Sry I Simply Cannot Stop Thinking About Adlers!kageyama Seeking You Out For A Kiss After Every Game Like

I love haikyu so much. Like it is my favorite anime. Character development, loveable relatable characters, no plot armor in the best way possible, emotional and comedic moments, great animation (90% of the time (we all have our off days shut up)), rewarding payoffs- just everything I could ask for honestly. Just so much fun.

The only anime I can sit and watch like watch watch. Love it so damn much I went ahead and read the manga cause I could fucking wait for the newest seasons/movie to come out. I remember sitting in my fucking Spanish class trying to hold back tears during the Nekoma game AND when Hinata got sick. Like that doesn’t happen to me, I’m not a cry type person but this show perpetually has me fucked up.

I just fucking love that show so much.

(This is my way of letting yall know to expect more haikyu content because I have lots of ideas I’ve just been holding onto throughout the years. Please please please with a cherry on top send in any ideas yall have whether you want me to expand on them or just to share- let me know.)

song 13! 360 + sakusa kiyoomi

360, when you’re in the mirror, do you like what you see? when you’re in the mirror, you’re just looking at me —charli xcx

pairing: sakusa kiyoomi x reader, wc: 746, established relationship, fluff, very deep (song is misleading), sakusa kiyoomi contemplates the meaning of love and how it’s changed him as he stands in the mirror, boy was finding a plot for this song a challenge

part of my spotify wrapped 2024 event @serafilms

Sakusa Kiyoomi has always been a very individualistic man. He hates crowds with a passion, avoids physical contact to a fault, and exclusively keeps everything he owns to himself. He never borrows from his friends, or even his family, unless he’s out of hand sanitiser (but he’s never out of hand sanitiser), and he doesn’t like letting them borrow his things either. He doesn’t trust them to clean things as well as he does, and he overall just doesn’t really appreciate their pushing their way into his business.

Yet as he stands in the mirror, he can’t help but see evidence that suggests otherwise.

Firstly, there’s the sweatshirt he’d pulled on this morning. The same one you’d ‘borrowed’ from him last week. It has the MSBY Jackals’ logo stitched on the chest, and when he’d come over to your place a few days ago, he’d found you huddled up on the couch in it.

“Sorry, Omi,” you’d said bashfully. “I took it because it smells like you.”

Kiyoomi had found it hard to be annoyed. Even when the scent of his laundry detergent had faded when you’d given it back, and the smell of your body wash replaced it.

He can smell it as he stands, surveying himself. It’s nice.

Secondly, there’s his gym bag. He slings it over his shoulder as his eyes fall to the zipper, on which is attached a Sanrio keychain.

“Bad Batdz-Maru,” you’d called it.

Kiyoomi personally doesn’t see any resemblance, but you’d insisted that it looks just like him.

He remembers the way his cold, dead heart fluttered when you’d presented it to him, and showed him your own Sanrio keychain, attached to your favourite bag. He thinks of the way you’d beamed as he moved to attach it to his own gym bag. It hadn’t been taken off ever since.

Thirdly, there’s his hair. Sakusa Kiyoomi hates, hates when people touch his hair. It’s too intimate, and it’s frankly incredibly unhygienic. He washes it every day and lives in fear of leaning against walls, or having someone touch his head and getting outside germs all over his luscious curls. Frankly, if he didn’t care as much about his appearance, he would have shaved it all off long ago. Easier for scalp care too.

Yet, when you hold him at night, he finds his eyes fluttering closed in satisfaction as your fingers tangle into it, running them through gently as you whisper about your day, and tell him you love him. He lets you wash it for him in the shower, and doesn’t do a second wash after you’ve left, because he trusts that it’s clean enough. He trusts that you’ve been careful.

When you suggested he cut his hair a slightly different way than his usual style, he didn’t snap at you. He listened, and he felt himself bristle with pride as you gushed over it.

And then, there’s your arms, sneaking around his waist, as your chin comes to rest on his shoulder, clutching at the fabric of his sweatshirt, leaning on the opposite side of his gym bag, cheek brushing against his hair.

“You’re going to be late,” you murmur. Kiyoomi shivers at the feeling of your breath against his neck.

“You’re the one holding me hostage here,” he deadpans.

Your arms tighten around his waist. “Maybe I don’t want you to go to practice.”

He huffs in response. He glances to the side to look at the sliver of your face he can see in his peripheral vision. It’s not enough, and so he turns his gaze back to the mirror, and lets his eyes rake over the image reflected at him.

Drinking in the sight of your face, the way your arms join at his stomach, the way you nuzzle into the crook of his shoulder, he feels warm.

“What were you staring at yourself so hard for just now?” Your question breaks his trance.

“Just thinking.” His answer is short, blunt and entirely vague all at once, and it’s so incredibly Sakusa. You hum.

“You should go to practice now. Atsumu will never let you live it down if you’re late even once.”

Kiyoomi nods. He watches in the mirror as your grip on him loosens, and you lean back.

“I love you,” he says. It’s probably the closest he can get to the phenomenon of blurting something out.

You smile at him. “I know. I love you too.”

Sakusa Kiyoomi feels something in his chest swell, and thinks he finally understands what love is.

curse spirit geto

SPIRITED AWAY (2001) dir. HAYAO MIYAZAKI

Thinking about how Atsumu is the type of guy to never use your name again once you’re in a relationship.

From the moment you accept his confession, it’s pet names galore ranging from classics like “baby”, “princess” (if he feels spicy (or condescending)), and “love” all the way to absurdities he brings out when he is in a great mood such as “my plump little dumplin’ supreme”, “main squeeze”, “schmoopy” or his personal favorite, born out of a night drinking with his team, “babelicious”. You had him sleep on the couch for the crime of using that last one.

But as soon - and I mean as soon - as he gets a ring on your finger it’s always “my wife”, “me and the wife” and “wifey”.

“What am I doin’ this weekend? Oh, ya know, me and the wife are gonna hit the farmer’s market.”

“Hang out tonight? Can’t, wifey asked me to pick up some groceries for dinner.”

And god help the poor soul whoever asks about how you are doing because Atsumu will pull out a three-page essay, put up a slide projector, and dim the lights to tell that person all about what his wife is up to.

(tbf you’re not much better because you loooove saying “my husband”)

Imagine hating on me but i spend my free time maladaptive daydreaming about getting raw dogged by fictional men

se essa sapequinha cair na minha lagoa hoje eu sou jacaré ❗️❗️🙏 eu não dou mole não

— umibe no etranger matching icons

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