For @tetsvhoe S Please Dont Say You Love Me Collab (angst)

for @tetsvhoe ’s please don’t say you love me collab (angst)

kiyoomi watches as his daughter’s hand holds yours, clutching tightly onto your shirt as she stares up at him with wide eyes.

and they’re disappointed.

he feels a hole rip itself into the middle of his heart, and he wonders how he’d let it get this far. how something as familiar as family has become so distant, he doesn’t know where he lies or what his part is anymore. he’s held her hand so many times, helped her waddle through her first steps, walked her to school on her first day, played with her in the backyard through afternoon adventures.

and suddenly, she’s too far from his grasp.

he’s held yours so many times, through first dates and rough days, through happy moments and random spurs of clinginess, through self doubts and even just simple mornings laying together. you’ve always been there, just a simple reach away, your fingers connecting with his just like the strings of your hearts, interlacing and becoming one.

and you’ve been reaching, trying to grasp him desperately, but he’s never reached back.

“the papers will be sent to you by my lawyer soon. and—”

he cuts you off with wet eyes and wobbly lips, with his heart shattered and ruined and ugly, but he offers it to you anyway because kiyoomi’s willing to give you all he has—every fiber of his being, even if it’s not enough.

“please, don’t go,” he croaks, and suddenly, he notices how the paint on the walls of your house—the ones you’d happily painted together after your marriage—is chipping by the front door.

he hadn’t noticed the cracks before now.

kiyoomi’s begging you through his eyes—they’re dark and obsidian, but you find a way to make them shine a warm brown in the middle, and he can’t lose that. he’s desperately trying to get you to see his heart and soul, that they’re yours. he presses them to your hands, and he craves the safety they bring, but somehow the home he’s found in you is desolate of its usual warmth.

“kiyoomi—”

“i’m omi. you…i’m your omi,” he whispers, his voice cracking in the middle. and then his eyes drop to her, the sweet voice in his dreams, the giggles in the mornings, the hugs after work, the goodnight kisses and bedtime story cuddles and the bridge to his future, they’re all in her. “princess, where…where are you going?”

“we’re going on a trip,” she whispers. “just us two. ‘cause you’re never here, daddy.”

and finally, finally, kiyoomi’s breath stutters as he chokes on a sob—the family he’s been searching for his whole life, the one he’s built with his own hands, is falling apart from the seams.

and on any other day, though his hands are callused, they’re also warm, and you hold them anyway. but he’s a phantom now, the ghost feeling of his touch just a lost memory, an old engraving in your brain.

“y/n, you can’t do this,” he sobs, the tears streaking down his face and collecting at his chin. he’s never wanted his daughter to see him like this, but his world is being plucked from his hands and he’s got no other place to call home. “you can’t! you… you just can’t—”

“and why not, kiyoomi?” you raise your voice, and your daughter flinches slightly. the shattered remains of his heart all but disintegrate at the sight. she’s too good for this world, too good to witness this—this mess he’s created. “why the hell not? tell me something, kiyoomi. would you even realize we’re gone? huh? would you? it’s not like we’re a part of your daily routine anymore. you wouldn’t feel a thing if we walked out this door.”

he wishes he could show you, physically offer you the scene of his heart wilting the second your foot would step out the door, but he can’t, and he’s at a loss.

“of course i would! what are you saying? why wouldn’t i feel anything? you’re my whole life!” you laugh, and it’s bitter, there’s not a trace of humor, but he still feels helpless at the sound. it rings off the chipped paint of the walls and mocks him.

“you have one hell of a way of showing it,” you sneer.

and with a shaky whisper of “i love you, i love you both,” he reaches out, but you step back and your daughter is tugged along.

he offers you the words you’ve desperately tried to hear through the echoes of your memory, but they’ve become as far away as your husband himself, and you don’t care for them now.

