Head Over Heels Shoyo Hinata

head over heels — shoyo hinata

summary — at an msby match, shoyo hinata catches your eye. apparently, you catch his too.

pairing — shoyo hinata x gn!reader

warnings — none

word count — 1k

author’s note — this was meant to be a drabble??

Shoyo Hinata literally falls for you.

The Black Jackals are dominating the match–unsurprising for a team known for their aggression, of course. But from your courtside seat, everything is so much more real. You’re almost among the players–Atsumu Miya performs his signature serve just a few feet away and you can see every wrinkle on his shirt.

Every detail on the players’ faces becomes crystal clear. Every point lost is so much more devastating. Every dive to save the ball is that much more dramatic.

There’s Shoyo Hinata. Number twenty-one. Down here, his charm radiates outwards like rays from the sun. He beams triumphantly after a successful spike and your heart skips a beat. Pretty bronze eyes sparkle, wrinkling at the edges because that’s just how hard he’s smiling. You’ve had a soft spot for the opposite hitter ever since you started following the Jackals two years ago.

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Haikyuu boys you meet while pet-sitting

Daichi, Matsukawa, Kuroo, Ushijima x afab reader Word count: ~1.6k Tags & warnings: Smut, smut, n more SMUT-MDNI, thigh riding, dom (teeny tiny), praise, p in v, creampie (implied), oral sex (m and f receiving), hair pulling, fingering, throat fucking, I love a man that smells good and has a sexy voice

Note: New year, same horny me. This got out of hand. Recently did a lot of pet-sitting and I wish any (all) of this happened. It’s my first time writing smut - thoughts & constructive criticism welcome

You meet Daichi before you even start cat-sitting. Due to a last-minute itinerary change, your friend flew out a day early and left her extra key with a neighbor for you to pick up. He opens the door dressed in a t-shirt and shorts and you’re reduced to a stammering mess as you gape at his immense biceps and thighs, trying to explain that you’re the cat-sitter and sorry for disturbing him but could you please get your friend’s key?

Daichi is too polite to comment on your wandering eyes and nervous stuttering, but he’s smirking to himself after he closes his door. Unfortunately for your composure, he suddenly finds himself needing to borrow a lot of things. Could he get some sugar? One of his best friends is an elementary school teacher, you see, and he wants to bring some cookies for the kids when he goes for a class visit. Does your friend have a wrench he can use? You don’t know where it is? Well, why doesn’t he come in to help you find it? You get used to seeing him every day, although he makes you short circuit each time, your nerves constantly on edge because he’s always murmuring things in your ear (he doesn’t want to startle you by yelling) or accidentally brushing against you (he can’t help it, he’s just so broad).

He finally decides to stop teasing you and asks you out to dinner. He’s so sweet and funny, and you find that when you’re not too flustered to function, you really enjoy his company, so much so that you invite him in for a drink afterward. The alcohol must have gone to straight to your pussy though because you quickly find yourself straddling him, absolutely intoxicated by his deep voice and masculine scent. You’re drenched and you can feel him straining against his pants, but he doesn’t want to rush it with you. He exudes natural authority, which is why you don’t let out a peep of protest when he tells you to ride his thigh first. He sits back with his hands behind his head and drinks in your furrowed brow and desperate whimpers as you grind yourself against his rock-hard muscle, cooing, “You’re doing so good, baby. Be really good and cum for me and I’ll give you a big reward.”

You’re confused when you call for your friend’s cat to come inside one night only to see her climb out of the neighbor’s window. The neighbor in question, Matsukawa, steps out onto the shared balcony and is just as confused to see you. You tell him you’re cat-sitting and he explains that your friend’s cat likes to sit on his laptop while he works. It turns into a comfortable routine to talk with him in the evenings while you wait for the cat to return. He’s incredibly handsome, but more than that he’s magnetic, witty, and has an absolutely lewd sense of humor that he’s surprised you love.

What you don’t know is that he’s got a major problem with you. The problem being he’s confused - no, frustrated - by why you’ve suddenly started wearing a shirt so flimsy it leaves nothing to the imagination. Every night, he struggles to keep himself from fixating on the swell of your breasts and the outline of your nipples poking through the sheer fabric. When he retreats to his apartment after your chats, he’s so worked up he has to fuck his fist, picturing how you’d look underneath him, glassy-eyed and drooling with his cum all over those pretty tits and leaking out of your pussy.

