Y/N: I Think I’m In Love With Crosshair

Can I request something with Robb stark x shy reader. She is very quiet and a good wife too rob, but she loves seeing him be a true king to his people so when someone comes along and tries to knock him down a few pegs she speaks up and reminds said person of who they are speaking to leaving Robb speechless and a little turned on. You can end it there or add in a little smut if you want. Thank youuu

A/N requests open! Hope you enjoy, anon! There is just a sprinkle of nsfw at the end, but I tagged it with smut just to be safe ;) i think i used the word shy like a million times. Reblog/Comment if you want more!

You and your husband, Robb, were touring the North and providing supplies to the smallfolk to support them through the Winter. There were many grievances to address and you held court at all the small towns.

You hated the attention, and it was a small mercy that you rarely had to speak. Even when Robb needed your counsel, he asked for it in private so you weren’t embarrassed. The eyes of the people on you were enough to mortify you, yet you bore your discomfort silently and stood by his side.

At one such hearing, Robb ordered the Lords of the lesser Northern houses to visit. You were seated next to him on your throne, Greywind sleeping on the raised floor at your feet.

“The old ways have served the North fruitfully for years. Listen carefully, one war does not make a boy a man and you are yet to know the ways of the world.” Lord Karstark said, wagging a wrinkled finger at Robb.

It was the third time he had questioned your husband in front of his Council. You were furious.

All Robb had suggested was reducing the great burden of supporting lesser houses with tithes from the peasants. Many smallfolks families were missing men and weapons due to the war, and winter was coming. It would be his first Winter as King of the North and he wanted all his subjects to survive, not just the noblemen.

You thought it was admirable. You also knew how hard he worked, spending almost all nights this week pouring over papers and accounts.

“Don’t forget yourself, I am the King,” Robb chided him. Greywind woke up and went to him, a silent threat.

“No man that calls himself King is a true-“ Lord Karstark began in his crotchety old voice. Anger coursed through your veins. How dare this senile old man try to insult your husband.

You cleared your throat. The hall fell silent. Robb frowned and turned to look at you. His wife was a woman of few words but they were all worth hearing.

“My King husband would have no need of repeating his station if you would remember it, my Lord. And if you cannot, then perhaps in the evening of one’s life we must accept our limitations and resign to things we are capable of.” You said calmly, yet sharply. Robb’s jaw dropped in awe.

It took Karstark’s slow mind a moment longer to process.

“Control your tongue, woman,” he said said, eyes wild, pointing to you.

“Disrespect the Queen and you will feel my blade,” Robb yelled, stepping down from the throne and pulling out Ice, just as the direwolf by his side leapt into action.

Karstark did not know when to keep hush. He retorted back sarcastically, and the altercation ended with him being dragged to the dungeons for his impunity. The other lords were also greatly displeased with him, for now they had no chance of changing the King’s mind about restoring their allowances.

You were glad to see the end of the day, and walked into the chambers of your current abode with Robb trailing behind you.

“Lord Karstark demands hot oil for his feet, did you hear it, darling?” Robb said, crushing the piece of correspondence he read. “To send his demands with servants even when imprisoned. The gall of him.” He chuckled.

“I’ve had it up to here with that old bastard,” you said angrily. You let your hair down and started running your fingers through it roughly. The more you thought of it, the more your anger flared.

“How dare he set foot in your court, dine and dwell in our hospitality, and feel entitled to disrespect you like that? I will not stand for it, Robb.” You said, tugging at the lacing and stepping out of your gray court dress.

“Age does not guarantee wisdom, darling. Experience does. And the old fool has none.” Robb said, walking up to you and resting his hands on your shoulders. He pushed your hair to the side and kissed up your neck from your shoulders to your ear.

You tilted your head to give him more access. After a while he turned you around and kissed your mouth. You savored his languid kisses. His hands slowly pushed your chemise over your shoulders till it hung just above your breasts.

You pulled away, and leaned back, his strong arms holding you up.

“I’m sorry for speaking out of turn, love” you said shyly. You were bold in your anger but the shyness was starting to creep in now. “I love you, and I cannot bear to see you insulted after you pour your soul into this Kingdom.”

“Don’t be sorry, you were fantastic,” Robb said, apparently unable to keep his lips off of you. You gasped as he nipped at the bottom of your throat. “I would like to see the wolf in my little wife more often.”

