Yours

“you, stop . . moving,” sukuna prowls, the base of his chin sat on top of your thighs.

you were in your usual spot, waiting for him to return from whatever battle had him occupied for half the day. moments later, you’re now slouched back against sukuna’s throne with a very grumpy, pouty demon lying his head against the center of your lap. before you could even part your lips to ask him what happened this time, sukuna grumbles. “bad. very bad day, little one.”

humming, you strum a few feathery fingers toward the pink roots of his hair before softly digging a path through his tender scalp. “oh. well, wanna talk about it?”

“no,” he replies gruffly with an abrupt quickness, his pout growing the more he remembered about his day. however, as your fingers continued to comb through his silk tresses, sukuna buried his face between your thighs. “i need… to recharge.”

“most people would drink water or eat somet-”

“shut up.”

“…..”

slowly peeking from between the warmth of your glued legs, sukuna notices the pausing halt on your fingers that played with his hair and he scowls. oh, he’s pouting, and with a cute, annoyed grumble, he avoids your gaze.

“i told you to shut up, not . . to stop doing that. go on. hmph.”

rolling your eyes, you gave him a subtle head pat before hearing a loud sigh exit between your thighs. he’s usually never this clingy, and you remained quiet - wondering just what happened in his day for him to behave so … needy.

your fingers resumed its maze through his scalp tenderly, and his long lashes fluttered close - a soft content sigh dragging away from his thinly parted lips. in a way, you had to admit — this looked silly.

a huge, burly thousand-year-old curse of a demon positioned between your thighs. it was merely comical, and yet, sukuna could really care less.

the king of curses didn’t have a weakness - except you.

“mmgh-” he’d grunt, tilting his head to the left before he felt your thumb gingerly scratching behind his ear. for a second, you think you saw his nose twitching too. sukuna’s pink brows were still forcibly furrowed together, perfectly expressing his stubborn frustration before he let off another noise.

this time though - it’s different . .

it’s a subtle, cooing ‘rrrrr’ sound that’s deeply low. the entire sound alone from sukuna makes your thighs shake a bit and you look down at him with a perplexed look.

“ ‘kuna?” you murmured, the swirling circles of your finger stopping once again. a cunning grin gradually creased against your lips before you gasped. “did you just … purr?”

“i don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“that noise you just made.”

sukuna rolls his eyes, his scratchy voice a bit muffled from how he nearly sank between the arc of your thighs. “pft. i was clearing my throat, obviously. you humans and your delusions-”

“nooo, i heard it,” you cheekily simpered, pinching his cheek. that earned a disgusted glower from him before you brought your fingers back toward behind his ear. “i scratched behind hereeee ‘n then . . you made that sound.”

the demon’s breath hitched once he felt the tip of your stubby thumb leisurely trail its way near behind his ear. instantaneously, his ear even twitched at your delicate touch and his eyes were just whining for more. for once, sukuna doesn’t have a witty remark and he’s just allowing you to toy your fingers against his balmy skin.

“stupid …. it wasn’t a purr. that’s insulting.”

“oh, my bad. what was it then?”

sukuna glares at you, and you return with a smug expression. damn.

sighing, sukuna’s shoulder slacken. “whatever. anyways,” he grumps, his chin sitting back onto your right leg. crimson eyes flicker up toward you before he pouts. “scratch behind my ear again. see what happens.”

“or what, you’ll purr again? ooh. scary.”

sukuna’s cheeks were so flushed - on the very cusps of shading into a bright hue of vermillion before he scoffs. “ha! do it. you wo- mmmmrr-”

cutting him off, you give him a good scratch behind his ear once more, and again—that sound comes out. a soothing, content purr from sukuna that cutely makes his whole body faintly rumble against your thighs.

it wasn’t just the purring, it was all of his changing body language that occurred too.

whenever your fingers would swiftly dash across the sensitive territory that was located behind his ear, sukuna turned into an entire different person. his eyelids would hang low, his nose would twitch, and his usual grumpy expression would slowly switch to a more… tame one.

it’s like your fingers had some sort of magic, and it irritated him but it also made him . . craving more of your touch. “there there,” you hummed, feeling him relax against your touch. your fingertips were always so gentle, dancing down the outer edge of his ear as the low, purring noise continued.

it only lasted for a few seconds but to sukuna, it felt like many, many hours..

the scratching had him nearly hypnotized - and he was already closing his eyes, forgetting all about his horrible day. you silently watched as the curse’s pink slit brows curled apart from its usual furrow, and you could almost see his pout turning into a tiny smile.

it’s a half-almost smile, and sukuna’s starting to feel himself eventually falling asleep.

“such a cat,” you teasingly mumbled, hearing his ragged breaths suddenly come to a mesmeric slow. sukuna deeply sighs, cool puffs of air from his nostrils falling against your thighs. you weren’t sure if he was fully asleep or not, so you gave him a soft poke.

nothing.

giggling, you laid back against his throne as he remained in his same spot—head laid on your thighs as he was kneeling before you. you don’t think you’ve ever seen sukuna so relaxed. he’s usually so angry - so full of hate and uncontrollable rage but now, he looks finally at peace.

at peace in his favorite spot - between your thighs.

in a soft lulling voice, you gave his head a small pat before leaning down to kiss his forehead. “i love you, ‘kuna. sleep well.”

“hng- i love …. you too, little one.” he’d groggily reply, pressing plush lips against the crevice of your thigh.

“never talk about this again, by the way. or els-”

you interrupt his tiny threat by scratching behind his ear one more time and sukuna purrs even louder than before. it’s more high-pitched this time, and he opens his eyes before a pink tint spreads across his face once he realized he purred again.

