HQ Tsukishima - Blog Posts

Ultimamente tenho sentido que preciso inovar nas assinaturas, nada melhor do que treinar assinatura do que pegando o user dos seus amigos e fazendo assinatura pra eles né? Então cá estamos! NFWAOIFNAWOIN

Assinatura feita para @noromuwa​ utilizar no Social Spirit do personagem Tsukishima Kei, do anime Haikyuu! 

Se inspire! Não copie! Créditos à  ス pelas artes utilizadas e pelos donos dos recursos utilizados, os psd’s e texturas.

Capa para o desafio dos designers proposto por @littleyoonportfolio com o tema 9, no caso que é uma capa com elementos vintage, mas no fim acabou tendo o tema também de capas com manipulação o que foi mais divertido de editar do que imaginei?! Ai amei fazer capa manipulada USHAUSHAUH

Então do que se consiste o desafio dos designs Mafu? É simples, é um desafio que a cada dia, no total sendo 10 dias, nós temos que entregar designs de acordo com respectivas propostas.

Essa capa foi a pedido de uma amiga do Spirit que adorou a ideia de ter um plot Tsukihina envolvendo cafeteria retro e quando eu vi essa imagem feita por  ス eu não pude deixar de imaginar eles dois sentadinhos em uma daquelas mesas antigas de café UHSAUHSAUHSA e acabou saindo essa capa, eu to apaixonadinha nela, se ninguém pegar eu vou pegar é para mim e escrevo um Tsukihina nem que eu tenha que falecer para isso! `w´

Ah claro, o nome da fanfic eu peguei inspirado na musica da Britney Spears com o Giorgio Moroder, “Tom’s Diner” e também me inspirei em “Beautiful Girl” do Sean Kingston (infância voltou com força USHAUSHA).

E é isso, se inspire! Não copie! Créditos à artista ス pela imagem Tsukihina utilizada e aos recursos utilizados, os psd’s.

Don’t Slouch (Tsukishima x Reader)

*GIF not mine*

Summary: You’ve got a bad habit. You know that. So why does that blond smartass in your class keep ragging you about it?

A/N: I’m tired, but I didn’t wanna forget this idea. I wasn’t even gonna write tonight, but we already here, so… voila. (Btw, thanks for the follows and likes!!)

Word count: 1074

        “Slouching’s bad for you, you know.” Kei Tsukishima, the tall, skinny, blond volleyball player who sat in the desk next to yours, remarked. At first, you thought it wasn’t him who spoke, as he hadn’t even looked at you when he said it, but you knew his arrogant voice. It was one of a kind. When you glanced at his blank face, it was directed towards the bag on his desk, obviously searching for something as his long fingers sifted through papers. 

       “So?” you retorted lamely, your head upturned at him with a raised brow. Though, you couldn’t care less how you sounded. You just wanted to return to studying for midterms, but his sudden blurting made you feel obligated to respond. 

       “So don’t slouch,” he shrugged simply, pulling his headphones up over his ears and leaving the classroom for lunch. Scoffing confusedly, you shake your head and return to the books, subconsciously straightening out your back and dismissing the cracks that ran through it. 

                               ~~~

       Eyes anxiously scanning over the test, you nervously searched for any mistakes you may have made on the answer sheet. Your forehead dripped with sweat, and your breathing grew heavy. Crap, why did tests always rile you up like this, especially the important ones? This sucked. Flinching when the alarm sounded, signalling you were out of time, you hesitantly rose from your desk and dragged your feet to the teacher’s desk, handing her your test with shaky, unsure hands before returning to your seat and ducking your head into your arms. The footsteps around you from your fellow classmates gathering their things and exiting the classroom did nothing to block out the snicker from beside you. 

       “You really should stop slouching so much. You’re going to ruin your posture.” Tsukishima, again, single-handedly irritated you once more in the blink of an eye. What an amazing ability he has for pissing you off. 

       Huffing out a breath, you reluctantly twisted your head to face him, muttering, “What’s it to you, glasses?” 

       “Just saying it’s a rather unhealthy habit of yours,” he mused, flashing you a small smirk while swiftly pushing his glasses up his nose. Returning his expression with a sarcastic smile of your own, you ran your middle finger down the side of your face discreetly before dropping your head back into your arms exhaustedly. Chuckling under his breath, the blond’s footsteps echoed throughout the room as he walked away, leaving you alone in your self-degradation over your estimated test results. 

                               ~~~

       The boy just didn’t seem to know how to let things go. He had criticized you for your slouching in the last year more than he had ever conversed with you in the twelve years that you have known him. That’s right, you and Tsukishima have been going to the same schools since you were both in diapers. Truth be told, you weren’t friends, but you weren’t complete strangers either. Plus, he always seemed to be a lone wolf, at least until Yamaguchi came along. So, even though he rarely talked to you before your first year of high school, his tolerance of your slouching habit seemed to have reached the end of its rope. He haughtily reamed your ass over it every single time he got the chance. Finishing the remainder of your homework for the day? Oh you bet he’s just a-waitin’ over your shoulder. 