You giggled at his words, and he walked you backwards till your calves hit the bed. Your chemise dropped to your hips and his hands made quick work of finding your breasts.

Your hands came up to cover yourself.

“Robb, the candles,” you said, eyes wide. His own blue ones lit up with mirth.

“I know now that you are not shy, let me see what is mine, darling.” He whispered, pushing your chemise to the floor. You stepped out of it, naked as the day you were born. Your skin felt hot under his hungry gaze.

“Lie back, Y/N,” he said, licking his lips and pushing you down on the bed. “I wish to show you some of my appreciation.” He knelt before you with a wink.

Robbs hands found your knees and he spread them apart. Your hands twisted into his auburn hair in surprise.

And there was nothing shy about the sounds you made that night.

sorry, wrong number! — tanaka ryuunosuke. chapter five; you’re obsessed.

contents smau. profanity. kms/kys jokes. brainrot lingo. girl kisser! saeko mentioned. implied kuroo had/has a crush on saeko. reader is self aware 😭.

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CAN WE JUST TALK ABOUT THIS?

THE WAY HE BURIED HIS FACE THERE?

THE WAY HE THREW AND CAUGHT HER LIKE SHE WEIGHS NOTHING?

I need this man please this isn't funny anymore

SWEET DREAMS

<osamu miya x reader>

Summary: Being a manager for the Inazarki volleyball club wasn't easy, especially dealing with their chaos. They had made great friends because of it and had caught some attention as well, especially from Miya Osamu. For him, having a crush on the manager isn't ideal but it wasn't anything that he can control. The worst thing about it, watching your crush already be in a relationship with your teammate.

Genre: friends to lovers, angst, drama, fluff

Warnings: Swearing, yelling, teasing, suggestive themes.

Taglist: open

CHAPTER FIVE

<chapter four || materlist || chapter six>

▪︎___________°••>>>*<<<••°___________▪︎

▪︎___________°••>>>*<<<••°___________▪︎

[Taglist]: open

I would let Jango Fett (and any clone, to be honest) call me up when he's planet side, fuck me, then leave without saying goodbye and I'm tired of pretending I wouldn't

🧘‍♀️🧘‍♀️🧘‍♀️ mmmm i had to close my eyes and clench my thighs reading this. jango i think would be more callous and rough w it, whereas some of the clones might be more sincere. because i'm merely a series of holes for them to use I'll just talk about multiple. feel free to request others if i missed someone you'd like to hear about.

jango's rich and highly skilled at his job, notorious to those who know him and invisible to those who don't. it's not hard for him to get you in bed, nor is it hard for him to keep stringing you along, knocking roughly on your door, not because he couldn't get in by picking your lock, but because he wants you to hear that sound and know that it's a precursor to his own behavior: rough, fast, demanding. jango uses you for pleasure and not company, kissing at your mouth instead of letting you talk, smothering you with his broad shoulders and considerable muscle until all you're doing is wrapping your arms and legs around him, your actions solely reliant on his own. he loves pulling back to look at your flushed, sweaty face, your heaving chest as your lips perpetually part just to suck in air that he'd stolen from you with the heft of his body, your limbs weak and limp as he watches you. he's proud of the way he affects you, he's respected and feared in all endeavors he undertakes. he tortures you by never letting you know when he'll be on coruscant, and it means you wait eagerly in your apartment each night, longing for his gloved fist to pound on you door. you let him in every time, and you always will. he lets himself out every time, and he always will.

rex keeps in mostly good spirits with his team and his men, so when he shows up outside your door it's for companionship. He wants connection, he's mollified with claps on the shoulder from general skywalker but camaraderie can't replace intimacy. he nudges his face into yours, his nose bumping the space between yours and your cheek. he breathes your air, he presses himself to you like the space between you might kill him. he's proud to be in your bed, with you, kissing your skin and committing it to memory for late nights out in the cold vacuum of space. he holds you tenderly, his palms always pressed to your flesh to drink you in, and he lets you act as an outlet for his longing. being with you rejuvenates him, but watch out because if he's too happy the day after, his men are gonna know he got laid. general skywalker is all too proud to cover ahsoka's ears when he congratulates him for being in such good spirits

wolffe is so fucking stressed. truly he has to put up with so much bullshit and he's infinitely grateful for his general because if he had skywalker like rex he'd shoot himself. he knocks on your door to pin you to the bed and slam the headboard into the wall, he uses your cunt as a punching bag and he bites vivid, stinging marks into your neck and chest. He kisses them afterwards, letting his post-orgasm tenderness through, but he tires himself out before he ever croons at you. maybe it'd be different if you lived with him, but he's not on coruscant all the time, so frantic rough sex and an empty bed in the morning is what you'll get.

