little tsukishima braindump
cw: suggestive in some parts
author note: slightly different style than normal but ykw fuck it
⟡ tsukishima pretends he's not obsessed with you, but it's hard to do that — he has everything about you memorized. the shampoo you use. the scent of your perfume. the brand of chocolate you like the most. your coffee/tea/drink order. everything about you is logged as important and so, he can't pretend.
⟡ he loves when you say his name. his name sounds so sweet coming from your lips, all sharp edges and lilted syllables. he bothers you enough to hear it again, holding things far above his head so you fight to reach. "kei," you protest, stretching your hands up to reach whatever it is his stole, "hand it back." he takes one look at your eyes, sweet, always so sweet, and secretly wonders how his name would sound in context that involved you in a slightly different position.
⟡ he kisses like he has something to prove. you challenge him on something stupid, and he's pressing you against the wall, his lips tracing a path down your neck and hands tracing patterns into the skin of your lower back. he likes you panting, breathless, confused enough to drop whatever it was your argument was. if you somehow manage to find it in the middle of all of that, he presses into you yet again, hands digging into your hips and lifting one of your legs to hook around his hips. if he's flushed to you, his cutie, he reckons he'll win whatever the debate was. after all — are you really thinking with his hips against yours, his mouth on yours and his hands sliding up your shirt? didn't think so.
⟡ his hands tell you far more about what he feels about you than his words ever do, his slender fingers hooked around your waist, your wrist, your fingers. touching you gives him clarity — he can feel your warmth beneath his fingers, and he knows you're all his. it's comforting.
⟡ he's obsessed with your skin. first time he ever kissed you, the feel of it him like a drug. so soft, so silky, he spends way too much time touching it. you could just be wearing shorts and his hands settle on your thighs, his fingers drawing patterns that somehow reach increasingly higher. you ask him what he's doing, feeling the heat course through your veins watching his hands. he'll be entirely nonchalant in his response, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips when he gently thumbs at the waistband of your shorts.
⟡ he's excellent at undoing tricky garments. bra? dismantled in two seconds. some complicated clothing with zippers or a close fit? he can peel it off in moments. he says it's his eye for detail, but it's just his desire to feel you close.
you’ve been awoken by an angel. or at least, that’s what it feels like when you wake up in a soft bed that is absolutely not your own, the warmth of this stranger — no, angel, filling your limbs with life you didn’t have before.
you gently open your eyes, trying consciously to widen them against the sleep that tugs at your eyelids. above you is a man kissed in sunlight, his broad arms held above you on the mattress. his eyes. some mix of green or brown or hazel or heaven looked at you like you’d bestowed him the greatest gift of the universe.
so naturally, having a hot man on top of you made you say the stupidest thing said in the history of mankind.
“holy shit. you are the sexiest man alive.”
the man stilled, eyebrows knitting in confusion before the laughter lit up his entire face.
“you’re supposed to be sober,” he sighed. “come on now. you’re telling me a full night of sleep didn’t fix that?”
you blinked sleepily, your edges snapping into focus before you realized that in your sleepy gaze, you’d just called iwaizumi hajime, your best friend of all time….the sexiest man alive.
you wished the ground would swallow you whole. that at least, would be a better fate than what currently greeted you.
you shoved your face in your hands, hearing hajime’s chuckles carrying out over the entire room.
“oh wow! that definitely did it. sexiest man alive, huh.”
“that wasn’t me…” you mumbled into your hands, “that was my evil twin. they try to sabotage me no matter what i do.”
you feel the gentle sensation of your hands being peeled away from your face, only for hajime to lean down and kiss your forehead.
every thought in your head ceased to exist.
“you’re silly,” he smiled against your skin, rising up from the mattress. “go brush your teeth. i’ll make breakfast.”
you were left alone in a sunlit room, wrapped in his sheets and wondering if your stupid comment had landed you a breakfast date with your secret crush.
seven minutes in heaven with iwaizumi hajime where he’s thrilled that he’s stuck in the closet with you but also just….too noble to do anything about it.
the two of you are close. so close. so close that you can feel the warmth of his body near yours. just a single reach and you’d be able to feel him. all of him.
in the dark you couldn’t make out much, save for his silhouette, which was at the moment, very close to yours.
he doesn’t kiss you. not at first. your hands find each other, the rough callouses soothing as you reached toward him. your hands landed on his hoodie, the soft fabric bunching between your fingers.
you wanted him to kiss you. you were waiting.
he still wasn’t.
