Hai If U Want A Moodboard Pls Send An Ask Ty

FOR YOU ｡｡｡

↳ 「 osamu miya 」 ␥ 宮 治 .ᐟ

⤦ wc ⨾ 611

⤦ cw ⨾ no pronouns used, mentions stress baking, kind of hurt to comfort, i forgot how to write.

“what‘s wrong?” his voice, a soft murmur peppered with specks of concern, loud enough to be heard above the monotonous whir of the white fridge placed in the corner of the kitchen.

He rushed to your side, dropping everything, and calloused hands came into contact with your clothed back.

Despite wearing a thick jumper adorned by a delicate dusting of pills, an attempt to protect your skin from the sad bite of the cold, you could feel his fingertips surging small waves of heat through the dense material of your jumper.

Osamu had just come back from work. It was 12am—fridays are always busy for him. A thin layer of salty sweat coated his skin, reflecting a slight glow. He did not expect to come back to find you, a flushed face graced by a sad trail of tears, standing in front of a tray of burnt cookies.

You took in his smell—a subtle sweetness seasoned with the aroma of roasted seaweed—while you let out a soft sniffle.

Within his presence, the previous sense of panic has dissipated into thin air—every breath he drew out matched the melodious rhythm of your heart.

“Stress baking again?” he asked, his head leaning in closer as his eyes trailed the cookies spread out atop the counter, an ugly black furnishing the uneven edges. His hand never left the small of your back.

Your lips pursed into a thin line as you shook your head in agreement. Stress baking, again.

Osamu was tired. Every muscle in his body yearned for sleep—screamed for it. Anyone would be after working a 12 hour shift in a busy restaurant on a Friday.

The hand previously stitched onto your back removed itself—and you felt naked in the aftermath. Your head turned, eyes trailing his figure. He made his way to the fridge.

“What—what are you doing?”

“What do you think?” he turned around with a toothy grin, his arms hugging a few ingredients. “We’re baking cookies,”

You blink at him, furrowing your brows. “But you—“

“I’m craving some cookies,” a tired smirk etched on his lips as he approached you once again. He handed you the butter and sugar and went off to get the rest of the ingredients.

With a confused sigh and a soft sniffle, you measured out the ingredients into the mixing bowl previously laying in front of you and began whisking.

It was quiet for a while, until you felt warm breath fanning your neck and a pair of big arms wrap around your torso. His nose, now brushing the crook of your neck, sent shooting stars down your arms. His toned chest was against your back.

“Hey—“ You began, but he cut you off right away.

“We’re about to make the best cookies—ever” he mumbled into your neck, his voice carrying a hint of exhaustion. It was genuine.

Your eyes soften with a bit of water dampening them, guilt seeming to make its way into your chest, almost swallowing your heart whole. Making cookies after a 12 hour shift wasn’t the best way to wind down.

“I’m sorry you’re…you shouldn’t have to come from a busy day at work to bake some cookies“

He raised his head from your neck, arms still lazily wrapped around your waist, fingers intertwined and resting steadily in front of your stomach. “Hey, you better not be crying! I don’t want salty cookies,” he replied, pointing at the bowl in front of you with his head.

Osamu miya loved you dearly, and he was willing to prove that—even if it meant making cookies at 12am—because if it’s with you, he’d do anything. If it’s for you, he’d do everything.

@kameyyy

where does sakusa take u guys on ur first date

sakusa took me to those things were you go out to the lake and light up lanterns (tatbilb reference.) i lwk didn’t expect him to set something like this up? nonetheless it was vv cute we were matching colors and it was very intimate

MY HUSBANDDDD

Someone asked for Biceps bow trend timeskip Rin ✨ soo why not 😋

This what i think bakugou's room looks like. Very minimalist. Throw in some weight for exercising somewhere, an all might poster on the wall and his fave figurine too on the desk.

I think he'd also have LED lights but like hidden under his desk or behind his bed

not to body shame tumblr but why is everything looking so fat n ugly rn i had to lower my text size and it still looks fat

i need to be ukai’s slightly controversially young girlfriend right fucking now

@dearru

“kiss me.”

those two words are already enough to make iwaizumi’s poor, alcohol-muddled brain come to a screeching halt. he gapes at you, unsure if he’s heard you correctly.

“iwaizumi,” you say, “i know this is sudden and weird and strange, but i need you to kiss me, like, right now.”

he blinks at you, hard. “you’re drunk,” he states, though his own words are slightly slurred.

“i am,” you confirm, nodding. “but that’s not the point.”

he squints, trying to piece together whatever mess you’ve roped him into this time. the party is still raging behind you, music thumping through the walls, but here in the dimly lit hallway, it’s just you—flushed and desperate, fingers curled into the fabric of his sleeve.

“what exactly is the point, then?” he asks warily.

you glance over your shoulder, then back at him, urgency clear in your expression. “that guy over there won’t leave me alone.”

iwaizumi frowns instantly, body tensing. “who?” 

“not important. what’s important is that you kiss me so he gets the message.”

his stomach does a weird flip, and he can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or the fact that you’re looking at him like you’re actually considering—like it’s not just some convenient excuse.

“c’mon, iwa.” your voice drops into something softer, almost teasing, but still urgent. “it’s not like you haven’t thought about it.”

his brain short-circuits for the second time tonight.

before he can respond, you’re tugging at his shirt, and suddenly, your lips are on his—warm, and tasting faintly of whatever cheap cocktail you’ve been nursing all night.

iwaizumi stiffens at first, hands hovering uncertainly in the air, brain scrambling to catch up. he’s drunk, sure, but not drunk enough to miss the fact that this is you—his best friend barring oikawa, the person he’s known for years, the one person who shouldn’t be kissing him like this.

but you are.

and worse? he’s kissing you back.

your fingers twist into the front of his shirt, tugging him closer, and a little noise escapes the back of his throat before he can stop it. his hands finally move, one settling hesitantly at your waist while the other cups the side of your face, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone. you smell like your shampoo, the same scent he’s gotten whiffs of on his hoodies after you’ve stolen them, and everything is too much.

he pulls back slightly, breathing hard. “you—” his voice cracks, so he swallows and tries again. “you sure that guy’s even looking?”

you blink up at him, dazed. “huh?” 

