Sakusa X Reader - Tumblr Posts

.when you were mine - sakusa kiyoomi

.pairings sakusa kiyoomi x gn!reader

.genre angst, break up, lovers to exes, hurt no comfort

.ongoing | completed

.tw cursing(?)

.wc 2.4k

SUMMARY

Leaving Sakusa Kiyoomi was hard, but staying with him was harder.

Keep me in your arms again, I pine for the warm feeling of home where our limbs laid restlessly in our bed. I long for the touch of your fingertips and the ghost of your breath. I yearn for the mixed laundry in our room, and how you tried your best to keep the colours from mixing. Your efforts were far from being in vain, rather it was my fault for never trying hard enough for you. Trying hard enough for us.

I awaken alone now, with your side of the bed empty, and cold. A naked pillow with no head to call its own. The nights are darker, where the winter season couldn't hold a candle to the hiemal desolation that hibernated in my heart.

The coffee is bitter; dark and too acerbic for my own liking. The taste lingers too. It's pungent, and the scent wafts around the house until I leave it.

It's practically embarrassing to walk the streets without your hand intertwined in mine, I feel discomfited at the fact that I can no longer grab a hold of your hand in order to find sanctuary, the same hand I would grip onto afraid that I would lose you in broad daylight, the same hand that embraced your body every night that we slept, and the same hand that would wipe away your tears in the evening.

Yet it was twilight when you left me. I felt your presence begin to dissipate within the air as I slept for longer, so when the chill of a human's existence or lack thereof, had held me in the night, I woke up: to see nothing on your side.

And it all came flashing back to me, why you had left. Why you had packed your bags, why you cried as you removed most of your belongings into one suitcase.

ー

"You're late home today."

"Yeah."

Pure silence grows in the atmosphere and neither of us speak. You seemed expectant that I would answer you, but I couldn't tell at the time.

"...Do you want to tell me why?"

"Do I have to? I'm tired today."

"Okay. There's food in the fridge if you ever get hungry."

ー

The awkwardness that grew in our relationship may have driven you more and more to leave, and it's my fault for not trying. The effort that I lacked for our relationship had been made up for by you, and it had taken all of your energy alongside it, and quite possibly, your love for me.

I drained you by loving you languidly, I emptied your void by not filling it the way you had wanted me to. I expected you to make all of the first moves, and that you would do all the work for me in this relationship, and that I had to do nothing.

But you said to me that you were fine with getting hurt, so long as it were for me. So why are you leaving now, when you were the one who promised that you would do everything to make me happy, are you tired of me? Have you had enough?

Our solicitous tête-à-têtes had soon enough squandered from the depths of our hearts and eventually reshaped themselves into a mandatory chore made from the top of our heads, maybe to remind one another that there could've been a spark, that maybe our love was salvageable; even though you knew full well I could not respond in the healthy ways we knew I should have.

I've grown to detest the very sight of bookstores, or gardens. They were your favourite date idea and we hadn't been to either one of them together in months. But to my dismay, your favourite library had sent me an email, notifying there was a book yet to be returned, and we had to pay a small fine.

The nostalgia seemed to creep back up into my memory as I took steps closer to return the book Essays of Love that had been contained carefully in the tote bag which you bought me from our uni days.

ー

"I know it's not much, but we're starving students, and I thought this would suit your coat that your mom bought you." You shot a tender smile towards me, as you handed the off white bag with intricate black brushes against the material, that unexpectedly did suit the coat my mother had purchased for me.

"You didn't need to do this." I remember that I had pressed a small kiss against the pads of your knuckles as we stepped closer in proximity in the blistering winters of Tokyo; the neon lights of the building illuminating the features on your face in which I grew accustomed to.

"I know. But I love you."

"Thanks."

ー

"That'll be ¥1000." The local librarian speaks, aggressively typing against the keys of her board, and simultaneously writing swiftly against the yellow pad paper which had notes we both knew would be futile in the future.

Handing her the money, I gave a quick thank you before making my way back home in the dark afternoon of December. Meandering around the town wasted too much time, and the solitude which had consumed my being after your departure soon became an obligation in my life, and there could be no other way to regurgitate these feelings of drab emptiness and neglect. But I finally had time to think to myself for a bit though. As calamitous my mind was, the inhospitable temper of the winter night kept me company and I was numbed to the glacier like climate during my promenade.

I treated you with a manner that seemed perfectly fine to me, but neglectful to you and I became too expectant of your actions, anticipating for you to ask to hold my hand, or to request that I hug you in the night, and that I could pass you the box of tissues beside me; and I thought as though it was enough for you.

It's strenuous to walk around our home when everything is painted with you, when your hairbrush still abides on the edge of the vanity of our my room. When your mismatched socks still dawdle in the hallways and into my vision as I walk up the stairs every passing day after you left, or when your old shirt still situates on your side of the bed just as I had positioned it so.

Once again I yearn for you, just like those nights ago, and the pain comes washing back like a tide, exposing my most vulnerable aspects. The curtains close and I can finally let my bottled up ardour burst, chest heaving, lips trembling with an audible quiver every few seconds. Lachrymose eyes and a runny nose could only be a brief description of the inexpressible emotions bubbling up within my soul.

Sheer agony engulfs itself within me and I lose all senses of sanity as I think of how I've lost you, how you've left me, and how I can never get you back.

ー

"Kiyoomi?" His head had never turned so fast towards the reverberation of your voice. There you stood in your glory, wearing what he knew you would consider "indoor clothes", holding a bag in your arms as well as your keys to the house.

"What are you doing here?" Flicking the tears away and regaining his posture, he looms over you, observing your current state.

You didn't look any better, skin pale, lips chapped and hair disheveled, if anything, you seemed worse than he did, yet you had too much pride in your personality to admit that.

"I've come to collect the rest of my belongings." Sharp and clean was the cut. Enough to slice through Kiyoomi's heart, and you could hear it if you listened closely.

The impending outcome of your relationship had come to its destination, and he deemed it unacceptable, as he tried to grasp you in his clutches whilst you pack away the rest of your belongings, taking Kiyoomi's heart with you.

His countless cries echoed in your shared bedroom, as he attempted to take your clothes back out of the bag you had brought alongside you.

"Just one more day, please, stay with me. And I'll let you go." As heartbreaking as it would be to him, you scoffed, taking his words like a joke, like it was offensive of him to even step near you.

"Stop trying. I'm sick of this, I'm sick of you. Where was all of this six months ago? Why are you acting up now? Stop being selfish and let me go." Yanking your wrist away from him, you zip up the bag bringing the rest of your belongings, ignoring the clenching sensation going wild in your chest.

His countless tries to win you back into his arms for the night had failed to his dismay, and you had vanished into the twilight to a destination he would never figure out. Your relationship together had begun deteriorating the moment you'd granted him anything he wished without wanting something in return, or in this case, his love.

The neglect he'd provided you had only driven you to do more for him, maybe to please him, to make him look your way; but to no avail would he send an ounce of his undivided attention towards you, the love of his life for who knows how long. It was an ongoing cycle, and it wasn't until six months later you'd realise you wasted all of your time and energy on a man who wouldn't exert the same impression just to remind you that he did love you back.

Yet somehow, you knew that no matter how little he had shown you that he'd loved you too, there was a voice in the back of your head that would try to reassure that maybe, truly, he did love you the same way you loved him, but it was just that he struggled. But you'd gotten rid of the voice in that part of your head, you knew it would only hurt you to keep defending Kiyoomi in this empty relationship. Pretending to yourself that some day he'd say those three words back and not just some half assed "Me too" or "Thanks" was ruining you more than staying with him, so maybe leaving was for the better.

Although it was true that Kiyoomi was never an affectionate person in the first place, you'd assumed that he'd changed for the ones that he loves, as any normal person would do, but he would never budge out of his shell, only breaking what was left of your heart. His introversion seemed to keep up for three or more years, or however long it was the two of you dated, he'd never keep track as he deemed anniversaries to be "unnecessarily difficult to plan".

So moving on from him would be the best decision, even though you'd loved him since you were 17, and you had known no better, than to love Sakusa Kiyoomi, Itachiyama's Ace Spiker. Even though it was going to hurt, and the process would be long and hard, you knew it'd be for the better and the both of you would grow up to be happier people. After all, you're only 23.