“hajime,” you whispered out, your interlaced fingers gripping his with a bit more force. “you’re not saying anything.”
“there’s not much to say,” he said, voice rougher in the dark. a flush rose to your cheeks. you’d heard him say a lot of things, but you’d never heard him sound like that.
“it’s just the two of us?” you suggested, optimism filling in your chest. “we can…talk?”
“we’re talking.” he said bluntly.
his words and his actions were two different things. his free hand dropped to your waist, slowly moving down the shape of it. your heart was in your mouth. you wanted him to kiss you, kiss you right no—
“do you really want to be kissed in a dark closet?” he asks
« submit any haikyuu seven minutes in heaven requests to my ask box with a format (headcanon or drabble) — any character fair game! check the masterlist to see if your fav's been written for <3 »
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the fluorescent lights of the mall fitting room did absolutely nothing to dampen the beauty of iwaizumi hajime, who at that moment, looked like the greek god of abercrombie.
after being invited to oikawa’s spontaneous garden party, the two of you came to the marvelous conclusion that hajime had nothing at all that was appropriate to wear. nothing. at. all.
you thought a trip to the mall would be nice. after all, as his best friend (you’d never admit your crush….ever), it was your job to help him out.
you find yourself regretting it and thanking the gods in equal measure.
the olive green shirt he wore hugged his arms, the cut of it emphasizing his broad shoulders and even more sculpted biceps. the color made his eyes, something between green or brown or hazel look infinitely more alluring.
you wondered how you’d ever be able to get this out of your brain.
“it’s nice shirt!” you blurted out, willing your face not to betray the thoughts you had on the inside.
the truth was that he was marvelous. marvelous and beautiful. you could burn the image of him into your eyelids.
he smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling the smallest bit before flexing his arm in the mirror, the muscles all lining up just to kill you. “yeah?”
“yeah,” you sighed, “looks good. you should buy it.”
he nodded, paying no mind to the price tag as he walked back into the fitting room door. he stilled for a moment before closing the door, meeting your eyes with a smirk that spelled trouble.
“oh i will,” he grinned, “if your reaction was that crazy for this shirt, you couldn’t handle me shirtless.”
you were left dumbfounded as he shut the door, his laughs increasing in volume while you stood slack jawed over your menace of a crush.
taglist: @chimielie (sorry if he’s ooc lia ily), @mayiedayie @kagstobioisthelightofmylife (not kags but i’ll do it someday) @brooksviolin @karnevil @amorinn @huhyeni
a drunken bokuto (who cannot handle sugary liquor) confesses the depth of his feelings to you — for @cowboylo from nique's server because we talked it about for 2 messages and suddenly, i was inspired — and yes this is a fluff bomb
bokuto koutarou could do a lot of things, but what he couldn't do was handle his liquor. especially if it was sugary. even more so if he was at a karoake bar with friends and you, hands on a mic and the room echoing his delighted rendition of feel this moment.
he laughed delightedly, downing yet another shot of something you couldn't even decipher before handing the mic off to akaashi. the room was chattering, everyone arguing over what song was meant to come next, but bokuto's eyes, warm and golden, stayed firmly on you.
"how was that?" he grinned excitedly, sitting right beside you on the booth. an arm of his slid up behind you to rest on the sill of the booth. he didn't touch you, not directly, but he was close enough for you to feel his warmth.
"passionate," you giggled, reaching over to sip some water. "you should probably drink some of this. all that sugar is going to go straight to your head."
"what do you mean?" he asked offensively, face contorting in absolute offense while he, despite that offense, took the glass from your hands. "i can handle my liquor just fine! i'm a volleyball player! i work out! hinata can barely stay sober!"
"untrue," hinata shouted from across the room, "i handle my liquor much better than he does."
you stifled a giggle while bokuto downed the glass of water like a shot. or a very tall glass of seltzer. he exhaled, setting the glass down and shifting impercptibly closer to you.
"you know," he said, eyes bright and lips curved into the toothiest smile, "i was so happy when you came to the game the other day. i looked for you in the stands and you were right there! and everyone asked me if you were mine and i had such a hard time saying no, so i said maybe someday, and then they asked me why and—"
"woah woah woah!" you giggled, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. "lets start from the top. i came to your game. then?"
"then some members of the other team asked me about you."
"why?"
