[9:25 PM] SAKUSA KIYOOMI

[9:25 PM] — SAKUSA KIYOOMI

Kiyoomi remembers vividly the empty house and quiet evenings of his childhood. He’s been told not now, Kiyoomi far more times than he can recount, and it’s ingrained in him. He’s too often been an afterthought, there’s never really been time for him, and he’s grown used to that.

But he looks down at two little orbs, same shade of obsidian as his—and unlike his, they’re wide and curious. They shine with trust, a trust in him and you and in the world that things will be good, and he doesn’t wanna ruin that. There are tiny hands that reach up and expect his to be waiting, and he makes sure they are. He promises he’ll be good, that he’ll do things differently.

The Sakusa’s haven’t always been known for being a tight knit family, but he wants to change the course of things, and he does his best. So when news comes that soon there’ll be another baby, Kiyoomi sees that there’s one person who’s not as thrilled as everyone else.

“What’s wrong, princess?” Kiyoomi crawls into the trampoline beside his daughter. Her pigtails are loose, stray hairs disarrayed from a long day of playing in the backyard, and he smiles at the chipped polish on her fingernails. He’ll have to repaint them soon.

It’s a tight squeeze, the trampoline’s built for a five year old, not a 6’4 well-built athlete, but he makes do with his legs pressed up to his chest, hand laying itself atop her unruly curls that match his.

“Nothing, daddy,” she mumbles quietly, fiddling with the tiara in her hands. Kiyoomi sighs softly, shifting to face her as best he can. It’s silent for a bit, until he decides to break it.

“Did you know I have a big sister?” She looks up at him, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, and her nose scrunches up the way yours does, making Kiyoomi’s eyes crinkle at the corners as he grins at the sight.

“Really?” He nods, pulling her body closer, and she curls into his warm chest, hand moving to grip his shirt as he kisses her forehead.

“Yeah, sure do. It’s your aunt, remember? You saw her during the summer at grandma’s house.”

“Oh,” she whispers. “She doesn’t talk a lot,” she recalls, and Kiyoomi hums. He’s never exactly been close with his sister, and he wants things to be different with his own family.

“We never really spent a lot of time together,” he explains.

“Is it because you stole her love, daddy? From your parents?” Blinking, Kiyoomi looks down, watching as a pout curls his daughter’s lips, her eyes a tad bit watery at the idea. Titling her chin up, he presses another kiss to her nose.

“Now, why would I do that?”

“Because that’s what little brothers do. And little sisters. I don’ wanna be a big sister, daddy,” she whispers. And Kiyoomi hugs her closer, his own eyes a little moist. He’s not sure why.

Maybe it’s because he feels like he’s done something right, that his daughter feels loved in the first place. Or maybe it’s because there’s a pang in his chest that she could think anything would steal even a sliver of his love for her. Kiyoomi never knew love could burn this brightly, but the embers are never dying, and he cherishes this feeling, these moments.

“That’s not true, princess,” he murmurs. Laying his cheek on her head, he looks ahead at the backyard, looking at the three chairs on the patio. Two big ones on either side of a tiny one. There was once only two, one for you and one for him, but now there’ll soon be a fourth, and he feels his heart swell. This is fatherhood, he thinks, when a chair becomes so much more than a chair.

“I don’ want you to forget me,” she whispers, voice hesitant, and it almost breaks his heart, but he’s made a promise—and he intends to keep it.

“I could never,” he promises. Grabbing the tiara from her hand, he gently smooths down the curls, carefully placing it on her head. Giving her nose a soft pinch, he smiles at her giggles. “You’re still my princess, even with another baby. I love you, always will.”

“What if the baby steals you away?” Huffing out a chuckle, he cradles her cheek in his palm. It’s small against his large hand, and he’s thankful that despite all the growing she’s done in the last five years, she’s not done needing him, not ready to grow out of his affections.

Love is a two way road, he’s reminded yet again—and he’s glad.

“Daddy’s don’t ever stop loving their babies, you know,” he mumbles against her head. “Even when you’re a big girl, I’ll always love you.”

“Even if there’s another baby?”

