blobby

The room was quiet, dimly lit by the orange glow of the streetlamp leaking through the curtains. Rain tapped softly against the windows while the TV played some movie neither of you were actually paying attention to anymore.

Iwaizumi laid back against the couch with you curled against his side, your head tucked beneath his chin while one of his hands lazily rubbed up and down your arm.

You’d fallen asleep maybe twenty minutes ago.

He knew because your grip on his hoodie had loosened, your breathing evening out into something soft and steady. He smiled to himself, glancing down at you for a second.

Cute. Way too cute.

He looked back toward the TV, completely relaxed until he suddenly felt something soft press against his jaw.

Iwaizumi froze.

His eyes immediately darted downward.

You were still asleep against him.

“…What?”

Before he could even process it, your lips brushed against his cheek this time. A tiny sleepy kiss, absentminded and gentle, like you didn’t even realize you were doing it.

His entire body locked up.

Slowly, he looked around the empty living room like someone else had seen that.

Then he looked back down at you with wide eyes.

“Did you just—”

Another kiss.

This one landed near the corner of his mouth.

His face immediately started heating up.

You didn’t react afterward, just snuggled closer into his chest with a quiet sigh, still fully asleep.

Iwaizumi stared at you in complete disbelief.

You kissed him all the time when you were awake—walking past him in the kitchen, sitting next to him on campus, literally whenever you felt affectionate—but this?

This was new, and somehow worse.

Because you weren’t even conscious.

A few seconds passed before you shifted again, pressing one more sleepy kiss directly onto his lips.

Iwaizumi’s brain completely short-circuited.

His breath caught so suddenly he almost choked on it.

“…No way,” he whispered, staring at you like you’d just done something illegal.

Meanwhile you only frowned slightly in your sleep, mumbling something incoherent before burying your face into his chest again.

Like nothing happened.

His heart was pounding embarrassingly hard now, ears burning red while he sat there stiff as a board, one hand hovering awkwardly over your back because he genuinely didn’t know what to do with himself.

You kissed him again.

Tiny. Quick. Sleepy.

And that was what finally broke him.

A helpless grin spread across his face as he dropped his head back against the couch with a quiet groan. “You’re seriously doing this unconsciously?”

You only cuddled closer in response.

Iwaizumi looked down at you again, expression softening almost immediately despite the violent beating of his heart.

Yeah. He was completely done for.

“‘Gumi…” You whispered against Megumi’s lips. He was pressing you into the wall. The kiss rushed with his hands on either side of your head so you couldn’t turn away. Megumi didn’t bother to respond choosing to deepen the kiss further by prying your lips open and pushing his tongue in your mouth.

It was messy and so unlike Megumi that you didn’t know what to do except to follow along. You fisted Megumi’s shirt in your hands, tugging him impossibly closer. Megumi made a strange sound and reluctantly pulled away, out of breath. He didn’t pull himself too far, leaning his forehead on yours as he panted in the small space between you two.

“What’s going on with you?” You whispered, a small smile growing on your lips.

“Stop.” Megumi murmured. He wrapped an arm around your waist and tugged you closer, tilting his head down, “Just stop talking and kiss me.”

He really didn’t have to tell you twice.

Megumi leaned forward and slotted his lips in between yours, exhaling through his nose. Right now he didn’t need anything else, just you.

It didn’t take long for the kiss to get heated. Roaming hands and desperate touches. The kiss soon became a clash of lips and teeth and Megumi only wanted you closer. If he could he’d tuck himself right underneath your skin and maybe only then would it be enough.

You moved to pull away, out of breath, but Megumi refused. He placed a hand behind your head to keep you from pulling away and tilted his head closer, desperate to keep his lips on yours. As much as you wanted to keep on kissing him your lungs were crying for air. You placed your hands on Megumi’s chest and pushed slightly. Megumi took the hint and with a disgruntled sigh he stopped with the onslaught of kisses. You had expected Megumi to fully part from you and pretend like nothing had happened, as he usually does, but this time Megumi hunches over and begins to press his lips along your collarbone and your neck until he reached your lips again. He continued on like this, pressing short kisses against your lips with half-lidded eyes.