"easy. because i was so excited! i said i wanted to score some cool points so you'd see me and you'd be impressed. then they asked me what we are."
"and what did you tell them?"
he grinned even more, placing a gentle hand on your thigh as he leaned forward just a bit. "that i like you and have the biggest crush on you EVER."
you paused, your heart doing somersaults in your chest. "you mean that?"
"yes!" bokuto laughed, "yes i mean it. i came to karaoke because akaashi said you'd be here and i wanted to spend time with you. i told him that i was going to ask you out on a date."
"really now?" you flushed.
"yes," he nodded earnestly. "I like you. a lot. i want you at every match and i also want to date and go out and have a fun time. could we do that?"
"we can if you remember this conversation tomorrow," you smiled softly, running your fingers through his hair. "ask me tomorrow when you're sober, and it's a yes."
"why not right now?" he pouted. his lips turned downwards, eyebrows contorting confusedly. to him, it was as if youd delayed the payout of a jackpot.
"because you're drunk," you sighed. "ask me tomorrow."
"i'll ask you first thing tomorrow!" he laughed.
bonus: you woke up to your phone ringing at 6am, bokuto's special ringtone filling the air of your bedroom. you shifted gently, answering the call only to have his bright voice filling your ears.
"koutarou," you mumbled sleepily, "'s so early. what is it?"
"i may or may not have a headache," he began, "but you told me that if i remembered in the morning and i was sober, you'd go out with me! so, will you go out with me?"
you laughed into your pillow, a warm fondness spreading in your chest. "yes kou," you responded into the line, the smile creeping into your voice. "we can go out."
a loud "WAHOOOO!" erupted through your room before he remembered what time it was and hung up. you smiled into your sheets, knowing that when you woke up for real, he'd already have ideas for your first date.
sweet things the haikyuu boys do - a quick lil braindump
ft: miya osamu, akaashi keiji, sugawara koushi, kita shinsuke, daichi sawamura
cw: suggestive content in some parts — read at your own risk!
a/n: kita anon <3 this is for you — ily (also if you have others you'd like to see, tell me!)
MIYA OSAMU:
⟡ if you have any softness to your body, osamu cherishes it like you are his personal gift sent from the heavens above. you could be sitting idly on the countertop, watching him cook, and one of his hands will idly come to trace your thighs. there's no motive, at least, not at first. he simply enjoys the feeling of your skin against his palm, plush and warm and all his
⟡ he loves to kiss your exposed skin. any bare skin under his eyes is skin for the kissing. you could be explaining something important, and his lips will trail down your bare shoulder, pressing sweet kisses to the tops and sides. even if you protest, he'll skate his lips down your arm and smirk just the littlest bit. he can't resist
⟡ he loves making out when your thighs are straddling his hips. his lips are on yours, hot and needy as his hands scramble for purchase on your hips. you press against him, feeling him, his need, his tongue sliding gently across the seam of your lips. "someone's needy," you smirk across into his mouth, pulling away just enough to see his lips, pink and kiss-bitten, reach for you once again. he stops just short of your face, cupping your cheeks lovingly before gently rolling up into you. your breath hitches. "yer' just so sweet. we'll see who's needy when i'm done with ya'."
AKAASHI KEIJI:
⟡ keiji loves your hands in any condition and always treats them gently. after a long day at work or whatever else you've been doing he'll come over to massage them a little bit, pressing kisses to your knuckles and fingertips. to him, they're the hands that work so hard to bring you two the life you want, and so he adores them. plus, the better loved your hands are, the better they'll feel gripped on his back when he....shows you how much he loves you
⟡ he loves to lay in your lap while you recap the events of your entire day. you're on your couch, keiji's head draped across your thighs. he smiles gently, tugging your fingers to comb through his hair. as always, he melts into your touch. your day doesn't have to be eventful for him to love these recaps — he simply enjoys the sound of your voice talking through a cute mug you found, or pretty places you want to visit with him. it's his favorite part of the day, being enveleoped in your scent, your voice, and feeling your lips pepper kisses to his forehead every now and then.
⟡ a guilty pleasure of his is sitting between your thighs as you read. in his personal opinion, books are so much more interesting when he's kissing your legs, pressing kisses behind your knees, and watching your thighs shake in anticipation. "what was that?" he mumbles, his lips slowly inching up your thigh. your face flushes, the book trembling in your grasp. "t-the main character is about to fight the prince. she thinks he's evil." you shiver when keiji's tongue traces a heart into your inner thigh. "oh?"