“don’t say that now,” you whisper. “please don’t say you love me now.” and with a sigh, you straighten your shoulders, almost like you’re rolling the remnants of his love off your body. “the divorce papers will be sent to you, and we’ll handle how often our daughter gets to see you at court. but don’t contact me.” and he sinks to his knees when he hears the door slam shut, wishing he’d said i love you just once when you needed it most.

okay but thigh riding bokuto’s THICK SCRUMPTIOUS THIGHS

bokuto x gn!reader • nsfw

bokuto loves when you ride his thigh.

he loves watching you move your hips desperately as you get closer and closer to your release. he loves the feeling of your hands digging into him as you cling onto him wherever you can––his hair, his neck, his shoulders as you whimper and shake on top of him, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

"that's it baby, use me. wanna see you cum for me, okay?"

“so pretty for me”

his hands are gripping your hips as he practically moves you along his thigh himself, bouncing and flexing his leg to give you more pleasure. he's panting and moaning along with you, as if he's getting as much pleasure from the experience as you are.

he lets you hide for a bit but when he gets too needy, he pulls you back and desperately kisses you, sliding his tongue into your mouth passionately as he moans against you, his hands still moving you back and forth as you ride out your high.

REGRET AND OTHER CLICHES [2]

you never know what you have until it’s gone, so they say. you think by now they should have known that.

pt. 1 i know who you pretend i am [2]

character/s: akaashi keiji x gn!reader

genre/s: mostly angst idk why i tell myself these are angst to fluff

warning/s: none i think

gwen’s notes 🤍: thank you @aka-a-shii for helping me come up with this! i hope u like it aaah ion think this is as painful as the previous parts tho

MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

akaashi keiji

“you seem busy these days, keiji,” you commented dejectedly as you set akaashi’s coffee on the table. he didn’t seem to pick up on your mood as he stuck his nose in front of his laptop’s screen. thick square rimmed glasses sat atop the bridge of his nose haphazardly and features faintly illuminated by the light. he was always effortlessly ethereal no matter what he was doing, even when he was breaking you to pieces.

“mhm,” he mumbled in agreement. he absentmindedly picked the warm mug up and cautiously brought it to his lips, eyes still glued to the screen.

“can i see what you’ve been working on?” you played it off casually though there was an inevitable tremble in your voice and masked your anxiousness with a tight lipped smile. you hugged your warm cup with both hands to steady the shaking.

the faint clicking of the keys halted as he brought his eyes up to meet yours. he was as stoic as ever, but you learned to discern the slightest change in his behavior. even if it was as minor as his eyebrows furrowing together microscopically and his mouth parting just enough to inhale sharply. “maybe when i finish it, darling.” then resumed the faint clicking.

“you always used to let me read your works in progress, ‘kaashi,” you pried, feigning an innocent pout to lighten the increasingly tense situation. part of you wanted him to come clean, another part wanted you to be proven wrong so desperately. so far it seemed as though the former was coming true.

a brief pasue, akaashi glanced around while managing to avoid your gaze, the typing resumed. “this one’s a little bit different,” he reasoned.

“must be important then,” you whispered, feeling your resolve break and your façade of a smile fade. you placed your hands on your lap, eyes trailed downward as you fidgeted with them and in an attempt to hide the tears you knew were going to come. “much more important than i’ll ever be.”

“wha‒” akaashi’s words seemed to have been caught suspended in the air as he finally looked at your broken state. it didn’t take much for him to put two and two together; when he left his office the other night, the way you’ve been acting strange since then, prying about what he was writing.

akaashi knelt beside you, soothingly rubbing your back, and squeezing your hands as you freely let your tears fall. “i’m so sorry, love,” he began, voice soft and calm. he knew there was a possibility that this could happen. he knew getting into a relationship when he was still hung up over someone didn’t come with zero consequences but how was he supposed to go from here? “i can explain.”

“then why?” you cried, feeling pathetic and vulnerable.

“i admit i wasn’t yours entirely when we first started dating.” akaashi harshly bit his bottom lip, realizing how bad that sounded. “but i… i just needed to get everything out of my head and into writing. my thoughts, unresolved feelings, all the what ifs‒”

“and what about me?” he stared at you with wide eyes, confused. “where did i fit into all that, while you were figuring out your feelings for someone else, i was over here devoting mine to you.”

akaashi fell silent, feeling his guilt build up in his chest. “i’m ready now, to devote myself just as much if not more,” he pleaded, sincerity in his eyes as he tried to look in yours.

you scoffed bitterly and his heart lurched in his chest. akaashi was only ever used to your unconditional love and care, one which he took for granted. “oh, are you almost in the conclusion of your little love story?” you didn’t mean to come off so hostile, especially not with your perfectly calm and collected (for now) boyfriend. but you could only do so much when you learn you’ve been cast aside until he was ready for you, when it was convenient for him.