“I love you.” Megumi sighed in between kisses. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

You couldn’t help but let out a small giggle from all of the kisses. Megumi’s heart fluttered in his chest, harsher than he had ever experienced before.

“Tell me you love me.” Megumi asked quietly, brushing your bangs away from your eyes.

kei tsukishima doesn’t believe in i love you’s, no. throughout your relationship, you’ve heard him say it maybe once or twice, in the dead of night when he thinks you’re fast asleep. but every so often, he’ll do the littlest things to remind you.

kei doesn’t hold your bags for you when you walk home together after school. he says it makes you look incapable, like a little kid who needs a babysitter. feminism, he says. independence.

...but he does take your laptop and insist on putting it in his bag when you’re finished. “your bag isn’t built for laptops, it’ll break,” he says, zipping up his backpack after your study date. you would have believed him, if he wasn’t practically walking out with half your possessions in his bag.

kei rarely takes you out on dates. he says it’s an inconvenience. why go through all that trouble of picking a restaurant, getting dressed, and driving there all for a single meal? it’s a hassle and frankly, an impractical use of money.

instead, kei pulls up to your house and makes you a home cooked meal. your favorite dish, plated to perfection with a fresh stock of your favorite flowers in a vase at the centre of the table. he makes sure to set aside a portion in case you want seconds.

“you could’ve at least told me you were coming. i would’ve gotten dressed,” you said, pouting a little in your oversized shirt and hair undone.

“what for? the point of this is to not inconvenience you,” he says, not bothering to look up as he continues with his meal.

“…and i like you better like this, anyway,” he mutters.

because to a man like tsukishima kei, real love is a verb, somewhere between consideration and care. something synonymous to tranquility.

that’s why he loves taking care of you, and why he’s sat on the couch as you’re sitting on the floor with your legs criss-crossed on top of each other. your laptop is propped up on the coffee table in front of you as you type furiously, eager to finish your essay so you could spend more time with kei.

kei brushes your hair gently, slowly untangling the knots. he handles you with so much ease, so much tenderness, and when he finishes, he gives you a kiss on top of your head.

because he knows that you know that it’s more than just hair brushing—it’s quality time spent together in silence, as your respective individuals with your own respective thoughts.

but at the end of the day, after you’ve turned in your essay and the world is right again, you crawl into the couch with him and melt into one. and it always fascinates kei how two bodies could fit together so perfectly.

tsukishima kei loved quietly, subtly, privately. so much so that no one could even come close enough to you to ruin what you had. because the less people know, the less they can ruin.

that’s also why he holds you extra tight tonight, and why he’ll always prefer at-home dates: because he can love you freely without watching eyes.

the first time you heard megumi laugh was when the divine dogs, once summoned per your request, ran over straight to you. you were in his dorm when the sudden topic of shikigami came up. you only got to see them while on missions and rarely get to touch them before they’re launching at curses.

so, you obviously took the chance to try to pet the divine dogs. after a faux-irritated look at megumi and something muttered underneath his breath, megumi finally summoned the two large dogs. before you could let out an awe, they ran straight towards you. a huge ball of fluff weighted onto your chest, making you fall back onto the floor.

megumi made a sound of surprise as the white dog lied on your chest, the black one settling his head in your lap. “oh my—megs! why is he so heavy?! oh—” he would’ve took you seriously if it hadn’t been the laughter cutting off your words.

if only you could see past the white fluffy fur, you’d be able to see the growing smile on his normally stoic face. the sight made his chest warm with love as the divine dogs licked your face, making you sputter out nonsense about asking him to save you. you kept on trying to wipe your face, trying to stop the dog from destroying your makeup. it was then when you heard soft laughter from the man in front of you.

you finally managed to push the divine dogs off of you and shot up, watching as megumi tried to cover his laughter with his hands. it wasn’t a loud laughter like itadori or kugisaki. it was softer and genuine, like it was something just for you. even better, he had one of those smiles that made your cheeks flush.

when the laughter finally faded away and the divine dogs surrendered, backing away from you, he froze. looked at you staring at him intensely. and his face turned bright red, quickly turning away from you while trying to cover his face with the hoodie he had on.

“i saw you laugh!”