After a solid week, he decides enough is enough and invites you over. The two of you barely make it more than 10 minutes. He’s pouring you a drink when you confess you’ve been wearing that shirt on purpose after seeing him out on a run. In a flash, Issei’s got you bent over his kitchen counter, pulling your panties to the side. He barely needs to prep you because you’ve been looking forward to this all day, cursing under his breath as his fingers slide in with little resistance. He pulls your head back by your hair and growls into your ear while he rails you from behind, “If you’re gonna tease me, you better be ready to show me what this tight little pussy can do.” You barely register what he’s saying because the only thing you can focus on is how full you feel with each delicious drag of his thick cock against your slick walls. His cum drips down your thighs as he reaches between your legs one more time. “Gonna cum on my cock again baby?”

You first see Kuroo one morning while walking your friend’s dog. He’s out on a run with his own dog and you’d have to be a statue to be impervious to how his shirt clings to his chest. He sees you checking him out and decides to give you a show by lifting up the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his neck. Except he accidentally uses the same hand that’s holding the leash, causing his dog to pull him forward flat onto his face. After you make sure they’re both ok, you let yourself laugh so hard you get a stomachache.

You wonder if you’ll run into him again after that fiasco. He must be shameless because he makes sure to leave the house at the same time the next morning to catch you. He’s more sheepish this time, though he still drops some cheesy jokes. You run into him every morning after that, and every evening too. He always stops to chat. You give him shit for how unfunny he is, but he lives to hear your groans when he comes up with an especially terrible line. You two fluster each other constantly. His stomach flutters on the rare instances he actually makes you laugh - loudly and genuinely - at something he says. Meanwhile, you’re speechless when he starts running without a shirt on (because it’s hot out and not for any other reason), eyes hungrily taking in every inch of corded muscle. He smirks when he catches you gawking at him yet again, “Want me to ask you over or something?” Let me tell you, that false bravado slips right off when you reply, “Yea, I’d like that,” and suddenly he’s the one that's a stuttering wreck.

You go over to watch a movie together that night, but don’t get far because it’s adorable how he fidgets with his hair and his cheeky grin is so charming and he smells so enticing that it’s impossible to keep your hands to yourself. He shoos his dog out of the bedroom when you get down to business because “I don’t want her to see this.” As ridiculous as this man is, he is an artiste when it comes to eating pussy. He’s got you cumming around his tongue and fingers for the fourth time and doesn’t show any signs of slowing down. You’re gasping for breath, barely able to form a coherent thought, cunt drenched and clenching and begging for him to fuck you already. “Cum for me one more time baby, then I’ll do whatever you want.” But he’s said that three times already.

You’re intimidated when Ushijima opens his door but not too intimidated to ogle him as drops of sweat glide down his naked torso. You’ve interrupted him in the middle of a workout, but how were you to know? You just wanted to hand over a package that had been misdelivered to your friend’s apartment next door. You watch the way his muscles ripple as he reaches for the box, and he watches you brazenly eyefuck him (to be fair, his pecs are right there, not to mention the shadow of something massive in his shorts).

After that, he always offers a polite hello in the hallway, but never initiates conversation and only gives you one-word responses, so you figure he’s not interested. It’s disappointing, but at least you can still fantasize about him, moaning his name while knuckle deep in your soaking cunt, desperately wishing it was his thick fingers instead. You hear a knock and hurriedly throw on a robe to find Ushijima at the door. He clears his throat. “Were you…calling for me?” SHIT. You forgot to close the windows. If only the ground would swallow you whole right now so you don’t have to stammer out an excuse, any excuse.

But then you notice the nervous bob of his adam’s apple and the bulge in his pants, and you find yourself asking if he came over to help. He nods, following you to the couch obediently like a huge puppy. He’s so timid at first, letting out sweet little whines when you wrap your lips around him, barely able to fit a few inches in your mouth. But now he’s grunting like a feral thing as he fists your hair, slamming his cock over and over again into the back of your throat, unable to hold back as he chases his own release. And after he pumps your throat full of cum, you’re going to count yourself the luckiest bitch in the world as you slowly sink your dripping pussy down onto his fat cock. “Are you sure I’ll fit?” he whispers in a haze, watching your eyes roll back as he disappears inside of you inch by inch.