"Goodbye, Kiyoomi. I-" It was a growing habit to always say 'I love you' before departing from him, maybe to encourage him to say it back. Although looking at where you are right now, you knew it'd be best not to say anything at all, just to save yourselves the pain.

He's fumbling through his words, before he finally stammers. "I lo-love you."

It was enough to make you stop in your tracks, but it could not fully equate to the agonising memories where you'd wait hours and hours every day just to make sure he got home safe. It could not amount to the times you had wasted to put an effort into the relationship only for him to hand back a yawn alongside a wave of his hand saying, 'Not today.' None of it could measure to the countless dates, movies, dinners he had missed, using the excuse of his practice.

You were never an important priority of his in the first place, and it finally came to be that you would never be a priority of his in the future. Staying with him for longer would only be a constant reminder of how little he tried between the two of you, and it would just be a shot to your ego at this point.

"Please say something." His voice is quiet and hoarse, barely trembling out the syllables that you could only jusy decipher. He attempts to close thr gap between the two of you, stepping closer with his hands reached out to grab yours, and you walk further back, shaking your head, shattering his heart on impact.

"No." You firmly reply. "I'm sick of waiting, I'm tired of having to lie to myself and everybody else about how you're doing when the last time I've been able to check, you would only wave me off and say 'night'. What the hell is that, Kiyoomi?" Your words shoot towards him like a shot of a new venom, and his body freezes, unprepared for your next response. "I don't want this anymore."

He shakes his head in refusal, not ready to face the facts. "Don't say it," he hushes you, "please, don't say anything. Just stay with me, I'll be better. I know I will."

The newfound urge to suddenly plead you back into his life almost convinces you to retract your statement, and just go back to him. Go back to staying in the quiet, lonely home, where you would spend most days wondering if Kiyoomi was even going to be back today. However, you shake your head again, and give him a pitiful smile, ready to crush his heart with your bare hands and let the remnants crumble for him to clean up.

"I don't want you, Kiyoomi. So just let me leave." You try your hardest to ignore the collapse in his expression as he finally hears your farewell. Taking the bag you had filled with the rest of your stuff, you walk away from Kiyoomi, with his cracked sobs in the background begging you to stay.

It's hard to miss the wails of the man you once loved when it's thrown right at your face, and you no longer have an obligation to wipe his tears away. The sobs get fainter and fainter, and you take a breath of relief as you finally feel free from the shackles that love had kept you under.

a/n hi lol this was kinda sitting in my drafts so i just like did what i could im sorry for the half assed ending im so tired these days :(( and its been like months since ive been on this account

(new!) domestic sakusa strikes again!

a/n: im so in love with the idea of kiyoomi meeting ur friends!! and them all getting along!! a short drabble, roughly 600 words. this takes place in the early stages of the relationship :')

An apartment full of five drunk girls is much louder than what Kiyoomi expected, but at least he knows he’s got the right address.

Three raps on the door activate a chorus of shrieks, and a flurry of footsteps rush for the door.

It swings open with a loud smack.

It’s your friend, the one from college with the dyed hair and smiley piercing. Kiyoomi rushes to introduce himself as your boyfriend, bowing lowly as a sign of respect to one of your closest friends. He recognises her from the pictures on your Instagram.

On the way up, he realizes she left, having opened the door and ran off to do god knows what. He blinks.

Should he… come in? Is that allowed? He’s still bent at a 45 degree angle. 

He figures it’s fine, and steps inside.

Rounding the corner, he almost laughs when he sees you, crisscrossed on the living room rug, scarfing down a large McDonald’s fry like it’s your first meal in months. He sees where your friend ran off to, having joined the rest of you all in a gossiping ring. He pretends like he can’t see up your mini skirt. 

“Hi.” He grins, boyish and cute and a little bit shy. His hair is still damp from his nightly shower, wet curls bouncing in his face making him look a few years younger. He clears his throat and waves awkwardly, “I’m Kiyoomi. It’s nice to meet you all. Thank you for taking care of–”

“Ki!” You cheer, eyes lit up in excitement. You pat the spot next to you with three heavy smacks, “What are you doing here? Come sit!” 

Looking to your friend for permission to further enter her home, he kicks off his shoes and settles next to you on the rug. He kisses your forehead in greeting. You feed him a fry as thanks. Your friends coo at the interaction.

“I’m here to take you home.” He wipes a glob of ketchup from your chin. You’re gonna hear all about this tomorrow. “Ready to go?”

“Can’t I finish my food first?” You haven’t been able to stop giggling since he got here. You’re genuinely so fucking happy to see him. His Naruto themed socks make you giggle harder.

“Of course.” He confirms, adjusting the throw blanket to cover your toes, “Tell me about your night.”

“Oh my god!” Your other friend squeals, smacking the arm of the girl to her left. She’s the one that works in accounting, he thinks. You two get brunch every other Sunday, if he’s remembering correctly. “Tell him about the fucking bartender!”

All five of you double over in laughter, screaming half-finished sentences and pointing fingers at one another. Kiyoomi shakes his head in amusement, does he even want to know?

You all continue trading off stories and perspectives, and Kiyoomi feels like he’s watching a reality television show. Your nights out are much more exciting than his. At one point your friend complains about the low water pressure in her kitchen sink, to which Kiyoomi helpfully offers to replace it.

Kiyoomi’s never felt more important, giving a mini-lesson on how to change a water filter to five drunk girls. You all cheer when he flicks the tap on, the full pressure having been returned to the faucet. 

When all’s said and done, you help clean up the food containers and blankets.

“Thank you,” you whisper, fluffing a couch pillow, “For helping her. You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s no problem,” He whispers back, looking around, “Will they be okay by themselves?”

“Oh yeah,” You confirm, “We do this all the time. I’ll probably be back tomorrow morning so we can all get breakfast together.”

He hums in confirmation, “Ready to go then?”

“Yes.” You smile deviously, “But only if you carry me.”

Kiyoomi rolls his eyes, scooping up the heels you had tossed on the floor, “Fine. Only if I get to come to breakfast, too.”

kiyoomi is one of the girlies 💅💅💅

Being their fwb smau (post time skip)

Category: smut, fluff, crack

Includes: Atsumu Miya, Kenma Kozume, Kiyoomi Sakusa, Tooru Oikawa, Issei Matsukawa, Rintaro Suna

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶

Packing them lunch smau (post time skip)

Category: fluff, crack

Includes: Atsumu Miya, Kenma Kozume, Kiyoomi Sakusa, Tooru Oikawa, Issei Matsukawa, Rintaro Suna

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶︶⊹

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶︶⊹

#crashing out

no bc ik it wasnt our lipstick.... we where making the cake tf???

SMUDGED LIPSTICK!

15: cherry red -> prev / mlist / next

warnings: cursing, weed, drinking, mentions of making out, implied sex

now playing: last night - good charlotte 🎶

His head ached, pounding loudly in his ears. He woke up with a groan, shifting slightly and sitting up. How much did he drink last night? As he blinked the sleep from his eyes, he quickly realised it wasn’t just his head that was hurting. Pain pulsated throughout almost his entire body; crashing into him like a tidal wave. He tried to remember something, anything that could’ve led him to be feeling this terribly, but his mind was drawing blanks. What the fuck happened? He looked around his room, searching for anything that could refresh his memory. He looked at the empty glass of water on his bedside table, his shoes that were thrown haphazardly onto the middle of the floor, the curtains that were half-shut, half-open; he must’ve been too drunk and exhausted to close them entirely. Nothing was helping. He recalled the party, barely. Fragments of almost-memories came to him: shitty music, flashing lights, his friends dancing. It was all so usual, almost the same as every other night, and yet he felt significantly worse. He picked up his phone and glanced at it, squinting at the bright light that harassed his eyes; making his headache even worse. He had no new notifications. He put it back down, too tired to go searching for answers.