“i did not.”

but he was still smiling when he thought you looked away.

"五条 悟 ✶ GOJO SATORU," ◦ ₊ㅤ ﹙　wait, who's gojos girlfriend? The quiet girl at the back of the classroom?　૮₍ ´ ꒳ `₎ა　artist credits: official jjk art　reblog / like 2 support　 ⃘໋ׅ♡　𝑤.𝑐: 1.3k ⁀ ˳ ⟡

♡⏝　⸝⸝　　𝓦ARNINGS ˖　 ❝　　sfw　fluff　crack　she/her pronouns　nanami, haibara, suguru & shoko cameo　reader is quiet & introverted　shy-ish!reader　popular boy!gojo　2006 timeline　reader & gojo are like 17　reader obvi isn't loud and won't appeal to everyone　only tooth rotting fluff　canon compliant au　before hidden inventory / premature death　2nd person perspective　❞

── #⃝ MINA'S NOTES ( 💬 )　literally me and gojo bro　masterlist <3

GOJO SATORU was the it boy of popular boys in the 2000s. 

There's fan pages of him online, teenage girls and boys take pictures with him in the street asking "can I punk my friends and tell them you're my boyfriend?" and how could he say no and stop people from experiencing the awesomeness that is Satoru Gojo. His flip phone is usually set to silent or vibration only, since he often took pictures of himself and uploaded them to Mixi and Nico Niico Douga under his "digimoncutiez639" persona. Blurry photos taken in the Shinjuku nightlife, mostly ones he had forced suguru and shoko to take for him.

junmasamoto4199: "digimoncutiez639 is meccha kakkoii! >_<" Xx_Imblue_xX: "That boy is chou sekushii" tempura2: "*gyaa gyaa . . . i wish he waz my bf  (╥﹏╥)"

The last comment was one he seemed to get a lot, and he didn't exactly reject any of his dedicated fan girls and fan boys, never replying to comments unless the asked for where his outfit was from. He didn't avoid telling people that he was dating you, per say, it was more that… people reacted differently. Almost as if he was lying to them. 

husband!gojo x f!reader, 16yo nerdjo mentioned, gojo has glasses, fluff | wc 1.3k

“…hey suguru, are you sure the camera’s set up correctly?”

you smile to yourself at the sound of satoru gojo’s voice — albeit a much younger and more boyish version of it — coming from your laptop as you put the video into full-screen.

you lean closer into your husband, the present-day satoru, who’s sat by your side with his brows pinched and lip jutted out as he watches his younger self dart across the camera frantically. you’re both curled up, the laptop upon your legs and your head on your husband’s shoulder, his own head resting atop yours. by his side is a bowl of brownies — a friday evening necessity for you two now — and his legs are tangled with yours beneath the blankets.

on the screen, ivory strands of hair flash across the screen as you watch the much younger version of him fuss with the camera, trying to focus it properly on himself. from the little portion of his face that you can see, he’s evidently stressed, chewing so hard on his lip that you’re sure that it’s bound to start bleeding at some point in the video.

after a few minutes of messing with the camera, a sixteen year old version satoru finally comes into view on your laptop. there’s something softer about him, an almost refreshingly naive sense of youth in his features as he beams at the camera, clearly pleased with himself for finally working it out.

“…okay! hello viewers! today’s video is going to be about determining planck’s constant using….” he rummages through the small tray to his left. “ah- this little guy!”

he holds up a tiny blue LED bulb, a huge grin on his face. “it doesn’t look like much, but there’s a crazy amount of quantum mechanics behind making this thing run!”

you snort at that, playfully nudging present-day satoru, who pouts and turns to face you.

“toru, you were such a dork!”

“i wasn’t! it is a pretty cool piece of physics — you just don’t understand!”

you can’t help but laugh harder at that, at which he groans and lifts a brownie to your lips.

“you’re doing too much laughing. just eat.”

you gasp, scandalised, pushing his hand away playfully. “you’re just trying to shut me up!”

“am not.”

you’re about to offer a witty comeback when you’re interrupted by the slightly distorted sound of video-satoru speaking to the non-existent viewers once more.

