#hq!! thoughts

[mncxbe]

# . ݁₊ ⊹When you transferred to Shiratorizawa during your second year you didn't expect to have a full blown crash out in the first week. As a new student, there were many things you needed to take care of— bringing documents back and forth from the secretary's office to the medic to the PE teacher. Just as you were entering the gym to drop off the last papers, the file tucked between your chest and the cup of iced coffee in your hand, scrolling on your phone, a volley ball came crashing against you. You froze, looking down at the coffee spilled over uniform and documents before looking up to see a guy jogging towards you. "Sorry, miss–" he began but you quickly cut him off, throwing your hands up in the air.

"Dude what's wrong with you? Can't you aim?" you huffed angrily, cringing at the feeling of the wet shirt clinging to your skin. "I was literally on the side of the court didn't you see me there?"

And so you went off at the massive guy in front of the whole volleyball team until you eventually stormed out of the gym, your face flushed from anger. Unbeknownst to you, Wakatoshi Ushijima was hooked. Staring aimlessly at your shrinking figure, anxiously grasping the volley ball in his hands, Ushijima tried to make sense of the strange flutter in his chest. And from that day on he followed you around like a puppy, his sharp gaze finding you in the cafeteria during every break. Despite his friends' taunts and comments about how whipped he was for the new mean girl in school he always came to sit by your side, bringing you a little treat— a soda, milk bread or whatever cake the cafeteria was selling that day. You thought it odd at first but figured he wanted to make up for the unfortunate accident on the day you met so you let him stay.

And Ushijima stays, silently at first, looking over your frame with that stoic expression of his, his eyes following your manicured nails tapping relentlessly at your phone. "Do you have something to say or what?" you snap after a few days of this behaviour, looking him over and Ushijima feels dizzy from how pretty you look with your brows pinched together and that angry little pout on your face. "I was wondering if you don't like the fruit cake. You haven't touched it."

You roll your eyes, pushing the cake towards him. "I don't eat kiwi, it's gross." Ushijima nods, staring blankly at the tart as he rubs his hands together. "They don't have anything else today." he begins and before you can spit another biting comment he speaks up again. "Maybe we could grab something else after class? If you want."

The captain's words make you pause for a second, his earnest look softening your anger. You finally notice how nervous he seems, fidgeting under the small table in the cafeteria while waiting for an answer. Then it occurs to you that maybe you are too bitchy to him— after all, why hold a grudge against some guy who you just met? One who was handsome, polite and bought you sweets too. So instead of throwing another scathing remark at him you nod. "Alright. But only if there's no tart."

Ushijima visibly relaxes at your approval, a small, hopeful smile tugging at his lips. "Yea, no tart. Got it."

Yea, his friends were right. He was totally whipped.

[oxytxn]

KUROO is good at many things…

but the way his fingers are knuckle deep inside, curling them just right against your sweet spot, might be your favorite.

“tetsu—” you whine, biting your lip to muffle your sounds in the study room he’s “tutoring” you in for biochemistry.

“c’mon, baby, if ya get this one right, i’ll add another finger,” he purrs in your ear, “maybe even touch your clit a little too.”

with furrowed brows and the most amount of concentration you’ve ever put toward something, you begin writing—and struggle. he murmurs a little “mhm” and “there you go” as your thighs begin to shake around his hand.

“you miscounted your carbons, go on back and rework that last step.”

you hastily erase the last thing you did and do it over, wanting this teasing to end. you feel that tightness in the pit of your tummy, and kuroo can feel you tightening around him. he pulls out his fingers, clicking his tongue in faux disappointment. “no coming until you get this, pretty.”

so when you finally finish the question correctly, he knows just how to celebrate it. with three fingers and a thumb to your twitching clit, he enjoys how you crumple the paper you just wrote on because you’re holding onto the table as you make the prettiest mess on his hand.

and when you ace your exam, you know you just have to keep going back for more help—you have to keep your grade up!

best. tutor. ever. ᢉ𐭩

to my newest kuroo self shippers: @bakery-anon & @tiredafbruh >:)

masterlist.

mdni. do not copy, alter, or repost my work. ©oxytxn 2025.

[keiscorner]

2:53 am

"kei." no response. you know tsukishima has to get up early for work, but the window across from your bed is open, allowing the night breeze to creep in and sting your face. you could get up yourself, but that's what husbands are for, right?

you twist around, trying to wiggle out of your husband's grasp so you can take a better look at his sleeping face. he has an arm wrapped firmly around your waist, the other supporting your neck to, in his words, 'protect his ears from your constant complaints about your sore neck in the morning'.

"honey?" you poke his cheek, smiling to yourself when he grunts in response. tsukishima has always been a light sleeper. you lay in silence for a few seconds before he finally lets out a sigh, opening his eyes to look at you.