Note 2: Pussydrunk Kuroo or bust. Ok but now I’m thinking about how hilarious (read: horny & amazing) reader’s life would be if this was all in the same apartment complex and happening at the same time

"No...No, he's not."

Kuroo smirks confidently. "He is."

"From..From Italy?" You glance at the signature on the contract as your pulse steadily builds. "Kageyama's really coming all the way back from Italy for the all-star match?!"

When Kuroo nods you start to hyperventilate. "No way. He's not."

"Yes, way." Kuroo grins like the Cheshire cat. "I assure you: he is."

"Does...Does Hinata know?" you ask between erratic breaths, not waiting for an answer. "When did you--When did he--"

Kuroo snorts, shaking his head incredulously at your disbelief. "You're acting like you're not already friends with Kageyama, like you don't even know him when--"

"When we even dated. I know. I know!" you pant and Kuroo puts his hands on your shoulders. "Ohmygod, Kuroo. I can't--"

Someone else walks up to your office and pauses, eyes widening on-guard before they slowly back away.

"Breathe," Kuroo insists. "I know you're excited but you can't pass out right now. Okay?"

Your breathing only returns to normal after he promises to tell you the details of the all-star arrangements.

It's been...too long...since you've seen Tobio. You parted amicably after the Olympics when the offer for Ali Roma came up and he couldn't turn it down. You agreed to stay friends and you genuinely wanted to...but the time zones and demanding careers had inhibited both of your abilities to stick to that agreement.

His absence has been too painful to acknowledge.

You know the all-star match is only an intermission from his current life but you can't help counting down the days excitedly.

And, as promised, Kuroo makes sure you're there on the day they all gather.

"Well, well, well, look what tha cat dragged in," says Miya in greeting, the first to notice you when you walk in with Kuroo.

You don't have time for the blonde today. "Shut it, 'Tsumu. I'm here to see the best setter in the world."

He scoffs, scandalized. You knew you were going to be accosted by old friends and thought you properly prepared yourself to say hi to everyone but as heads turn and a fluff of orange starts to bound toward you...you're a lot more anxious than you realized.

"The best setter in the world, you say?" a suave voice coos and a tall man drapes an arm around Hinata's shoulders. "Shōyo-san, won't you introduce your friend here to the best setter in the world?"

You grit your teeth. "I already know him."

"Surely not because we haven't met yet." He gives you a charming smile. "Oikawa To--"

"Oh I don't need to meet you." Your eyes narrow, smile getting tighter as more friends crowd but none of them are the face you want to see. The brunette leaning on Hinata opens his mouth to say something but you hold up a finger. "Hang on," you pat yourself up and down as if checking pockets, "Did I..." you frown dramatically, "Nope. I didn't bring a single fuck today so I don't have any to give you."

Miya has to turn away to hide a howl of laughter and Kuroo mutters your name, a warning.

"Oh, shit. Wait." You reach into your back pocket. "Sorry. Here you go" --you stick your middle finger up at him and storm through the crowd, patience long gone-- "just for you."

There are cackles of laughter and Kuroo looks like he's about to throw you out despite Oikawa's unphased smirk but you're finally able to step away from the group.

Down the court he's standing in service position and looks up from the ball twirling in his hands.

Kageyama grins.

You run.

Worried for a moment that he won't be happy to see you, your heart nearly explodes when he closes the last few steps with his own and opens his arms. You leap and he catches you, ball still clutched in his ridiculously strong hands.

"I've missed you," you murmur as he crushes you against him.

He simply nods in return.

You milk everything out of his time in Japan, day and night. Every moment he's willing to spare, even wearing his jersey to the match despite protests of favoritism from other athletes.

Before he leaves he does something uncharacteristically sweet and opens up, vulnerably admitting how much he misses you.

"I'm not ready to leave you again." He's anxious when he asks "come with me?"

You cup his cheeks, your own burning with the strength of your smile. "Sì."

More.

CN Lucifer x reader. Fluff. Bit of angst. No major trigger warnings.