“d- damn it..”

geto who smokes like its his biggest hobby, but you despise it. every time he kisses you, the bitter taste of tobacco leaves you wrinkling your nose and pulling away all too soon. you never say anything about it, but geto can sense your displeasure every time he reaches for a cigarette.

one day, he reaches into his back pocket for a routine smoke, knowing your eyes are trailing his every move. you expect him to shake out a cigarette, but instead he drops the pack to the ground and steps on it, eyes never leaving yours. you open your mouth to say something, but his lips cut off your voice.

he kisses you hard, his fingers tangling in your hair, his teeth pulling at your lips. his mouth moves against yours in such desperation  that you can’t help but gasp. he pulls you against his chest, so close that you don’t know where you end and he begins. he pulls back, violet gaze slipping over your hazed expression.

“i-your cigarettes?”

he runs a thumb over your cheek before he leans down to whisper in your ear. his voice makes you shiver when he says,

“i can only handle one addiction at a time.”

how the haikyu boys would react if you showed up to a game - after saying you wouldnt! °○~

contains : hinata, kageyama, daichi, tsukkishima, kuroo, kenma, bokuto, akaashi, oikawa, iwazumi, ushijima, tendou

warnings/tags : not all boys included ! suggestive themes in a few of them, but nothing descriptive!

note : just some of my fav cuties, if you want more pls throw it in the requests! i wrote half of this on mobile and half on my laptop, pls excuse any mistakes. i also had either none or alot of motivation for these, so eat up what you can out of this!

masterlist // requests are open

SHOYO HINATA :

he honestly forgot about the banter between you two, begging for you to come but then being shot down because of your studies. so when he stepped onto the court and began playing, he didn't pay any attention to it.

but in private, you felt too bad, so you attended. you cheered him on from the group of karasuno fans, a little louder than the rest. so when he turned his head and saw you, his face lit up, a big smile on his face before giving a small wave and turning back around.

by the end of the match, he met you outside, jumping at his full potential with hands on your shoulders, " you came!? but what about your homework? wait - did you see me during the second set!? " he blabbering on, before you just ruffled his hair and giggled.

" you should come to all my matches, it makes me play better " he mumbled as he pulled you into a tight hug while tanaka and noya gushed over young love.

" oi! hinata, let's go! " kageyama called, as they were getting ready for a team photo infront of the complex.

he dragged you along, jumping onto your shoulders just to be taller than kageyama in a photo.

---

TOBIO KAGEYAMA :

there was no point in asking you to come tonight, it was normal. but he did want you to see some new stuff he spent so much time working on. but of course, you turned him down due to working late at the onigiri shop downtown.

so as he put his uniform on, sliding his knee pads up and tying his shoes, he went about the match like normal. he actually never noticed tou watching in the stands, eyes flowing back and forth through his stealthy sets. that freak quick attack that he set up was always impressive. it made you wonder why you never saw matches before.

you caught him on his way out, bag slung over his shoulders and jacket zipped up. the bus was parked and waiting already, so you barely got to his hand. your fingers wrapped around his, and he almost smacked you before realizing it was you.

" yn? " he asked, tilting his head in confusion, " but - I thought you were working late tonight? " he muttered, fingers squeezing a little tighter when you smiled.

" well, thanks for coming. " was all he could muster up between the harsh heat in his cheeks. he burried his chin into the collar of his jacket, watching you reach up and plant a kiss onto his cheek before running back into the building.

yeah everyone sitting on the bus just saw kageyama fold for his girlfriend again.

---

DAICHI SAWAMURA :

he completely understood how important your studies were, and he seriously didn't mind you not coming to games. so when he kissed your head and jumped in the car, he expected to see you later after the match.

but he had no clue you spent the rest of the time getting all ready, dressing up and jumping into your car to race, and making the first set. you flooded the stands as it began, leaning against the barrier next to their manager, Yaichi.

daichi was too busy with slamming recieves back and forth. when he finally got steady with returning the great king, oikawa's, serves, the crowd cheered. so naturally, you did, too.

" nice recieve daich' ! " you called out, hands cupped by your mouth with a big smile.

his head whipped behind him to see you all bubbly and pratically shaking with excitement as you watched him play. all he could do was smile and wave before giving sugawara a nervous look.

by the end of the match, you were downstairs, watching the teams flood out. you patiently waited for your boyfriend, hands clasped in front of you as the rest of the teams said their hellos. when daichi laid his eyes on you, he belined, lifting you and spinning you.

" you said you weren't coming! don't do that! it made me nervous - " he laughed, reaching up and rubbing the back of his head.

" but - thanks for watching, means a lot to me, baby " was all he he said as he kissed your head and pulled you into a tight hug.

---

TSUKKISHIMA KEI :

he didn't care, he actually didn't want you coming. he didn't see the point, they'd probably lose. and of course being a grade freak he was not about to sit and do your homework with you till 2am, so yea get it done now.

but when you appeared with an extra water bottle right before he went on the court, he just furrowed his eyebrows. he looked around before smirking a bit.

" thanks " that's all he said before grabbing the bottle and taking a drink, " if you didn't finished your homework, you have no idea what I'd do " he groaned, piercing his lips together into a flat line.

" tsukki - it's fine! you know I love to watch you play! " you gushed, teetering on your heels and looking up at him with a plead, that he knew too well.

" I am not giving you a kiss right now " he mumbled, going to walk away

" but it's good luck! " you whined, chasing him almost to the court.

" will you shut up? everyone can hear you " he whispered, leaning down and pressing a peck to your lips before grumbling off to warm ups.

he made sure to always look for you in the crowd before the next play, your bright eyes and smile always widening when you two made eye contact. yeah, he secretly loved seeing you support him.

---

KUROO TETSURO :

" cmon, baby, it's just one match, can't you come? " he pleaded, waiting by the door.

you told him you wouldn't be able to make it to this match, you were too busy and had stuff to do at home. so you shook your head and sighed.

" sorry, testu, not tonight " and he frowned, but hugged you goodbye and as always, kissed both cheeks for good luck.

when you watched him leave, guilt ate away at your gut. so you checked the time, got as much stuff done, and then raced to the complex. his match had just started, and you were in his red jacket. so you blended in with the crowd of fans.

when they lined up at the end to thank the fans, you shot forward to the balcony and yelled out for him, " good job, tetsu! " giggling and waving as he looked up at you.

kenma also looked up, rolling his eyes when kuroo put his hands on his hips and cackled like a hyena, " told you she'd come kenma! " he patted the smaller boy on the back.

when you two met up, he crushed you, squeezing all the air from your body. " so you were busy, huh? " he teased, shoving you as he walked you out to your car.

he leaned against the top of your car with his arm, pressing down and capturing you in one more kiss. where he tried to make in to a full makeout session and fit into your drivers side.