"what do you want?"

you muster up your biggest doe eyes, knowing that he hates getting out of bed just as much as you do. "close the window for me?"

"no. you do it."

you sigh dramatically, gesturing at his arms wrapped firmly around you. "i would love to, but someone is holding me hostage, so i think you're going to have to do it."

tsukishima rolls his eyes, untangling his arms from your body. "problem solved." he holds back a smile when you frown and pull the blankets away from him, turning your back towards him. you're so cute. tsukishima would do anything you ask of him without hesitation, but he can't help but tease you a bit first. he'll never get tired of your reactions, and he loves that he can be a little snarky with you.

you sigh again, this time louder and more pointed, pretending to shiver just to show your husband how cold you really are, and how cruel he is for not helping. "if only someone could hold me right now...", you trailed off.

"ok, do you want me to help you or not?" he finally gives in, getting up to reach for his glasses. you win, as usual. you turn back to face him again with a smile as bright as sunshine, and despite all of the years you've been together, his heart still stops for a second. wow. okay, maybe he is obsessed with you, but he can't help it. you've clearly worked your magic on him, considering the fact that he's getting out of the bed for you when he has to be awake in a few hours. he goes to close the windows with a firm click, walking back to his side of bed.

"kei...since you're already up...", he looks back to see your guilty smile, an empty mug in your hands. "please? last thing, i swear." he give you a look that reads, "you're lucky i love you." (you know you're the luckiest person in the world.)

he takes your mug and you hear his quiet footsteps making their way to the kitchen. he comes back, handing you a mug full of warm water. once you take a sip, he takes the mug from you again, placing it on your nightstand.

"i poisoned that," he quips, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before finally lying down and snaking his arms around your waist, pulling you in closer to him. the only reason he hates getting out of bed is that he has to let go of you, but he doesn't need to say that. he's sure you already know.

[sodaneko]

brother's best friend & roommate suna who almost managed to get you off his mind until you move in with them temporarily due to a fire at your place (you swear it wasn't your cooking's fault, osamu is not convinced but seems secretly happy to share a roof with you again and swears he's not being overprotective, suna curses himself under his breath because your perfume is already lingering everywhere and it's only been an hour since they picked you up)

suna and you don't talk about the one time you kissed at the twin's birthday party, hidden away in a dark corner of the garden, one leg of his slotted between your thighs, your hands tangled in his hair and your lips parting for him so willingly–

you don't talk. but there's suna's hand on the small of your back when he's squeezing past you in the bathroom, there's your scrunchie on his wrist because he knows you happen to misplace it otherwise, there's his fingers tangling with yours under the kotatsu while osamu peels oranges for both of you. then there's another kiss, another night, you can't sleep and suna didn't even try, instead he's lifting the covers for you when you slip into his room, pulling you closer by the hips until you're melting against him, like you belong.

you're his best kept secret; though he's not sure for how much longer he can keep you as such because his big hands muffle only so much when he clasps them over your mouth, his own name pushed back between your lips (oh, your lips; coated with strawberry lip balm, your own slick and his spit) while he trails kisses from your jaw down the side of your neck.

you taste so sweet, he thinks, he wants to devour you whole.

[neoheros]

to this day, there are only three things in this world that kuroo tetsuro is deathly afraid of: big spiders, losing the winning point in a finals match, and worse of all, his mean and evil older sister (as he likes to call her).

now, normally, his sister doesn’t scare him at all.

normally, she’d just annoy him so much that he’d just rather pretend she doesn’t exist, and normally, seeing her at the family dinner tonight wouldn’t be so nerve wracking and horrific.

but normally, you wouldn’t have your arm in a bright pink cast, your left hand all the way up to your forearm covered in a hardened plaster.

and kuroo just knows — he knows so well — that it’ll take his sister one look at your injured hand and then he’d be a total goner.

talk about a dead man walking.

there’s a sound of a “clink” made as a plate is set in front of you.

your morning laziness as you lay contently on the couch interrupted as kuroo stands in front of the TV, arms at his hip and a wide, proud smile, donned on his face.

you blink, looking up at him and then down at the dish he set on the table.

you look warily at the plate of seemingly black and gray pancakes (?) in front of you. a small stack of the most ominous looking breakfast you’ve ever seen.

you glance up at kuroo again, still smiling proudly in front of you as he gestures to the dish.

“oh… uhm…” you feel the sweat forming on your temples, “thank you?”

were you supposed to eat this?

kuroo gives you a wider smile at your response, and he pushes the plate closer to you, prompting you to take a bite.

you can’t help the way he looks at you, all proud and happy at his accomplishment of making something that mildly resembles food, and you almost feel bad for feeling anything else but gratitude that he took the time to make you breakfast.

still though … are pancakes supposed to be gray? plus, you don’t really remember seeing any flour or baking powder in the kitchen the last time you checked… and would it really be a good idea to risk eating the world’s scariest pastry right now before the family dinner tonight?

