Hinata - Blog Posts
Imagine these three meeting over coffee and talking about their crushes
HAIKYUU ONESHOTS
You guys, i was planning on writing some Haikyuu oneshots. It can be about anything. Though i may not write NSFW. I mean I will but it will depend cause I am not really good at such stuff.
This sketch was supposed to be a reference for a monotype study, but I was not allowed to scan my pages.
But I think it still looks cute.
·•alternative KibaHinа in manga styles•·
• inspired by magazines, posters of various bands •
team 8 as punks 🤙
Brazil Hinata ☀️
made with highlighters :)
𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 | 𝐤.𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐨 (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/story/136877490-%F0%9D%90%AF%F0%9D%90%9E%F0%9D%90%A7%F0%9D%90%9D%F0%9D%90%A2%F0%9D%90%A7%F0%9D%90%A0-%F0%9D%90%A6%F0%9D%90%9A%F0%9D%90%9C%F0%9D%90%A1%F0%9D%90%A2%F0%9D%90%A7%F0%9D%90%9E-%F0%9D%90%A4-%F0%9D%90%AD%F0%9D%90%A8%F0%9D%90%9B%F0%9D%90%A2%F0%9D%90%A8
ハイキュー !!
❝ catching feelings after daily conversations and several packets of yogurt drinks next to a vending machine-yeah, that's our story. ❞
in which two teenagers bond over daily conversations at a vending machine
Favourite Positions: Hinata
You didn’t usually date short guys.
It wasn’t personal—just a preference. You liked being manhandled. Liked being tossed around, bent over, pinned. You’d always thought height made that easier. You wanted to be overwhelmed, and you never thought someone with a boyish grin and a 174 cm frame would be the one to do it.
But Hinata Shōyō?
Was a beast.
Not just in the way he moved, though that was devastating enough. He had stamina for days, legs like pistons, arms strong enough to lift you like you weighed nothing. But it was the way he looked at you when he was inside you—like he was starved, like he was built for this. Like your pleasure was his mission.
And when you were underneath him? Flat on your back, legs thrown over his shoulders, Hinata kneeling over you with your ankles hooked behind his neck?
There was no going back.
“I wanna see everything,” he’d whispered the first time, flushed and breathless, the tip of his cock nudging at your entrance. “Wanna see your face when I make you lose it.”
And now?
Now he was fucking you like he meant it.
Your thighs trembled where they rested over his shoulders, calves draped down his back as his hips snapped into yours. His hands were braced beside your head, body bent forward so his chest hovered over yours. The position had you folded nearly in half, stretched wide, completely taken.
“So—tight,” he groaned, jaw clenched as he pounded into you with brutal rhythm, curls damp and clinging to his forehead. “God, you feel… fuck… you feel so good.”
Your back arched off the bed, fingers fisting the sheets, eyes fluttering as pleasure crackled through your nerves.
“Shōyō—too deep, it’s too much—”
“No,” he gasped, snapping his hips harder, “It’s perfect. You can take it. Just hold on, I’ve got you.”
You sobbed as his cock hit that devastating spot inside you over and over, your body clenching, quivering. The position had you stretched and pinned, his body grinding into yours with relentless force. You could feel the headboard banging against the wall, the slap of skin-on-skin loud in the air.
Hinata leaned closer, your knees nearly pressed to your chest, and he grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers together as he fucked you harder.
“I wanna see it,” he panted, eyes fixed on your face. “Come for me. Right now. Let me see how pretty you look when you break.”
And you did.
You shattered with a scream, back arching violently, mouth falling open in a ragged cry as your orgasm slammed through you. Your vision went white, your body seizing under the weight of the pleasure, twitching uncontrollably. You couldn’t even breathe—couldn’t think.
It didn’t stop.
He kept fucking you through it, hips rolling hard and deep, watching you fall apart beneath him like it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
Your hands clawed at his arms, thighs trembling wildly, mouth babbling nonsense—you didn’t even realize what you were saying. You were crying. Moaning. Whimpering please and don’t stop in the same breath.