hunter bad batch finds it hard to get time away from his team because of their status as, uh, well, runaways. it's rare that he can let his guard down enough to spend a night in your bed, but that's why he leaves without saying goodbye. he slips out as soon as you're asleep, and departs coruscant before you even wake. you're his, 'be back in a few hours, i've got one last thing to do'. you're left wondering if he has go-tos on every planet, or if you're lucky. you're lucky, but he won't tell you that. he will, however, leave something to hold on to until the next time he sees you. probably a bandana, pardon the cliche, but it's the one he tied your wrists to the headboard with last night, so you keep it with you.

wrecker would genuinely feel terrible not saying goodbye i'm sorry. he might rock your shit and leave you numb but he'll always get all mushy when he's gotta go. he definitely tends to be one of the more romantic ones, he's a big softie and probably wouldn't treat you so callously even if combat was wearing on him. he prides himself for being in your life, and he'd assure you every time you got together that he wasn't just using you for pleasure. he'd comm you semi frequently if he was able.

fives is a little shit who might possibly fit into the scenario described. while i think he'd feel guilty for using you and treating you like he's using you, i can see it happening and just being a poor decision of his that he's not too proud of, but that he can't stop regardless. i can see him playing into a fuckboy persona and trying not to think about it too hard or else he might feel bad. he sweet talks you into letting him in every time and you can barely catch your breath before he's suiting up in his regulation blacks again and heading out the door. he doesn't do it because he's stressed, he doesn't do it because he's desperate to connect with someone, he does it because he's horny and wants a pussy to fuck. he wants to sink his aching dick into a warm body, and that warm body is you.

Yess u should make a part 2 for the long game

FINISH LINE — E.BUCKLEY

after weeks of frustration, buck finally confronts you.

part one — the long game.

evan buckley x gn!reader | 3.2k | smut | masterlist.

cw — 18+ minors do not interact, male masterbation, dry humping, clothed sex, premature ejaculation, buck being whiny and needy

To say you were consuming Buck’s every waking thought was an understatement.

You weren’t just taking over his every waking thought, you were in his dreams, in his subconscious, pretty much every blink of his eyes saw an image of you in his mind and it was getting so goddamn frustrating that Buck swore he was ready to burst from the pressure.

Arguably, the worst part was that you were completely aware of it.

You knew that he was digging himself into a hole with every shift you worked together, and he swore you were revelling in it.

Every time he so much as glanced in your direction—which he wagers is a lot—you had that stupidly attractive look on your face that made his blood feel like it was on fire underneath his skin, and he quite honestly just didn’t know what to do anymore.

Should he confront you about it? Force you into a conversation about what happened at the bar those few weeks ago?

There was no way that would work.

Should he just sit and wait until you finally approached him with the topic in mind?

That was never going to happen.

But he had to deal with all of his pent up frustration somehow, or he swore he’d explode and fracture into a million tiny pieces.

So he found himself with two tangible options. A: find some poor unknowing person for him to project you onto and relieve himself that way, or B: deal with it by himself.

He tried option A first. It didn’t go too well.

He was one leg out of his jeans when he started having second thoughts.

Him. Having second thoughts about getting his rocks off after being essentially blue balled for the last three weeks.

Nobody looked enough like you, acted enough like you, for him to be able to put a veil over his eyes and pretend it was you he was under instead of some random person he’d picked up at a bar.

And it was impacting his ‘performance’ pretty badly.

So, with a resigned sigh, he decided to go with option B.

Locking himself in his apartment, Buck tried to find some semblance of relief by himself, but even that felt hollow. No matter what he did, it was always you in his mind, and nothing seemed to satisfy the burning need that consumed him.

Every touch, every stroke, felt like a futile attempt to quench an unending thirst, a bottomless well of longing and desire that seemed impossible to satisfy.

His thoughts were nothing but a relentless loop of your face, your voice, the way you moved, and the way you looked at him. It was maddening, an unceasing torment that gnawed at his very soul, and Buck had no idea how much longer he could keep this up without losing his mind.

Like the longing wasn’t enough, the guilt he felt was even worse.

