#HQ

[mokikuro]

squeezes them..

[kos-tyan]

"Let's spend some time together he said It will be fun he said" U can see Kage is having a lot of fun

[helleluj]

it says "people to watch out for" 😭

[evamame]

2:05 A.M. / atsumu miya

your eyes, still heavily laced with sleep, flutter open to see atsumu laying by your side with his back leaning against the headboard. your baby daughter is curled up in his arms, fussing to no end.

atsumu feels you stir beside him and looks down at you, explaining the situation in a low whisper, “woke up and heard her cryin’.”

“just now?” you ask, your words hushed. you look over at the clock on the bedside table—2:05 A.M.

“‘bout five minutes ago. no amount of shushin’ is gonna get this girl to sleep.” he gently rocks her against his chest, running his hand through her wispy locks of hair in a futile attempt to soothe her.

you two are both drained. the forced smile on atsumu’s face that doesn’t quite reach his eyes is powered by the purest of love and adoration, but his gaze is still laced with exhaustion nonetheless. his eyes droop with heavy weariness, and you’re no different. every night your baby girl can’t help but throw an uncontrollable fit programmed to drive you both insane.

a long sigh of defeat leaves your lips as she continues to bawl, the noise beginning to ring in your ears. “take your shirt off.”

atsumu turns his head to you, one brow cocking up in confusion, “huh? ma’ shirt? why?”

you take the wailing baby from his arms, “just do it.”

he hesitates for a moment before obliging, quickly throwing his shirt over his head and tossing it to the side. he holds his arms out, and you carefully hand your daughter back to him.

“skin to skin contact might help her calm down.”

he pulls your daughter impossibly close to his chest at your words, “ya’ think so?”

“i know so. the feeling of your heartbeat will relax her.”

you watch as he looks down at your daughter, and the silent pleading, willing, for her to calm down is palpable in his gaze. then soon enough, as if it’s a miracle, she slowly begins to settle in atsumu’s arms. her loud cries start to die down at the sound and feel of her papa’s heartbeat close to her ear.

“it’s really workin’,” atsumu mutters quietly in disbelief under his breath.

“see?” you curl up closer to atsumu’s side, running the back of your hand soothingly over your daughter’s tiny cheek.

“guess she just wanted her papa’s cuddles,” atsumu smiles tenderly, one filled with relief at the absence of her cries. he kisses the top of her fragile head before leaning his own head back against the headboard in defeat, followed by a soft sigh of resignation. his eyes close shut to rest for a quick moment, brows furrowed.

“just wake me up next time. i‘ll deal with it.”

he shakes his head, voice weak and raspy from a lack of sleep, “yer’ more tired than i am.”

“but—” you open your mouth to protest, but are cut off by atsumu’s words.

“i know. it’s okay. ya’ do great dealing with her all day when i’m at practice. lemme do this for ya’.” he leans over to place your daughter, who’s now fast asleep, back into the beside bassinet.

he slides under the blanket, strong arms wrapping around you, pulling you close to his warm chest as his legs tangle with yours. he tucks you under his chin, his breath tickling the top of your head as he mumbles, “ya’ need some rest too, mama.”

“don’t you want to put your shirt back on?”

you feel his lips curve into a teasing smile against your hair despite his exhaustion, “maybe the skin to skin contact will help ya’ get some much needed sleep too.”

“it doesn’t work like that,” you murmur.

“mhm,” he hums in response, and if he wasn’t so tired, he’d laugh at the way you fall limp into his arms, heavy with sleep not even a second afterwards.

masterlist | tag list | tags: @scoupsworld @mires765 @amaliaaliena a/n: atsumu is THE girl dad

© evamame 2025. all rights reserved. please do not repost, modify, steal, plagiarize, or translate my work.

[raphohwell]

No beta we die like Daichi

How do I explain to people the pure hilarity that is "no beta we die like [fandom refrence]" and the pure joy I get out of it

[rinjjuei]

eyes 🌟⚡

[heartkaji]

★ HQ BOYS + COPY MY SNAP !

౨ৎ synopsis. based on the tiktok trend where you send them a bicep pic & ask them to copy it !

౨ৎ author’s notes. this has been in my drafts since january & it’s just seeing the light now.. ik this trend is dead now but whatever 💔 enjoy !!

౨ৎ starring. suna rintarou, atsumu miya, osamu miya

❤︎ THE SNAP !

❤︎ SUNA RINTAROU !

❤︎ ATSUMU MIYA !