SUGAWARA KOUSHI:
⟡ koushi loves carrying you bridal style. there's something so whimsical about lifting you off your feet, holding your weight in his arms. he's especially happy when you loop your arms around his head and lean in to give him a kiss. he feels like the prince in a manhwa or shoujo manga
⟡ he loves kissing your neck. koushi is a big enthusiast of lazy makeouts. he traces little hearts into your skin when he presses you against the wall, his lips tracing a heated path down your neck, collarbone, and dipping to kiss your sternum. he does it specifically so he can feel your hands wrapped into his shirt, the sweet little hitches of your breath spurring him further
⟡ he loves when you just lay on top of him. there's something so comforting about it, his hands wrapping firmly around your waist and burying his face into the crook of your neck. he could just disappear from the world. usually these cuddle sessions stay wholesome until his hands wander beneath your shirt. he says it's just to feel the warmth of your skin, but before no time he's flipped you over and pulled one of your legs over his hips.
KITA SHINSUKE:
⟡ shinsuke loves holding your hands when you walk together. there's something so divinely perfect about the feel of your hand in his, your fingers lacing together like puzzle pieces that were crafted together. he can hold your hand for what feels like centuries, rubbing his thumb gently across your skin to remind you that he'll forever be by your side. when he gets the chance, he slides his lips over your knuckles, a reverent pledge of love
⟡ if you have any moles on your body, shinsuke kisses every single one of them. your arms. your legs. your chest. your face. his personal opinion is that it's a little personal treasure that he gets to find and cherish. he firmly believes in the idea that your moles are where your soulmates kissed you the most in a previous life. he ensures he kisses every part of your body enough so that if there's ever another birth where he finds you, you'll be covered in all the relics of his love
⟡ when the two of you make love, he's not done until you're done. the first time he told you this, he was so earnest about it, and sure you believed him, but you never thought it could be like this. "shin!" you choke out desperately, hands scrambling to grip something, anything. kita's lips drag down to your neck, nibbling ever so slightly, his one free hand wrapped around your back to keep you close. you whimper into his mouth, overwhelmed by the sensations of his hands doing things nobody's hands should be able to do. "is this alright?" he smiles, leaning to kiss your forehead sweetly while your thighs tremble around his hands. "ya' deserve to feel so good."
DAICHI SAWAMURA:
⟡ sawamura adores back hugs, especially when you're in his clothing. it's morning — early, but not enough to be offensive, and you're in his old jersey from his karasuno days, hung as a relic in his closet. he pauses at the sight of you, dripped in sunlight and angelic, thanking whatever force gave him this sight. he pads over on the kitchen tiles, sliding up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. in his arms, you're warm and secure
⟡ he loves having a hand on you at all times. it doesn't matter what it is you're doing, but he'll always be around. when shopping for groceries, he has an arm around your waist (it's just potatoes, but he's invested in them if you're beside him). you're working on a project and his hands massage your shoulders. you're watching a movie and suddenly, he's shifted you onto his lap. it's for warmth and comfort (he claims), but the reality is he's addicted to your presence
⟡ he might not seem it, but he is a hickies kind of man. there's something so.....romantic, he thinks, leaving hickies where nobody else can see them. it's your little secret. however, his style isn't just bite and bruise. no. it's not a good hickey if you can feel it at all. "oh my goodness." you shudder, a vice grip on his arm as his lips suck kisses into your skin. "please don't make me wait." daichi smirks. "you and i both know they feel better when you're blissed out. let me take care of you." with a grin, he goes back to trailing his kisses down your stomach.
timeskip!bestfriend!kuroo decides to steal a lazy morning with you to tell you how he feels instead of using his words like a normal person. death to the situationship!
cw: some dumb chem/space references, HELLA FLUFFY <3 + HAPPY ENDING
kuroo tetsuro memorized what neutrinos were because of the way the sun touched your skin. trillions of them passed through you every moment, and with the sheer curtains open on this particular morning, he wished he was one of them.
kuroo liked to consider himself a man of logic; after all, he used the same approach for volleyball as he did when dealing with the japan volleyball association. he (whether subconsciously or not) analyzed what existed and made decisions that worked.
that's why he was captain. that's why he'd been scheduled for a promotion (though he'd been sworn to secrecy — he wasn't supposed to know that).
it was also why he couldn't, for the life of him, figure out what to do about you.
for the longest time, nothing about you fit his internal model. he could flirt, and you flirt back. he could feel like he was drowning and you'd drag him back to dry land. he could smile and decide to spend all his time with you and lose sight of you for months, only to, like magic, fall into your orbit yet again.
if all humans were carbon-based lifeforms, he reckoned the two of you came from the core of the same dying star.