Hinata groaned, deep and broken, and you felt his rhythm falter just slightly before he buried himself deep, grinding his hips hard into yours as he came with a strangled gasp. The warmth of him flooding you only sent another pulse of aftershock through your body, another twitch of oversensitivity that made your breath catch.
He stayed there, chest heaving, forehead resting against yours.
Your chest was heaving, fingers twitching, mind blank except for the echo of your own voice—broken, desperate, high-pitched and gasping his name like it was the only thing you knew how to say.
Your body was still convulsing in little aftershocks when Hinata leaned over you, his breath warm and uneven, and started pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to your skin.
First to your collarbone. Then lower.
His lips trailed down the curve of your breast, lingering over the swell as his hand spread wide over your stomach—grounding you, holding you, but never still.
You jolted when his mouth dipped lower again, his tongue lapping at the sheen of sweat on your ribs, and then his lips brushed just under your navel.
“Shōyō—” you whimpered, voice rasping from overuse, hips twitching.
He smiled against your skin, kissed lower.
“Too much?” he whispered, but didn’t stop. He was everywhere—on your hips, your thighs, your waist, like he needed to taste every part of what he just ruined.
Every place his mouth touched made you flinch, a fresh wave of oversensitivity crawling across your skin. But you didn’t stop him.
You couldn’t.
And neither could he.
By the time he leaned up again, his hands were back on your waist, thumbs stroking soft, absentminded circles against your flushed skin. His eyes were bright, cheeks still a little pink, and his grin—smug, breathless, a little crooked—stole the last of your breath.
“Wanna go again?”
You blinked. And despite the fact that your legs were jelly, your brain scrambled, your body completely wrecked—you still managed to nod.
A slow, wicked grin spread across his face.
Yeah. You didn’t usually date short guys.
But Hinata wasn’t like anyone else.
Managerial Duties: Karasuno Pt. 2
Practice was in full swing.
The gym pulsed with life—shoes squeaking, volleyballs echoing like thunder against arms, and shouts bouncing between walls and bodies. Every member of Karasuno was locked into their rhythm, sweaty and determined, moving like cogs in one beautifully chaotic machine. Even Tsukishima and Kageyama hadn’t snapped at each other in a full ten minutes. A miracle.
You stood just off-court, your well-worn notebook tucked under your arm, scribbling quick notes with your favorite pencil. It was smudged with graphite and bite marks from weeks of you chewing the eraser, but it had personality. The court rotations were finally clicking, and Daichi had asked you to track when fatigue set in for Hinata.
Yachi stood a few feet away, stopwatch in hand, glancing nervously between you and the court like she could already feel a storm brewing. You didn't blame her. You'd been with this team long enough to sense disaster. And it was always when things were going too well.
On the court, Kageyama and Hinata were locked in a rally that looked more like a battle. Kageyama’s sets were razor sharp, and Hinata—well, Hinata was grinning like someone had just given him permission to fly.
You looked down to scribble a quick note when your pencil slipped through your fingers.
It bounced once against your shoe, then rolled straight onto the court.
“Seriously?” you muttered, bending to grab it.
One foot stepped just slightly over the line. Just enough.
And from across the gym, like the harbinger of doom:
“Kageyama! Toss me something crazy!”
You looked up.
Hinata was airborne. Silhouetted in the gym lights. Hair tousled, arm cocked back, grinning like a man possessed.
Oh shit—
CRACK.
The volleyball connected square with your face before you could flinch. Pain exploded behind your eyes. Your feet left the floor—literally. Your notebook flung into the air like a paper bird.
You hit the ground with a full-bodied thud. Hard.
Silence followed. Absolute and deafening.
Then—
“OH MY GOD I’M SO SORRY!” Hinata shrieked, rooted in place like he'd just committed an unforgivable sin.
“Hinata, you dumbass!” Kageyama barked across the court, the set still lingering in his hands.