He stared at his own name, a rumble in his stomach and a distinct pressure deep in the back of his skull signaling yet another headache. He'd been staring for a while, sick of the way the lines of his handwriting curved and flattened out, curved and flattened out.

If he had to sign one more paper, open one more file, he'd throw it all away and walk to the other end of the Devildom.

At least, that's what Lucifer dreamt about as he sighed and finally continued his work.

Lucifer Morningstar. Stamp. Lucifer Morningstar. Stamp. Lucifer Morningstar. Stamp.

It was the easiest part of his day and yet the most tedious. It left room for thinking. Contemplating. Yearning.

Room for the idea of more than a life bound to a desk, his quill his best friend, coffee his most important partner.

Because while Lucifer was known for his work ethic, praised for his accomplishments, admired for his discipline - millennia of work were not what he had always pictured for himself.

Sure. He couldn't really help it. Between his Pride, his oath to the Prince and the havoc his brothers wrought - what choice did he have?

But sometimes, in moments of quiet like this, he wondered what it would be like. To have some free time. To not have the highlight of his day be the glass of demonus and a few mellow tunes from a cursed record right before bed.

Speaking of quiet... Why was the HOL so still? The only sound to be heard the crackling of fire - and the knock on his door.

"You may come in." A knot of anxiety formed in his stomach: Would it be Mammon bringing in more dept? Or Satan bringing in more guilt? Might it be Barbatos with another stack of paperwork?

The knot was quickly untied by little bats, fluttering about within him, as you stuck your head into his study.

"They're all in their rooms, studying...or pretending to", you proclaimed, knowing very well he was expecting bad news.

"I thought you could use a break."

Your soft smile was all Lucifer needed to snap out of his misery. At least for now.

"Do you want to go into town with me? There's this flea market that should be open for another few hours."

He looked down at the last two documents that required his signature. Maybe there could be more. Maybe just a bit.

At least, he could see a flimmer of it in your eyes, as you beckoned him to join you.

The demons’ favorite places to kiss and be kissed headcannon

(the demon brothers, the royals, and Mephistopheles x gn!MC)

Lucifer

Kiss: The neck. He likes to mark you as his for others to see. The proximity also allows him to take in your scent (he’s especially enamored if you wear cologne or perfume) and hear you even more clearly. He wants to hear every reaction: soft moans, gasps, panting, every word. If you whisper his name when he kisses your neck, he won’t stop until you make him. He just wants to please his favorite human.

Kissed: Anywhere on his chest. First, it feels good, and when his body is feeling especially sensitive, it’s enough to get him close to orgasm. Second, the marks are easier to hide, so he doesn’t need to worry about his reputation. Third, he wants you as close to him as he can get. Having your lips right above his heart is a dream. He’d never admit it because it sounds too obsessive, but if he could open his chest to let you hold his heart in your hands, he’d happily give over that control.

  Mammon

Kiss: The top of your head. “Huh? No, I didn’t just kiss you. Ya just got your hair in the Great Mammon’s face. I was blowin’ it away. But, if you want me to kiss ya, just say so.” (Yes, he will still use that excuse if you’re bald or shave your head) But really, he just likes kissing you there when he’s holding you in his arms. It makes him feel like he’s doing a good job protecting you and making you feel safe. He savors this even more if you’re about the same height or taller than him since it’s harder to reach.

Kissed: Mouth. He knows he talks a lot, much to his detriment. So, please, shut him up. He feels like you pay more attention to him when you’re kissing his lips, and it can go from sweet to wild in seconds. The range. A forehead kiss could never! Also, please bite his lips or wear some kind of lip color - just leave proof of the kiss so when someone asks what’s wrong with his face (whether they mean the lips or they’re just being rude), he can brag about getting kissed by you.

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Headcannon, that if something happened to upset them, there would be more people to comfort Deku than Katsuki.

Words. 1.0k~

Notes. I'm sorry I always write bakugou so sad, but hey, it gets me the notes. I hope this makes up for not posting much bakugou content in awhile.

Several years after his unexpected retirement, the crushing death of All Might shook the world once again.

It was no quiet affair, people from all around the globe came together to pay their respects for the fallen hero. His loyal students made certain that everything the Symbol of Peace sacrificed for the people he loved would never be forgotten.

Standing amongst the hundreds of solemn people dressed in black like ants at his funeral, made you realize just how small and insignificant you really are.