… you pick up the fork slowly with your good hand, cursing under your breath as you recall the series of events that got you in this situation in the first place.

see, two days ago, you got into an unfortunate car accident with kuroo — something about a late night drive for ice cream and an unsuspecting duck who wasn’t taught to look both ways crossing the road.

lucky for all of you though, everyone made it out of the accident just fine — duck included — and the only real injuries sustained were a couple bruises and scratches here and there, save for the minor hairline fracture on your left arm, but it still isn’t anything too serious to fret about.

truthfully, it was the best outcome in a horrible situation, and if the worse thing you can get from an accident is a bright pink cast on for three weeks, then you’ll happily take it.

… but kuroo’s cooking?

“ehem.” he coughs, bringing you back to the predicament you find yourself in.

he’s still staring at you with that expectant smile of his, waiting for you to take a bite of his hard work.

hesitantly, you touch the fork to the pancake and you shudder as it bubbles slightly, a wheezing sound coming from it as you let the fork sink in.

no freaking way. you already almost broke your arm for pete’s sake, you’re not getting food poisoning too!

“it looks really good…” you look at him with a forced smile, “but you know the doctor said i can’t have any of … whatever this is…”

you try your best to sound as miserable as you intend to.

kuroo’s hand falls from his hip, “are you serious?”

your smile is more apologetic now, “such a shame…”

“i made this!” he exclaims, scoffing as he points to his mysterious plate of mystery, “with ingredients and shit! … for you!”

you shake your head at him wantonly, like it can’t be helped, and you thank the stars in the sky when he sighs and pushes the plate of doom away from you.

kuroo gives you a pouty look now, shoulders falling dramatically as he crashes on the empty spot on the couch, and with the TV still going on in the background, you happily welcome him in to your lazy posture, making space as he cozies up next to you.

once he settles, he turns to you, a lot less pouty now that you’re so close to him, and he says, “how’s the arm?”

“itchy.” you shrug, “but it doesn’t hurt anymore, so it’s okay.”

for a moment, there’s a flicker in the way kuroo looks that almost bothers you. eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed into a thin line, eyes sunken and worried.

its the exact same look you’ve woken up to in the past two days in the middle of the night. just suddenly jolting awake and seeing kuroo stare at you so intently. you ask him what he’s doing up and he says something about a nightmare and you kiss him goodnight and the two of you fall back asleep together with his hold on you just a little bit tighter than before.

you bump your shoulder with his, nudging him as you shake your head, “don’t look like that, i can’t have you crying on me again.”

and he scoffs, turning away, “i have never cried. i don’t cry at all. i deny all such accusations.”

(you know though that that’s a lie.

kuroo’s probably cried more in the past two days than he has all his life.

he was a teary mess as he rode with you on the ambulance to the hospital, a teary mess when the doctor said you had a fracture in your arm, and a teary mess this morning when he woke up to you in your cast).

to be honest, these past two days are probably the worst in his life. in such a short amount of time, he’s experienced such pits in his stomach that he didn’t know was possible to feel.

he still feels it sometimes when he closes his eyes, the fear and worry setting in his body as he waited in the hospital waiting room.

kuroo looks at you much softer now, gentler, and he puts his hand on your thigh, squeezing it lightly. “you sure you don’t need me to go with you today?”

“i’ll be fine on my own, i just need to grab a couple of things from campus,” you shake your head as you answer him, and you move in deeper to his side to bring you closer.

even the way he touches you now is lighter — like he’s deathly afraid to hurt you even more.

you turn to look at him, “but it might make me late to the dinner with your family later, maybe twenty or thirty minutes?”

“that’s okay,” he nods at you, and then he sighs again, as if suddenly remembering something important.

“well,” and there’s a helpless smile on his face, “it’ll give me more time to work on my “why you’re in a cast” story to my family.”

you grin, “yeah? what have you got so far?”

and he tells you, with a hint of a clipped laugh in his voice, “really big bees.”

…. “oh.”