His hangover made him feel like death. He was uncomfortably hot; every inch of his skin throbbed in agony. His throat was dry, and it hurt every time he swallowed. He needed water, but his body was just too heavy to move. He felt gross. The second he trusted his legs, he’d run straight to the bathroom to shower. He was considering two showers at this point, making sure every spec of him was thoroughly clean. With a heavy sigh, he ran his hand through his hair; wiping the sweat off of his forehead. Before letting his arms fall to his lap, he paused. Was he seeing things? His hands stayed in the air, palms facing the bed, hiding him from what he could’ve sworn he saw. Was he bleeding? Did he somehow injure himself last night, or while he was sleeping? He turned his hand around, seeking answers. His eyes widened at the sight in front of him. There was a mysterious red mark on his hand. What? His eyebrows furrowed with confusion. He pulled the blanket off of him in a slight panic. Did he cut his forehead? How long was he bleeding for? He stumbled out of bed, standing up far too quickly; the room spun around him for a moment, before eventually going back to normal after a while. He made his way to his bathroom, each step felt like boulders were attached to his feet, weighing him down. He practically dragged himself across the hall, pulling the handle open with a grunt. He turned the light on and made his way to the mirror. Ready to examine his wound, he looked into it.

Holy shit.

He gasped at the sight in front of him: on his face, covering almost every inch of his skin, including his lips, was cherry red marks. These mysterious marks even travelled down to his neck, and although he wasn’t certain, if he took his shirt off he'd probably find even more. He recognised the colour, the specific shade of red. As he slowly put the pieces together, the empty space of his cheeks grew increasingly redder by the second. This was your cherry red. This was the exact shade of lipstick that you wore. The shade you always wore. He gulped, staring at the lipstick that smeared all over him. His heart was fucking racing. His eyes lingered on his lips, his mouth opened slightly as he observed the smudged lipstick there. He wasn’t sure what happened last night, but the traces of you on his body were a telltale sign.

Although he wasn’t entirely certain,

He’s pretty sure he just had the best night of his life.

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reply to this to be added ^__^

“can we get a dog ?” with hq boys

featuring ~ atsumu miya + sakusa kiyoomi + suna rintarou + akaashi keiji

warnings ~ rin being annoying, suggestive themes

notes ~ haven’t written in a bit, this is a nice start-up

ATSUMU >> “a dog ? well we can’t have an ankle-biter, so how ‘bout a retriever ? or one of those big ones like- a great dane ?” you remained mildly surprised that he wasn’t opposing, y’know, since his volleyball career and such. oh wait, there’s no way he could be agreeing so easily without a catch. “why a big dog tsumie ?” he pulled his head back in the love-seat, sultry smirk coating his lips. “so when i’m out at a game or a practice my baby will be protected. ‘can’t trust a chihuahua to keep my princess safe.” he huffed, crossing those veiny arms comfortably. “we cannot possibly fit a dane in here atsumu ! and for goodness sakes it’s not even fair !” the setter only chortled in reply, apparently pleased with himself. “is this your way of saying no ?” you crossed your arms defiantly, mimicking the boy seconds earlier. “nah, just sayin’ what needs to be said.” he inched closer to you, leaning forwards to meet your gaze. “but seriously, can’t have anything happenin’ to my little lady now can i ?”

SAKUSA >> “.. out of all the things you could want. a car, a new bag, maybe even shoes. but a dog ?” he knitted his brows, glaring at your smug self looking all pretty in the passenger seat. “yes kiyoomi, a puppy. we’d get one that doesn’t shed, and their a really really good companion.” you pleaded, trying your hardest to form some doe eyes. he sighed heavily, placing his head on the wheel hopelessly. “i’ll think about it, but this dog .. if we get it, is going to be the most well trained dog to exist.” he furrowed, his peculiar moles shifting with his troubled facial expressions. “thank you omi—“ you hushed, giggling at that cold stare as you peppered his face with an endless flurry of kisses. “but.” he interjected, grasping your jaw lightly despite his grip seeming stern. “at least kiss me properly as a form of repayment, but that’s not all, i expect a bit more.” his eyes traveling down ever so slightly, a soft gasp escaping your lips at the bold retort. oh, repayment was an interesting way of getting his thoughts through to you.

SUNA >> “why not a baby ?” he glanced up from his phone at the restaurants venue, expression unwavering when you proceed to choke on your food. “rinnie, c’mon.” you ushered quickly, patting your chest hurriedly. well, it was a futile attempt to calm down your racing heart. the things he did to you. if only he knew. however, it appeared he wasn’t joking this time. that poker face continuing to make you palpitate. biting your lip as you fiddled with the hem of your top. “think of a dog-a puppy as a start, then we can think of a baby. but with you playing for the paper mills.. it’s a lot to work with rinnie.” suna swirled the liquid in his glass, that sly grin parting ways once almond orbs met yours competitively. “why a start ? this baby can be our start and to be honest—i don’t know if i can wait in the long run sweetheart.” rising to his feet, he called to the waiter, handing his card easily with a business-oriented smile before slipping his cold fingers between yours. “let’s make tonight our start, shall we ?”

AKAASHI >> “mm .. that’d be cute. we could dress them in sweaters in the winter and celebrate their birthday.” he hummed, hands kneading the shampoo into your hair. today was a showering-together day. a day akaashi liked to recall as a best-of-all day. a day where he could get to experience the euphoric sensations of a warm shower with you, and save on the water bill at the same time. “really ? i thought you’d object the idea.” you chuckled, his hands leaving a satisfied sound rolling off your tongue. he pondered on the thought as you both bathed, transitioning to scrubbing your back ( while leaving kisses on your shoulders to simper at the goosebumps tracking afterwards ) instead. “what would you name them ?” you inquired, turning your head to watch him thoughtfully. “olive.” he replied nonchalantly, confused at your beaming face. “that is the most akaashi-thing i’ve ever heard you say.” — “olive ?” — “there it is again !”

-maak

plagiarism, repost, and editing is prohibited

Cigarettes

Based on the LOVELY @shoyokuns post found here (with their permission of course)

Lmao this got wayyyyy longer than expected, very h word

Warnings: (Intended as consensual but could be taken as non so I’m putting this on my DC list to be safe) Sadomasochism heavy, D/s in parts, human furniture sorta, pet names, mentioned (but desired) punishment, exhibitionism, begging (for it), f!reader, please read with caution

I just picked a couple characters from each category because I couldn’t make up my mind.

I’m so tired lmao I’m sorry for typos

Starts after the cut so I don’t hog your dash

“Makes you hold your mouth open for him to use as an ashtray:” (Oikawa and Osamu)

Oikawa:

Oh god do your knees hurt. He didn’t give you your kneeling pillow this time, so you only have the low-pile rug protecting your kneecaps from the cold floor. You hadn’t been waiting in your proper place once he got home like he wanted you, so you don’t get the extra comfort today. He’s clicked his tongue at you about it, but just settled into his grand reading chair regally, popping a cigarette between his lips and lighting it with one hand. The other was busy, running through your hair, until it suddenly yanked your head back. You stifled a moan about it, but you hold the position he’s put you in.

Those fingers plunge into your lips, spreading them apart and pulling on your tongue until it’s strained out of your open jaw. He fingers your soft insides a moment longer just to enjoy the texture, the obedience, before he focuses on enjoying his smoke fully, wiping your slobber off his hand on your own cheek.

Your eyes are trained on your king, sitting just to your left, soft lips wrapped around the end of a cigarette. A smooth inhale later, and he’s puffing the smoke out, and the tip goes back between his lips like he doesn’t want a single breath of fresh air to break up the nicotine.

Your mouth would water if it wasn’t so dry from being open for him. 

You watch the ashy end grow longer as he inhales, waiting, waiting, waiting for it to get to the right length. Barely blinking.

Your tongue stretches out of your mouth the moment Oikawa looks at you. He reclines his head on one propped up arm as he watches, smiling, hand moving above your expectant face.

One twitch of his wicked long fingers and dry, powdery, warm ash hits your mouth.

“Good pet, don’t want to ruin the new rug, do we?”

You might ruin it anyway with how much you’re dripping.

Maybe in a few minutes, once he’s done with this cigarette and you’ve swallowed everything for him, he’ll let you grind your aching sex on his shoe and let you swallow something else.

Osamu:

Good ashtrays don’t talk. Good ashtrays don’t move. Good ashtrays barely blink. 

You focus on your breathing, keeping it shallow, trying not to squirm your heel between your legs to get some relief. 

And Osamu is slouching forward in his chair, elbows on his knees, smoking. He’s had a long day. You can see it in the bags under his eyes. His hand running through his pretty hair as he sighs. He hasn’t acknowledged you once during this smoke session, slowly trying to relax the tension from his shoulders by rolling his head and filling his lungs with nicotine. His eyes are hazy as they stare at the ceiling. He leans back into the chair, blowing the smoke upwards like it’s aimed at something.

And there you are, being so good.