" tetsuro! not now! " you yelped, shoving him out and scoffing.

" so later? I did win, yknow " he dragged out, and you rolled your eyes and shut the door.

---

KENMA KOZUME :

you barely made it to the third set, noticing kenma already being worn out and sweating buckets. you bit your lip anxiously, knowing kenma definitely didn't want you here. it made his anxiety skyrocket.

you stood hidden in the sea of fans, rushing out by the time it ended so he didn't see you. you watched him walk into the locker room, kuroo following close behind him with a proud smile.

you tried to creep your way silently, but kuroo seemed to notice you before kenma.

" ey! kenma look! " he redirected kenma from the door, to face you. you were wide eyed and smiling innocently.

" oh " he blinked, walking up to you, " when did you get here? " he asked, looking down at you with a blank expression as always.

" I just saw the last set - sorry I know you hate it when I come but - " you began, but kenma only stopped you by pulling you into a very awkward and sweaty hug.

you laughed and hugged back, of course. kuroo was already beckoning lev to come see this. once lev bursted out laughing, kenma let go, " sorry - they're just gonna be annoying " he muttered, shooting them a look.

" I know, kozu, you did great tonight " you nodded, trying to reassure him by rubbing soft circles into his palm.

" can you come to all my games from now on? "

---

KOUTARO BOKUTO :

every time was the same, bokuto trying to drag you out of your house to come to at least one match. you hated crowded areas, a sea of people watching a game of more sweaty people toss a ball around? yeah absolutely not.

but you knew it was important to him, so you always said 'next time', but there was never a next time. now bokuto was walking with you to the gym of fukarodani so the team can pack and leave.

" im sorry, kotarou, maybe next time? " you offered, holding his hands right before he walked in.

" you say that every timee! " he whined, but quickly gave up when he saw your frown.

" good luck out there, youre gonna do amazing " you kissed his hands before skipping away to the front of the building and driving home.. well, that was the plan

and somehow you found yourself driving 2 hours away to the complex, wearing an old jersey of bokuto's. you stepped out and scanned in with a wristband. the place was packed, fukarodani fans already setting up. so you sat and waited.

the match finally started, and akaashi was already fighting to keep bokuto out of emo mode. you teetered on the edge of your seat, clapping when they scored once more.

" lets go bokuto! " you couldnt help but give yourself away, and the look on his face was worth it all.

after that, bokuto scored point after point, taking both starting sets with ease. now akaashi was working on calming him down before they were kicked off the court. you were already on your way down to the court. when he saw you, he rushed off the court without a second though and into the crowd.

" you really came? hey! did you see that? all those were for you baby! " he shouted, taking you in his arms and jumping around, akaashi couldnt help but run after him and say his hello.

" akaashi! my beautiful girlfriend finally came! wait - why are you laughing? did you two set this up? HEY! " he began, hands on his hips and scowling.

---

KEIJI AKAASHI :

another night working late at the corner shop downtown, and man was it slow. you knew akaashi had a game tonight, and you were itching to go see it, but there was no way you could get off of work. so he made the effort to stop by right before leaving.

the door dinged open and before your started the whole 'welcome to l/ns' speech, your boyfriend already set your meal down on the counter. " hey you " he spoke, smiling slightly.

" keiji! but arent you leaving - what are you doing here? " you asked sadly, coming around the counter and hugging him.

he gently ran his fingers across your hair before pulling you back, " im sorry you cant see my game tonight, so i thought id bring you something " he offered, kissing your temple before letting you go completely.

the conversation continued, and he soon left. and your store was empty once again. you peaked into the back at your father, who was sleeping in a chair. you removed your apron quickly and bolted for the door, grabbing the bagged meal on your way out.

you hopped in your car and began directions to the complex, speeding almost half of the time there. you parked, squeezed your way through the people, and found your seat right as warmups began.

you watched the match, clapping and cheering as they took home the win. you said goodbye to some fellow classmates you found in the sea of fans, before rushing down the stairs. you got caught in cross traffic, and barely saw the team head into the locker room for warm down.

you waited patiently, noticing bokuto being the first to leave, " hey! bokuto! " you called out, rushing for him before he wandered from the door.

" ah! akaashis pretty ladyyy " he put his hands on his hips, " i thought you werent coming tonight? " he tilted his head, but the door opened after him.

" bokuto, did you say my - " akaashi was quickly cut off by the sight of you, swiftly scooping his arms under yours and pulling you into a crushing hug.

" i thought i heard you, but i figured i was hallucinating " he laughed, setting you down and holding your head to give you a large and dramatic kiss on the forehead.

" i wouldnt miss you for the world, keij " you giggled, noticing bokuto sulking.

" when is it my turn, akaashi!? " he cried out, trudging away

---

TORUU OIKAWA :

you seethed every time oikawa had a game, especially because his whole fangirl club would just shove you to the side to breathe his air. so when you told him you werent coming to anymore games, he quite literally got on his knees and begged for you to come to his final one, which was tonight.

" absolutely not, toruu! you barely even notice im there anyways! " you argued, crossing your arms and shaking your head.

" wha - no baby i promise! i will glue you to my side! ill shoo them away! " he pleaded, standing up and going to hold your arms.

" no, i have a bunch of homework to do anyways " you giggled, denying his words and looking up at him.

" finee " he sighed dramatically, gathering his things and waling for the front door with you following.

