn’t want you waiting for him so late.
Your answer comes without hesitation. “Of course.”
KUROO TETSUROU — STUDIES IN ADVANCE TO IMPRESS YOU
When Kuroo Tetsurou has a crush, he becomes unbearable in the most subtle way possible.
He doesn’t brag outright—he’s not that obvious. Instead, he prepares. Thoroughly. With intent.
The night before chemistry class, he’s sprawled across his bed, textbook open, phone discarded somewhere near his pillow. He’s already finished tomorrow’s homework, but that isn’t enough. He rereads the chapter anyway, flipping pages with practiced ease, making mental notes of things that might come up. Not because he’s worried about the test. Because you sat one row ahead of him, and sometimes—sometimes—you turn around and ask questions.
He wants to be ready.
The next day, Kuroo leans back in his chair as the teacher drones on, eyes half-lidded, posture relaxed. To anyone else, he looks bored. Lazy, even. But he’s listening, catching every word, every concept he already knows by heart. Also because he’s studious like that.
Sure enough, you turn around, pen tapping lightly against your notebook. “Hey, Kuroo.”
He perks up instantly. “Yeah?”
“You get this part?” You point at an equation. “The coefficient change.”
“Oh,” he says casually, like he hasn’t memorized the entire section. “Yeah. It’s just adjusting for the reaction rate.”
You squint. “Just?”
He grins. “You’re overthinking it.”
You scoff. “I am not.”
“You totally are,” he says, leaning forward. “If you isolate the variable first, it’s way easier.”
You study the equation again, and then he sees your lips curl into a small, smug smile. Oh no. “That only works if you assume ideal conditions.”
Kuroo pauses.
“…Okay, yeah,” he admits, impressed despite himself. “But that’s what the teacher’s going for.”
“Still,” you say, chin lifting slightly, “it’s not wrong to consider alternatives.”
He laughs quietly. “Did you study ahead again?”
“Maybe,” you replied innocently, even batting your eyelashes at him. “Did you?”
He shrugs. “Maybe.”
If “maybe” was 96 hours of him studying non-stop and juggling that alongside volleyball, then yes, maybe he did study.
You hold eye contact for a second too long, and Kuroo suddenly feels the urge to blink because he thinks his face is growing hot. He feels something in his chest—that spark he always feels with you, the way conversations with you never feel dull or one-sided. You don't just listen. You push back, whatever that means.
After class, he falls into step beside you in the hallway, hands tucked into his pockets.
“You’re annoying,” you mused lightheartedly.
“Because I’m right?”
“Because you enjoy being right.”
He smirks. “I do. Sue me.”
You bump his shoulder with yours. “Don’t let your head get too big.”
You stop by the lockers, and Kuroo leans against the metal casually, watching as you fumble with your lock. “So,” he says, tone intentionally offhand, “you like physics or chemistry more?”
“Physics,” you answered without hesitation. “It makes more sense.”
“Oof. Bold take.”
“You disagree?”
“Chemistry’s more fun,” he says. “More variables. More chaos. Plus, Lab’s fun when we get to do actual experiments.”
You laughed, nodding your head. “That tracks.”
He watches your expression, the way your eyes light up when you talk about school, about learning. He likes this side of you. Likes that you don’t dumb yourself down. Likes that you challenge him.
But he wants more.
The walk toward the school gates together was as mundane as can be, afternoon sun filtering through the trees.
“You always ask me about school stuff,” you pointed out suddenly, glancing at him. “Is that, like, your thing?”
Kuroo blinks. “What, being smart?”
“No,” you reply, amused. “Being… this.”
“This?” He gestures between you.
You shrug. “Debating. Studying ahead. Competing.”
He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess so.”
There’s a beat of silence before he adds, “I can ask about other stuff too, you know.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Like what?”
Like what music you like. What makes you laugh. What you do when you’re not being ridiculously smart.
A million topics just went through his head.
Instead, Kuroo says, “Like… what you do after school.”
You nodded your head slowly. “I tutor my cousin. You?”
“Volleyball,” he replies easily. “Captain duties. Being awesome.”
You rolled your eyes at him. “Naturally.”
He grins, emboldened. “You ever come watch?”
“…Maybe,”
…
“If you promise not to show off.”
“No promises.”
You laugh and shake your head and start walking again. He follows, heart a little lighter.
“Hey, [Last Name]?”
“Yeah?”
He hesitates, then asks, “What do you do for fun? Like—not academic fun.”
You think for a moment. “I like reading. Baking. Long walks.”
“Baking, huh?” He perks up. “What kind?”
“Cookies. Mostly.”
He nods seriously. “Important information.”
“Why is that important?”
He shrugs. “Just… wanna know more about you.”
Your steps slow. Just a little.
“Oh.”
You reach the corner where your paths split, and for a moment neither of you moves.
“Well,” you started, tucking your bag higher on your shoulder, “see you tomorrow, know-it-all.”
“Later, genius,” he replies.