“…okay..so you can see here that i’ve set up the circuit. here,” he points at a power pack, “i’ve attached the power supply to a resistor. then i’ve attached the ammeter in series to our LED. oh, and of course the voltmeter is in parallel.” he lifts the LED bulb attached to two crocodile clips, holding it beside his face.

“hey, this shade of blue kinda matches my eyes! see?”

you feel satoru physically tense up a little by your side, clearly cringing at his past self too. you put a arm around him, rubbing his shoulder soothingly as though to comfort him that it isn’t that bad even though it really is.

“okay..now you’re gonna want to roll up a piece of cardboard to form a tube…” he demonstrates, eyes fixed on the surface of the table. his tongue is stuck out just slightly in concentration, a habit that seems to have followed satoru even into adulthood, before finally lifting it to his eye.

“it should look a little like a makeshift telescope….tada! like a pirate, i guess…guess you could say that it really looks like i’m about to walk the planck.” you’re sure you hear somebody snort at the terrible pun — presumably shoko, judging by the pitch of the noise.

you have to bite back your own laugh for the sake of your poor husband, who has now dramatically buried his head in his hands with a groan.

“my own wife hates me.”

“i don’t hate you toru! i think you were cute!”

“you think i was a total loser.”

“a cute loser!” you quip with a giggle, pushing his glasses back so you can study his face clearly and propping them upon his head. carefully, you study his features, as though to gauge whether he’s really embarrassed. of course, he’s got his signature pout on, dramatic as ever, but you can still see the slight crinkle in his eyes as he tries to fight off a smile.

he clearly enjoys the attention.

you sigh and playfully flick his forehead. “you are so dramatic! whatever, eyes on the screen. we still need to see the result of this experiment, right?” you pull his glasses back down, fixing them so that they’re now resting upon his nose.

video-satoru steps back slightly so that he’s fully in view, absentmindedly fiddling with the sleeve of his sweater as he speaks.

“okay! so my friend shoko’s gonna turn off the lights now…and then i’m going to use this,” mini-satoru holds up the cardboard tube, “to block out any remaining light from the windows! my eyes are pretty sensitive to my surroundings already so i could technically skip this step, but for the sake of accuracy i’ll do it anyway.”

the lights flick off and you hear rustling on the screen before his voice sounds once more from somewhere in the dim classroom. the quality is too poor to properly make out his features amongst the sea of darkness.

“okay..so i’m going to keep gradually adjusting the resistance until i see it light up…”

as if on cue, the familiar soft white hair and cheesy grin come into view, illuminated by soft tones of lapis blue. the light seems to bounce off his features. the quality of the LED is much too poor to fully light up the room: instead, it flickers weakly, dancing across the boy’s face in uneven patches. nonetheless, the pleased grin on his face is so distinguishable, so satoru, and you feel your heart swell a little at the boyish look he flashes towards the camera.

with a little kick to his legs under the blanket, you mumble, “you were so cute toru…it’s not fair.”

you keep your eyes fixed on the animated actions of his younger self on screen, leaning further into him subconsciously as you pick up a brownie slice and take a bite.

“hey, aren’t i still cute now?”

“…don’t push it.” you mutter between chews.

the laugh he gives off is warm, hints of the sixteen year old version of him you’re watching on screen just slightly noticeable in it if you listen close enough. something about it all, about current-satoru’s messy white hair, the way his brows relax a little as he smiles, the hints of a cheeky grin evident on his face: it’s all so familiar, so unbelievably sweet and reminiscent of the naiver, smaller version of him currently rambling excitedly on screen.

the video comes to an end as you stare at satoru. you’re zoned out, eyes fixed on his features, staring at him as though deep in thought. eventually you realise that the video has already ended and that he’s already moving to shut the laptop, clearly somewhat relieved at the opportunity to turn it off, before you eventually speak up.

“next week we’re watching the most recent one.”

you murmur it with a sense of finality, and satoru can’t help but raise his eyebrow at the suddenness, a tone of worry seeping into his voice when he finally speaks.

“mm? why that one specifically?”

“…shoko told me you blew something up.”