“Of course. You were my first baby.” She grips his shirt tighter, and Kiyoomi lays his hand on top of hers, rubbing her back gently as she listens to his heart beat through his chest. He wants to show her it’s beating for her, that her little pigtails and morning kisses and after school tea parties are what makes his world go round, but for now, he settles for this. Just the two of them sat in the tiny trampoline, savoring the way time stilled for a moment.

“Do you think I’ll be a good big sister?”

“The best,” he answers immediately. She relaxes in his hold, yawning tiredly from the long day of adventures, and Kiyoomi is just as excited for bed time cuddles during story as ever.

“I love you, daddy,” she says with a small grin. And Kiyoomi’s always wondered if he’s done a good job, if he’s been keeping his promise to himself—and thinks he just might have done that and more when he looks down and sees two wide eyes even brighter than before.

So, with a soft squeeze and a kiss to the crown of her head, he murmurs “I love you too, princess.”

a/n: spent the weekend with my best friend and her little nephews and i been sobbing over dad kiyoomi

reblogs are really appreciated !!

you bring up one of his insecurities during a fight

pairing: gn!reader x kōtarō bokuto

warnings: y/n is kind of a biotch ngl lol but hurt to comfort yktv

it’s been thirty nine minutes.

thirty nine minutes since you got off work, thirty nine minutes of clinging to the rough plaster wall of your workplace as you attempt to shelter yourself from the onslaught of rain, and thirty nine minutes of pure anger bubbling up in your chest.

bokuto was supposed to be here thirty nine minutes ago to pick you up, but the parking lot in front of you is empty, aside from your reflection that occupies the puddle forming next to you on the pavement.

a total of forty seven minutes pass before you see a familiar black sports car roll up in front of you, slick with rain as the muffled sound of music hums from within. the purr of the engine is loud as you approach the passenger door, a sound that would usually make your ears perk up, but one that only adds to your anger right now.

“i’m so sorry baby! i thought it was tomorrow that i had to pick you up, and so i drove atsumu home after practice and — ” he’s babbling as soon as you open the door, bright eyes flitting between the dark clouds and you as you settle into the seat next to him.

“let’s just go home, okay? how was work?” his voice is playful and teasing, but still woven with love and affection as he beams at you, waiting. it was an almost impossible task, staying mad at him, but you’ve had forty seven minutes to sit — stand rather — and dwell on this, so you were sure going to give it your best try.

the ride home is completely silent, aside from the overplayed songs on the radio that do nothing to improve your mood. you can feel him giving you side glances, but he doesn’t dare let another word escape him. he messed up — this much he knows, but it was just an honest mistake, right?

wrong. that’s not how you saw it at all, and maybe it was the way your boss yelled at you this morning, maybe it was the way he looked so disgustingly warm and dry sitting next to you, or maybe it was the forty seven minutes of pent up rage. whatever it was, it wasn’t sitting well.

and because you’d never been great at housing your emotions, the moment you set foot through the front door, the words are tumbling past your lips. the same lips that always told bokuto how amazing he was.

“i can’t believe you forgot about me! i reminded you countless times this morning, and last night that you had to pick me up kōtarō!” your voice is laced with an unfamiliar venom, and the foreign sound of his full name on your tongue makes his stomach turn.

his eyes grow wide as he attempts to sputter out a response, but you don’t give him the chance, the feeling of your rain soaked clothes clinging to your skin a reminder of just how upset you are. and in your fit of rage, you deliver a fatal blow.

“god how can you be so stupid all the time? you can’t even do a simple task!” the words come out like a poison, hot and seething with hate. and now all you can do is watch as his face contorts into something alien; a look that you’ve never seen before nor do you ever want to see again.

bokuto is not oblivious. he knows what people think of him, and he hears what people say. stupid, dumb, a moron, an idiot. sometimes they’ll humour him and go the “nice” route with things like slow, or simple, but all these words feed into his belief that he is in fact, unintelligent.

and what might be a petty immature insult to some is something that bokuto has been told his whole life, by everyone except for you. but was he really that stupid? did he really come off as nothing but an airhead?

“kou i — ” your voice is small as it slips between your lips, and you question if it was even audible at all. but just as your about to gush out your apology, bokuto beats you to it.