       “Would you like some advice?”

       “Is it to stop slou-”

       “Don’t slouch.” Insert your groan here. Was that the only Japanese this guy knew?

       Maybe you’re just contentedly discussing movies with your friends? Yep, he’s got something to say.

       “Hey, YN, what’s that one series called again?” he interrupted, “‘Slouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon?’” 

       “‘Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon,’” you had corrected him tightly, jaw twitching in irritation. Eventually, you hit your boiling point; but hey, a little threatening never hurt anybody… right? 

       Four days ago:

       “Hey YN?”

       “Ughhh, what Tsukishima? What, what, what?”

       “Stop slouching so much.”

       “I swear I’m gonna strangle you one of these days, beanstalk.” 

       Two days ago:

       “Don’t slouch.” 

       “Excuse me?”

       “Don’t slouch so much. You look like the cat of a witch.”

       “Oh my Go- you know what? I’m gonna castrate you. Slowly, at first, and then I’m gonna kick it up a notch. Just for you, beanpole.” You thought it was a grand idea, but he only laughed in your face and walked away. This guy’s gonna be the reason I have a drinking problem.

       Yesterday:

       “Don’t sl-”

       You threateningly pointed at him with serious, wide eyes and raised brows. “I will snap you like a twig.” A chuckle. That’s all you got. 

       Finally, you had it. It was almost the end of the school year, and you just wanted to know why, even coming up with a theory of your own. But the question you believed you had the answer to still stood. Why did he keep bugging you about an issue that was definitely only yours to fix? So you caught him after school, and told him what you thought of his constant lectures. After all, they had kept you up all night last night, and maybe you had gone a little crazy, but you think you finally figured out why he was doing it. 

       “Hey.” You were following him down the steps of the school. “Hey Tsukishima!” you called, barely avoiding tripping over your own feet.

       “What?” he responded gruffly, turning around to stare at you with obvious annoyance. 

       “I think I’ve figured out why you keep telling me to stop slouching.” Smiling victoriously, you nodded your head affirmatively at your own statement.

       “Oh really?” he challenged with a heightened brow, a lopsided grin slowly forming. 

       “Yep. You’re just trying to tell me to stand tall. No matter what happens, what grade I get, or how I do on a test, you want me to keep my head high and my back straight. Before I figured that out, I thought it was annoying. Now, I think it’s really sweet of you-”

       He rolled his eyes before he interrupted you with pink-tinged cheeks. “Psh, that’s not it. I just don’t want my future wife to have a hunchback when we grow old together.” 

       Oh. 

       Ohhhhhhh.

Jealously: Tsukishima

Tsukishima had never been the jealous type.

Or so he liked to believe.

But as he stood a few feet away from you at the museum’s fundraising gala, swirling the last bit of whiskey in his glass, he couldn’t help the slow simmer of irritation building in his chest.

Some guy—some obnoxiously confident guy—was standing way too close to you.

Tsukishima watched as the man leaned in just slightly, flashing a charming grin, his hand gesturing a little too animatedly for whatever mindless conversation he was trying to impress you with. You were polite, nodding at whatever he was saying, but Tsukishima caught the way your fingers curled slightly against the fabric of your dress—the telltale sign that you were uncomfortable.

His jaw clenched.

Tsukishima was a logical man. He knew you weren’t interested, knew you were his in every way that mattered—but that didn’t stop the irrational flicker of annoyance coursing through him.

So he drained the rest of his drink, set the glass down on the nearest table, and made his way over.

“Excuse me,” his voice came out smooth, a fraction lower than usual as he slid an arm around your waist, pulling you firmly against his side. His hand rested just above your hip, fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress in a silent claim. Mine.

You blinked up at him, momentarily surprised, before a small smile tugged at your lips.

The man, however, didn’t seem to take the hint. “Oh, I was just having a great conversation with—”

“She’s not interested.”

There was no venom in Tsukishima’s tone—just a matter-of-fact finality that left no room for argument.

The man blinked, looking between the two of you before finally stepping back with a sheepish laugh. “Ah… right. My mistake.”

He made some excuse to leave, and as soon as he was out of earshot, you turned to Tsukishima with an amused look. “Jealous, Kei?”

He scoffed, adjusting his glasses. “You’re delusional.”

“Oh, sure,” you teased, poking at his chest. “That wasn’t possessiveness at all.”

Tsukishima exhaled sharply, but his arm around your waist didn’t loosen. If anything, his grip on you tightened.

“…I just didn’t like how he was looking at you,” he muttered.

Your teasing softened. Tilting your head, you leaned up, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I only look at you, you know.”