“oh. that one.”

author’s notes: filler post since exams start tomorrow💔this is so embarrassing but i had to check the notes whilst writing this because i forgot how to do the practical anyway physics paper 1 tomorrow and i’m writing a fic about one of the practicals do we think i’m getting that A* taglist (thank you!!!): @mayegasm @nonchalantfiend @mochiakun @rielovesphel @yujismissingfingers @megumigooner @vanillaascented @megumisrighttoe @catgvrl @dreamydaredevil @mariisagb @renrenrenren17 @bowiesprettieststar2 @733164 @palanggaaa @megssleepygirl @rengoatku @hangenism @yujisdreamgirl @nonamedreams @auryyymarix @ivankinnieclatter @sugerfilled @silverstar111 @dreamyreadinglover @v4mp1r3b4tzz @dev1lw4arsprada @megantheestallionswife @magicalpeenpoo @qrxswan @silverwfern @luvhza @rozzaa0scentzz1 @azizxxxah @eyayur @strawberrychansora @qrxswan + join!

ushijima wakatoshi x f!libero!reader

category: fluff fluff fluff !! eita aging 10 years because of ushijima.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

ushijima wakatoshi x reader ; fluff

the shiratorizawa volleyball gym is dead silent, the rest of the team having fled on the early bus before a sudden, violent summer thunderstorm turned the campus paths into rushing rivers. the wind is rattling the heavy glass windows of the locker room.

​you’re standing by the benches, rubbing your arms through your uniform blazer to shake off the chill, when ushijima walks out of the shower stall. he’s fully dressed in his white-and-purple tracksuit, his dark hair damp and slightly messy.

​he looks at you. he looks at your shivering shoulders. he walks forward with long, heavy strides, stops directly in front of you, and unzips his jacket.

​without asking, he reaches out, pulls you forward by the waist, and tucks you directly inside the massive fabric of his track jacket, zipping it halfway back up so you’re physically pinned against his chest. he is radiating an unbelievable, furnace-like heat, his broad torso completely shielding you from the drafty room.

​“wakatoshi,” you gasp, your face pressed flat against his collarbone. “you’re huge, i can barely move my arms.”

​“movement is unnecessary at this time,” he rumbles, his chest vibrating heavily against your cheek as he wraps his massive arms around the outside of the jacket, locking you into place like a vice. he drops his chin heavily onto the top of your head, his breathing deep and steady. “your body heat is insufficient for this climate. my mass is greater, therefore i’ll regulate your temperature.”

​“tendō is going to walk back in here to look for his umbrella,” you mumble, your face burning up against his skin.

​“let him,” ushijima says flatly, his grip tightening just a fraction, his large hand pressing firmly into the small of your back to anchor you completely against his heartbeat. “he knows that i’m stubborn. i will not release you until the downpour ceases and your hands are no longer cold. stand still.”

n: for my twin, @forgottensniper forget my follo misspellings, this is a bribe

© showhay — don’t copy, repost, or translate without my permission. do not use/feed my works to AI.

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.

Maybe it started with that one late night grocery run after work, or maybe it was the way Kuroo just kept showing up with takeout containers and staying long after the food was gone.

Perhaps it was the first time he kicked his shoes off by your door without asking and you realized you didn’t mind at all.

Somewhere along the line, you just became used to the cycle, comforted by the presence. Now your apartment just feels incomplete without him in it.

He swings by almost every night now, leaning against your doorway with that lazy grin like he’s just meant to be there.

You cook dinner together, well, you cook while he steals ingredients to “taste test”.

Then you both collapse onto the couch afterward, binging random shows and laughing like fools, cuddled up by the end of the night.

It’s just.. Easy.

Natural.

Comfortable.

And maybe that’s why it takes you so long to realize you’re so stupidly in love with him.

“I like you,” you mumble one night over dinner, voice quieter than you intended. Your eyes stay glued to your plate while you mentally pray this doesn’t go south, “Like… a lot.”

Kuroo goes completely still.

The room falls silent, thick with tension, and the knot in your stomach tightens more and more with every passing second. You can practically feel him staring at you.

You squirm under his eyes, finally glancing at him to see a confused little frown.

“I mean…yeah?”, he starts slowly, “We’ve been dating for a little while now”

You blink once.

Twice.

“…huh?”

Now it’s his turn to blink.