Tanaka skidded to a halt next to you, eyes wide. “You flew!”
“Like three feet off the ground!” Noya yelled, already by your side. “I haven’t seen airtime like that since that one pancake save!”
“Shut up!” Daichi barked as he sprinted over.
“Tanaka, Noya—back off!” Sugawara snapped, dropping to his knees beside you.
You blinked, dazed. Your head was throbbing, your ears ringing, and your face—oh god, your face hurt like hell. When you touched your nose, your fingers came away red.
“Oh, cool,” you muttered. “Nosebleed.”
Kiyoko was suddenly there, calm and terrifyingly efficient. She didn’t speak. She simply pressed tissues against your face with steady fingers, her other hand gently cupping your jaw to keep you from tilting your head back.
“Don’t move yet,” she said softly.
Yachi was crying. Not loudly—just little hiccups of panic as she dropped to her knees beside you, clutching the stopwatch like it could save your life.
“She's bleeding,” she whispered. “There’s so much blood…”
“She'll be fine,” Ennoshita said gently, crouching beside her. “It looks worse than it is.”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” you groaned, trying to sit up. “Just give me—”
You braced your palm against the floor, feeling the coolness of the gym through your fingertips. Your legs shifted underneath you, muscles tight with tension but fueled by sheer stubbornness. Slowly, you pushed off the ground and began to rise.
For half a second, it felt like you had it under control.
Then everything spun.
The gym floor rippled beneath your feet, tilting like a boat on rough water. Your vision smeared at the edges—colors blending, lights flickering. A low, sickening throb pulsed behind your eyes, then rushed like a wave toward your temples. You sucked in a breath, trying to steady yourself, but your knees buckled sharply.
A startled gasp slipped from your mouth as your body tilted sideways, gravity pulling you down faster than your brain could keep up.
Sugawara and Daichi caught you in unison—each locking an arm around your back with practiced, urgent precision. Like bodyguards. Like anchors.
“Okay, no,” Sugawara said, breath tight as he shifted his stance.
“Absolutely not,” Daichi echoed, voice firm as steel. “Sit. Now.”
They guided you back down to the floor as if you were made of glass.
Asahi hovered a few steps away, nervously wringing his towel. “Should we call someone? Get the school nurse?”
“She’s not on shift right now,” Kinoshita said, pulling out his phone. “Should I call the front desk?”
“Can’t we just carry her?” Narita asked, eyes wide. “I mean—not like drag her, but—gently?”
“She’s not a sack of rice!” Yachi exclaimed, clutching your notebook like it was her emotional support item. “We can’t just—lug her around!”
“I can carry her!” Asahi offered, visibly panicking. “I mean, if—if she wants. Or not. But I can! I swear!”
“No!” You and Daichi said simultaneously.
“You don’t have to drag her to the nurse’s office,” Tanaka muttered, half-serious, half-pouting. “We could just… y’know. Roll her in something.”
“Like a blanket burrito,” Noya added helpfully.
“Shut up!” came Daichi’s bark again.
Behind the main group, Tsukishima stood with his arms crossed. “That’s what happens when you step onto the court during a rally.”
Yamaguchi, crouching beside him, frowned. “She looks pretty hurt, Tsukki.”
Tsukishima shrugged but said nothing else.
“I didn’t mean to,” Hinata said suddenly, his voice soft, wavering. “It was just one more spike. I didn’t think…”
You tilted your head toward him, barely mustering a tired smile beneath the tissues. “Nice spike, though.”
He looked like he was going to cry.
“We should get her to the nurse,” Ennoshita said again, glancing toward the exit. “Even if no one’s in, it’s quieter there.”
“I’m coming too,” Kiyoko said, standing and brushing off her skirt. “Yachi, grab her bag.”
Daichi and Sugawara gently pulled you to your feet again, this time slower, with careful pauses between every movement. You leaned against them, breathing through the dizziness as they helped you to the door.
Behind you, the gym buzzed in confused silence.