"tetsu," you murmured, a hand reaching out to touch his chest. your eyes fluttered open, welcoming in the son and presumably the sight of him with an atrocious bedhead and a face that looked like he was gone for you.
he was. not that you'd noticed.
"good morning," he smirked, doing everything to ignore the feeling of you so close. this was always the issue. you'd come over. stay the night. talk about everything and anything til sunrise, only to fall asleep in his sheets.
then you'd wake like an angel, and he'd be left to deal with the damage.
how much more of this could he take?
"you're thinking," you frowned, pushing a finger of yours between his eyebrows. "you get a little crease right there. what's wrong?"
he paused for a moment, the blood rushing hot in his veins. the sheets had slipped ever so slightly, exposing the bare skin of your shoulders. he wondered, if just for a moment, what it might feel like to trace that with his lips.
"you trust me," he said, almost against his will, hands reaching to tug you in by your waist. you were made for him, or at least, that's what it felt like. your limbs melted into his like butter, his perfect puzzle piece. "right?"
his lips traced the shell of your ear, the gentle plush of them sending a shiver down your spine. you involuntarily clutched his shirt, feeling the flush on your face. "tetsu...what are you doing?"
"just answer the question," he said, hand sliding up the curve of your waist. he placed another chaste kiss to the shell over your ear before sliding his hand down to your thighs.
"where is this coming from?" you asked almost breathlessly, doing nothing to stop him. his hand, warm and calloused from years of sports, traced the plush of your thighs like it was something precious.
kuroo paused, his eyes boring into your own. he drew a dumb smiley face on your thigh before moving to rest his head on top of yours. the warmth of his body flooded through you instantly, and you gravitated towards him like a cat who’d found its favorite patch of sun.
“this is what i want,” he said simply, his free hand coming to cup your head against his chest. “this is exactly what i’d like to be doing.
“we’re doing the thing,” you giggled. “you’re speaking nonsense.”
“do you intentionally make my life hard?” he mumbled into your head, placing what you think is a chaste kiss on top of it. you felt precious. loved. warm and fuzzy in a way you had no business being.
you’d wanted him for months now…maybe even years. if there was even the possibility he felt the same….
“i want these mornings with you all the time,” he sighed. “i want to wake you and be yours.”
your heart skipped a beat.
“so we can go out to dinner once i get my promotion….a date. a real date. in the romantic way.”
you smiled into his chest, looking up to see his flushed cheeks. “you mean that?”
he nodded, tracing a big fat heart into the sensitive skin of your thigh.
you shivered, fully prepared to kiss him before you began to giggle.
“what’s funny?” he huffed. “that was so romantic!”
“you’re getting a promotion? i thought if you knew about that, you weren’t supposed to say anything.”
micro iwaizumi braindump
cw: suggestive in some parts — read at your own risk!
author note: i had the thought and then i started writing
⟡ iwaizumi hajime respects your body like it is a gift from the heavens. the first time you showed him what you look like without anything else on you, he looked at you like you were nothing less than a masterpiece. every detailed drawing on the ceiling of the sistine chapel couldn't compare to the way that light hit your skin. the palace of versaille paled in comparison to your bone structure. every line, curve, or shape that made you who you were nearly brought him to his knees.
⟡ his hands are slow. reverent. he has his moments of passion, pinning you to the nearest countertop and fitting himself between your legs, but his favorite thing to do is take his time. his palms, warm and solid, trace you like you are precious, committing your feel to memory. he unwraps you like a present. you're for his eyes and his eyes alone.
⟡ he loves the mornings with you. sunlight streams through sheer curtains, the gentle glow of it illuminating your bare legs. you're in nothing but his shirt, skin marked in gentle kisses from last night — a pleasant reminder. you're brewing coffee when he slides up behind you, his lips buried in the crook of your neck and his hands beneath your shirt, holding your waist. skin to skin. the warmth of his palms nearly turns you into a puddle in his grasp, and he pulls you tighter, the broad planes of his chest pressing into your back. "mornin'" he mumbles into your skin, his hands sliding up your chest. "i think it's time for breakfast."