“i’m sorry, baby. i didn’t mean to forget about you i just, wasn’t thinking. i don’t know how i manage to be this stupid all the time either.” he tacks a chuckle onto the end of his sentence, but his persona falters as you catch a glimpse of the tears that gather in his eyes, begging to be let loose.

it’s a gut wrenching sight to say the least, watching him try to smile and laugh it off despite the obvious shake of his voice and the fresh wet trails that form on his cheeks. but that’s just one more thing that bokuto is known for; never being unhappy.

“no i’m sorry kou, don’t apologize. you know i don’t think that of you, right?” you’re trying hopelessly now, spewing out any words that come to mind as the feeling of guilt threatens to swallow you whole. he’s trying too — trying oh so desperately to not let you see him upset, because you didn’t mean it, right?

of course you didn’t, and bokuto knows that. but it still hurts coming from you, the person who always told him how handsome and smart he was. it feels like a lie.

but bokuto is still bokuto, and he could never stay mad at you — he was to blame after all, wasn’t he?

so his arms still snake around your waist, and he still buries his face into the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. his embrace is tight, the heat from his body engulfing yours as he holds you flush against him. his mantra of sorries is muffled into your skin as he tightens his grip on you, warmth shooting from his fingertips as he grazes them across your arm.

“stop apologizing kou, i shouldn’t have said that, i’m so sorry. you’re not stupid, not even a little bit.” he relaxes into your arms, but the lack of his sweet voice and bright smile tell you that your words aren’t completely resonating with him.

“hey,” you start, placing your hand onto the back of his head and twirling a strand of silver hair between your fingers. “remember when we made it out of the escape room faster than kuroo and kenma that one time?”

“and they kept saying we cheated!” his head pops up to look you in the eyes at the mention of one of his favourite memories with you, and a hint of the bokuto you fell in love with shines through.

“yeah,” you let out a breathy chuckle as you lean your forehead against his, cupping his face in your hands. “you’re the only reason we made it out of there, i sure as hell don’t know morse code.”

“well i thought it would save my life one day, so i learnt it when i was younger!” he’s grinning now, a grin so big it almost doesn’t fit on his face. he pulls you back in for another hug, longer this time, and a little more bone crushing.

“i’m sorry kou. i love you, you know that right?” his calloused hand finds it’s way to your cheek, running the pad of his thumb over it before leaning in to place a passionate kiss to your lips.

“yeah, and i love you too.”

and now, with your arms snug around his neck and the feeling of his lips peppering little kisses onto your shoulder, you wonder if maybe you’re the stupid one for hurting the person you love.

reblogs + interaction are appreciated! thank you for reading! ッ

[10:28 PM]— SUNA RINTARO

When Suna sees your story, your smile large as you’re out with friends for the first time in a while since the break up, his head spins. It’s not the outfit you’re wearing, it’s not the way the colors compliment your eyes perfectly or the way your body’s hugged in all the right places—it’s the arm wrapped around your shoulders, loosely hanging around you as though it were normal.

And he hates that the man who’s got you tucked into him seems so bright, so content.

And Suna sits in his room, on the creaky old bed, next to the dim old lamp, surrounded by the bare old walls, watching as you seem to have your life together.

Do you? Are you happy now? Now that you’re no longer tied to him, tied to his habits of shrugging you off, keeping you out of the loop, not coming to you when he needs it most, not being there for you when you needed him most.

He supposes it makes sense. It should. But he dies inside at the look on your face, and with every second he stares at your smile, his composure falters, and his eyes turn misty.

So, with shaky hands, he calls you, and to his surprise, you pick up.

“Suna?” He blinks, shocked at the normalcy of your tone.

“Hey, y/n,” he mutters. It’s quiet for a moment, and neither of you knows what to say, and then you sigh. He feels wetness seep down his cheeks.

“What is it?” Sniffling, he stares at the small cushions set up by the window where you’d both sit and watch the lights of the city. Suna pretends he’s looking out of it and talking to you while you visit your family like he used to do. He used to laugh when someone struggled parallel parking across the street, pausing you mid-sentence to tell you about it.

“I wanted to just… I just needed to hear your voice,” he whispers, admitting to you for the first time in a while that he needed something to do with your presence. Even too late, it feels somewhat nice.

But nice wasn’t always enough. Nice was fleeting, a small sense of security in a moment that you stole from the world, and it was easily outweighed by much more. Being with Suna was nice. And then it wasn’t.

