Koshiiiiiii. (〃￣ω￣〃ゞ

repeat after me: i’ve been through a lot and deserve a little corner of the world where i can be free and have fun and be myself

can you get that weird guy out of here please. I’m starting to feel a little bit flustered and i don’t want to confront & come to terms with that right now

i feel like all i do is watch people and notice all the beautiful things about them and try to understand them fully and no one does that for me … sometimes i feel like i’m just a mirror to reflect people back to themselves. a vessel for love and that’s it… i make everyone else into poetry and no one else sees me the way i see them it’s so depressing

stay

tsukishima kei x reader

warnings: afab! reader, mentions of unprotected sex, unclear relationship between reader and tsukki, kei is bad at feelings

you hear tsukishima shuffling in the bathroom as you lay on his bed.

looking up at his ceiling, you try to figure him out: is he the kind of guy who’ll kick a girl out after he sleeps with her? will he let you stay? should you get dressed and make a run for it while he’s busy?

instead, you stay where you are, only choosing to drape your arm over your face, the crook of your elbow resting over your eyes. you close them. you’ll leave it up to him to decide what he wants to do with you.

would he walk you home if he kicked you out?

eyes still closed, you hear him come back into the room. you brace yourself for rejection and the eventual walk of shame.

the bed dips as he kneels on it, inching closer to you.

you feel him tap the side of your naked thigh, “open your legs,” he says

you do so, choosing not to remove your arm from covering your face until you feel him clean the mess in between your thighs with a damp hand towel. you guess it’s the least he could do before kicking you out— given that most of the mess is his.

he sighs once he’s finished, discarding the rag, eyes still not meeting yours as he makes his way to the dresser across the room.

“you…” he drags the question out as he rummages through the top drawer.

“want a shirt?”

you hum, and he throws it over to you.

he’s pacing the room again, picking up the various clothing items you were each wearing before the night’s encounter.

you see him fold your pants, the shirt you were wearing, and your bra. he picks up your panties and finally, shyly, meets your gaze, cheeks coloring.

he throws these at you, too. you to put them on.

he’s back to his drawers, pulling out a clean pair of sweatpants for himself. the waistband rests low on his waist as he finally, finally, comes back to bed.

“umm,”

you take this as your cue to leave, sitting up and moving to the edge of the bed, searching his room for your phone, your keys, your wallet.

“i tend to run pretty cold at night,” he begins, clearing his throat, “do you want an extra blanket incase-

“are you leaving?”

he cuts himself off when he realizes you’re collecting your belongings, your pants already in hand, waiting for you to put them on.

you feel like a deer caught in headlights. your mouth falling open into a soundless oh.

“you want me to stay?” you ask him, unsure

immediately, tsukishima gets defensive, closing himself off, “i mean, no one’s forcing you to.”

he looks away, and you feel like hitting yourself with a hammer repeatedly.

“text me when you get home.” is all he says, still not meeting your eyes.

“tsukki-”

“what.” his tone is harsh. he’s furiously picking at the skin around his cuticles.

“i-i want to stay,” you tell him, nearing him where he is sitting on the edge of his bed. while he still pretends to be upset, he’s readily parting his legs for you to nestle in between them, burrowing his head in your stomach as you stand in front of him, your fingers immediately moving to scratch his scalp the way he likes. his hands gently cup your ass, bringing you closer.

tsukishima breathes in the scent of you and him mixed together through his shirt. you’re good to him. too good sometimes.

the truth is he wants you to stay in his bed (and his heart, and his life) forever.

“call me kei,” he tells you finally, softly, “s’the least you can do after asking me to cum inside you.”

“kei,” you say, smile on your lips, savoring the syllable, “can you get me an extra blanket?”

he huffs, pulling you down to lay beside him, “you won’t need one after i’m done with you.”

They said bullying's ok if it's Asahi

At the end of your final year in high school, you realize that falling in love with Asahi Azumane will be just about the easiest thing you will ever do.

He’s the sweetest boy you have ever met. Rushes to open doors, always offers to pay, and listens so intently when you speak, as if the words that left your lips were the most important thing he’d ever hear. 

He scares you because of this. You’re not used to genuine nice boys, surely not used to them being interested in you; you’ve had your fair share of players and heartbreak which made you think this was the price of falling in love.

“Why are you so nice to me?” you ask him.

He’s driving you home, it’s late at night and he’s so startled by the question he makes his turn a little wider than usual. He almost laughs and you don’t remember exactly what he answers. But it was something, along the lines of why would I be anything else?

Asahi scares you. More than spiders, more than heights, more death, more than anything, this boy scares you. Because you realize you like his laugh more than you do your own. That you'll say just about anything to get him to smile. That no matter if it’s ten minutes or five hours you’ve spent with him you’ll always want more. Asahi scares you. Because falling in love with Asahi is the easiest thing you will ever do. And by the time you realize, it already happened, you don't even mind

Karasuno Masterlist

Main Masterlist

based on my irl crush...feelings are gross

Baby megumi 😮‍💨

I'm really just smitten with baby megumi, and I know his papa is, too. he was probably born with a head of thick, black hair; downy soft with that smidgen of baby curl, a lock of which his mother presses between the pages of his baby book upon his first haircut. he's got bright, wondrous eyes that take in his world as if it's not the first time he's been here; he's got an air of bemused intelligence, keen and sharp and yet completely jaded in an old soul kind of way. he doesn't cry much. he's a good natured baby with a genuine smile that lights up his cherub face when his momma tickles his feet, and he sleeps through the night like a pro from a very young age. he plays with his hands a lot, the way babies do. focused on his tiny fists and the way his fingers unfurl and seem to get stuck in his mouth when he puts them in there. he's more likely to get upset when there's too much noise or other commotion. his favorite place to hang out is in the safety of his papa's arms.

he hits a lot of his milestones early- sitting up, walking, eating solid foods. it takes him a little longer than average to talk, but when he does, he's stringing together simple sentences and you have no doubt that he understands what the adults around him are saying.

no yeah i cant hang out sorry. yeah im hugging my pillow in bed today. yeah no itll be for a while. maybe for forever. OK bye