“i mean, if you were just trying to make a point—”

“oh. oh!” you glance over your shoulder, looking a little lost, then turn back to him with a sheepish grin. “yeah. i forgot about that.”

he lets out a rough, incredulous laugh. “you forgot?”

you nod, still gripping his shirt. your thumb brushes against the skin at his collarbone, and his stomach flips again.

“wow,” you say, quieter. “you kiss really well.”

iwaizumi lets loose a breath, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. his heart is pounding, and he doesn’t know what to do with his hands anymore—if he should step away and put distance between you, or if he should just pull you back in, consequences be damned.

you must notice the hesitation because you’re much closer, now, tipping your chin up and whispering, “we can stop if you want.”

it doesn’t feel like you want to stop. and god help him, he doesn’t want to stop either.

his fingers tighten at your waist. “you’re gonna regret this in the morning.”

you smile, all soft and lazy. “guess we’ll find out.”

#3. a breathy demand, “kiss me”, and what the other person does in response.

∿ when grit meets grace ⤸ ╱ ❛ lilies ❜

♬⋆.˚ starry cat, up above / why do you glow? do you know? / when you left, you made a / hole the size of a moon inside my heart.

ꫂ ၴႅၴ content warnings; flirting. smoking. maybe some self depreciation? short, sweet. -> word count: 727.

@alcyneus @ayatakanosstuff @mayyhaps @s6rine @dearru @sahrberrii @anxiousyutsuki

“wrong. run it again.”

they’ve been at this for over an hour. hinata approached keishin before practice, phone in hand, with hopes of trying a new quick. it had taken keishin less than 30 seconds to know that it would be hard. hard, but not impossible. everyone looks tired–tsukishima’s attitude is growing worse by the second, nishinoya is getting more frustrated, hell, even asahi is getting a little upset. it’s no one’s fault in particular, but he knows they’re blaming hinata and kageyama.

“jesus, dude,” tanaka pants, hands on his knees. he’s staring right at keishin, brows furrowed. “we’ve been doing this for, like, an hour. can we get a break or something?”

the man thinks for a moment. if they stop now, they’ll lose the momentum. “no,” he says, maybe a little too bluntly. “do it again.” he crosses his arms over his chest and waits. they reset to their respective positions and keishin brings the whistle to his mouth and blows. their movements are sluggish, tired, defeated. the ball gets to kageyama and he sets it, but hinata is so tired that he can’t jump as high as he normally can. he misses the ball by mere inches and groans reverberate through the gym.

“sorry, guys,” hinata mumbles, draggin a hand down his face.

keishin looks to his left, where takeda is standing with a pinched face, and he sighs. he turns back to the team and waves his hand dismissively. “okay, take a break. ten minutes, that’s it.” he doesn’t stay to hear the complaints. instead, he walks out of the gym, sticks a cigarette in his mouth, and lights it. nicotine floods his veins and his stress dissipates. he’s only there for a couple seconds when something catches his eye.

you.

you’re carrying baskets full of flowers, struggling to balance them all. ten minutes his ass. he stomps his cigarette out and walks over to your car, hands in his pockets. “need some help with that?”

you flinch and nearly drop one of the baskets. “oh! ukai! hey, it’s funny seeing you here. um, yes, i could use some help if you’re offering.” you laugh and, once again, ukai feels weak in the knees. he chalks it up to his injury. you hand him one of the baskets and sigh heavily, grateful that you’re no longer straining. “ah, thank you so much. what, uh, what are you doing here? you’re not stalking me, are you?”

he nearly chokes on his own spit. “what?” it takes him longer than it should to realize you’re joking. “oh, hah, no i, um, coach the boys volleyball team here.”

your eyes seemingly light up. “no way! that’s so awesome! i used to play volleyball when i was in high school. i wasn’t very good, though.” you hum, reminiscing. “did you play?” when he nods, you smile. “were you any good?”

he exhales, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “nope,” he says quickly. he doesn’t need to tell you his sob story just yet. “what are you doing here? and with all these flowers?”

“oh, i’m donating to the greenhouse club! i saw a facebook post saying they were looking for flowers and seeds–stuff like that.” you shift the box to your other hip. “i figured it would be good business, y’know? donate and then people know i have a flower shop?” you begin to walk, but stop and turn to him. “um, do you know where the greenhouse is?”

he scoffs out a laugh and nods, walking the opposite direction you were going. “and what happens when this doesn’t get you the business you want?” he doesn’t mean to say it, but he’s a pessimist, he can’t help it.

you hum, looking down at the ground where your feet walk in sync. “i don’t know,” you whisper. suddenly, keishin regrets even making a comment about it. “i suppose i’ll . . . apply at your convenience store and hope you give me a chance?”

he looks down at you and almost flinches at the wide smile on your face. you two stop just before the greenhouse, turned towards each other. “i’ll think about,” he says, smirking slightly.

you smile and laugh, pushing the door open with your hip. “thanks for helping me, ukai. i really appreciate it.”

he swallows hard and nods. “yeah, sure. it was no problem, really.”

i look horrendous due to my sickness it’s not even funny.

this is atsumu after we had our first girl after the twins