“You’re too brave for this world,” Tanaka whispered with reverence.
“She’s got that dog in her,” Noya added solemnly.
“SHUT UP, YOU IDIOTS!” Daichi yelled over his shoulder.
As the doors closed behind you, you heard one last frantic voice.
“I’ll bring a fruit basket! I’LL MAKE TEA!” Hinata shouted, his panic echoing across the gym.
You groaned. “Please don’t.”
Confessions: Tsukishima
By third year, you'd think you and Tsukishima would've grown out of it—that exhausting little game you two played. Bickering like it was a sport, tension so thick the rest of the team had stopped trying to intervene. Kageyama used to flinch when you raised your voice. Yamaguchi had once tried to play mediator until Tsukishima shut him down with a look. Now everyone just let it happen. It was routine. Expected. Like the sun rising or Hinata yelling.
But even routines fray when they go unchecked.
Practice had been winding down when Yachi leaned in closer, her voice hushed just enough not to carry over the sound of the guys drilling serves. You were both by the bench, pretending to organize water bottles, but really—you were gossiping.
"I mean… he’s cute," she said, trying to hide her smile behind her clipboard. "And he’s nice. The captain of the basketball team asking you out isn’t nothing—you could give it a shot, right?"
You rolled your eyes, glancing toward the court—though your gaze snagged on a tall blond figure for half a second too long. "Yeah. Maybe. He’s handsome, smart, polite."
It was a lie.
You didn’t want nice.
You wanted someone else.
Someone whose voice grated on your nerves, who always had a snide comment for everything you did, who knew exactly how to provoke you and never held back.
You wanted someone who made you feel something.
Now the gym was quiet. Yachi had left twenty minutes ago, and you were the only one left locking up.
Or so you thought.
The doors creaked.
You turned, already annoyed. "I'm about to lock up—"
Tsukishima.
He stood in the doorway like he owned the place, one strap of his bag over his shoulder, golden eyes steady. Annoyingly calm. He didn’t even flinch at your tone.
You rolled your eyes. "Forgot your headphones again? Or do you just enjoy making my job harder?"
He didn’t answer. Not with words.
Instead, he stepped closer, his gaze sharp. Too focused.
Then he said it. Like it wasn’t the most jarring thing to say after a week full of snipes and insults.
“Don’t date him.”
You blinked. “What?”
“I said,”—he stepped closer—“don’t date him.”
You stared, mouth parting. You hated the way your pulse jumped. Hated it more because it was him.
“…Are you serious right now?”
His jaw clenched, but his voice stayed even. “Yeah.”
You laughed. Sharp. Bitter. “What, you get to talk shit to me every day and then play jealous boyfriend when someone else shows interest?”
“It’s not that.”
“Then what is it, Tsukishima?”
Silence.
And then, finally, something cracks in his expression. Not a smile. Not exactly. More like surrender.
“You drive me crazy,” he muttered. “But you’re all I think about.”
That shut you up. Just for a second.
He looked away first. “I’m not asking you to like me back. Just… don’t date him.”
You folded your arms, heartbeat loud in your ears. “That’s a shitty confession.”
He glanced back, and for once, his smirk was small. Almost nervous. "Would you have taken it seriously if I said it any other way?"
You paused.
“…Maybe.”
He scoffed lightly, shaking his head. "And Captain of the basketball team? Even you know you could do better. Guy probably thinks a free throw line is romantic."
There was bite in it. Smugness too—the kind that always laced his voice when he thought he had the upper hand. But underneath the jab was something messier, unspoken. Something that sounded too much like 'I care' for either of you to ignore.
But you laughed, and as you stepped past him, you caught a fistful of his collar and yanked him down just enough to crash your lips against his—firm, unrelenting, like every argument you two had ever had boiled down into a single moment.
His breath hitched, but he didn’t pull away.
You broke the kiss just as abruptly, brushing past him with heat still prickling at your cheeks.
“Just take me out this Saturday, asshole.”