Tsukishima’s eyes flickered to yours, something unreadable behind his gaze. Then, as if satisfied with your answer, he let out a small “Tch,” and pulled you even closer.

“…Good.”

Rivals: Tsukishima

Tsukishima adjusted his glasses, that infuriating smirk curling on his lips as he glanced your way. “You know, for someone who talks so much, you don’t actually do much worth noticing.”

You let out a sharp snort, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a real reaction. “Says the guy whose biggest skill is standing there and pretending he’s better than everyone.”

He tilted his head slightly, the smirk deepening like he was enjoying every second of this. “Pretending? That’s cute. I didn’t realize you thought I had to try.”

You crossed your arms and stepped closer, eyes narrowing. “Wow, you're exhausting to be around. Is it lonely being this much of an asshole?”

His chuckle was dry, almost condescending, as he leaned in just enough to make your breath hitch. “Oh, don’t worry about me. It’s nice having peace and quiet—something you clearly wouldn’t understand.”

Your glare sharpened, but you refused to back down. “Yeah, because your personality screams ‘quiet and peaceful.’ You’re just bitter because I don’t let you get away with your holier-than-thou act.”

Tsukishima’s lips twitched, his amusement barely contained. “Bitter? Please. If I cared what you thought, I’d have to actually take you seriously first.”

You met his gaze, your smirk finally matching his. “Sure, keep telling yourself that. We both know I live rent-free in that big head of yours.”

His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, his smirk faltered before coming back sharper than ever. He leaned down slightly, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Living there? Don’t flatter yourself. You’re more like an annoying commercial I can’t skip.”

You stepped even closer, now toe-to-toe with him, your voice just as low and taunting. “Funny, because for someone who doesn’t care, you sure love watching.”

For a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you practically crackling with tension. His gaze flickered down to your lips, then back up to your eyes, his smirk wavering in a way that almost looked—what, unsure? No way. This was Tsukishima, the king of snark. But the silence was heavy, loaded with something neither of you seemed willing to name.

“Uh… Am I interrupting something?”

Both of you jumped, heads snapping to the side where Yamaguchi stood awkwardly in the doorway, clutching a volleyball and looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. His wide eyes darted between the two of you, a light pink dusting his cheeks.

“What are you—” Tsukishima started, his usual dry tone already creeping in, but Yamaguchi cut him off, holding up a hand like he was afraid to hear more.

“Don’t even explain. I’m good. I just… Daichi’s looking for you two, so, uh… maybe deal with that? Whenever you’re done… whatever this is.” He disappeared around the corner so fast it was like he was never there.

You blinked, heat creeping up your neck as you realized just how close you and Tsukishima were standing. He stepped back first, casually adjusting his glasses like the moment had never happened. You, on the other hand, couldn’t resist.

“Guess that’s your cue to stop glaring at me like I ruined your life, Tsukishima,” you quipped, raising a brow as you crossed your arms.

Tsukishima shot you a sidelong glance, his usual smirk and condescension firmly in place. “I only look like that when someone’s wasting my time.”

You scoffed, turning on your heel with a grin. “Yeah, sure. Keep telling yourself that.” You headed down the hall, leaving him to follow, still glaring at your back.

Favourite Positions: Tsukishima

Kei has always loved your ass.

Even before you were together, he never could stop himself from sneaking a glimpse and hating how good your ass looked in your uniform as you stormed away from him. The shape, the perkiness, everything about it drove him crazy.

Probably why he loved fucking you from behind.

“Kei…!” Your voice is muffled from the bed, but your pleasure could be heard loud and clear as he piled into you. The room filled with the sound of his hips slapping your ass, with Kei reveling in the recoil with each thrust. “Sorry, I can’t hear you. What?” Kei purposefully evens his voice to sound unbothered, even though he himself is fighting the urge to groan. He loved teasing you like this, and he could tell you loved it too, considering the squeezes you keep giving him. “Keep going!” You managed to squeal out, turning your head to the side. Kei then stops abruptly, just long enough to hear your whimpers and whines before he smacks your ass, grabbing it at its fleshiest. “Is that how we ask?” Kei knew his tone was cocky, and even though that’s what made you hate him in the first place, it was also what made you jump into bed with him. “Please! Fuck me!” The desperation in your voice is something Kei would definitely bring back up later, but that didn’t mean he could wait anymore either. With a growl, he watched you writhe under him as he plowed as deep as he could, and with a shout you were cumming. Kei gives you a second to breathe, his hard cock slipping out of you making you flop onto the bed like an exhausted fish. He wastes no more time though, grabbing your ass all the while jerking himself off with other hand. It’s not long before he finishes too, his hot cum spurting all over your ass and back. The room settles, a musk weighing heavy in the air. There’s only breathing before Kei can’t help himself. “Seems like you needed that.” “Fuck off.”