And being totally ignored. Because you’re a good ashtray for Osamu.

You love when he’s brooding like this, how threatening he looks with the cigarette hanging from his lips and his biceps bulging every time he shifts. Love being his good little ashtray to make him feel better.

You patiently wait, holding back how you want to whine the longer the ash gets on his cigarette. The more ash there is, the more likely you’ll breathe some in and choke on it, and ashtrays definitely don’t choke.

Being ignored is getting to you, stoking the fire in your belly, making you more and more needy. But you hold still. Waiting, hands on your knees, for everything he wants to give you.

You might just have to hold your breath! That isn’t his problem, after all.

He doesn’t even glance your way when his arm swings over, and you have to shift to catch the ash he flicks, mouth wide open for the ash like you're desperate for it, tongue swallowing it down immediately before opening up for more, hoping you weren't too obvious.

“You moved” he says, and when you see his smoldering, narrowed, dark eyes on you, you feel your thighs press together.

You’d point out that he missed, but that’d get all your orgasms ruined for a week.

“Wanna be a brat today, huh?”

Yes, that’s exactly what you wanted. 

Because sometimes even good ashtrays need punished.

And right now, you want to be used. Which is exactly what you’re going to get!

“Smokes during sex and puts them out on your tits:” (Sakusa, Kageyama)

Sakusa:

Some days it’s almost impersonal when he fucks you. On the days he’s stressed enough to smoke, which he thinks is nasty, he wants to avoid any further mess.

But he also wants to use your cunt until the stress totally leaves his shoulders and that space between his eyebrows can flatten.

So he’s conflicted between wanting you creaming on him, and wanting you to not spill a single drop anywhere.

However, he makes an exception.

He keeps his ashtray on the night stand so he can get relief via nicotine and via you at the same time. Pressing down on your torso with one huge hand to keep you against the trashed bedsheets, he stands between your legs fully upright, as little skin-to-skin contact as he can manage while he’s fucking you. This way, he can reach over to the ashtray when he needs to.

He can also watch the way your tits bounce with every plunge into you cunt, hard enough that it’s moving the mattress on the frame. He can hear your needy cries that it’s too deep.

But you aren’t safewording out.

You see the glow of the cigarette in the dim room, red hot, illuminating his face as he inhales the last time. He didn’t even bother taking his mask off when he got home, or undressing at all besides unbuttoning his pants to get himself off.

His eyes have been on your perfect, round, bouncing tits the whole time. Thrusting harder just to see them jiggle more. And he sees the little discolored scars from all the other times he’s done this. You know exactly what’s coming. After you hit an orgasm so fierce that your eyes roll back and your back arches like you’re asking for it, he presses the end of his cigarette right to your sensitive nipple.

The ash gets everywhere, but it’s the only mess he’ll put up with right now. His one exception.

Because with you thrashing for a whole different reason, he finally cracks a smile.

Kageyama:

He’s grinning the whole time. When he gets home and snatches you away from whatever you’re doing to throw you on the bed.

You bounce and laugh.

He’s smiling when he slips into your arms, kissing you breathless. And you don’t suspect a thing, when he leans up and his shirt is tossed over his head in a gorgeous display of firm muscles as his torso rolls with it. You salivate at the sight.

But he’s still smiling?

You catch on only when you’re naked and wanting beneath your boyfriend, and his fat cock is spearing you open, when he reaches for the nightstand.

“I just bought a new pack,” Kageyama says, and your eyes go wide. Now you know. He’s had a really, really shitty day. And his mood is sadistic.

When he’s slamming into you again and again, your legs wrap around his hips and your arms around his shoulders for some semblance of stability, sweat slicking your bodies with every down and forward motion of his cock, he’s smiling as he takes another drag of his cigarette. He lets the ash cover your bed in grey smears, the smoky smell mixing with the scent of sweat and the scent of Tobio, filling your lungs. 

And then he blows the smoke right in your fucking face to see you splutter and your eyes tear up.

He loves that look on you, so he does it again. Stops his thrusts so he can kiss you firmly. Forces you to open your mouth, where he holds you until you inhale his lung-full of smoke, choking on it. 

You wheeze when he shoves his cock forward again, not having a second to recover. He doesn’t give you an inch of space. Hell, you’re surprised he hasn’t singed your ear each time he takes another long drag.

When he finishes this cigarette, you’d wonder where he was going to put it out if your brain hadn’t leaked out your eyes and your pussy.

He’s still smiling.

And it only gets bigger when you feel the white hot mark of his cigarette on the delicate underside of your breast, and he presses it there harder as you silently scream, orgasming around him. Kagayama drinks up the sight, commiting every shudder and goosebump and cry to memory.

He wants you to feel this, his mark, every time you put on a shirt for weeks.

“ Tells you to hold out your arm in public so he can put it out:“ (Atsumu, Iwaizumi)

Atsumu:

It’s another fucking press conference, at least this one isn’t as big, only 5 or so stations represented in the interview hall. Atsumu has always been talented, and now he’s talented at smiling for the camera even when they get annoying. He’s got that chaotic fire hidden behind his teeth.

But he has you by his side! You’re holding hands, and that small connection to you always helps him breathe evenly. He glances down at your entwined fingers as a reporter lists out a question, brings your hand to his lips to kiss it with a tiny glance your way.

Cameras flash and you smile, leaning into his shoulder. He’s the sweetest boyfriend, truly.

He interrupts another personal question to address the reporters gathered in the room.

“Do you mind if I smoke?” 

After hearing scattered affirmations, he lets go of you briefly to cup his hand around the cigarette between his lips so he can light it. Inhaling, exhaling, he grabs your hand again. 

“Sorry, you were saying?” he tells them, winning smile made even more so by the attractiveness of him smoking.

You tried not to gawk at him. Atsumu could be a model if he wanted, it wasn’t like he didn’t have offers. And you love it when he smokes. The smell alone turns you on now. The man loves smoking while you blow him in back alleys and back porches, so your mouth waters automatically. You bring a hand up to your blouse sleeve, touching the last scar he made there. You’re his favorite person ever, and the best smoking partner he could ask for, always so obedient, trying not to thrash too much even when your skin sizzles from his cigarette butt.

And his sharp eyes notice you looking. You know that look.

He wouldn’t, would he? Not here.

If you ever think those thoughts about Miya Atsumu, be prepared to be proven wrong. Because the moment he finishes his cigarette, he turns to you, interrupting the reporter again.

“Sleeve”

A simple order, loud enough for the newscasters to hear, and you go a little pale. But you want it! But you don’t, too. There’s so many people, wouldn’t this ruin his reputation?

“Sleeve” he says again, a little more insistent. But he gives an out. “Unless, you don’t want to?” 

You glance at the reporters watching so closely, filming live. And at Atsumu, waiting on what you’re going to do, smirking wider every second, seemingly saying “tick tock, baby” as the cigarette threatens to burn away.

Before you can think too hard, you unbutton your cuff, rolling up your sleeve so he can see your smooth forearm.

And he grabs it tight in his other hand to force you still. Wouldn’t want it to be too messy! 

Sizzle

There’s a gasp you bite your lip bloody to contain as your body lights up with the pain, and you see cameras flashing, and smell a scent that reeks like burning flesh because that’s exactly what it is.

Iwaizumi:

There’s a new movie out!! Mattsun texted Makki and Iwaizumi about it last week, told Iwa to bring you and you’d all have a movie night at his place. Makki agreed to bring the popcorn if Iwa would bring the eye-candy. You, the eye candy in question, laughed, but Iwa sent you a glare. Your boyfriend called Makki a dumbass and refused until he promised to bring a carton of cigarettes for the three to share to make up for his joke (he had a new part-time at a place that’d give him a generous discount, he’d said).

You four pile on the familiar couches, you snuggled into Iwaizumi’s side with old blankets and a big vat of buttery snacks, and someone hits play on the movie. 

Iwa could never hold back from nicotine for long, not around those two. He mostly smokes socially, but Mattsun and Makki smoke all the time, and that’s why the house is already hazy when you and Iwa show up that Friday.

Makki makes another flirty comment that you giggle at, used to his antics, but you guess Iwa wasn't feeling his bullshit today since his hand tightened on your waist.

You press a kiss to the possessive man's temple, quietly murmering "only you, Haji," to soothe him, and it works a bit.

But you watch Iwa.