“yeah.” kuroo grumbles, and he sinks deeper into the couch, “they’re gonna kill me.”

he turns slightly to face you, and he points, quite dramatically, “you’re gonna be a widow.”

you push him off, shaking your head in amusement as you watch his dramatization play out, “you’re such a drama queen.”

kuroo shakes his head incessantly, and he clutches his chest with both his hands, “oh, trust me, the first words my sister is gonna say to me when she sees you later in that cast is “how could you let this happen?!” followed by “waiter, may i please have a bigger knife – this one doesn’t seem to pierce my brother all the way.” and then i die.”

you look at him, incredulous, and you shove him away as you get off the couch to stride away from him.

you scoff, loudly, “has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?”

and kuroo nods his head, following you as he stands up too, “you did — in our vows.”

you laugh, and you push him away again when he tries to get closer to you, “so i got it right then.”

he’s less tense now, less pouty, and seemingly out of things to complain about, and in the morning silence, he pulls you in, the two of you standing in the middle of the living room floor.

kuroo touches your injured arm slightly. the tv forgotten behind him.

all his life, he’s only ever been afraid of three things: big spiders, losing the winning point in a finals match, and his evil, mean older sister yelling at him for allowing you to get hurt after she made him promise that he’d never let anything bad happen to you.

he knows now though that beyond those three, there’s something deeper in his bones that terrifies him deeply. something that scares him so much it wakes him up in the middle of the night in cold sweat. something that ruins his day and something that makes him call you out of nowhere when you’re away from him.

his biggest fear, bigger than spiders or losing matches or his mean sister, is … you.

he’s looking at you that same way again; eyes worried, lips pursed, eyebrows knit together, and you don’t miss the way his mouth trembles slightly as he stares.

“it isn’t your fault, and i dont blame you at all.” you say, and even now as he holds you, you still feel how scared he is to hurt you.

you squeeze his hand. “accidents happen.”

and you can say this all you want, but in his head, at the end of the day, he was still the one driving the car.

but he knows you, and he knows you won’t allow him to think that way, so instead, he just nods, short and clipped and he pulls you in as gentle as he can, embracing you tightly.

kuroo mutters against your neck, “my sister is still gonna kill me.”

you laugh, patting his back with your good arm, “oh, well, some things can’t be helped.”

lord help him for what you’ve done to his poor heart, for you’ve made him deathly afraid of the one thing he can’t control.

something so out of his hands that it sets deep within his bones, ruins his day, and wakes him up in cold sweat in the middle of the night, leaving him desperate and exhausted staring at you helplessly.

his worst fear that terrifies him daily … waking up without you.

[myloish]

but then also who giiiiives a shit. what ended up on screen is what matters. jayvik yaoi cocaine has half the internet in a chokehold right now. it's been trending on tumblr for almost a week straight. every official arcane social media posting the same "because I promised" scene because it's guaranteed to get a fuckton of engagement. as much as this guy wants to whine and try to pull out all the stops to break the momentum, the ball is out of his hands. the court of public opinion has reached its conclusion, and the conclusion is that theyre gay as hell

[reverie-starlight]

i think if you ask atsumu if he’d still love you if you were a worm one night before bed, he’d get all excited and turn to face you with this huge smile and be like “I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR YA TO ASK ME! I’VE THOUGHT ABOUT IT A LOT!” and go on to explain his plan for two different scenarios- one where you get turned into a worm in front of him via wizard/warlock/witch/spell user/some curse, and one where you turn into a worm overnight and he’s not sure where tf you are in the morning bc he wasn’t there to see it happen.

he then goes on to proudly explain that in the first scenario he’d build you this little portable terrarium and carry you around while he finds a cure for you. and he’d take such good care of you.

in the second scenario he freaks out about you being gone, but comes to the conclusion that he’d somehow eventually realize that you were the worm he found on your pillow that morning and take good care of you and work tirelessly to find a cure as well. he tells you about the terrarium he’d build you in extreme detail. you’d apparently be living a luxury life worms could only dream of, according to him. no birds are getting you while you’re under his care. (<- his exact words.) he’ll get you the premium dirt and a huge fish tank.

so short answer is yes, he would absolutely still love you if you were a worm and he would go above and beyond for you.

you’re touched of course, and also very tempted to find a worm to put on your pillow before he wakes up and hide in the bathroom tomorrow morning to scare him a bit.

[plussizeficchick]

He’s been all over my fyp on tiktok recently and I finally have a bit of free time sooo.. let’s talk about Canonically Weird Best Friend! Akaashi

Canonically Weird Best Friend! Akaashi who you became friends with after hearing him hum a song from a movie you didn’t expect a guy like him to watch.

Canonically Weird Best Friend! Akaashi who tells you the lamest jokes with the straightest face. And has the audacity to ask you what’s funny when you laugh.

Canonically Weird Best Friend! Akaashi who would literally stand behind you when you’re not paying attention and waits for you to notice him so you get a little jump scare and has the nerve to snicker.

Canonically Weird Best Friend! Akaashi who suggests you guys make up your own language, everyone looks at you like you have two heads when you both start talking/giggling in the language.

Canonically Weird Best Friend! Akaashi who keeps plants. Even names them and convinces you that as his best friend you get one to keep his company.