❤︎ OSAMU MIYA

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐊𝐀𝐉𝐈 ー do not steal, edit, copy, translate or re-upload

[hoao]

this new illustration is…… uni student kuroo dropping by to check on nekoma 3rd year student kenma and karasuno’s 2nd years…….. haikyuu you will always be my everything

[star6olt]

redraw of the scene

[potatothatsoftens]

NOOOOO SO CUTE OMG HELP MY HEART

nicknames <3

[spoksstuff]

squad 🧡🖤

all credits to the original artist @hq_yunak on X & ig

[kos-tyan]

[noorpersona]

Pregnancy: Kuroo (NSFW)

You’re not sure when it started. Maybe sometime last week, maybe even before that—but the switch flipped quietly, without warning. One minute you were just a little tired, a little bloated, trying to get comfortable with the weird limbo that is second trimester pregnancy. And the next?

You were staring at your husband like he was carved from marble. Like every movement of his arms under that damn fitted black t-shirt was offensive. Like the way his voice dipped when he answered a work call should be punishable by law.

You hadn’t touched him in days—partly because you were tired, partly because the two of you were still adjusting to the wave of appointments and vitamins and new routines. But now, now your skin feels too tight for your body. You can’t stop thinking about his hands. His stupid smirk. The stretch of muscle across his stomach when he reaches for the top shelf. You keep shifting in your chair at the kitchen table, thighs pressed together as you half-watch him move around the apartment, trying not to combust every time he bends to grab something or stretches his arms over his head like a personal attack.

You're four months pregnant, and your hormones are holding you hostage.

But how the hell are you supposed to say that? Hey honey, I want you so bad it’s making me delusional? You’re turning me on just by walking?

You'd rather burst into flames.

So instead, you sit quietly, pretending to scroll through your phone while your eyes flicker up to him every ten seconds like a heat-seeking missile. You’re trying to be subtle. You really are.

Unfortunately for you, Kuroo Tetsurou has known you long enough to spot a mood shift from fifty paces away—and he’s been watching. Smugly. Patiently. Waiting.

The first hint that you’ve been caught comes when he strolls by with a bowl of chopped strawberries, casually plucks one from the bowl, and leans over to offer it to you without a word. You’re caught off guard, lips parting automatically as he feeds it to you. Your teeth graze the tip of his fingers, just barely, and his lips twitch.

He doesn’t move. Just watches you chew. Slow. Calm.

Then, in a voice dipped in dry amusement: “You’ve been staring at me for twenty minutes.”

You blink, swallow. “I haven’t.”

“Mm,” he hums, straightening up. “Sure you haven’t.”

You grit your teeth. Heat burns your cheeks. You can already feel the spiral beginning.

He doesn’t press. Just walks around the kitchen like he didn’t just call you out for mentally undressing him on the spot. His movements are so casual it’s infuriating. He grabs a dish towel, wipes down the counter, opens the fridge, all while your brain is on fire.

You stare down at your phone, eyes unfocused, and will yourself to get it together. You just need to act normal. You’re not gonna combust. It’s fine. It’s just hormones.

“You okay?” he asks, voice far too neutral. You glance up. He’s leaning against the counter now, arms crossed over that broad chest, eyebrow lifted in feigned innocence.

“Yeah. Why?”

“You’re flushed.” His head tilts. “You hot?”

“I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

You shift in your seat, pressing your knees together. “Yes.”

Another pause. Then:

“You hungry?”

Your eyes shoot to him instinctively—and that’s when you realize he knows. Not just suspects. Not maybe. Knows.

And worse: he’s enjoying it.

Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out. You look away again, hands gripping your phone like it might save you from yourself.

When he crosses the room, you don’t even notice until he’s crouching beside your chair, resting one arm on the armrest, the other hand brushing lightly over your thigh. You freeze.

“Sweetheart,” he says, voice dipped in syrup, eyes glinting with something dangerous, “you’ve been lookin’ at me like you want to climb me.”

You blink rapidly. “That’s not—”

“You sigh every time I stretch.” His fingers trace up to your knee. “You squirm when I talk. You’ve eaten, slept, and had your iron supplements. So unless there’s a sudden new strawberry emergency—”

“Tetsuro.”

“—I think,” he murmurs, leaning closer, “there’s something you’re not saying.”

You bury your face in your hands, groaning into your palms. “This is so embarrassing.”

He laughs softly, warm breath fanning over your shoulder as he presses a kiss to your temple. “It’s adorable.”

“It’s feral, Tetsu. I feel like a monster.”

“Monsters don’t look at me like that,” he says, voice low against your skin. “They don’t whimper every time I bend over.”

You groan louder, but your body leans into him on instinct.

“Say it,” he teases. “C’mon. Say you want me.”

“I hate you.”

“You want me.”

“I’m four months pregnant and deranged, don’t flatter yourself.”

“Oh, baby,” he grins, pulling you gently into his lap, “you’re carrying my kid and horny for me? I’m the luckiest bastard alive.”

Mortified beyond recovery, you squirm your way out of his lap, muttering something unintelligible as you bolt from the kitchen. It’s half an attempt to escape, half a desperate grab for your dignity. You make it three steps into the hallway before you hear him laugh—low and knowing—and then feel his hands at your hips.