" good luck, okay? hey, i love you " you said, pressing a kiss to his cheek before letting him walk out the door and to his match.

a few hours went by, and you got up and groaned, before ultimately driving to his game. you were in an extra jersey, dressing comfortably as you were going to be sitting the rest of the time anyways. you watched the match begin, noticing oikawa was first to serve. and his girls were going crazy.

it was like that for the rest of the time, screeching and drooling over the top balcony at your boyfriend. the game ended and you were now waiting outside near seijohs bus, anyone wouldve thought you were a creepy fangirl too.

when the team came out, and oikawa's eyes finally met yours, he took off running. he lifted you into the air and spun about a hundred times. " i knew you couldnt resisit me! did you see the whole thing? " he asked curiously, kissing all over your face.

a crowd of girls practically melted, tears quite literally rolling down their face at the sight of oikawa and another girl. but he paid no mind, only hugging and gushing over the fact you actually showed up.

" yes toru, i saw the entire thing " you reassured, nodding and giggling,

" oh just wait till i get home - " he muttered, before being slapped on the back by iwazumi.

" lets go shitty-kawa! " he yelled, getting onto the bus.

oikawa gave you one last kiss before waving off and sticking his tongue out. you shook your head and then noticed the stampede of girls that now chased after the bus.

---

HAJIME IWAZUMI :

oh this man was swooning over you, had a picture of you in every crack and crevice of his room or car. he even kept one in this pocket of his shorts during practice. so obviously when you said a family emergency came up, and you cant make it to his game, he was crushed.

" go home and make sure everythings okay, love " he said, kissing your head before seijoh loaded the busses for the tournament. despite him obviously loving when youre there, he understood this was important.

when you got home, a few hours of dealing with whatever had finally passed. you noticed, there was only an hour till seijohs warm ups began. so of course you ran for the car, ripping out of your driveway and speeding down the express ways to make it in time.

you filed into the crowd about halfway through the first set, that seijoh was obviously going to win. the vibes were up and good, oikawa fangirls fawning and falling. you just didnt understand, when your better looking love of your life, hajime iwazumi, was standing right there. well, youd kill anyone who came close to being a fangirl of him.

seijoh took the first set, and the second one, now advancing to the next round. you were over the moon excited, bouncing down each step to find iwa. you managed to tag onto the back of the train of players as they walked, making conversation with maki.

you noticed iwa and oikawa making conversation right outside of the warm down room, and you bolted. you stood behind iwazumi, putting a finger over your lips as oikawa giggled.

" oh it looks like a iwa-chan fan girl does exist! " he chimed, tapping his chin while iwa hummed.

he turned around and his face instantly flushed, lips sputtering out noncoherent words. " wait - yn? what are you doing here? " he asked, shaking his head to clear any confusion.

" well - i broke a few laws just to see you " you laughed, yelping when oikawa shoved iwazumi into you, laughing

" atleast hug your lady! " oikawa gasped, hand on his hip as he tried to escape a running crowd after him.

iwa held you close, head over top of yours, " you did all that for me? " he asked quietly, face hot with embaressment.

" of course i did, iwa! you think id leave you alone with him - " you went to pull away and point, but noticed the stampede oikawa was trampled by.

you and iwa only giggled together, before he looked down at you with the utmost sincere eyes, " thank you. truly, thank you " he muttered, kissing the top of your head while holding your hands.

---

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI :

you didnt even see ushiwaka before he left, he only sent a simple text. 'leaving now, love you' was all he said, you couldnt tell if he was upset about you missing this match, youve been pretty busy, so maybe hed understand.

as much as tendou tried to poke him, he only put in headphones and stared out the window for the entire bus ride. he tried to collect himself before going off and playing for one of the most important tournaments in his entire highschool career - and you werent going to be there.

you sighed and tapped your foot anxiously against your floor, trying to decide if you should really risk skipping all your piled school work to see him. but of course you chose the latter. you threw on one of his academy volleyball hoodies and began the drive.

of course you buckled, and barely sped up. all because of ushijimas extreme car safety thing he had for you. there was a little sticky note reminding you to buckle, and a photo of you two covering anything thing on the right side of the speedometer. and when you flipped your visor down, there was a sticky note next to the mirror that read, 'stop looking in mirrors. you know youre pretty'

you parked pretty shitty, running in and tripping over a few steps as you caught the last glimpse of the second set. ushijima absolutely slamming the last point into the ground. the crowd went wild for them, of course, it was shiratorizawa. everyone needed to see your hunk of a boyfriend that was the best spiker in the prefecture.

you watched him walk off the court, not paying attention to any of the harsh celebration dont by goshiki and tendou. he wiped his forehead, before lining up to shake hands. when the team came to thank to fans, he finally saw you.

you watched every muscle tighten up, and his stoic face falter for a moment. tendou nudged him a bit, before laughing as they walked away. you walked down the stairs carefully, trying not to trip again or you wouldnt hear the end of it from ushijima.

" yn. " he said broodingly, already halfway up to stairs to find you first.

" wakatoshi! " you beamed, trying to rush down to him, but he caught you first, demolishing you into this bear of a hug. " ushi - ! - cant breathe! " you squeaked out, and he let go.

" thank you for making it " he said quietly, blinking down at you, and for a moment, he actually smiled with his teeth.

---

SATORI TENDOU :

he was ecstatic for his game tonight, knowing it was against some no name school that they would beat in 30 minutes. but he was quickly shot down when he heard you say the words 'i cant make it tonight'. so he sulked and sighed.

" yn.. are you sure youre really reallyyyy busy? " he asked, putting his head down on your shoulder as you ate your lunch.

" yes, im sorry tendou " you chewed out, blinking over at him and giving him an apologetic smile.

" hm " was all he peeped out before sitting down in the desk ahead of you, backwards so he could see your face.

he drew meaningless shapes into the desk, huffing and sighing as you packed up your lunch box. the bell rang and you said your goodbye, not seeing him for the rest of the school day. you made sure to send him a big and happy good luck text, hopeful that it would bring his spirits up a bit.

when you went home, you immediately stared on your chores. you picked up around the house, your room, and helped cook, all while reading through your homework assignment. you tried your best to get it done in time to catch the game.

luckily you didnt live far from the stadium, so you arrived just in time for the match to begin. and as tendou expected, they beat the opponents in a whopping 43 minutes. he was giggling with goshiki, and practically jumping over ushijimas head while celebrating.

you stood in the hallway, squinting around and trying to peer over the crowd. you noticed a white and purple jersey, with the most noticeable red hair upon anyone, walking next to the broad wakatoshi.