Canonically Weird Best Friend! Akaashi that you’ve noticed stares at you longer than what’s probably appropriate. His touch lingers on you too, never wanting to stray too far it seems.

Canonically Weird Best Friend! Akaashi who suddenly becomes clingy. To the point where he’s even slipping his head inside of your(his) oversized hoodie so he can lay his head on your chest.

Canonically Weird Best Friend! Akaashi who says that just being friends with you isn’t enough for him, he likes you so much he wants to be in your skin so you never have to separate, but he refrains from mentioning that, simply stating that he longs to be with you romantically.

Canonically Weird Boyfriend! Akaashi who steals all your faded/ old graphic tees. He’s a collector of the like and you have a great selection.

Canonically Weird Boyfriend! Akaashi who “borrows” one of your socks from you on game days for “good luck”.

Canonically Weird! Boyfriend Akaashi who constantly fantasizes about fucking you in the most absurd positions/places. Doggy style on the court. Cowgirl in the locker room. Full Nelson in front of Bokuto.

That one really does it for him.

Canonically Weird! Boyfriend Akaashi who gets visibly excited when he finally has you laid out in front of him, all plush thighs and soft stomach. Your juicy cunt just ready for him to dive in. “Please, Keiji. Need you so bad!” You whine out for him.

You look so fucking cute. The way the tears pool in your eyes while you look up at him all doe-eyed making his cock throb between his bare legs. “Patience, baby. I always treat you right, don’t I?” He asks, smirking as he runs a finger through your folds. You shudder at the feeling, your voice barely above a whisper, “Yesss.” You practically hiss, and Akaashi decides to have a little mercy on you.

He sucks your clit into his mouth, running his tongue over the bundle of nerves briefly before slowly moving down, tongue laving at your opening. He points his tongue before licking inside, wiggling the muscle as far as he can inside your cunt. You gasp, pussy clenching at the intrusion before you slowly start grinding your pussy against his face, seeking out more of that delicious friction. His nose bumps your clit a few times and it’s with that your orgasm washes over you. You shudder as it ripples through you, your essence flooding Akaashi’s tongue.

He comes up for air, chin glistening with your juices. He wipes his chin with his thumb before sticking the soaked digit in your mouth. Your flavor dances on your tongue before Akaashi’s taking the appendage out, replacing it with his tongue. You both make out while you slowly come down from your high, though it’s only a matter of time before he’s back to being his weird self.

“Next time, we’re putting frosting and sprinkles on your ass. I want cake.” 

[gaybuckybarnesss]

CARLOS SAINZ Chinese GP | March 20, 2025

[heathsuii]

yearner!suna whose feelings lingered in his chest like a whistle that never blew, a game that never ended.

he just finished training, towel draped over his shoulder, scrolling through tiktok when a notification popped up.

buzz from a group chat, chatter from college friends' he never bothered to answer.

he was about to swipe it away, until your name caught his eye.

you: hiii, who's still around ___? and prolly won't mind if i catch a ride.

his fingers paused, hovering over the screen.

you: my car's in the shop. it's really pouring out here 😭

the ache he buried, no matter how hard he tried, returned so fast he didn't bother pretending it ever left.

he was already standing. and without thinking, without planning, he typed.

suna: i’m in the area. i’ll pick you up.

a lie. of course.

because what was the truth, if not something he'd be willing to bend for you?

he was at least thirty minutes out, across the city. maybe fifteen if he blew past every red light.

carelessly tossing his duffel bag into the back seat, slamming the door shut, turning the ignition.

rain tapping the windshield, the city unfolded ahead in smeared lights, and he drove as though the ache in his chest might ease if he were to outrun it.

yearner!suna despised how it lingered—haunting the narrative—his heart was yours, completely.

it was there in a way he could never let his heart settle to anyone that came after.

it was there when he realized that even after all these years, he still didn't know how to stop loving you.

an ache of unspoken words, of dreams left unshared.

yearner!suna arrives in record time, breaking a few traffic laws in the process. tires hissed against the drenched pavement as he pulled up with hazard lights already flashing.

yearner!suna spots you immediately through the rain-streaked windshield. standing beneath a bus stop awning, arms tucked around yourself, eyes flicking between puddles and passing cars.

yearner!suna who could only think about how cold you must've been.

and then, he's out the door.

grabbing the umbrella, the rain swallowing him whole in an instant.

yearner!suna runs, shoes splashing, hoodie clinging to his frame before he reached the curb.

you looked up, eyes widened.

yearner!suna stopping in front of you, chest heaving, clothes soaked, arm raised as he positions the umbrella above your head.

he didn't say anything.

there were so many things he wouldn't say.

like how he would've driven across cities for, across years, across words left unsaid.

like how he hated how you always looked like you belonged with him.

like how he wondered, late at night, if you were thinking about him too.

rain was dripping down his sleeves.

you stepped closer—just enough for the umbrella to shelter him. droplets slid down the side of his face, your thumb brushed it away.

you both stare at each other. in the rain. in silence. in peace.

yearning boyfriend!suna whose ache did not vanish. it had found its place, softer now. no longer a heavy burden.

maybe that's all he ever wanted. to not rid of the ache, but to carry it like this.

with you.