Keep reading

had a collection of drawings of these 3 snuggling and had to make a comic out of it

oikawa usually has some big party he plans himself for his birthday- like a real festival of sorts.

but the first time you celebrate his birthday after dating him, you set up a small birthday dinner instead of his usual party. nothing too flashy, just you two, a home cooked dinner, a small cake, and cute decorations around the apartment

and it’s one of oikawa’s favorite birthdays ever

🚥 LITTLE THINGS THAT TURN HIM ON 🚥

Characters - Tobio, Bokuto, Suna, Atsumu, and Osamu

Cw - NSFW, TimeSkip!, Fem! Reader, Established Relationships, Mentions of marriage and gender roley things, Petty Arguing, Dom Atsumu?, Implied creampie?, the rest is gucci -.^

A/n ~ I’m really liking this format I’ve been doing lately hehe, but also I always change my mind so 🤷🏽‍♀️

TOBIO [wearing his gifts]

If you proudly flaunt any jewelry or gifts he has gotten you without question it always causes him to twitch

When he sees you smiling so happily with the dainty necklace he purchased the year before around your neck he can’t help but want to watch it glisten as he slams into you repeatedly

Don’t even get him started when he sees you flashing your girlfriends the big 13 carrot engagement ring on your left hand too…

Seeing you constantly displaying his material gifts of affection makes more than just his chest swell with pride

BOKUTO [playing house + housewife]

Whether you guys are married or just dating he loves the whole feeling of coming home to his little wife. Having you cook, clean, and take care of all his needs makes him want to award you for being such a good wifey

Seeing you baking in a little apron or you primping his clothes for work or even greeting him warmly at the door has him slinging you over his shoulder for whatever round you guys left on from the night before

He can’t help but lose control when you both play the traditional husband and wife roles, it just does something to him on the inside

You hold down the fort while he makes the money, then when it’s time to come home he makes your eyes cross for taking such good care of him

SUNA [looking at him + smelling good + existing]

Despite how the media portrays Suna to be a very cool and mysterious athlete he is actually the biggest simp to none other than you

When he comes home and tells you about his day and looks up only to see you listening so intently and completely focused on him… he can’t help but lose track of his sentence in favor of bending you over the couch

Or when you both are innocently cuddling to watch a movie but your hair just smells so fragrant and sweet—of course now he’s going to want to bury his face into your neck and grind into you from behind

It may be such little and minuscule things but he just really likes you—everything thing about you actually. So you’ll just have to deal with him literally getting turned on from you just simply existing all the time <3

ATSUMU [arguing + attitude]

He loves a woman who gives him trouble. He loves the attitude, the rolling of the eyes, and the constant petty fights. He loves the spunk and the duality of how he can turn you into a moaning mess into a matter of minutes despite your earlier disrespect

Whether you got on his case for glancing at another girl or kissed your teeth when you didn’t want to listen to him explain, he just couldn’t help the little devil horns that poked from his head. He’ll gladly take the role of putting you in your place and he knows that’s what you really wanted in the first place anyways

So when you wake up the next morning, voice and body completely fatigued from the onslaught of his pleasure, he couldn’t help but smirk

You both will utter sweet apologies for the stupid argument—then the next week the cycle will repeat all over again

OSAMU [acrylic nails + loving his food]

If he had to tap into his life savings biweekly just to make sure you always had your nails done he’d do it . He didn’t mind the color or shape but he just loved how they made your hands look and wanted them digging into his skin at the end of the day

He’d often catch himself looking over your hands and slightly admiring the artistry before his mind starts imagining how they’d look around his dick

Also whenever he sees you dramatically groan at the taste of his cooking; the slight pinking of his ears and the jumping of his cock sounds off like clockwork. Seeing you enjoy it so much drives him mad

If he makes you food and you don’t overly show how good it is then he starts to think he did a bad job. He loves when you make it known how tasty his kitchen skills are to you

But make sure not to eat too much—he wants to be the one who gets to fill you up properly afterwards [courtesy of the chef]

A/n ~ I tried to think of some things out of the box of what you’d normally see so hopefully you enjoy them! Also I wrote “he can’t help” like a millions times 😭 @bunny-xoxo @sunatooru