Managerial Duties: Karasuno
The rhythmic sound of volleyballs being packed away and shoes scuffing against the polished gym floor filled the otherwise quiet space. Practice had ended, but cleanup was still in full swing. You, Yachi, and Kiyoko had stayed behind to help, making sure everything was back in place before leaving. The rest of the team was scattered around, gathering equipment and wiping down surfaces, their movements routine after countless practices.
Yamaguchi and Tsukishima were putting away the practice net while Asahi and Suga worked on reorganizing the stray volleyballs left rolling across the floor. Daichi had stepped out to check on something, leaving you with the quiet murmur of post-practice exhaustion settling in. Kageyama was off to the side, sipping from his water bottle while keeping an eye on Hinata’s usual spot. The gym carried an air of mild fatigue, a contrast to the high-energy chaos that had occupied it just minutes ago.
That’s when Yachi’s voice cut through the calm. "Where are they?"
You looked up from where you had been wiping down one of the benches, catching the way Yachi’s brows furrowed, her gaze darting around the gym like she had just realized something was missing.
"Who?" you asked, already bracing yourself for the answer.
"Tanaka, Nishinoya, and Hinata. They’re gone."
Your movements slowed as you scanned the gym again, this time with sharper focus. Sure enough, the usual ruckus that followed the three of them like a storm cloud was eerily absent. Your stomach dropped slightly, already knowing that their silence was far more concerning than their noise. It was never a good sign when they were quiet—never.
Kiyoko sighed, finishing her task before speaking. "Can you go find them? They need to be supervised."
You snorted, shaking your head. "Aye aye, captain."
But you knew what she meant. If they were up to something—and they most certainly were—it was better to find them before they actually did whatever half-brained scheme they had cooked up this time. With a nod, you handed your rag to Yachi and stepped out of the gym, making your way toward the clubroom with a sense of impending doom curling in your chest. The halls were eerily quiet, save for the occasional squeak of sneakers against linoleum, and that only furthered your suspicions.
As you got closer, muffled voices reached your ears, their tones a mix of excitement and hushed anticipation. That was never a good sign. You pressed closer, listening as Nishinoya’s voice carried through the door.
"Steady, steady! Just a little more—"
You didn’t hesitate, pushing the door open, and the sight before you made you stop in your tracks.
What the actual hell.
Nishinoya was perched on Tanaka’s shoulders, gripping a bucket of water with both hands while wobbling precariously. Tanaka, legs slightly bent, was visibly struggling to keep steady, his teeth gritted in effort. Off to the side, Hinata was bouncing on the balls of his feet, fists clenched in excitement, watching the process unfold like a kid on Christmas morning.
Your eyes flickered to the bucket, then back to the three of them. "What the hell are you guys doing?"
All three of them froze. Nishinoya’s grip tightened on the bucket, Tanaka swayed slightly, and Hinata turned toward you with an enormous grin, completely oblivious to the growing sense of dread pooling in your gut.
"Oh! Manager! You’re just in time!" Nishinoya chirped, grinning like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar but still thinking he could talk his way out of trouble.
Tanaka groaned under Nishinoya’s weight, his arms tightening around his legs as he tried to keep his balance. "We’re gonna prank Tsukishima!" he declared with absolute confidence, as if this wasn’t one of the worst ideas they had ever come up with.
Hinata, practically vibrating with excitement, threw his hands up like he had just scored the winning point. "I’m the bait!" he announced proudly, beaming at you like you should be impressed.
You blinked at him, not even bothering to hide your disbelief. "That’s not something to be proud of. Why did you guys drag him into this?" You jabbed a finger in Hinata’s direction, because there was no way he had come up with this on his own. He was many things, but this level of reckless planning was usually Nishinoya and Tanaka’s specialty.
Hinata blinked, looking genuinely confused as he tilted his head. "Tsukishima?" he asked, his tone innocent. "Or me?"
You sighed, rubbing your temples. "Never mind. This is a terrible idea."