[luvnami]

he's sensitive if you don't call him by his petname

"suna."

his head flicks towards you at the speed of light.

"sunarin."

his eyebrows furrow. you suppress a giggle.

"suna rintarou."

he pauses the video that he's watching on his phone, mentally going through the seven stages of grief all at once.

"was it because i ate the last pudding in the fridge?" suna treads on each word carefully.

your face falls. "did you? i told you i was saving that for tomorrow! babe!"

even as you scold him, suna finally relaxes. he groans and buries his face in your shoulder.

"fuck, you scared me," he grumbles.

"and you ate my pudding!"

despite your whining, suna rolls over in your shared bed, laying on top of you where his head is shoved into your face.

"i can't breathe! get off!"

"this is what you get for calling me by my full name."

his fingers find your sides as he begins to tickle you relentlessly. you scream. the comforter gets tangled around your bodies as you kick and laugh, begging for suna to stop, please, he can eat all the pudding he wants, please! have mercy!

suna'll buy you apology pudding tomorrow. for now, he kisses at the exposed skin of your throat, relishing in the sound of your laughter that fills your home.

[mncxbe]

# . ݁₊ ⊹ Being a little more than friends but not quite a couple with Iwaizumi where he treats you like a princess— always paying for you when you join him and his teammates for a sweet treat after practice, helping you out with whatever subjects you struggled with, keeping unwanted guys (Oikawa) away and walking you home every day after school. He's level-headed, respectful, funny and so painfully handsome you have a hard time understanding how none of the girls in your class were interested in him. But hey, that only means he has more time to spend with you, right? Like best buddies should. You two swear you're just friends— that when you hold hands it's just to keep each other warm, that the lingering looks and blushes are accidental, that when Oikawa jokes about asking you out and Iwaizumi slips his hand around your waist, pulling you closer and fitting you perfectly against his frame is not because he feels jealous and territorial. You're still just friends when his team loses their final match against Karasuno and he seeks comfort in your embrace, letting you wipe his tears and kiss his troubles away in an empty locker in the gymnazium. Your mouth is so soft and warm against his he immediately forgets about the defeat and his brain is mush. And you're still friends while he's away for college and you video call almost every night to talk about whatever happened during your day. Around this time, Iwaizumi finally realizes that maybe you should be more than friends. He wants to tell you he misses your voice and your smile and the way you make him feel so fuzzy on the inside but he can't, because you deserve better than an online confession. So when he returns to Japan and you're waiting for him at the airport he finally confesses his feelings and you agree to date him in a heartbeat. And of course, it doesn't come as a surprise to anyone in the old friend group when you announce your engagement just a year later— showcasing a pretty, glowy ring on your socials because they always knew that you and Iwaizumi have never been just friends.

[daichisthighsweat]

ʙᴏʏғʀɪᴇɴᴅ!ᴏɪᴋᴀᴡᴀ who is the biggest yapper you know. დ

you never took tooru to be much of a talker or interested in certain things, but once he realizes he can talk to you about almost anything on his mind, he goes all in. he’s surprised at how patient you are with him and he relishes in the attention you give him while he’s mumbling on about the latest team drama, alien documentaries, or conspiracy theories he has on certain topics. his voice is always so warm and animated, you could listen to him talk for hours.

sometimes he stops to watch you just staring at him, not saying anything but a smile is at your lips. he’ll pause and blink. “ah? am i talking your pretty ears off? you can tell me to shut up, you know.” he says sheepishly, a little worried he might be boring you. when you shake your head and lean a little closer to him, his heart thumps. “nah, keep going,” you say, because you really mean it. “i love listening to you.” for once in his life, he feels like so much more than a pretty face and a pair of talented volleyball hands. you see him. you hear him and his heart. nothing could take that away from tooru oikawa.

[petricorah]

bokuroo, based on that one scrubs bit [ids in alt]

[sodaneko]

brother's best friend suna who barks out a laugh when you brazenly ask him for a cigarette, knowing you never smoked one before (not under your brother’s watchful eyes) but here you are, tugging on his sleeve and eyes nervously flicking between him and the party that’s bustling inside. you will never hear the end of it if osamu or atsumu—worse: both—caught you outside in some dark corner with suna, begging him for a smoke. they just don’t get that you’re not a fucking baby anymore.

but suna? suna doesn’t care. or at least he acts like it. he takes a drag of his cigarette, the cherry red tip gleaming in the dark, his big hand encircling your wrist and pulling you closer until you’re nearly standing between his legs. you can feel his body heat, smell the cologne, cigarettes and sweat on him and it’s alluring.