" satori! " you bellowed out, trying to wave and get his attention but he was on a one track mind.

well, he was, but ushijima turned his head and nodded at you, before tapping tendous shoulder and pointing right in your direction. you waved happily, trying to get him to notice you actually came. and you swore the room just got brighter.

he smiled and laughed, running up to you and pulling your body into a hug. " so you caved? how was i? " he giggled, his cat like face peering down at yours with triumph.

" you all played very well, satori. " you spoke, kissing the corner of his lip and smiling.

" i have the best girlfriend ever " he announced, squeezing you until you coughed one too many times. " see, i told you she'd come, wakatoshi! " he chimed, grabbing around your shoulders to keep you by his side.

ushijima just grunted, looking around before looking down at you. you backed away slightly, smiling nervously all while tendou giggled once more.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ dating eddie munson 💭

Creamy or Crunchy

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Summary: Bucky joins you grocery shopping to everyone’s surprise.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Bucky hovering; Bucky knowing his favorite people; little bit of protective!Bucky

Author’s Note: I don’t know what this is but I was in need of some silly fluff. Hope you enjoy! ♡

Masterlist

He’s been trailing after you since you left the tower, stuck to your side.

Not in an obvious way, not in a manner that would draw stares or second glances, but in that ever-present way of his - like a second shadow or an old instinct that never really shuts off.

You’ve barely gone five blocks to the nearest grocery store, and Bucky has stuck close the whole time, keeping pace without a word.

It caught everyone off guard when he volunteered to come with you.

He had been slouched in his usual spot at the kitchen counter, cradling a cup of coffee he never seemed to finish, and looking like he had nowhere in particular to be. So when he had straightened, eyes trained on how you pulled on your shoes and muttered a gruff “I’ll come with you,” there was a moment of pause in the conversation between Natasha, Steve, Clint and Sam lounging on the couch in the common room.

Even you had blinked at him, thrown off by the suddenness of it.

Still, you didn’t argue.

Normally, grocery shopping isn’t something that interests anyone in the tower. It is a mundane, civilian thing - something of a life most of you had long since left behind.

There are people who handle it, services that deliver whatever you need at the touch of a button. But you aren’t looking for efficiency. You are looking for something real - something that can make you feel like a human being again.

You’d just gotten back yesterday from a month-long solo mission in Vorkuta, Russia. It was rather harsh. You spent those weeks in the cold, in silence, every step a deliberate calculation, every breath rationed as if you weren’t entirely sure when you’d be allowed another. You operated alone, only allowed to talk to Tony once a week for updates. It was the kind of quiet that made a person feel less like a person and more like an echo.

So you need something normal now. Something unremarkable.

No mission, no intel, no carefully rehearsed exit strategies.

Just a trip to the store, because you want to pick out your own food instead of eating whatever shows up in the tower’s stocked fridge. You want to grab things impulsively - maybe a bag of chips you don’t need or a carton of juice just because it looks good.

You want the simple, stupid pleasure of choosing something, just because. Of standing under the fluorescent hum of grocery store lights and deciding between brands of cereal and coffee creamers like it actually matters.

And Bucky, for all his presence, says nothing.

He just walks with you, hands stuffed into his pockets, eyes darting between the sidewalk and the people passing by. He is relaxed, but only just. There is tension in the way he moves, like he is running an assessment every few steps, tracking details of things you don’t care about at the moment.

The doors to the store slide open with a mechanical hiss, spilling warm, artificial air onto the street.

Inside, there is that familiar smell of waxed floors and cold produce, the sounds of shoppers, the beeping of registers.

A cart squeaks somewhere to your left. A child giggles near the bakery section. A bored-looking cashier stares blankly at the register screen. A tired-locking employee is restocking shelves.

It’s nothing special. But it feels real and humane in a way you need.

Bucky steps in behind you, scanning the store out of habit, then looking at you as if waiting for direction.

You grab a basket and move forward.

He follows without a word.

You walk through fruits and vegetables in bright, and glassy colors, stacked in neat abundance. The air smells like citrus, earth, the scent of misted greens, and something fairly plastic all slightly overwhelming your senses after a month of smelling mostly cold air.

You extend a hand toward the lemons, fingers brushing the textured skin of one when you feel the weight of the basket shift.

Bucky’s hand curls around the handle, pulling it from your grip and holding it himself.

Your gaze snaps up to him, but he isn’t looking at you. Not directly. His eyes are fixed on the rows of produce in front of you, his brows drawn together just slightly, his mouth set in that endearing little frown.

He stands close. Close enough that you can feel the warmth of him. Close enough that, if you shifted just an inch, the fabric of his sleeve would brush against yours.

It’s not intentional, this proximity - it’s more like a habit. He doesn’t seem to realize he’s doing it, doesn’t notice the way his presence expands to fill the space between you until there’s almost nothing left.

He exhales through his nose, shifting his weight slightly, eyes sweeping the fruit display as if it’s something to be figured out rather than casually shopping through.

His metal fingers whir slightly as he flexes his grip around the basket handle.

“This is a lot,” he murmurs, almost absently.

You keep glancing at him. It takes you a second to realize he is speaking at all, his voice being so quiet, a thought that accidentally made its way out.

“What?” you ask softly.

His eyes fall to you briefly, then back to the fruit. His mouth tightens, jaw working, debating whether to explain it or just let it drop.

“Back then,” he says, still not quite looking at you. His eyes scan the apples, the oranges, the rows of neatly stacked avocados and kiwis and papayas flown in from places he never got to see. “You had your basics. Apples. Pears. Some oranges, if you were lucky. But this?” He tilts his head slightly. “This is a lot.”

He doesn’t say it with wonder. He says it with assessment, categorizing this excess, measuring it against whatever memory of the past lingers in the spaces of his mind. Like he is trying to decide if this abundance is a good thing or just another shift in the world that changed without him.