You supported his desire to stop smoking so often, but god does the man look ridiculously sexy in the dark room, soft glow of the cigarette hitting his strong fingers and strong cheekbones. You’ve missed the purse of his lips, too much like a kiss, the glow on his tanned skin, the casual air he exhales with. The quick and natural flick of his fingers into the nearest ashtray. You don’t realize you’re staring until his eyes catch on yours.

You flush a little, caught. But you keep looking. 

Iwa huffs a little laugh, holding the cigarette by his forehead as he grins at you. But it isn’t a kind grin, per say.

“You want it?”

That’s hard to deny when you’re squirming under his heavy arm. nearly itching at your skin. You remember when you were a little younger and he smoked like this all the time, how he’d turned you into a writhing little masochist beneath him.

You’re yanked into his lap, getting the attention of Makki and Matsun, feeling their eyes solidly on your squirming body. Maybe he's still feeling territorial, maybe he just wants to drive you crazy. Iwa’s hard chest is against your back, one hand still on the forearm he used to pull you with, while the other is holding the cigarette to his lips. You feel his lungs fill on a loooong inhale, and your own breath speeds up. You can’t help how you gush at knowing what’s about to come.

“Gimme your arm.” tone quiet.

You can’t, in front of Makki and Mattsun-

“Gimme your fuck’n arm.” still that quiet tone, 'quiet' not to be confused with a suggestion. It's a command.

“Beg, baby. If you’re so needy, then beg.” he’ll never get enough of embarrassing you, and then making you beg for the very embarrassment you blush about.

With a whimper, you turn your face away, and slowly, reluctantly present the arm he isn’t holding.

But it isn't enough.

There’s a small moan to the side of you, but you can’t tell who from. It makes your cheeks hot.

“Please, please put it out on me, Hajime please-”

A quiet ‘fuck’ from one of his friends, and you can feel Iwa smile cruelly into your neck.

“Good fuckin girl”

And he presses the butt hard into the skin of the inside of your wrist, the most painful spot manageable. The most possessive.

And then you’re forcing your arm still while the rest of your body strains away, going tense and jolting, legs kicking out, but just his hand on your other arm holds you tight in place. Totally at his mercy. You aren’t screaming, you’re moaning so loud your voice cracks, eyes rolling back and cunt tingling with the burn.

You swear if he touched your clit right now, you’d squirt all over Mattsun’s raggedy couch.

safe besides you (sakusa kiyoomi x sick reader)

genre : hurt/comfort

character : timeskip!sakusa kiyoomi, gender neutral reader

warnings : mention of throwing up, sickness, insomnia, crying, loneliness

plot (established relationship): as you feel like getting sick you can’t help but miss your boyfriend who is away with his volleyball team for a major encounter. you try to deal with it on your own, but you feel way more safe when Kiyoomi is besides you 

   You feel lightheaded as you make your way back home. 

It was a long day at work and now you feel even worse. Before walking back home you made a quick stop at the nearest mall in order to buy groceries for tonight’s dinner and some medicine to relieve your pain.

Kiyoomi isn’t here tonight, like every other night this week. He is abroad with his volleyball team for the most important games of the season. He might come home during the dead night or maybe in the early morning.

You miss him, even though he called you every night during this week. Just when he’s about to begin his day and you to end yours. You miss his steady presence, his soft kisses when he thinks that you’re still asleep, his always so soft and genuine gestures toward you. You miss his soft smiles and loving eyes, his warm and comforting embrace, his dark and messy hair… Yeah you miss him. 

Tonight isn’t an exception. You open the front door only to face the silence of your shared house… ugh, you just need to eat, take your medicine, and go straight to sleep. 

As you make your way to the kitchen in order to put away your groceries, you feel like throwing up or fainting, maybe both at the same time. 

Crap, this is worse than you were thinking. You do the rest of the chores, because you know that an exhausted Kiyoomi would prefer coming back to a clean home, and decide to skip dinner. You’re feeling too nauseous anyway. 

 As you make your way through your bedroom, after taking some medicine, your phone vibrates. 

This is a message from Kiyoomi.

9:45 pm  Kiyoomi : hi, how are you doing tonight ?                                              how was your day ? 

9:46 pm  you : I’m fine honey thank you. Aren’t you on the plane already ? 

9:51 pm  Kiyoomi : good                                                                                      no, we will get on board in 10 minutes 

9:58 pm  you : oh okay then, I made dinner, it is in the fridge for you to heat up  when you’ll  come back 

9:58pm  Kiyoomi : thanks darling, you should go to sleep I won’t be home      before  late                                                                                                              I love you

9:59 pm you : yes, don’t worry kiyo, I love you too

You put your phone on the bedside table and slide under your bed sheets, desperately trying to warm yourself up and to fall asleep. You need rest, you know that, but you can’t help yourself from feeling lonely in your king sized bed, without the warm body of Kiyoomi. You sound so pitiful right now, but you’re sad and you need the raven haired boy. Even though you know that being sick won’t be very appealing for him and his fear of germs. 

Yes, through the years of dating him you grew accustomed to his fears and habits and he tried his very best to open up to you concerning those matters but that doesn’t mean he likes it when you’re sick. Because he loves you and seeing you in pain isn’t something he particularly appreciates and because who likes being near sick people anyway… 

You toss and turn in the bed. It is almost midnight and you feel worse than before. Cold sweat runs along your back and your head is spinning like crazy. You get up from bed and go to the bathroom in order to freshen up a bit. 

After splashing some cold water on your face, you go back to bed and decide to text Sakusa. Just because you can, and because you’re feeling very bad right now. 

12:10 pm you : hey, love I hope your trip back home is doing ok so far and that you’re not too  tired

No response… he’s either asleep on the plane, in a cab on his way home, or trying to deal with his loud teammates. Dejected and exhausted, you try to go back to your slumber. 

You wake up way later, the room is silent except for the background noises of the street. Besides you, to your delight, lay Kiyoomi. Your sweet Kiyoomi, fast asleep, looking exhausted but peaceful. You snuggle against him and sigh in delight. 

Wait… your stomach turns up in an unpleasant twist and you feel the urge to throw up. You detangle yourself from Sakusa and get up from bed as fast and quietly as possible. You reach the bathroom just in time to close the door and empty your guts down the sink. 

After some time you try to regain some composure in order to go back to bed, but you hear a faint knock on the bathroom door. Shit, you woke him up. 

“y/n, darling, are you ok ?” says Kiyoomi in a faint voice, still tainted by sleep. 

You feel guilty, you woke him up from his much needed sleep. He sounds exhausted, but most of all concerned. 

“I’m fine Kiyoomi, go back to sleep honey, I’ll be here in a minute.” you sigh as you sit up from the bathroom floor. 

He protests, “No, y/n you’re not. I heard you throwing up, can I come inside ?” 

“Kiyoomi, I’m sick, I’m full of germs, you don’t wanna come near me I swear.” you respond on the verge of tears. Because you’re exhausted, you feel like shit and just want a warm hug from your lover. You try, unsuccessfully, to muffle back your sob but Kiyoomi doesn’t buy it. 

“y/n, I’m going to enter okay ?”  you hear from the other side of the door, as you hear the doorknob turning. 

He’s here, in his pajamas, more like an old shirt and a boxer, standing right in front of you, closing his eyes as the sudden brightness of the bathroom light. His curls stick at odd angles and he looks as beautiful as ever. 

You quickly wash your palms, to prevent him from touching your hands that have touched the sink full of vomit. 

He makes his way towards you carefully, and takes your cheeks in his hands, examining your pale face. 

“y/n darling, you’re sick” he locks his dark eyes in your tired ones as you scoff  “yeah, no kidding.”

To your surprise, Kiyoomi tenderly kisses your forehead. 

The tall man makes his way towards the bathroom closet and takes some medicine from it. He hands you a couple of pills and you swallow without questioning him, trusting him for those matters. 

“I’m so sorry Kiyo, for waking you up and making you deal with this, I know you don’t like it and you must be exhausted.” you feel your eyes fill up again with tears as you try to steady yourself because of the lack of sleep.

“y/n, my love you’re sick, you needed me, I’m sorry I couldn’t answer your text, my phone is dead, but I’m here now” he says tenderly while pampering your face with kisses and as you sob uncontrollably.