The selfless actions of one man led to the gratitude and inspiration of so many when he did everything in his power to leave this world, better than it was when he first came into it.

While you didn't know him personally, you met him through your friends from high school. Sweet, bubbly Midoriya who you went to school with, would never miss an opportunity to ramble on and on about his childhood hero.

Seeing him grieve now made a wave of sadness envelop your heart in a choke hold. His regularly bright, emerald eyes that held all the worlds hope in them, glistened with shed and unshed tears.

The great Symbol of Peace's successor wept for his fallen mentor, along with his friends who mourned with him.

Rain began to pour from the skies as you moved to join them. A melancholy smile worked its way onto your face at the irony. It seemed as if the heavens itself lamented at the loss.

You silently thanked the weatherman for being accurate in his predictions for once as you unfolded your umbrella.

The others around you did the same, some deciding that it was a sign to leave and retreated to their cars. Looking around, you paused when you caught sight of one figure hunched over near the lavishly decorated tomb for the hero.

The distinct ash blonde head was unmistakable, and you noticed that his usually annoyingly sharp and messy hair was drooping sadly from the downpour and lack of an umbrella.

You spared a glance at Midoriya to see that he was not covered by just one, but multiple umbrellas from several people over his place on the ground. Even Kirishima and the rest of his closer friends were standing with him.

While Midoriya had more than a handful of people to rub his back comfortingly and murmurer reassuring words to him, ― you realized that no one seemed to notice just how hard it was on the #2 hero.

Everyone seemed to have forgotten that Deku was not the only hero mentored by their beloved champion.

He looked so fucking alone — abandoned.

Suddenly, you wanted to slap yourself for not noticing earlier. His dark clothes befitting the occasion were soaked through from the rain and stuck uncomfortably to his skin, and you didn't miss the way his shoulders shook with silent shudders.

It made you almost uncomfortable to see him like this, with his usual attitude, it felt utterly wrong to watch someone like him look so broken.

Even if offering to assist did get your ass hurled into the outer reaches of space, you couldn't sit idly by and watch him suffer like this.

You moved to make your way to him when he suddenly collapsed onto his knees. Startled, you hurried your pace, your breath catching in your throat when you saw the state he was in.

His hand was curled tightly in his hair in a way that looked painful, he looked up suddenly when you moved your umbrella over him. Your grip on it tightens when you see his eyes all glossy and red with tears, it makes the carmine of his irises look dull and lifeless.

Water runs in rivulets down the sides of his face, a mix of droplets falling from his hair and streaks of tears you couldn't really tell apart.

It made your chest hurt to see him like this as you carefully kneeled down next to him. How could you have not noticed earlier? You can only imagine how this whole situation must be eating up at him. You didn't know him as well as your other friends, but you've spent enough time with him to know just how much he looked up to the former symbol of peace.

His eyes never left yours as you both watched each other in silence. It seemed he couldn't even find it in himself to look angry at you for bothering him. He sounded so horribly fragile and on the verge of breaking down when he spoke, "What do you want, huh?" His voice cracked and he pulled tighter at his hair, "Shouldn't you be with Deku?"

A sudden cough racked through his body and that seemed to unleash another load of tears from his tired eyes. You watched him carefully and reached out to gently pry his hand from where it was twisted in his unruly hair.

It was rough with scars and trembled sorrowfully in your grasp and you squeezed it in what you hoped was a reassuring manner. He gasped out one last sob and met your eyes again.

"Oh Bakugou, it's ok to feel sad right now. I'm gonna be right here if you need me."

Bakugou stared at you, he looked terribly beautiful and miserable at the same time, and you swore that you would do anything too never see such an expression on his face ever again.

His lips trembled and you thought he was going to say something when a sudden tremble shook through his body, and he chocked out another sob. His head drooped towards you almost violently, and you dropped your umbrella. Pulling him towards you and holding him on your arms as he gripped at your smaller figure tightly. Like you would crumble to dust before him if he let go.

The rain seeped through your black funeral gown and chilled your skin, but you only clutched him tighter. You would hold him as long as he needs. Until he feels whole again, until you never had to see his pretty red eyes look so dead ever again.

Your heart ached for the broken hero in your arms under a crying sky.