As you walk away, Kuroo watches you go, smiling to himself. He still wants to impress you—always will—but maybe it doesn’t have to be just about textbooks and equations.
Maybe it can be about cookies.
Oh, man. He was going to learn how to make the world’s best cookies.
AKAASHI KEIJI — THE CHALANCE IN NONCHALANCE
Akaashi Keiji is painfully aware of how conscious his breathing is.
In, out. Counted. The same way it always is—except today, it feels louder, like his body is betraying him with how aware it is of you. You sat one row ahead by the window, sunlight catching in your hair as you absentmindedly twirled your pen between your fingers. You aren’t paying attention to the lecture at all. Akaashi notices because he always notices things like that.
Patterns. Habits.
The way people drift when their minds are elsewhere.
You look peaceful. Unbothered. And for some reason, that makes him want to disrupt it—just a little.
When the teacher pauses to write something on the board, Akaashi leans forward, voice low and careful, like he’s approaching a wild animal he doesn’t want to scare away.
“You’re going to miss the notes,” he says.
You flinch slightly, blinking as if you’ve been pulled out of a dream. You turn to him, eyes widening for half a second before softening. “Oh—sorry. What?”
“The last problem,” he explains, gesturing vaguely to the board. “It’s… important. Probably.”
You look back up front, then sigh. “I always zone out during explanations.”
“I wrote everything down,” he adds quickly, then hesitates, realizing how eager he sounds. He clears his throat. “You can copy mine later. If you want.”
Your lips curve into a polite smile, familiar and practiced. “Thanks, Akaashi. You’re always so calm and prepared.”
Always. That word lands heavier than it should.
He shifts in his seat. “I’m not,” he says before he can stop himself.
You blinked again, clearly confused. “Not… prepared?”
“Not always,” he clarifies, then feels compelled—why does he feel compelled?—to keep going. “I forget things. Often. Yesterday I left my uniform at home. And last week I forgot my lunch.”
You stare at him for a moment, then let out a small laugh. “That’s it? That’s your big secret?”
He nods solemnly. “Yes.”
“That’s very normal,” you say, amused.
“I am,” he agrees. “Normal.”
“You don’t have to convince me.”
Akaashi leans back, heart thudding a bit harder than usual. That didn’t go the way he planned—but you laughed. That counts for something.
When class finally ends, the room fills with noise—chairs scraping, voices overlapping, the familiar chaos that Akaashi usually slips away from unnoticed. Today, though, he times his movements carefully. When you stood up, he stood too, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
“Are you heading to the library?” he asks, keeping his tone neutral even as his pulse spikes.
You look genuinely surprised, eyes flicking to him as if you hadn’t expected him to speak again. “Yeah. I have to finish my literature report.”
“I have a case study,” he says, then adds, “I could also… be there.”
There’s a brief pause, just long enough for him to wonder if he sounded weird and if this is the part where you tell him off. Then you smile. “Let’s get going, then.”
You walk side by side down the hallway, not quite close enough for your arms to brush, but close enough that Akaashi is keenly aware of your presence. He feels strangely stiff, unsure what to do with his hands, so he just clasps them on his front like he normally would.
“What’s your report about?” he asks, partly to fill the silence, partly because he genuinely wants to know.
“Romantic poetry,” you replied with a grimace. “Which is ironic, because I don’t really get romance.”
He glances at you. “You don’t?”
“It feels exaggerated. Like people overthink every little thing.”
He almost smiles. Almost. “Sometimes,” he says slowly, choosing his words with care, “people don’t know how to express themselves properly. So it comes out… awkward. Or intense.”
You hum thoughtfully. “Is that your personal opinion, or are you analyzing human behavior again?”
“…Both,” he admits.
You laughed, this time louder and unguarded. The sound hits him square in the chest, warm and dizzying. Akaashi feels something loosen inside him. He did that. He made that happen.
In the library, the air is quieter, softer. They sit across from each other at a long table, sunlight filtering in through tall windows. You spread your notes out, chewing on the end of your pen, brows furrowed in concentration. Akaashi opens his notebook too—but instead of studying, he finds himself watching the way you scrunch your nose when you’re thinking.
“You’re not studying,” you pointed out without looking up.
“I am,” he replies automatically.
“You haven’t turned a page.”
“…I was thinking,” he admitted.
“About volleyball?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
The question hangs between you. His chest tightens, nerves buzzing under his skin. He could deflect. He usually does. But today, he doesn’t want to.
“…How to make you laugh again,” he says quietly.
Your pen stills. You look at him, really look at him, eyes wide and searching.
“That’s…” you paused. “That’s actually really cute.”
Heat rushes to his ears. “I’m not very good at it,” he admits. “I think I made it weird for the both of us.”
“I think you’re doing fine,” you tell him. “You’re just not what I expected.”
He meets your gaze. “Is that bad?”
You shook your head immediately. “No. I like it. You’re not just the calm, intimidating setter everyone talks about.”
“Intimidating?” he echoes faintly.
“A little,” you shrugged. “But now you’re just… Akaashi.”
The way you say his name—casual, familiar—makes his chest feel strangely full.