“i’m sorry akaashi, but i’ve just reached the conclusion of our story all the same.”

you bolted out of the place because any longer and you would have fallen victim with his beautiful eyes that shone brighter when he cried. akaashi was left frozen in place. he couldn’t move even as his legs began to ache from crouching for too long. his mouth left agape, wanting to scream or cry or call your name‒anything. but it felt as though he was choking for air. he stumbled over himself after who knows how long and looked around, finally gaining a sense of self back.

his cup of coffee was no longer steaming, but he was sure if he held a palm against it, he would feel its warmth. yours was right next to his, half finished. the bed you both slept on the night before still hadn’t been made. leftovers from your cooking sat coldly in the fridge. your toothbrush was on the sink next to his and a mess of skincare products sprawled on the counter. your shirt was thrown over a chair and the bedroom smelled of your perfume.

his laptop whirred quietly but the barren apartment made it seem so loud. he noticed how the writing displayed on the screen stopped midsentence. just like you and him.

all else pointed out that akaashi was too late and he knew that. but he hoped and prayed that this time when he tried, he would catch up with you and the story you've written all alone. he would make up for everything he did and didn't do so long as you don't turn the page to its last.

@mirakeul @realityisabitch-blr @erinoikawa @haji-bby @seijohoe@szeonn @banananaa4 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @thezebra12 @iwaizumisunshine @stffychn @vvvselfindulgence @devilgirlcrybabiey

i hc that bokuto has back dimples and no one can tell me otherwise !!

[9:38AM]

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

It was unusual enough for you to have woken up to an empty bed, but the position of the sunbeams shining directly on your face tells you that you were granted the rare opportunity to sleep in.

The warmth of the rumpled and empty bedsheets beside you indicate that Atsumu wasn’t too far ahead, and you lazily climb out of your comforter.

Your slippers hardly made any noise as you dragged your feet down the hardwood staircase, but the yawn that crawled from out of your throat had echoed throughout the hallways.

The first thing you noticed when you stepped foot into the kitchen were the two mugs that sat forgotten beside the coffee maker. Specks of ground coffee littered your kitchen counter, and you would have been upset if not for the nutty aroma of your favorite morning blend permeating in the air.

The second thing you noticed was Atsumu staring out the glass sliding door that led into the backyard. His back was facing you, but you could see his shoulders shaking in time with the coffee bubbling into the pitcher.

“Atsumu…?” You slowly approached your husband, but he paid you no mind. His attention was focused solely on the scene playing in your backyard, and it was only when you step beside your husband did you finally understand.

A soft glowing warmth bloomed within your heart as you watched your son playing in the grass, his father’s blue and yellow volleyball bouncing up and down his forearms. The ball was nearly half his size, but he took to it easily, and from the corner of your eye, Atsumu’s lips quiver. You laugh quietly when the ball hits his arms at an odd angle, effectively flying to the other side of the yard.

You turn and rub your hand in circles around Atsumu’s back, smiling softly at the silent tears that were freely spilling down his cheeks.

“There, there,” you say quietly, and Atsumu brings a hand up to cover his mouth.

You smile up at him gently as you pull the sliding door open, the wheels clattering against the track loudly catching the attention of your son.

“Sweetheart, want to come in for some breakfast?” You call out, and the soft pout on your son’s lips had made him look more like his father than he ever has.

“Later,” his tiny voice called back, nearly hitting his face as he attempted to do an overhand pass.

“Dad! Can you teach me how to serve?”

Atsumu buries his face on the side of your neck, and you pat his head as he lets out a sob. You chuckle when you begin to feel his tears soak your shirt, and he attempts to let out a garbled confirmation.

Your son stares back at you oddly as you begin to wrap your arms around your husband.

“Your dad says he’ll be out there in a second!”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

I impulsively spend money/suck at saving

Im very sarcastic

Im loud when im around people im comfortable with

bokuto, akaashi, and suna 🧍🏻‍♀️