This is so unlike him to come over his fear and approach you, even though you’re ill. It makes you cry even more as you feel him embrace you in a tight and warm hug and whispering

“I love you y/n and I don’t want you to deal with this alone, now come on you need to rest.” He leads you out of the bathroom which is connected to your bedroom and pushes you gently towards the bed. 

As you lay down under the fresh sheets of your bed, Sakusa pulls you in a tight embrace and rests his lips on your forehead. There, in the warmth of your dear boyfriend, you finally feel at ease. You know that it’s where you belong to and that you’ll always feel safe beside him, in sickness and in health.

AGHHHHH SO CUTE SO CUTE OMIOMIOMIOMI

— 2:14 PM

wherein: you keep a little promise to have brunch with sakusa once the both of you "make it" in life.

inspired by 214 and alone/together

notes: fluff, a smidge of angst (it's barely there), 0.9k words; for @xybi's ating istorya collab event!

"It’s a promise then," Sakusa reluctantly reached out his pinky and you chuckled, rolling your eyes but taking it nonetheless, intertwining yours in his—a promise.

The sounds of happy people chattering and celebrating filled the grounds, and your school's anthem boomed in the background in a never-ending loop. It must have been quite funny to see two people, fully clad in graduation togas and caps, childishly making pinkie promises in the middle of a school field. But there you two were nonetheless, doing just that.

Your lips curled up into a cunning smile as you let go of his pinky, choosing to adjust the cap on his head instead. “You really need a new way to seal promises, Kiyoomi.”

But he only scoffed and swatted your hand away. You let out another chuckle and he felt his lips curl up in the slightest angle, his cheeks slowly burned and tinged red. He turned his head away from your gaze and retreated his hands to the insides of his pockets, a habit he could never seem to outlive, and mumbled, "It serves its purpose."

You think back to that seemingly distant time as you sit there, mind inconveniently wandering to everywhere but the game in front of you. The scores are all tied up now and he is just about to serve, hopefully yet another one of his service aces.

He looks different now, different but still quite the same. The same raven curls he'd only let you touch, the same complaining pout, the same fervor he exudes at the court. But his hair is styled differently now, he quickly replaces his pouts with forced little smiles when a camera pans towards him, and the mere aura he gives off seems, stronger. It hasn't been that long, really, but much has changed.

You were only two silly teenagers thinking they could make it out into the world unscathed, two silly people with dreams bigger than themselves. Two silly kids bound in a silly promise of getting together again over some silly brunch once both of you “make it" in your respective fields.

It was definitely easier said than done, well, for him it must have been easy. For he knew what he wanted the moment he stepped out of high school. He worked for it and worked for it hard. And like you expected, you barely saw him, not when you were both busy chasing your dreams, him more than you.

It made you feel almost guilty. As if the weight of your fervent promise was a ticking time bomb, waiting for you to fail as you see him fly off. It didn’t help how you literally watched him do so, watched him play his heart out on television, watched him being praised by people everywhere, watched him become who he planned to be. While you just sat there, crying over some test you flunked despite studying so hard, trying but failing twice as hard.

So you kept your distance, ashamed of him seeing you without much difference, without changing since graduation. You wanted him to see you as the success he knew you were, you wanted to stand beside him, not beneath him.

But as you stand there, at the side of the court and as the cheers of the crowds almost render you deaf from his service ace, you think back at that silly little promise and your foolish little self. You realize that the brunch you’ve been working so hard for meant more than just success. It wasn't about brunch and pancakes or flashy titles and achievements, it was about the two of you. About how whatever happens, no matter how long it takes, he’ll be there for you and you for him, just waiting for each other to be ready. That time may pass but the longer that it will last, he'll be by your side and you in his.

And now, as you stand on the volleyball court of the Olympics, microphone on hand and a press ID strapped on your neck, you smile contented. It took longer and harder than you thought but here you are, standing not beneath him but beside him, quite literally.

"And we're back live in the Tokyo 2021 Olympics, we have here Sakusa Kiyoomi of the Japan National Team!" you speak professionally yet ever so lively to the camera in front of you. "Sakusa, how did you feel about the game?" you now turn your head and ask the man beside you—the man who (you find out later on) still uses pinky promises, the man who still flushes pink at the mere sight of you, and the man who now smiles at you right now, a mix of whatever emotion he's feeling seeping through him.

You bite your lip, the dead air and his stare making you even more nervous, "Sakusa?" you ask again, bringing the microphone up closer under his chin, urging him to speak.

"It was great," he finally says, eyes glued at you instead of the camera before him. "I was able to keep a promise."

A nervous laugh escapes you as you scour your brain for something to say. Something about his team's strategy? Or perhaps something about their opponents? "A promise, huh?" the words slip from your lips before you could even stop them, and you mentally curse yourself for possibly screwing up your first ever big break.

But he only nods with a genuine and uncharacteristic smile, "Yeah," And from the looks of the crew assigned with you, this little moment of yours will definitely be trending in just a little while. Who would have thought that the Sakusa Kiyoomi of the Japan Olympic team could smile like that?

But right at that moment, all he could see was you and possibly some eggs and toast for a brunch that has been waiting for far too long, "and I think you did too."

» m. list » request + ask here

i love it here.

could you write something where s/o falls asleep in their arms/lap when they’re with their friends?? with sakusa and whoever you’d like!!

falling asleep on them around their friends

feat. Sakusa, Daichi, Osamu

♡ a/n: I am back to writing yippee

♡ part two

SAKUSA

you and Sakusa were hanging out with some of his MSBY teammates for a movie night

naturally, your seat was on his lap and you snuggled into him for extra comfort- ignoring the teasing comments from the others

even Sakusa seemed like he wasn’t bothered by the jokes, but you saw the faint blush on his cheeks and knew otherwise

but once the jokes died down, Sakusa returned to normal and could focus on the movie

speaking of- the movie was fine. it was some action movie that amused you to some extent

but by the time they started playing the second movie, that’s when you started to get tired

you figured you could close your eyes for just a second to regain energy, just for a second...

as soon as you closed your eyes, you dozed off, the side of your face resting upon Sakusa’s chest

no one noticed until halfway through the movie, when Hinata got up to get more drinks

he saw you, fast asleep, and chuckled

naturally your boyfriend and the others darted their eyes to Hinata, who put a finger to his lips and pointed at you

Sakusa couldn’t see your face, but he did notice how your breathing stilled and your lack of movement and taking cues from Hinata, he realized you were asleep

“Oh look at the cute couple~” Atsumu cooed, taking a picture of the two of you

Bokuto handed your boyfriend a blanket to put over you for warmth, and Sakusa did his best to cover you without disturbing you

and while he seemed calm to his teammates, on the inside his head was absolutely filled with all of the thoughts in the world

it was during this time Atsumu had texted the photo he took to Sakusa, and when he looked at the picture, his heart absolutely melted

your face looked peaceful, and you were sporting a tiny smile as you held your boyfriend close

Sakusa sets the picture as his new lock screen, and like the rest of the team, tries to get back into the movie

but the entire time he’s thinking about how he could take you home without stirring you awake

DAICHI

you better believe that after graduation Daichi still regularly hangs out with Asahi, Sugawara, and Kiyoko

you and Tanaka also tag along since you’re dating Daichi and Kiyoko respectively

tonight, the six of you went out for drinks and talked about how your week went, gossiping about others, making future plans

at some point during the night, you feel yourself getting a bit tired so naturally you rest your head on Daichi’s shoulder

and he doesn’t react to this- it was something you did often

but as the night went on, your eyelids started to feel heavier and heavier, and you did your best to combat falling asleep

unfortunately, you lost your little battle and without meaning to had fallen asleep on his shoulder

the first person to notice was Kiyoko, who sneakily snuck a cute picture- hoping to send it to you the next morning

“hey babe what’re you do- OH” Tanaka yells before clapping a hand over his mouth to not wake you

of course, everyone’s attention was drawn to Tanaka, who could only point at you

and when Daichi saw you fast asleep, a small smile formed on his lips

Kiyoko took another picture of this

Daichi gently nudged you, “hey babe, wanna go home?”