He reaches into his bag and pulls out a small juice box, setting it on the table like an offering. “I forgot my lunch,” he says flatly. “But I remembered this.”
You stare at it, then burst into laughter, covering your mouth. “Is that your proof of being normal?”
“Yes,” he says, utterly serious.
Your laughter fills the quiet space between the shelves, bright and genuine, and Akaashi watches you with something soft and steady in his chest. He thinks—this is enough. For now.
Being a little weird doesn’t feel so bad if it makes you smile like that, especially when he's being true to himself.
IN WHICH — the only thing thats stopping you from quitting your job at the JVA is your sexy boss, kuroo
EXTRA — crack, fluff, 4 years age gap, burned out reader, based on this request
A/N — this one is dedicated to all my employed friends, especially eme (@lovedlorned) who’ll finally quit on july 12th, lets all give her a round of applause 🥳🥳‼️
cameos: navi (@milkbread11); astra (@karnevil); maddy (@cowboylo)
(yes, the title is a mitski song. i thought it was funny)
the second kuroo bursts into the kitchen with your son of fourteen months in his arms, you know you’ve won.
"you cheated!" he accuses with a pointed finger, cradling your baby in his other arm.
your smile threatens to spread across your face as you place the last of your katsu in your airfryer, but you manage to school your impression into something blank. "i don’t know what you’re talking about."
“cheater!” he cries, following you to the sink as you wash your hands and place your cutlery away. your baby gurgles as he does.
“still no clue,” you say, playing dumb as you shake your hands and walk into the living room.
"you know what you did!" kuroo trails you all this while, and you can imagine all 189 cm of him irately bobbing around your house.
you try not to laugh, and wrangle your expression into a blank stare as you sit down on your couch, looking up at him. "i do not."
"you taught him to say mama."
it's the look on his face: the squinting eyes, the exaggerated scowl, and the mussed up hair that makes him look ridiculous. you can’t help it—the corner of your mouth twitches.
"you’re smiling!" he explodes, shifting your son into his other arm. "i knew it!"
your son blinks at the noise, looking from his father to you, and he smiles. extending his arms, he reaches for you. “mama!”
“see?!” your husband wails, and you stand up briefly to take your son before sitting back down. “that’s against the rules!”
“what rules?” you say with a roll of your eyes, unable to help your smile any longer, allowing your son to play with your hair. "mama is a perfectly normal thing for a child to say."
"he couldn't even form a single syllable a week ago!" kuroo snaps, "you coached him!"
you giggle, partly because he was right, but also he looked cute stomping to the armchair and sitting down, crossing his arms and pouting.
you suppress a laugh at his touchiness, but nudge your son. "baby, where’s papa?"
his eyes blink up at you, then he points at your husband. tetsuro glares at the chubby little hand of his traitorous son.
"go give papa a hug," you say, setting him down. he takes wide steps and bends back and forth on his hips before giving up and speed crawling to his father.
despite kuroo’s pout, he bends over to pick up his son.
"you can always try again with baby number two," you remind him.
"yeah, yeah," he grumbles, leaning back so your son can settle on his chest. "you’re lucky you're the love of my life and i can set aside my competitiveness for you."
you chuckle. "hey, baby," you call to your son, and the boy looks back at you, his hands on the collar of your husband’s shirt. you see the affection that opens up on tetsuro's face when he looks at his child, and it makes your heart twinge. "say papa."
your son doesn’t falter, offering you a smile. "mama!"
men who keeps a picture of you in his wallet; the picture visible when he pulls out his wallet to pay
men whose personality is about you. social media, camera roll, and even lock screen have pictures of you on it
men who are very tender about you; who never tell you no. whatever you want you can have. that overpriced 30 dollar candy? grab it. another pair of the same shoes you have at home? already being bought in your size.
men who are sensitive to your emotions. you're happy? he's happy. you're crying? he's doing everything in his power to fix it. pouting because you want something? he's getting it for you right now.
men who boast about you to anyone that'll listen, always finding a way to bring you up in a conversation that has absolutely nothing to do with you.
men whose facade falls once you tilt your head at them ever so slightly, a please leaving your lips.
men whose friends joke that you're the one that wears the pants in the relationship
suggestive undercut!
men whose neck is littered with hickeys and marks from you
men who grin when his friends point out the scratches on his back. that say he looks like he's been mauled. and he only smiles because it was you who did it--with the same set of nails he just paid for
men who always have to touch you--doesn't matter where. standing up? hands on your hips. on the couch? his arm is around you. in the bed small spooning? his hand is inside your shirt
men who crave with need for you
men who absolutely adore you
₊˚ ✧ ━━━━━ ⊱⋆⊰ ━━━━━ ✧ ₊˚
Bokuto, Hinata, Kuroo, Oikawa, Yamaguchi, Connie, Armin, Jean, Gojo, Yuji, any character you like!
╭──────────.★..─╮
@siireque do not repost,
copy, or modify my work
without given permission! ♥
╰─..★.──────────