For a second you wonder, if he is talking to you at all - or just thinking out loud, caught between time periods, a man stretched across decades that won’t quite line up.

Your fingers brush the lemons again, grabbing one and carefully putting it in the basket Bucky is holding. “Well,” you mumble, keeping your voice light. “You should see the cereal aisle.”

Bucky huffs out something that’s almost a laugh, something genuine and his eyes land on you again.

You move and pluck what you need. Apples, zucchini, a handful of bright bell peppers. A bundle of fresh basil, its scent still on your fingertips - something Wanda has been asking for. Some mangoes, ripe and golden, the kind Sam offhandedly mentioned craving the other day.

Bucky watches.

He doesn’t reach for anything himself, just keeps his grip on the basket as you fill it and trails closely after you.

His eyes track every motion - the way your fingers test the hardness of an avocado, the way you turn a tomato in your palm, the way you pause just a second before deciding on a bunch of grapes.

He simply observes.

You step over to the plums.

Their deep purple skins glisten under the lights, some nearly black, some streaked with dusky red. You pick one up, pressing it lightly with your thumb, feeling the faint give beneath your touch. Satisfied, you reach for more, slipping them into a paper bag one by one.

Bucky doesn’t say anything.

But you feel him.

The attention he gives you.

His face is unreadable, expression carefully neutral, but there is something behind his eyes - something considering, something caught between memory and recognition.

You don’t know if he realizes you are getting them for him.

You don’t know if he remembers, or if it is just something subconscious, some buried instinct nudging at him in a way he can’t understand.

But you remember. You remember the way he stared at the heap of plums on the kitchen counter weeks ago, the way his fingers had twitched with a want to take one, but he hadn’t. And the way he watched Wanda as she used them to make a pie he didn’t end up eating.

“Do you want some more?” Your voice is casual, warm. And when you glance up at him, he is already looking at you.

Then, almost abruptly, he clears his throat, dropping his gaze. The fingers of his metal hand flex once around the basket handle. He shifts his stance slightly but does not move away from you. When he speaks, his voice is low, almost careful, almost bashful.

“S’ fine.”

But you catch the almost-question in the way his eyes move around, how his fingers tighten and release.

So you grab a handful more and drop them into the bag without a word. Then you fold the top down and place it into the basket.

Bucky doesn’t look away this time.

And he continues wandering along with you through the aisles.

The plums sit among other products and you catch him glancing at them once or twice.

You reach for a carton of eggs when there is a shift.

Not in the air, not in the store itself, but in Bucky.

His posture tightens, his grip on the basket adjusts slightly. You don’t immediately know why, but then you turn your head and see a man standing a few feet away, watching you.

It’s not overtly threatening, not enough to draw attention, but something about his gaze lingers too long, too deliberate. His eyes trace the shape of you, moving slow, assessing. He isn’t leering, isn’t smirking, but the way he looks makes your skin prickle.

He seems to debate if he should say something. Waiting for an opportunity.

You barely have time to move away before Bucky does.

He doesn’t make a sound, doesn’t say a word, just shifts seamlessly into place - between you and the man.

It’s not a dramatic gesture. No sudden motions, no confrontational stance. Just his presence - him planting himself in the way, broad shoulders squaring, jaw setting, scowling.

That man takes his brown eyes away from you and meets Bucky’s gaze, and whatever he sees there - whatever lives behind those icy blue eyes - is enough to make him rethink his interest. He looks away, scratching the back of his head, shuffling back a step, and seems suddenly far more interested in bread.

You exhale softly. Bucky doesn’t move.

He stays right where he is, a silent wall between you and whatever attention you haven’t wanted. His scowl lingers for a second longer before he glances back at you, eyes sweeping over your face as if he is making sure you are fine.

You tilt your head, offering a small, gentle smile. “Everything good?”

His lips twitch, almost like he wants to say something but doesn’t quite know how to form those words.

“Yeah,” he mutters, swallowing.

But his stance is still slightly stiff, his fingers can’t stay calm around the basket handle. And he glances, just once, in the man’s direction - making sure he stays gone.

Something warm fills your chest.

You missed him, while you were gone.

He’s always such a grounding presence at your side.

You missed his dry, reluctant commentary whenever the team does something ridiculous.

You missed walking into the common area with him brooding in his usual chair, pretending not to listen to conversations he’d eventually grumble his way into.

He was there when you stepped off the jet yesterday.

It wasn’t necessary for him to be there, it was six in the morning, after all, but he was.

He hadn’t said much - he never says much - but his eyes ran over you in a way that told you he had been waiting. That there was something heavy underneath that furrowed brow and the almost too casual nod he gave you. Something like relief. Satisfaction. And something much more profound.

You remember how he was when you left.

Standing off to the side of the hangar, arms crossed, jaw pressed tight as you made your final checks. It also wasn’t necessary for him to be there, but, again, he was.

He said goodbye briefly, wished you luck, but in the way you felt him watch you board the jet it seemed there was more he wanted to tell you.

And when the engines had roared to life, when the ground beneath you had begun to shrink, you caught the last glimpse of him - standing stiff, pensive, his mouth pressed into a thin line.

Now, he walks beside you, trailing just a half-step behind, his grip steady around the basket that should be in your hands, watching you more than anything you’re planning to buy.

Maybe that’s why he came with you.

Maybe that’s why he hasn’t strayed, why he hovers close, why his eyes find you like he is memorizing something he doesn’t want to lose track of again.

Maybe he missed you, too.

He is not grumpy, but there is still a tension in him. Something wound too tight in his shoulders, in the set of his jaw, in the way he glances at you like he wants to say something and then doesn’t.

You can’t have that.

Your eyes scan the shelves as you walk further along, knowing that Bucky will follow.

“What kind of soup does Steve eat?”

Bucky’s brows pull together at your casual question, as if he can’t believe that’s what you asked. “Soup?”

You nod, dead serious. “Yeah. I mean, does he have a favorite? Chicken noodle? Tomato? Something tragic, like plain broth?”