Nishinoya, ever the stubborn one, pouted. "Come on, it’s perfect! Tsukishima walks in, bam! Instant karma!"
You crossed your arms, eyeing the way Tanaka’s legs were starting to tremble. "Yeah, except karma usually doesn’t involve potential concussions and water damage."
"Okay, but look!" Nishinoya beamed, adjusting his grip. "It’s balancing! We got this!"
You pinched the bridge of your nose. "No, you don’t—"
Too late. Nishinoya made the final adjustment, and the bucket settled, wobbling slightly before holding steady above the doorway. With a triumphant grin, Nishinoya pumped his fists—only to realize he was still on Tanaka’s shoulders. In a flash, he scrambled down, nearly toppling them both in the process. Tanaka staggered, arms flailing to keep himself upright as Nishinoya hopped off, landing with an eager bounce before spinning toward Hinata. "Alright! We’re good to go!" he whispered excitedly, rubbing his hands together like an evil mastermind.
Hinata gasped. "It worked!"
"It worked!" Nishinoya hissed.
You groaned. "This is still a bad idea."
But they weren’t listening. With a determined nod, Hinata scampered back toward the gym, his voice carrying through the hall. "Tsukishima! Oi, come here for a sec!"
Silence.
Then—
Footsteps, slow and steady, echoed through the hallway. Each step was deliberate, methodical, like the sound of impending doom marching ever closer. Tanaka, Nishinoya, and you turned toward the doorway in perfect synchronization, a creeping sense of dread washing over you like an oncoming storm. The playful anticipation that had been buzzing in the air evaporated, leaving behind only the cold bite of realization.
Daichi appeared in the doorway, and time seemed to slow. The bucket teetered precariously for a split second before tipping forward, a perfect arc of water cascading down in slow motion. The moment it made contact, Daichi’s entire frame stiffened, his breath hitching as the cold liquid soaked through his hair, dripping down his face and pooling in the folds of his jacket. His usually composed expression was eerily blank, too calm, too quiet, which somehow made everything infinitely worse.
Tanaka’s face morphed from exhilaration to pure horror, his eyes so wide they looked ready to pop out of his skull. Nishinoya’s grin faltered, his entire body rigid as his mind struggled to process the disaster that had just unfolded. And you? You could already feel the headache forming, your lips parting slightly in silent resignation.
Hinata, standing just behind Daichi, let out a small, strangled noise. "No, wait! Don’t—!"
Splash.
The air went still. Slowly, you peeked around the doorframe just in time to see Daichi standing there, drenched from head to toe. Water dripped from his hair, his jacket clinging to him in soaked patches. His expression was eerily blank, which was infinitely worse than immediate rage.
Hinata was mid-step, looking like he had seen his life flash before his eyes.
Tanaka and Nishinoya were frozen, as if staying completely still would erase what had just happened.
The silence stretched, unbearably tense.
You exhaled through your nose and turned away. "I told you."
Then, without another word, you walked off, leaving them to their fate.
Behind you, all hell broke loose.
"YOU IDIOTS!" Daichi’s voice roared, shaking the very foundation of the building.
"RUN!" Nishinoya shrieked, bolting toward the hallway with the kind of agility that came only from the fear of divine punishment. His feet barely touched the ground as he shot past you, arms pumping as if sheer speed could somehow make him disappear from Daichi’s wrath.
Hinata scrambled backward, hands raised in surrender. "It wasn’t me, I swear!"
Kageyama, who had been returning from the locker room, took one look at the chaos and deadpanned, "You guys are so dumb."
Asahi groaned, covering his face. "I don’t want to be associated with this."
Back in the gym, you rejoined Yachi and Kiyoko just as Daichi’s furious yelling echoed in the distance.
Kiyoko barely looked up from where she was stacking volleyballs. "They’re idiots."
You sighed, running a hand down your face. "Hundred percent."
Found my old Naruto cards and decide to sell them since I'm decluttering my drawers and closets.