“We’ve been dating?” you repeat, shock written all over your face as heat rushes up your neck at an alarming rate.

He damn near drops his plate.

“Haven’t we?”, he shoots back immediately, looking just as shocked as you are, “You wear my hoodies and I sleep here more than my own place? Your neighbor literally called me your boyfriend like two months ago!”

You open your mouth then close it, shooting him a sheepish smile, “…you heard that?”

“Yeah?” he says, eyebrows furrowing, “You didn’t correct her, so I thought we were on the same page.”

You both just stare at each other for a second, absolutely bewildered.

“So…” you start quietly, trying to process all of this, “How long have you thought we were dating?”

“Dude, like six months now”, he deadpans.

A laugh escapes you before you can stop it, all of the tension gone now. The sound fills the apartment, warm and fuzzy, and Kuroo’s expression softens immediately at the sound of it.

His lips tug into his own little smile, it’s fond and oh so unbelievably soft.

“I was so scared to tell you,” you groan, dropping your face into your hands pathetically, “Meanwhile you’re out here thinking we’ve been together for half a year? That’s insane.”

Kuroo snorts, “That’s sooo embarrassing for you”

“Shut up! You literally never asked me out!”

“Yes I did! I’ve asked you out on so many dates now!” he instantly shoots back.

“But I thought you were just being friendly!”

“Well,” he says with a shrug, “that’s on you then”

You shove his shoulder with an offended noise, which only makes him laugh harder.

“You’re unbelievable” you mutter, rolling your eyes despite the amused little smile pulling at your lips.

“And yet,” he says smugly, reaching over to lace your fingers together, “I’m still your boyfriend apparently.”

———————————————————————

A/N: love a good miscommunication trope

cw: suggestive content, read at your own risk.

​;; boyfriend!hinata tracking the exact angle of the afternoon sun hitting your bedroom bed just so he can drag the mattress straight onto the floor, pulling you down into the warm patch of light with him like a giant, golden lizard. he’ll tangle his legs with yours, bury his face in your hair, and just sigh against your skin until the sun goes down, completely content to waste a whole training day if it means absorbing your warmth.

​;; boyfriend!hinata having this incredibly specific habit of testing his finger calluses against the softest parts of your skin. you’ll be sitting at the kitchen island and he’ll come up behind you, his hands—rough and hardened from years of slamming against volleyballs—tracing the sensitive curve of your inner wrist or the skin just under your jaw. he does it so gently, a contrast that makes your stomach flip because he knows exactly how much power those hands hold, yet they’re entirely soft for you.

​;; boyfriend!hinata speaking to you in a sleepy, unbothered mix of japanese and portuguese when he’s waking up. his voice is a full octave lower in the mornings, a raspy, thick murmur against your bare shoulder as he pulls you flush against his chest. he’ll call you ‘minha vida’ while sleepily biting at your shoulder blade, his grip tightening around your waist.

​;; boyfriend!hinata being completely obsessed with laundry day, specifically because he loves the routine of it. you’ll find him sitting on the floor surrounded by clean sheets, casually tossing one of his oversized practice jerseys over your head while you’re walking past. he loves seeing you swallowd whole by his clothes, especially when he catches you later sniffing the collar because it smells like his citrus deodorant. he’ll just smirk, pull you by the hem of the shirt onto his lap, and whisper something terribly cocky about how good you look wearing his name.

​;; boyfriend!hinata using his insane athletic reflexes for the absolute dumbest, most affectionate things. if you trip over a rug, he catches you by the waist, spins you in the air, and presses you flat against the nearest wall, laughing that bright, breathless laugh of his. his face will be inches from yours, his chest heaving slightly, his eyes dropping to your lips with a sudden, heavy intensity that reminds you he isn’t a kid anymore.

​;; boyfriend!hinata taking care of your skin after a long day at the beach. he gets so meticulous about it, making you sit between his knees while he carefully rubs cooling aloe or coconut lotion into your shoulders. his thumb will track the line of your tan lines, his touch slowing down, growing heavier and more deliberate until the room feels a little too warm, his breath fanning hot against the back of your neck as he whispers praises about how beautiful your body looks under the sun.