“be good for me.”

his voice is quiet and sultry against the shell of your ear. idle fingers trace across the puls point on your wrist before letting go, cupping one side of your face instead. you have to tilt back your head to catch his gaze—famished, yearning, something dark, too. his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, coaxing your mouth open for him.

suna has a feeling you’d swallow anything he’d put on your tongue when he softly exhales the smoke into your mouth, slender fingers tapping your chin, a silent command to keep it in until he says so. your breath is a little shuddered when you exhale but you don’t pull away, fingers twisting in the front of his shirt, more, more, more, until the half-smoked cigarette is crushed and forgotten under his boot and tongue sliding against yours in a feverish kiss.

[allthatjazz416]

Haikyuu NSFW 🎀

Scene: Your first times together 💗 "Touch Me" Kageyama ff Tags: Fem!Reader! Reader initiates! Consensual! Adult! Virgin Kags! Virgin Reader! Reader guides Kags! Romantic! Soft! Sensual! Vanilla! Kind of Subby!Kags, Desperate Kags! Word count: 1.6k divider crdts: @/anitalenia,

It wasn’t on purpose.

But if you ask him, Tobio doesn’t think it’s weird that he’s a virgin at his age.

The world might. The internet definitely would. But him? He’s never felt like he missed out.

He’s been single most of his adult life—volleyball always came first. Another tournament, another flight, another post-match interview. The spotlight never left him. Neither did the pressure.

Because the truth is, Kageyama didn’t grow up like other people.

While other kids were learning to flirt, to kiss, to fumble in the dark with someone else’s skin under their hands—he was serving balls in empty gyms, bleeding on hardwood, chasing perfection until it made his lungs burn.

And when you’re a world-famous setter with a face carved by the gods and reflexes like lightning? Everyone assumes you’ve got a line of people trying to get in your pants.

Maybe he could have taken someone home once or twice, but he never did. Didn’t want to. He’s had fans since high school. Crushes. He’s been hit on more times than he can count.

You’re different. You’re not here for the fame, or the jersey, or the gold. You see him. All of him. And more than anything, he trusts you.

But sex?

It never clicked. Not without connection.

Not without you.

So when it happens—when the moment comes—it isn’t because he’s finally ready to get it over with.

It’s because you’re there, holding him in the glow of his bedroom, heart in your throat, love in your eyes, and asking for something he’s never given anyone.

He’s trying not to stare at you as you crawl into his lap. But his pupils are already blown wide when your lips graze his jaw. You’re close enough to feel the heat rolling off him, your fingers brushing his chest as you steady yourself. For a second, neither of you says anything.

Months into dating, in his condo bed after another long road trip.

He’s flushed from the shower, black hair still damp, wearing nothing but sweats and one of those tight shirts he sleeps in. He looks good—too good—and he doesn’t seem to realize it. Or maybe he does, and he just doesn’t know what to do with the attention. With you.

He blinks. His hands twitch where they’re resting at your hips. “You mean… sex?”

Then…

“Do you wanna do this?” you whisper. Soft. Nervous. Hopeful. “Like… all the way?”

You nod. Heart racing. “I want you, Tobio.”

His throat bobs in a swallow. “But—uh. I haven’t. Ever.” He says it like he expects you to laugh.

You don’t. You smile. "Me neither."

The way his breath catches—like he’s relieved—makes your chest ache in the best way.

A beat. He licks his lips as he sheepishly admits. “I don’t know how to be… good at it.”

“You don’t have to be good,” you murmur, sliding closer, your arms winding around his neck. “Just be with me.”

He’s flushed, heart hammering in his chest. You can feel it. Your lips brush his—soft, tentative—before you whisper it against his mouth:

“Touch me.”

It sinks between you, deep and quiet, changing everything. His hands flex on your legs. His breath catches.

He nods. Slowly. Almost reverently. “Okay.”

Your voice trembles a little. “Please, Tobio. I want to feel you.”

Do you know what you’re doing? Maybe not. You’re a virgin too. But you’ve read enough smut to fake a little confidence. (I SEE YOU👁👁)

The first place he touches is your cheek—his thumb brushing your skin, like he’s still trying to believe this is real. Then your jaw. Then your collarbone. Every place he touches, he watches it like it’s reacting to him, like he’s studying your responses like a setter studies the court.

When you guide his hand under your shirt, his fingers are warm and trembling. He cups your breast like he’s terrified of breaking you, like he doesn’t know how soft is too soft.

“You can squeeze,” you tease gently, smiling.