He knew he couldn’t go on like this, trapped in a cycle of desire and frustration. The more he tried to push you out of his mind, the deeper you seemed to embed yourself. It was like a cruel joke, one he couldn't escape from, and it was only a matter of time before something had to give.

The tension was so bad starting to affect his performance at work. His teammates noticed he was distracted, his responses slower, his focus elsewhere. Even during emergencies, when he normally thrived under pressure, he found his mind wandering back to you.

The team began to worry, asking if he was okay, if he needed a break, but he just brushed them off with a forced smile and a wave of his hand.

But Buck knew he couldn't keep up the charade much longer. The sleepless nights, the constant replaying of every interaction with you in his head—it was wearing him down. He was losing his edge, and in his line of work, that was dangerous. Lives depended on his ability to stay sharp, to be present, to react quickly. And yet, here he was, drowning in thoughts of you.

He tried everything to distract himself. He threw himself into his workouts, pushing his body to its limits in the hopes that physical exhaustion would quiet his mind. He picked up extra shifts, staying at the station longer than necessary just to avoid being alone with his thoughts. He even tried diving into hobbies he used to love, but nothing worked. Every time he closed his eyes, it was your face he saw. Every quiet moment was filled with the echo of your laughter, the memory of your touch.

One night, after another grueling shift, Buck found himself standing outside your apartment building. He didn't even remember driving there, his body seemingly on autopilot.

The cool night air did little to calm his racing heart as he stared up at the windows, wondering which one was yours. He knew he shouldn't be there, that confronting you like this was a bad idea, but he was at his breaking point.

He needed to know if you felt the same way, if there was any chance you were as consumed by thoughts of him as he was of you.

Taking a deep breath, he started toward the entrance, his mind a whirlwind of anxiety and anticipation. He had no plan, no idea what he was going to say, but he knew he couldn't turn back now. Not when he was so close to a potential resolution, to finally understanding what was happening between you two.

As he reached your door, his hand hovered over the wood, hesitating for just a moment. Then, with a determined exhale, he knocked, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway.

This was it. One way or another, he was about to get some answers.

You open the door with furrowed eyebrows.

Who on earth is visiting you past 10PM on a Thursday?

“Buck—” Your tone conveys your surprise as you lean against the ajar door, one eyebrow raised and your head ever so slightly tilted.

He swears he feels his breath stutter as he takes in your appearance—in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt with your messy hair, you looked more ravishing to him than he ever thought possible.

“Hey,” he says, as if you hadn’t just taken the air right from his lungs. “We need to talk,”

“We do?” The look you give him is almost knowing, and he swears on his life that you’re doing it on purpose just to taunt him.

“Yes,” He pushes his way through the doorway past you “We do.”

He’d be damned if he kept his gaze locked up on your captivating eyes for much longer without doing something about it.

You throw up your hands as he passes you, turning to shut the door with a click before following Buck into your living room. “Yeah, yeah, come on in, no need to ask or anything,”

“I—” he starts with a sigh. “This— whatever we are… it’s driving me crazy, because I don’t know what the hell is going on between us..” He turns to face you with a mix of exasperation and desperation in his eyes.

“One minute you’re acting like my best friend,” he continues, “And the next, you look like you want your tongue down my throat.” His voice is lower now, as he steps closer to you, leaving only a few inches between you.

“And then when I reciprocate, you push me away,” he pauses, searching your eyes with a small frown.

The frustration in his tone is imminent, and it almost makes you fell a little bad for playing the cat and mouse game you had with him for so long.

You’d never expected him to actually get caught up in it all. He was Buck for god’s sake, if anyone had a track record of not getting attached it was him.

“I— don’t know what you want from me here, Buck,”

Buck’s heart pounds so fast he can barely even hear anything you’re saying. He reaches for your chin, tilting your head towards his so he can meet your gaze in its entirety.

His voice trembles when he speaks next, and the look in his eyes could be mistaken for pure agony.

"I want you.” he says breathlessly. “I want you so goddamn badly that it hurts—”

He runs a hand through his hair, and he’s visibly torn between pulling his hair out and grabbing you. “And the most maddening part is—I know you want me too. I mean, it’s right there—” Buck’s gaze follows your lower lip when you run your tongue across it. “—And yet, you push me away every. single. time.”

He stutters out a breathe like he’s forgotten how to work his lungs, like every suck of air is debilitating and all he can focus on is you.