​;; boyfriend!hinata’s absolute favorite way to tease you during his off-season. he’ll be sitting on the sofa playing a game on his phone, and he’ll casually pull you down so you’re straddling his lap, using you as a literal armrest. he acts completely nonchalant, talking to you normally while his large hands slide under the hem of your shorts, his thumbs tracing lazy circles on your thighs. he won’t even look up from his screen, but the hot, possessive squeeze he gives your hip every time you try to move away lets you know exactly where his attention really is.

;; boyfriend!hinata being completely incapable of keeping his hands to himself the second you step foot onto a crowded bus. he’ll pull you into the small space between his chest and the door, shielding you from the crowd with his broad shoulders while the bus sways. with one hand gripping the overhead strap, his free hand slides down to cup the back of your thigh, his fingers squeezing firmly through your pants. he’ll lean down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he murmurs—low and raspy over the roar of the engine—about how good you smell, completely intoxicated by the mix of your perfume and the heat of the afternoon.

;; boyfriend!hinata turning a simple evening walk along the secluded edge of the beach into something entirely different. he’ll drag you into the shadow of a dark lifeguard tower, pinning your lower back against the cool wooden stilts. while the sound of the crashing waves hides your gasps, he’ll bury his face entirely in the crook of your neck, inhaling you like he’s starving. his hands will slide under your top, his rough palms dragging hot over your ribs, and he’ll growl softly against your skin about how he can taste the salt on you, demanding you tell him how much you love him before he kisses you again without even letting you catch your breath.

;; boyfriend!hinata using his knowledge of launguages on dirty talking to completely break your brain when you’re in bed. he’s so loud and unbothered normally, but in the dark, his praise becomes this heavy, suffocating thing. he’ll pin your wrists above your head with just one hand, hovering over you with those dark, hyper-focused eyes, and he’ll praise you for every little sound you make. “sim, precisely like that, look at how well you’re taking me,” he’ll mutter in a breathless rush of portuguese and japanese, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper against your lips as he tells you how beautiful you look when you’re completely undone for him.

;; boyfriend!hinata’s feral habit of scent-marking you right before he leaves for an away tournament. he’ll trap you on the bed, his heavy body pinning yours down as he spends an entire hour just rubbing his jaw along your collarbone, biting gently at your shoulder blades, and leaving hot, wet kisses along your pulse point until you smell completely like him. if you try to squirm, he’ll just tighten his grip, his thighs locking yours in place, whispering praises about how good of a girl you are for letting him take his time with you.

;; boyfriend!hinata taking a massive risk at a crowded post-match afterparty. he’ll pull you into a dimly lit hallway just around the corner from the main room where his teammates are laughing loudly. he’ll press you against the wall, lifting you up by your thighs so your legs are wrapped around his waist. you can hear the bass thumping through the wall and people walking past the entrance, but hinata just smirks, his thumb wiping a tear of overstimulation from your cheek as he whispers, “shh, be quiet, you don’t wanna let them hear how good i make you feel. right, minha vida?”

;; boyfriend!hinata tracking your cycle or just knowing when your body temperature runs hot, entirely driven by his sense of smell. he’ll walk into the apartment after a grueling six-hour practice, drop his gear bag on the floor, and immediately track you down to wherever you’re sitting. before you can even say welcome home, he’s gently parting your thighs on the chair, burying his face directly into the heat of the soft dip of your inner thigh through your underwear. he’ll take a long, dragging inhale of your scent, his pupils completely blown as he groans against your bare skin, his large hands reaching under your top to grip your waist hard enough to leave faint marks, telling you exactly how ruined the bed is about to be.

;; boyfriend!hinata taking advantage of a completely empty, sun-drenched locker room after everyone else has left the training facility. he’ll lock the heavy door from the inside, trap you against the cold metal of his locker, and pull your shorts down to your knees in one rough, impatient motion. with the distinct smell of fresh sweat, laundry detergent, and leather volleyballs filling the air, he’ll lift your leg over his hip and drive into you right there, the sudden, thick friction making you scream into his shoulder. he’ll instantly choke off your voice with a wet, bruising kiss, his hips slamming into yours with that terrifying, rhythmic endurance while he mutters breathless, filthiest praises into your mouth—“take it all, look at how tight you are for me. you like that everyone's right outside, huh, sweetheart?” he’ll grab your face, forcing you to look at him, “look at me while i fuck you senseless, meu amor.”

n: everyone on discord kept distracting me. but i did get their opinions on this one. it was my twin’s idea for the scent marking, shout ot freaky twin.

guys join the discord, i want 67 members

© showhay — don’t copy, repost, or translate without my permission. do not use/feed my works to AI.