“Where d’you think you’re going?” he murmurs, lips brushing the curve of your ear as he tugs you back against him. “You’re not getting away from me after saying all that.”

You fumble for a response, but it vanishes the second his hands find the hem of your shirt, fingertips grazing your skin with unbearable slowness. You tilt your head back without thinking, breath catching.

“Tetsurou—”

“Yeah?” he answers, already kissing down your neck, voice infuriatingly calm. “Say the word, and I’ll stop.”

You don’t. You can’t.

Instead, your hands find his wrists and guide them higher. You melt into him like wax to flame.

“Good girl,” he breathes against your jaw. “That’s more like it.”

Before you can catch your breath, he has you gently turned, your back pressing against the hallway wall. His hands settle firmly on your hips, then slide lower, fingers working with a confidence that has your knees buckling. You gasp when he pops the button of your pants, the sound deafening in the quiet space between your bodies.

“Tetsurou—”

“Shh,” he murmurs, his lips brushing over your collarbone with the lightest graze, voice so low and deliberate it sends a pulse through your spine. His hand dips beneath the waistband of your underwear with a languid slowness, his knuckles dragging along your skin like he wants you to feel everything.

“Let me take care of you, yeah? You’ve been trying so hard to hold it together.”

You inhale sharply as his fingers slide deeper, seeking out the ache you’ve been trying to ignore for days. When he finds it—you—it’s like your body short-circuits. Your breath stutters, hips jolting forward as if your body’s been waiting for this exact moment, this exact touch.

His fingers move with maddening precision—expert and unhurried—stroking you in a rhythm that melts the strength from your knees. He presses you harder into the wall, not with force but weight, anchoring you there while your body twists and trembles under his control. His mouth trails along your neck, slow kisses blooming across your pulse point as you gasp, the sound catching in your throat.

"Just relax, sweetheart," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin, "Let me make it better."

Your hands cling to his arms, fingers digging into his sleeves as your body arches into him. The tension coils tighter and tighter, strung high by weeks of restrained want, the heat of your own embarrassment fueling the need. He murmurs low praise into your skin—good girl, so soft, so perfect, so fucking sweet like this—and the words alone nearly undo you.

And when you do come, it’s a quiet, raw thing—your body trembling in his hold, face tucked against his shoulder, a muffled cry of Tetsurou slipping from your lips like confession. He holds you steady through it, one arm around your waist, the other still curled low, fingers easing you through every last tremor.

When your breathing slows, when the fog begins to lift, his hand gently slips free and he cradles your face, brushing back damp strands of hair with the same fingers that just unraveled you.

“God, you’re perfect,” he whispers, his forehead resting against yours. “My gorgeous, needy wife. All mine.”

Your breath comes out in short, shaky bursts, still reeling, still trembling in his hands. “I can’t believe I—” you start, but the words collapse in your throat, too breathless, too flustered to finish.

Tetsurou chuckles softly, and before you can even think about collecting yourself, he’s hooking one arm under your knees and the other behind your back, lifting you with effortless strength.

You yelp, arms flying around his neck as he princess carries you down the hallway, your face burning hot against his shoulder. “Tetsu—! What are you doing?!”

He glances down at you, grin smug, eyes molten. “You didn’t think we were done, did you?” he murmurs, already walking with you in his arms toward the bedroom. His voice is velvet and heat, wrapped around every word, promising more. “I’ve got you all night, baby. You’re not going anywhere.”

[rubieeyes]

you remember those horse girls from elementary-middle school? Yeah, I feel like Ushijima would be one of those. No reason for it, I just think it'd be funny for Ushijima to be a huge horse nerd.

And what would make it even funnier is nobody knows. He's so passionate about these animals yet NOBODY knows 😭😭 that is until Tendou, drunk at a party, brings up horses and Ushijima will not shut his mouth up about them 💔

Everyone else listens for a minute, realizes he's not gonna stop yapping, then gets disinterested as his ranting goes on for more than 10 minutes. But Tendou's fully engaged and is actively listening, full on saying, "And what else?"

[haikyu-mp4]

You’re cuddled up in Osamu’s arms one peaceful Sunday morning, lazing under the sheets until you hear Osamu’s stomach growling.

He groans, pulling you even closer, which in turn makes you snuggle into him even more.

“I’m so hungry,” he mumbles. You hum to confirm you heard him but make no further attempt at doing anything about it. “So hungry that… I could eat… You.”

Chomp!

That's the only warning you get before you feel Osamu’s teeth clutch onto the thicker part of your arm, munching loosely and making fake gnawing noises.

“Samuuu!!” you squeal, twisting to try and escape but finding his arms much too strong.

‘My boyfriend ate me out this morning,’ your friend would share later over a glass of wine, definitely bragging.

‘My boyfriend just ate me altogether,’ you would sigh in response.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

masterlist