“I want to touch you. I want to feel you. I want to kiss you so hard you forget what your name is and bury my head between your thighs until I can’t breathe—”

There’s a small, strangled noise that follows his confession, his imagination already taking him for a blissfully agonising ride of what your relationship could be like if you’d just stop pulling away before the end line.

“I’m tired of not sleeping at night because I lay awake yearning for you…”

He pauses for a second to catch his breath, but you can tell by his eyes that he’s not finished yet.

“I’m tired of sneaking into the bathroom for ‘extended bathroom breaks’ because you’re making me so hard while we’re working.” He steps even closer to you, his hand travelling down your neck.

“And,” he continues gruffly in a breath, “I’m so tired of trying to hold back every ounce of desire that wants to ravish you in this goddamn moment.” His eyes feel like they pierce your soul as he makes eye contact with you, and it leaves you short of breath in an instant.

“So if you want me as much as I want you then for the love of God please—“ His other hand comes up to cradle the back of your neck. “Do something about it.”

He didn’t have to ask you twice.

You barely even have to move to force your lips together, breaths intertwining with every movement as your hand cups the back of Bucks head, your fingers tangled in his hair.

Buck’s breath catches as soon as your lips finally meet his, and it takes him a moment to realize what’s actually happening before he leans into it and kisses you back with everything he has.

His hands start to wonder over your body, grabbing at your hips when he pulls you closer to him. He gasps against your mouth and his tongue is suddenly demanding entry against your lips.

Not that he had to try hard to get what he wanted anyway.

He groans as you give in and lets your tongue intertwine with his, all the pent-up sexual tension immediately breaking like a levee and flooding his system. With one strong swoop he lifts you up against his body by your thighs, carrying you until he’s sat on your couch with you straddling him.

Buck’s hands run along your shoulders once he’s finally got you in his grasp, deepening the kiss as his hips buck up against yours, aching for some friction against the painfully growing tent in his pants.

“Need you so bad…” He mumbles, his hands travelling down your body and then grabbing your hips so he can rock you against his body, the pressure eliciting a low growl from his throat.

He can hear your breath catch in your chest when he moves against you like that and it drives him insane. Before he could stop himself he bucks up again, harder now, and the friction sends a sharp wave of desire through him.

“God…” He groans out, and all he can see is the delicious look of need in your eyes and the sight of your parted lips as you lean your forehead against the curve of his shoulder, mouth left open in a passive moan of his name.

Seeing you like that—undone and needy and wanting, because of *him—*was better than any fantasy Buck had ever had.

His breathing is hot against the side of your throat, before he starts littering it with soft kisses. “Gonna make you feel so good,” he mumbles, his body shuddering when you grab a fistful of his hair, the pain only fuelling his desires further. “Been dreaming of this… For so long—”

His hands move down to grab your ass, and his breath hitches as he rocks you against him needingly, desperate to feel the friction of you rubbing against his achingly hard cock.

It was almost embarrassing, how close he was to cumming just from this, but when he says he’s been desperate for you, he means it.

And the broken whines you muffle against his shoulder are definitely not helping.

He buries his head into the crook of your neck, groaning at the way you grind against him. “Please…” he chokes out, his voice broken and raw, and when his teeth lightly nibble against the skin on your neck you let out an intoxicatingly loud moan.

“Want you…” he groans, barely coherent in his ramblings as his hips find a steady rhythm. He could feel himself getting more and more desperate, and your breathy moans were definitely pushing him towards the edge.

Buck pulls away from the crook of your neck and looks up at you intently; his eyes half-lidded from his overwhelming desire and his chest is heaving deeply.

He grabs you harder under him, his breathing laboured and his chest heaving as he starts to lose his composure. “Please…” he begs, his voice cracking as his hips buck against your again and again, trying to relieve the aching, overwhelming pressure that’s building inside him.

“God, please—” His forehead is still pressed against your throat, and his body shudders against yours as he nears his release, a strained string of incoherent words tumbling from his mouth.

He’s so close, but the moment he feels your fingers gently thread through his hair his hips stutter and his body goes taut, and then he’s coming in his pants like a damn teenager, so horribly overwhelmed by his pleasure it almost hurts.

White-hot spurts of his cum coat the inside of his boxer shorts, soaking through the fabric to dampen the crotch of his jeans and leave him groaning brokenly against your skin.

He’s almost trembling as he comes down, climax so hard that his entire groin feels sticky and wet, and it’s only when his breathing has steadied and he’s regained control of his body that he lifts his head.