you shook your head, murmuring as you adjusted yourself to lay your head on his lap, “no... keep chatting I’m just gonna...” your words trailed off as you fell back asleep

and so the rest of your friends continued their night as usual, except every so often, Daichi would look down to check up on you

but of course you were fast asleep, and he honestly just fell for you even more

his friends would throw in a couple of teasing comments about how much your boyfriend absolutely adored you

he doesn’t even get flustered, he just chuckles at their jokes

and despite what they say, his friends were happy to see Daichi have someone like you in his life

and at the end of the night, he is carrying you in his arms back to the car, careful to not wake you

honestly by the time you wake up again, you’re already in bed

how does he do it

OSAMU

you and Osamu were hanging out at Kita’s, along with Aran, Atsumu, and Suna

Osamu was sitting on the floor in front of the couch, and you were sitting in front of him, slotted in-between his legs with his arms wrapped around you

everyone was just around the living room, casually chatting with one another or focused on their phones

you laid your head back on his chest, just listening to your boyfriend chat with his old teammates

and something about his soft voice was completely soothing to you, and you were starting to nod off

eventually you just gave into your tiredness and decided to nap right then and there

the moment you started to still, Osamu took notice

he whipped out his phone, opening the camera and when he saw your sleepy face, he smiled and took selfies with you

when his friends notice the two of you, they all started smirking at Osamu, throwing light comments at him

honestly, they knew that teasing comments would have no effect on Osamu anyways

they could try to fluster him all they want, but Osamu was too enamored by you to even care about what they say

(by the way, the only person who could fluster Osamu is you)

and honestly, this wasn’t even the first time you had fallen asleep on Osamu, so at this point they were far too used to this scene

so they let the two of you be, continuing on as normal

Osamu made sure to be as still as possible, worrying that any movement he made would possibly wake you up

but you slept there, securely snug in his embrace

no joke, his entire focus was on you. Osamu had completely removed himself from the surrounding conversations just so he could pay mind to you and how adorable you were

listen, Osamu is such a dork for you, he loves you so much that even his friends find it a bit cute

but just because Osamu doesn’t get teased doesn’t mean you won’t either

because the second you wake up, his friends are going to absolutely hound you with teasing comments

at least for now you could rest easy in your boyfriend’s arms

TAGLIST (bolded ones i’m unable to tag 🥺): @kaidashie @clumsydaisy @honicup @simplyarayofsunshine @elianetsantana @aoirohi @sunaluvs @excitedlysuffering @kaito_thedumbass @tadashi-simp @mattsunbeam @keijis--onigiri @heyheyitsne @chagi-nana @megumeee @lilytheprincesse3 @gabixiio  @neavil @p3rcylov3 @sashaadams18 @jarcinda @yeinscreation @i-need-entertainment @shonin-mai @shinsos-hoe @crescentbitch @xedspirits @cindyttnx @empreads @elidepenes @aukkape @the-astrumnauta @ssuna @krystalmoonuniverse @lilolpotato @akaahshii @sciencekidkuroo @kou-levisworld @bokubonk @chaelysian @keijitimes @jooppp @airybnb @rintarouv @tsumtsumya @mosssi @sakusasmaskkk @iloveu-xoxo @queerjaguar @tabipleats​

You’re Safe | Sakusa Kiyoomi

Pairing: Kiyoomi X Reader (female) 

Genre: MAFIA!AU, dad and husbando tehe, fluffy, action? thriller??

Author’s Note: mafia 🤝 protective 🤝 domestic father figure 🤝 SAKUSA

Warnings: k*lling, blood, vivid imagery, LONG, language

gif from @rivaillerose​ 🖤

Keep reading

sakusa fucks his fist to the thought of you + male masturbation + soap used as lube (not in a cringey way i promise) + mentions of guilt + implied mutual pining + roommate! reader + gn! reader

— word count; 1k

there were many wrong turns sakusa had taken over the course of tonight, and of all the time he had known you. but the worst mistake he had done thus far was letting you in, letting you share the rent and share a space with him-

something that should have helped the shared stress of trying to make it through the young adult lives the two of you had just begun, but this only meant he couldn’t get away and simmer in the deep attraction he’d built up for you, settling heavy in his tummy during nights where you were sleeping just a couple feet away- separated from him by a door and a wall.

Keep reading

𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 — sakusa kiyoomi.

no. the msby manager and sakusa kiyoomi are not dating. there is no correlation between you and the crimson scratches that adorn his back.

a/n: first proper omi piece hope he sounds hot tbh. i love writing him as a jackass :^)

tags: secret relationships / dating, voyeurism, public sex wheyyy, fucking in the locker room cause we’re hot like that, kiyoomi is a prick, degradation, slight size kink, underwear stuffing lmfao, cockwarming kinda, hickeys / love bites + marking in general, unprotected sex, dacryphilia, slight thigh riding, almost getting caught fucking lmao, choking, creampies

w.c: prob about 1.4k

Sakusa Kiyoomi is tired.

It’s evident in the way he handles you. It’s evident in the way his eyelids flutter shut, brows screwing and a strained moan spills out of him when your pussy clamps down onto his cock. It’s because it is wholly your duty, as the MSBY manager, to ensure that the players are at their best. It so just turns out that you’ve managed to find a soft spot for Sakusa.

To the public and to the press most certainly, it’s ‘Just my manager. Nothing more, nothing less.’ You’ve heard thousands, though that could be considered a gross understatement, of the sheer amount of rumours. Questions. Photographs. Videos, even. Each and every single one of them have been shut down.

You and Sakusa Kiyoomi are not dating. There is no way around it. There is no concrete proof, either.

“When you beg me for my cock like that? It’s embarrassing.” Sakusa seethes, corner of his lip threatening to curl into a smirk because it is just so, so amusing to him. How wet and fucking desperate his sweet little manager gets for him.

“Are you cockhungry? Because I don’t get it. I fucked you just this morning, and you wanna go again? Sheesh. Trying to make me late for work or what?” Sakusa inquires, eyebrow curled up in contempt and his middle finger eases back into your cunt, swallowing him in so so easily. Sakusa’s tongue is nothing short of rude and blunt, his words slicked over in condescension as per usual. His digit gets absorbed into your plush, gummy walls and your pussy sucks him in down to the knuckle.

“Aren’t you worried that people will be suspicious? If we’re both late?”

You and Sakusa Kiyoomi are most certainly not dating. Sakusa Kiyoomi isn’t in love with you. He laughed outright at the idea when a reporter came up to him, straight up pulled his mask down and laughed into the microphone.

“I’m not interested in women like her. She’s too disobedient and bratty for my tastes.”

Sakusa Kiyoomi likes his women the same way he likes his private affairs, quiet and respectful. Wants a woman that’ll listen to him, and he’ll listen to her. Everything comes full circle in the end, and everyone’s happy.

That’s why Sakusa loathes reasoning with you. When you whimper and scream around his cock, begging him to fuck you more, that you really really do ‘Need him, so so bad’. And all he’ll ever respond with is, “No, you don’t. You don’t need me to function. You just want my cock.”

And that’s why you loathe reasoning with him. When he gets antsy, desperate for your touch— to feel the slick of your warm cunt around his shaft, and he just can’t wait to get home and pound all his frustrations into you. Whenever sometimes he’s almost off the rails, sanity and his pride hanging in the balance and Sakusa’s about to risk it all— put your months of a secret relationship under jeopardy because he’s too horny.

It’s happened once, and it’ll happen again. After a late night match when most of the crowd had gone home, and very few reporters happened to be buzzing around the place. The other team were just about getting ready to leave and go home, but the MSBY wouldn’t be the MSBY if it weren’t for two certain energetic opposite hitters that were on for extra practice. Hence, no one really batted an eye at you taking a seat on Sakusa’s lap. You’ve done it a few times before, balanced out the equation by begrudgingly sitting on Atsumu’s and Hinata’s lap, too. Sakusa was quick to give you an earful about that once you two got home, of course in the form of making you cry and squirm around his thick cock.

Sakusa’s digits trained themselves on the hem of your skirt, his solid and heavy torso aligned with your vertebrae perfectly. You remember swatting his prying digits away, scoffing and digging your boot into his leg so that he’d stop screwing around.

“Get off me, then.” Sakusa murmured with a small scoff, tearing his face away from your neck and summoning all his courage to not kiss it.

“No. Contrary to your shitty personality, you make for a great seat.” You retort, shifting your bare cunt around Sakusa’s thighs. You whimper and gasp a little when you manage to seat yourself so that your clit hugs his toned leg just right.

“Last time I checked, people usually sit on seats with their underwear still on. Did you forget to wear yours this morning?” Sakusa monotoned, bouncing his right leg up and down and grinding his muscle into your clit. The fabric of his shorts rode up, leaving your wet slick staining and smearing against Sakusa’s bare thigh. His hands dug into your waist cruelly, fingertips crushing and he bit back a choked groan.