Bucky exhales sharply, almost a laugh and something in him relaxes ever so slightly. He tilts his head back a little as if this is the most absurd thing anyone has ever asked him, but he humors you.

“Steve doesn’t eat plain broth,” he says in that low rasp that sometimes sends a shiver down your spine. Now is sometimes. “He’s got more sense than that.”

You hum thoughtfully, reaching for a can on the shelf, inspecting it like it holds the answer to some great mystery.

“So what is it, then? Something classic? Or does he secretly go for the weird gourmet stuff?”

Bucky steps closer, peering over your shoulder. The fabric of his jacket brushes against your back.

You glance up at him, arching your brow.

“You don’t know, do you?”

Bucky rolls his eyes, but his face is soft. The scowl has faded. There is a tug at the corner of his mouth. “Of course, I know.”

“Uh-huh.”

He huffs, reaching past you to grab a can from the shelf, fingers brushing yours briefly. “Clam chowder,” he utters. “There. Happy?”

You blink, genuinely caught off guard. “Wait. Really?”

Bucky smirks, just a little, just enough to be real.

“Yeah,” he says, voice a bit quieter. “Really.”

“Well, then,” you quip, taking the can off his hands and putting it in the basket. “He shall have it.”

Bucky huffs out an amused laugh.

You walk a little slower now, Bucky falls into step beside you. He seems lighter now, his face softened as he watches a little boy excitedly run off to a certain aisle while his mother calls out for him.

You plan on keeping him that way.

You spot a ridiculously, colorful display stacked high with an array of different kinds of peanut butter.

“Creamy or crunchy?”

Bucky blinks, turning to look at you. “What?”

You gesture toward the display like it’s obvious. “Steve. What kind of peanut butter does he eat? Creamy or crunchy?”

There is a beat of silence. Then, something seems to turn alive in Bucky’s expression. His lips twitch as if he suppresses a smirk and doesn’t want to give you the satisfaction.

“You serious?”

“Deadly.” You fold your arms, tilting your head. “I feel like he’s a creamy peanut butter guy, but I could be wrong.”

Bucky is hovering again, looking at the shelves like this is suddenly a debate worth considering. His arm brushes against your side, but he doesn’t move away.

“You’re wrong.”

You glance at him, eyebrows raised. “Oh?”

“He’s a crunchy guy,” Bucky says, reaching for a jar with his flesh hand and inspecting it like proof. “Says the creamy stuff’s got no texture. No character.”

You snort.

Bucky hums, still holding the jar, rolling it absently in his hand. He looks at ease. The basket dangles from his metal fingers as if it weighs nothing, even though it is filled with products.

You watch him.

The tension in his shoulders is practically gone and you know you should probably leave it there, but you don’t.

Because you want more.

More of this, more of him, more of that unguarded space where he forgets to be closed off.

So, you bite your lip and tilt your head at him before asking carefully. “What about you?”

Bucky glances at you, a small crease forming between his brows. “What about me?”

You gesture vaguely. “What kind of peanut butter do you like?”

For a moment, he just stares at you, like the question has never occurred to him before. Like no one’s ever bothered to ask.

You can almost see the gears turning in his head, his fingers tightening slightly around the jar. The hesitation is there. He doesn’t know how to answer. Perhaps he doesn’t know if he has a preference. Or it’s just been a long, long time since someone cared enough to ask.

You wait, patiently.

Finally, he lets out a cough, looking back at the display as if searching for an answer among the shelves. “…Crunchy,” he mutters. “I guess.”

You gin. “Yeah?”

He shifts his weight, looking rather uncomfortable but not in a bad way. Just unsure. This is unfamiliar ground for him, not knowing what to do with the attention.

You reach forward and pluck the jar from his hand before he can second-guess himself.

“Alright,” you say, dropping it into the basket with a decisive little thud. “Crunchy it is.”

Bucky observes you do it, something shimmering in his expression - something soft, a little hesitant, but warm. Like this tiny, seemingly meaningless choice holds a weight to him.

His jaw flexes slightly, as if he is about to say something, but he just exhales through his nose and shakes his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

But there is no bite to it.

And this time, he is the one to start walking, making sure you come along, staying just a little closer than before.

You are nearing the checkout registers when Bucky suddenly stops walking. It’s so abrupt that you almost keep going, but the absence of him beside you makes you pause.

You turn, finding him standing in front of a shelf, scanning its contents with a strange kind of focus, considering something.

You wait, watching the way his eyes search the options, his brows furrowing slightly. There is no tension in his posture, no obvious reason for the sudden stop - just deliberation.

Then, without a word, he reaches out, grasps a familiar-looking package, and drops it into the basket.

A soft thud.

Your gaze falls down, and your stomach does something strange when you realize what it is.

Chocolate-covered almonds.

The ones you always grab when you’re wandering the tower’s kitchen late at night, mind still wired from a mission, too awake to sleep but too tired to focus on anything real.

The ones you mindlessly snack on when you’re curled up on the couch, half-listening to, half-joining a conversation, or watching a movie.

The ones you didn’t even realize you had a thing for until you see them sitting in the basket between his plums, Steve’s soup, and the peanut butter Bucky prefers.

Your lips part slightly, surprised, searching his face. “You- Why’d you grab these?”

Bucky doesn’t even hesitate.

“Because you like them.”

Matter-of-fact. Simple. As if it’s obvious.

Just a fact.

Like it’s something he has known all along, something he has cataloged somewhere deep in that careful, quiet mind of his without ever making a big deal of it.

The realization unsettles you - not in a bad way, but in the kind of way that makes your chest feel suddenly too full.

You swallow, the corners of your lips twitching slightly, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up your neck.

“How do you know that?”

The words leave your lips lightly, bright with curiosity, playful in their demand. But beneath it, there is something you don’t quite let slip.

Something about the fact that he’s been watching.

That he’s noticed.

That he has paid attention in a way you didn’t think anyone has.

His grip on the basket adjusts for the hundredth time, but not because it’s heavy, he just seems to need something to do with his hands.

