lurdle
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Hinata Shouyou had an obsession with humping. He moves on to bigger and better things.
Bookmarked by lurdle
28 Mar 2026
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Kageyama is on the bench. He’s wearing those awful gray sweatpants that have seen better days and a tight, sleeveless black compression shirt that is doing absolutely nothing to hide the definition in his chest and arms. His earbuds are in, his face is set in that intense, focused scowl he usually reserves for matches against Poland or Argentina, and his chest is heaving as he presses the barbell up.
Up. Down. Up. Down.
Shouyou watches the way Kageyama’s biceps bulge, the sheen of sweat making his skin gleam under the overhead lights, the way the shirt rides up just a fraction of an inch with every rep, exposing a strip of pale, rock-hard stomach.
Shouyou swallows hard.
Upgrading to an apartment with a private gym was a dream come true for two pro athletes, but Hinata quickly discovers the best equipment isn't the weights. It's watching Kageyama use them, and the real workout is the one that happens after.
Bookmarked by lurdle
28 Mar 2026
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Three times Kageyama pulls Hinata’s hair and one time Hinata asks him to.
Bookmarked by lurdle
19 Jan 2026
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If there’s one thing Shoyo has learned in his time knowing Superman, it’s that teasing never fails to get a rise out of him. And if there’s one thing Shoyo is good at, it’s teasing.
“I see,” he goads, “you’re used to people swooning and sighing over the big, strong hero.” He raises the back of a hand to his forehead and leans dramatically against Superman’s arm.
His efforts earn him a derisive chuckle.
“Not exactly," Superman sighs. "People find me... scary." His expression twists into a brooding scowl.
"Gee, I wonder why?"
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Journalist Hinata Shoyo has his work cut out for him when he offers his services as publicist for a certain ill-tempered superhero.
Bookmarked by lurdle
19 Jan 2026
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the inherent romance of classical conditioning (or, the fine art of emotional recognition) by pseudoanalytics
Fandoms: Haikyuu!!
26 Feb 2020
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It's stupid. Atsumu isn't a romantic, no matter how many times he's imagined laying Sakusa out and finally really touching him.
So there's no explanation for why Atsumu is constantly stuck thinking about brushing his fingertips against the meat of Sakusa's palms or the prominent tendons in his freaky wrists.
There's no explanation for why doing dishes sets off a warm burn in his ribcage, or why when he smells disinfectant he inhales like he's walking past a bakery.
Yer doin' this to me, he thinks furiously, as Sakusa derails his thoughts with kisses that come more and more frequently now. Yer conditionin' me, and I can't stop it.
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Bookmarked by lurdle
13 Dec 2025