He exhales a laugh—quiet, shaky. Then tries. “Like this?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, throwing your head back. “Just like that.”

Clothes slowly disappear between kisses and gasps, your hands guiding him as much as your words. Now, you’re underneath him. Naked, skin buzzing, your limbs tangled under the covers. He’s still in awe—of your body, your trust, the fact that this is happening. His cock is hard against your thigh, twitching and leaking with need, overwhelmed by just how much he wants this.

He kisses you everywhere, following your lead. Lets you guide his fingers between your legs, then moans like he’s losing his mind when he feels how wet you are. “Holy shit,” he whispers, forehead falling to your shoulder. You whimper when his fingers slide just right, your body already aching for more. The need rises between you, slow but insistent.

You line him up, fingers curled around the base of his cock.

He whines. Whines. A shaky, strangled little sound that bubbles from the back of his throat when your slick guides him against your entrance. He’s red from the chest up, breathing like he just finished a five-set match, knuckles white on the bedsheets as you guide him. He’s trying so hard not to move. Not to shove in. Not to fuck into your hand like a desperate dog.

And you? You’re soaked.

It’s not just nerves or lust. It’s him. The heat in his eyes. The way his cock jumps in your hand every time you whisper something filthy. He’s thick—bigger than you expected—and hot against your palm. You rub the head against your folds, gathering slick and teasing his tip through your arousal, and he lets out a guttural groan that sounds like it’s been clawed out of him.

“Fuck, please,” he gasps. “I’m not gonna last if you keep doing that—”

You smile. A little smug. A little soft. “You haven’t even put it in yet.”

“I know,” he huffs, hips twitching, voice tight. “That’s the problem.”

You kiss his jaw. His ear. Breathe right against the shell of it, and he shudders.

“Then be a good boy and fuck me already.”

He curses under his breath. Shaky hands come up to grip your hips like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. You shift, easing him in slowly, inch by inch, and his mouth drops open with a helpless moan—his head tipped back, lashes fluttering.

“Holy shit,” he pants. “You’re so—tight—hot—fuck—fuck.”

You wince a little when he bottoms out. He feels impossibly deep, your body stretching to take him. You’ve prepped. Taken your time. But nothing could’ve prepared you for the way he feels inside you—thick, twitching, pressed right up against something that makes your eyes roll.

He freezes. “Did I hurt you?”

You shake your head quickly, fingers threading through his damp hair. “No. Just—big. It’s good, Tobio. So fucking good.”

He whimpers. Whimpers. Like he can’t believe this is happening.

His hips roll once, testing. You moan. Then again, a little deeper. He groans, burying his face in your neck, and the wet, obscene sound of your bodies meeting fills the room.

The rhythm starts slow, shaky. His thrusts are unsteady, hips jerking forward without rhythm, but it doesn’t matter. Every stroke hits something new inside you, dragging a new sound from your lips. You grip his shoulders. His back. His hair. Anything to stay tethered, because you swear he’s fucking the soul out of you without even realizing it.

He pants your name like a prayer. Moans into your throat. “Fuck, fuck—can’t believe—inside you—feels so good, I’m gonna—”

“Not yet,” you whisper, clenching around him. “Wanna cum together. Want you to feel it.”

He chokes on a moan. “Shit, baby, I’m trying—”

You reach between your bodies, slick fingers finding your clit. The pleasure spikes, sharp and sweet. Your walls flutter around him and he jerks, barely holding on.

“That’s it,” you breathe. “Watch me, Tobio.”

His eyes drag down to where your fingers rub in tight, messy circles over your clit, your cunt stretched wide around him, swallowing his cock with every thrust. He watches, transfixed, hips snapping faster, chasing it.

You cum first.

You break. Crying out, whole body arching into his, trembling under the waves that crash through you. Your cunt clamps down so hard around him that he groans, raw and ruined, and his hips slam forward once, twice—

Then he’s cumming, cock throbbing inside you, thick spurts spilling deep, buried to the hilt. His whole body trembles, teeth gritted, arms shaking as he grinds into you like he doesn’t want to let a single drop go to waste.

He collapses on top of you, boneless, trembling. His breath fans hot over your collarbone. Neither of you move for a long time.

Finally, he lifts his head, just enough to look at you. His eyes are wide, glassy, awestruck.

“You’re…” His voice cracks. “You’re beautiful.”

You smile. Brush damp hair off his forehead. Press a kiss to his cheek.

You smile. “Me neither.”

Later, when you’re tangled in the sheets, your head on his chest, he finally speaks again.

“...I’ve never felt anything like that before.”

He kisses your hair. You feel his smile against your scalp. His arms tighten around you, like he still can’t believe you’re real. Like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

“Can I touch you again later?”

You laugh softly, wrapping your arms around him.

“Anytime.”

The End 🌸