He schools his expression into something nonchalant, something careless, but it’s betrayed by the hint of warmth dusting across his cheekbones.

“You’re always munchin’ on ‘em,” he says, a teasing edge lacing his voice. He tries to sound smug, like it is an observation, just a simple fact, but there is something softer beneath it. Something like fondness.

You don’t even know if it’s been that obvious. If you truly eat these things out in the open that often.

Or if he just really is that observant.

That realization settles deep in your chest, warm and startling all at once.

So you just huff, pretending like your heart isn’t skipping beats, like his answer isn’t winding around something tender inside you.

“Well,” you remark, nudging his arm as you start walking again, “now I feel self-conscious about my snacking habits.”

Bucky lets out a soft chuckle. And when he falls into step beside you, he leans in slightly, voice just low enough for you to hear.

“Don’t.”

“The most sincere compliment we can pay is attention.”

- Walter Anderson

You lay in bed listening as the ceiling fan spins, the cooling air swishing across your bodies. The noises being carried through the nighttime air along a gentle breeze and into the bedroom window that’s cracked open a few inches, moving the sheer curtains across the floor.

The soft breaths and sighs leaving the man sleeping next to you, lying on his belly with one arm buried under his pillow and the other thrown over your waist.

His mouth is open a bit as he takes another breath, drooling with how deeply he’s sleeping.

Your hand reaches out as another sigh leaves him, softly brushing your fingers through his hair, moving a strand behind his ear. He looks so peaceful like this, without the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Safe.

You press a light kiss to Eddie’s nose, watching as it scrunches and he lets out another sigh, before cuddling yourself into him and following him into the dreamworld.

sometimes all you can do is lay under 3 large blankets while holding onto a stuffed animal

eddie is the type of guy who takes any opportunity to kiss you. you’re helping him clean up after hellfire and as he passes by he leans down and places a kiss at the base of your neck before he resumes cleaning up. he peppers your face with soft morning kisses and slow reverent ones at night. forehead kisses after sex. he’s laying on your stomach while you read in bed and he’ll occasionally place a kiss onto your skin. kisses on your hand at a red light. he’ll make a show of grabbing your hand as you hop out of his van and kiss the back of your hand. when he walks by you at school he’ll quickly stoop down to kiss your cheek and keep walking as you turn and watch him walk away. kisses to your ankle as he takes off your shoes after you’ve had a long day. him wrapping his arms around you from behind when you least expect it and kissing the edge of your shoulder. kisses to your temple as you both sit together watching tv. him leaning over you from behind while your sitting to place a kiss on your forehead, his hair falling down temporarily blocking your view. whenever you’re hugging, he loves to kiss the top of your head. when you’re holding hands he likes to bring the back of your hand to his lips. whenever you’re caressing his face he tilts his head to kiss the inside of your wrist and the inside of your palm. when you’re sleeping he places a quick kiss on your hipbone as he climbs into bed with you. he’d definitely do the hand to shoulder kisses like gomez addams.

“kei, do you ever think about how strange it is that we've never fought?” you ask, limbs tangled with his as you cuddle on his bed.

it’s 10:03 PM and you’re doing your best to fight against the chilling, icy atmosphere of tsukishima’s room. for some reason, he likes to sleep like a vampire.

“do you want to?” he offers with an arm wrapped around your shoulders. tsukki doesn’t even open his eyes when he responds, too sleepy to entertain another one of your late night overthinking sessions.

“no,” you say calmly, “but we’ve been together for 7 months. we must either be like, the greatest couple of all time or the exact opposite.”

you feel his chest rise and deflate against your head as he lets an overly dramatic sigh.

you knew tsukishima kei wasn’t one for pda. hell, it was one of the things you loved about him. he knew how to make you feel loved without having to scream it to the world.

like that one time on one of your first dates, when you had accidentally fallen asleep on the soft grass of the park while waiting for his weekend practice to end. you woke up with a hand massaging your scalp.

“how long have you been waiting there?” you giggle, rising from your slumber as you rub your eyes awake. he pulls away, casually avoiding your gaze. “why didn’t you wake me?”

kei only shrugs, “you looked peaceful.”

or that other time you got sick for a week and couldn’t make it to school, so he immediately visited you as soon as you got better and brought his backpack with him.

“i got two copies of all the homeworks due next week, so you don’t have to ask the teachers for them.” he unpacks his notes and fishes out two pens from his bag before turning to you. “come, i’ll teach you everything you missed.”

your teachers praised you for how responsible you were, and told you how much they appreciated that you took the initiative to study.

yeah, you totally did that.

or like right now, and all the other nights you’ve spent at his place. because unbeknownst to you, tsukishima kei sets up his bedroom every single time you visit. he tidies up, cleaning even spots that you would never think to look at. but most importantly, and tsukishima knows this routine by heart, he turns the a/c to the highest setting so you’d be forced to cuddle against him underneath his sheets.

“the former,” is all replies with, and you scoff, rolling your eyes.

“but seriously though. how lucky are we to never have fought even after seven months.”

tsukki sighs again, before reluctantly revealing, “we don’t fight because i make it a point to always agree with you.”

you’re taken aback by his words, sitting up slightly as you look him in the eyes, though his are still closed as he tries to focus on sleeping.

“...huh?”

“idiot,” he teases. maybe he thinks calling you names will cover up for how unbelievably sweet he’s being right now, “why would i want to argue with you?” he shifts, trying to subtly move his face away so you don’t see him fully.

“but i can’t always have my way, you know. a relationship should be 50/50, right?”

“not ours.” he presses your head back against his chest, and you hear his heartbeat fasten a little. “you’re the boss.”

BONUS: “and you’ve never paid in your life anyway. you don’t believe in that 50/50 bullshit.” “hey!” “i don’t even know what your wallet looks like.”

@kokokoula this one’s for u <3

i LOVE BEING IN BED !!!!!! i love being all cuddly and warm and curling up into a ball and feeling tiny !!!!! this is what life’s about !!!!!!!!!!!