“i’m back,” he calls out routinely as you hear the thunk of his sneakers and gym bag hit the floor. his socks slide across the hardwood, making his way to the living room in search of you.

you’re passed out on the sofa, drifting in a confusing haze somewhere between consciousness and sleep. the day took a heavy toll on you, enough that the back of your eyes burn like static and it’s hard to think straight. “welcome home,” you muster out, voice weak as you rub your eyes to keep them open.

iwaizumi frowns, that concerned little thing he does whenever he senses your discomfort like clockwork. “long day? did you eat dinner yet?”

“yeah, long day. i was too tired to cook, sorry.”

he shakes his head, grabbing the throw blanket off the arm of the sofa and gently tossing it over you. “don’t force it. get some rest. i’ll take care of dinner,” he whispers softly, courtesy of your throbbing head. pressing a kiss to your forehead and turning off the distracting TV, he disappears into the kitchen. you hear the subtle clanking of pots and pans in the background before you succumb to the forces of sleep.

your eyes blink open to the sound of running water and dishes clinking in the sink. iwa (somehow) hears you stirring and stops where he’s at in the pile of dirty dishes, coming over to the living room with a warm plate of food that he places gently on the coffee table. “you feeling any better?” he asks, tucking your blanket up higher. “you should try to eat something.”

he puts the plate of food in your lap and you try your best to get some fuel in your system. a few measly bites of chicken later and. . .

“not hungry?” he smiles understandingly. you shake your head. he takes the plate back without pushing. instead, he lifts the blanket and slides underneath it with you, pulling you into his side. his thumb starts a soothing rub along your shoulder. you just woke up, but you already feel the drowsiness start to kick in again as the warmth of his body dissipates into you.

“thank you, iwa,” you murmur, slowly drifting off to sleep with your head against his chest.

“any time.”

“ya done yet babe?” “nuh uh”

osamu sighed at your answer, his head dropping backwards while he closed his eyes. the poor man’s been sitting in an uncomfortable chair for the past twenty minutes. all the while your fingers were tracing his hair. osamu had just went to get his hair done — which was very much needed considering how much time it had been since his last appointment. however what you did not expect was for your boyfriend to come home with his hair natural again. and saying that seeing him with dark brown hair for the first time didn't have any effect on you would be lying. for as long as osamu's been sitting here, you've been tracing and touching his hair, your nails scratching lightly at his undercut while you admired his new hair.

"i take it ya like my hair like this ?" he couldn't help the smirk growing on his lips, his eyes fixated on your face as he scans your reaction. "mhm" you tilted his head back as you hummed, nails grazing at the nape of his neck and his upper back. “you look so good ‘samu. . .”

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.

© showhay — don’t copy, repost, or translate without my permission. do not use/feed my works to AI.

oh no! you own the nail salon next to iwaizumi's tattoo shop. what do we do? him!

my masterlist

warnings // reader is female im so sorry it just flowed out of me, swearing, mentions of drunk men, smoking, kys jokes, a gun, mentioned AI once but u need to understand i will never use it

Pairing: Sylus x Older!Non-MC reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: You're an independent woman working as a lawyer that is stuck in the capitalistic grind to support your son - Artem the black cat and your reading addiction but quite content with her life. What happens when you run into Sylus with his charm in a chance encounter that is dead set on courting you. Or, in other words, what happens when an unstoppable force (Sylus) meets an immovable object (Non-MC)?

Part 2

A/N: Hello! I am back with my random burst of inspiration for writing and this is what I have so far. I saw a few posts talking about Sylus with an older woman and that got me writing. Sylus in this is 26 and reader is 36. I am supposed to finish grading papers yet here I am. Reader exhibits ADHD traits and a smoking addiction (stay safe guys!)