He gazes at your face and gives a breathless chuckle when he sees you looking at him with an amused smile on your lips.

“Enjoyed that, did you?”

“—yeah,” he mumbles against your skin. He presses soft kisses against the flushed skin of your neck, passing over the darkening red marks that he’d left you with.

“I’m sorry, I…” A sigh follows his words, and he lifts his head to look at you again—he didn’t expect to come that fast either. The sight of the pleased smirk on your lips, however, made him feel a little better.

“In all my fantasies about you,” he begins with a sheepish grin, “Coming in my pants within two minutes of getting you on top of me was never a part of the program.”

You let out a short laugh at his confession, leaning forward to rest your forehead against his shoulder and shaking your head against it.

He laughs quietly with you, but the sound is quickly replaced by a sharp breath when you lean harder against him in collateral of your position.

Even now, even after he’s come, his body still wants you. Badly.

A small groan leaves his lips when he feels the sudden pressure again at an already over-sensitive area. He buries his head against your shoulder, his breath hot in the crook of your neck. “Keep going and you’ll make me do it again…” Buck mumbles with a huff.

“And as much as I would love to…,” he continues, his voice strained as he tries to pull himself together. “I have so much more I want to do with you.”

“Yeah?” The tone of his voice makes you feel a little flushed, although considering how hot you already were from the last few minutes, you’re not sure even you could tell.

Buck’s grip on your hips tighten as a low groan slips past his lips, his voice deep and gruff. “You have no idea,” he whispers quietly, his breath hot against the shell of your ear.

“I’ve thought about taking you on every surface possible…” Buck’s gaze runs over your form before it returns to the flushed skin of your neck. “On the kitchen counter, against the wall… on the floor… In the bunk room at the station…”

He leans in to press his mouth against the side of your throat, feeling the way your breath catches at his words, and he hums in approval. “Wanted to bend you over in the back of a firetruck…”

“In the showers…” Buck mumbles into your flushed skin, leaving behind a trail of kisses while his hands start tracing their way up your back, sending goosebumps down your body. “On my bed, on yours…”

By now he’s trailing kisses further down, until his mouth presses against the junction between your neck and shoulder. When your body arches at the feeling of his teeth lightly grazing across the skin, Buck’s grip on your hips tightens.

He lifts his head, so he’s looking you straight in the eye.

“God, I want to ruin you…”

He looks at you with so much heat and desire, his gaze burning right through your core. He can’t help but grind his hips up against yours again, his breathing shallow. “I want to ruin myself… until I can’t come for anyone else—”

“Until the only name I know how to say is yours.” he whispers, kissing you deeply, like he’s been yearning for it for the longest time. It’s hard, heated, desperate, and full of passion and need and you can feel it in every fibre of your being how much Buck wants you.

“I need you,” he whispers, his voice hoarse from being consumed with need. “Want to touch you, wanna be inside you… you want that…?”

LOVE THIS SM BOO!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

press start! — all to action (21/22)

after spending almost a whole year on academic probation, you’re finally allowed to start your position as a manager for the nekoma boys volleyball team. you’re determined to stay focused on your team and academics, but things get a bit difficult when a certain middle blocker makes his way into your life

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press start! — bonus #1

after spending almost a whole year on academic probation, you’re finally allowed to start your position as a manager for the nekoma boys volleyball team. you’re determined to stay focused on your team and academics, but things get a bit difficult when a certain middle blocker makes his way into your life

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a/n: GUYS this isnt atsumu slander i swear!!! i love him i spun a wheel to decide who it would be!! i would never!!!

valentine's day with kageyama is sweet but hectic. he goes all out because it's a special day and he finally has a special person. i'm talking flowers, chocolates, gifts, dinner at a fancy restaurant, and of course dessert all timed down to the t. he's been planning for over a month, scouring websites for ideas, and visiting store after store to find the right things for you. and honestly the adlers boys are a little tired of hearing about it, but they've also never seen him so passionate about anything that wasn't volleyball until you. so they chime in with comments here and there to help him out. and it's obvious he's nervous. you caught on pretty early, so you try to reassure him he doesn't have to do anything over the top. you love him, and he loves you. it's just another day in the span of a year, but he just shakes his head because, "why wouldn't i do all this and more for you?"

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blue lock objectively is insane and probably bad. but the thing about blue lock is that once you watch it youre like holy shit this is peak. its a disease.

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