“My underwear is in my bag, Omi.” You choked out thickly, swallowing the knot in your throat. When you tried to straighten yourself to alleviate the pressure that Sakusa kept steadily applying to your clit— he just seized your lower half and pulled you back down. You were forced to endure the teasing, that apparently he was teaching you a lesson because you knew better than to try to screw him in front of his team mates.

It didn’t seem to be a very long lived lesson, because he ended up shifting his track jacket off— placing it over your lap and pulling it around so that no one would be able to see that his shorts were partially off; dick stuck out and sheathed inside your warm cunt. Though, to prove a point, he stated that he wouldn’t finish fucking you if you even tried as much as bouncing yourself off his dick. Proved to be effective, because you were quietly sobbing the entire time for him, complaining about how sore and wide your cunt felt in a bittersweet sensation.

So far, Sakusa’s fought his demons valiantly, time after time. The amount of days he could count where Atsumu was trying to rub you the wrong way with his awful dialect and shitty jokes. You’re civilised and a nice human being, not like Sakusa who would just tell his teammate to shut up. You will never understand his ache, the pure and unadulterated desire that Sakusa withheld where he just wanted to pick you up by the collar of your shirt and smash his lips onto yours.

It’s in the way Sakusa’s fans will peer up at him with their big doe-eyed gazes, orbs glossing over in appreciation and glorifying him as some sort of deity— looking at him as though they cannot and will not try to see anything greater. It pisses him off, scowl thick under his surgical mask because all he can do is nod nonchalantly, sometimes not speaking at all, and his dark eyes bore into your frame in the distance. You offer him an apologetic smile but he dismisses it with an eye roll, because what good will that do him?

What good will it do him when he’s currently leaned against the dripping wet shower tiles, head tilted back and eyes screwed painfully shut? When his cock is balls deep inside you, your eyes wide and his palms stuffed into your mouth because you can’t whimper, let alone make a singular sound?

God. The absolute fucking horror. Sakusa was so sure that everyone on his team had gone home, and here come Atsumu, Hinata and Bokuto— all screeching and laughing in the changing rooms. The worst offenders of them all, and the best part is that the raven-hair has to physically lift you up and keep you just a little bit off the ground. Why? Because of whatever corporate demon that decided to design the lockers with a) a joint shower and b) stalls that didn’t reach all the way down.

Sakusa can lie about the peeking hickey that threatens to jump out of the line of his shirt, say that he slept weird or that he just ‘bruises easily’ and no one will bat an eye. But when there’s another pair of feet in a shower stall? There’s not much that’s up for debate.

But you can see the conflict in Sakusa’s gaze. His heavy, clouded gaze and his eyebrows are knit— lips downturned into a small frown of thought. He’s thinking, analysing the best way to get out of this. Truth be told, he doesn’t see much difficulty in supporting your weight. It’s nothing to him, and the thought alone makes you flutter around his cock. In response to your walls tightening, he screws his face at you as though to scold you for abruptly ruining his concentration. And yet? He slowly, very slowly, pulls himself out until only his tip kisses the entrance of your cock before slamming in. The loud and obscure slap of his balls leaves both of you wincing, but there’s no indication from the rest of the team to signify that they heard.

So maybe. Maybe he should think of a way to get out of this, but every single lingering second of his eyes scanning your body lead to tantalising and mischievous thoughts that plant into his brain.

You’re so distracting to Sakusa. Every fibre of your being oozes of an emotion that he can’t quite put a word on. You’re eye candy to him, with the way your legs tangle at his waist, arms interlocked and straddling him around the neck. It’s the way you bat your pretty lashes at him, head slightly tilted in curiosity and you’re trying to figure him out. Sakusa loves when you do that, as though you could ever comprehend what he’s thinking inside his brain.

He knows you’re impatient, he’d be stupid not to realise with the way you keep angling and grinding the base of your hips against his cock. Attempting to rut his shaft and drag him around your walls, since you can’t really bounce with half your back propped up and resting against the stall door. Sakusa’s earlier point of you being a disobedient brat kicks in when you start biting down onto his digits, brows creased and you pant around him. It’s like you want to get caught.

Sakusa’s free hand flies to your throat, thudding your head against the door with a small bang. And fuck, your wet pussy clenches around him like a vice. You’re so filthy for him, always have been. He wants to tell you that, but he can’t.

“‘S that Omi? Ya okay in there, dude?” Atsumu calls out, rounding the corner and his tone’s thick with concern.

“I’m fine. Go away.” Sakusa barks, tone vicious and leaving no room for remorse. The last thing Sakusa wants is Atsumu on the other side of the same door where he’s fucking into his own god damn girlfriend.

“‘Kay well fuck ya too then. Was just tryin’ to be nice.”

“Good for you.”

“Yea! It is good for me, ‘cos I’m a decent human being. Ain’t all moody n depressed like you are.”

“Just fuck off, Miya.”

“Yeah, okay.” Atsumu murmurs, dejected. “‘S fine. Omi’s on his man period again. Nuthin unusual.”

So maybe from your past experiences you’d learn, learn that you two really should just wait until you get home.

But that doesn’t stop either of you, why would it?

Doesn’t stop Sakusa from stuffing your soaked, damp panties into your mouth cause you’re babbling like a little bitch whenever you’re fucked with your legs bent up. You can both hear the deafening screeches of volleyball shoes kicking against laminated floors outside, but here you are. Crying and sniffling, puffy and abused cunt filled wide to the brim with Sakusa’s dick— his warm cum trailing down the sides of his shaft and pooling in excess onto the bench below.

Sakusa Kiyoomi is not dating you, but maybe, just maybe, one day he’ll finally throw in the towel and say he doesn’t give a shit about the press.

That’s how you find yourself, back of his car and you feel the crisp metal of Sakusa’s wedding ring glide against your swollen clit.

reblog or i WILL punch u.

©atsuwh0res 2021.

tw: hints at underage drinking

Sakusa Kiyoomi would never admit it, but you're his best friend.

When people look at the two of you, he sees the lingering question of "how are they friends?" and he understands, he really does.

He's aware he's not an easy person to get along with: he's prickly and hides in corners and glares at anyone who comes close, but you never seemed to care.

You came along one day, plopping down next to where he was standing (at a secluded corner during a party), turning to look at him and ask, "mind if I sit here?"

And because despite the fact that he doesn't like people in general, he also had his ridiculous pride which made him want to prove to Komori that he could make friends on his own.

So he let you, and the rest was history.

So when he wakes up to his phone vibrating like crazy at 2 am one night and sees that you called him—called him 17 times to be exact—he's never dialed your number so quickly in his life.

"Omi?"

And his heart breaks along with your voice.

"What happened?"

He hears you breath shakily, hears the faint rustling of the sheets as you sit up, and he hears as the tears start falling.

"They broke up with me."

"Oh," is all he can say, because despite the fact that you're falling apart on the other side of the line, he can't help but feel relieved, knowing you will never have to cry over that asshole ever again.

"Yeah," you say. "It's okay. I wasn't what they wanted anyway."

Sakusa wants to correct you, because he knows you're all anyone could ever want: loving, kind, loyal to a fault. Anyone except your ex, apparently. "They must be stupid then."

You giggle, sniffling a bit. "Maybe so."

Silence falls, but Sakusa decides silence is better than your cries. He sits there and wonders how to make you feel better when he's so far away.

"You know what the worst part is?" you ask after blowing your nose. "I can't even call them my ex. We weren't anything ever but it was everything to me. What am I supposed to do with that?

We were close, and for a moment they were almost mine but they gave me absolutely nothing to hold on to."

You're crying again, and Sakusa takes a deep breath. "I don't know," he admits. "I don't know."

-

You wake up to the sound of your phone falling to the floor.

You groan, rubbing your eyes (they sting like hell), and squinting at the clock. 10:47, it blinks back at you.

Your phone is dead, so you plug it in and make your way to the kitchen. The house is dead silent, a good thing because your head is still pounding from last night—how shitty of your ex to break up on you on fucking Christmas of all days.

How in character, you suppose ruefully.

Your memory from last night is hazy; you clutch at your head in pain while you serve yourself a glass of water. You remember arriving, their smile at you as they said, "you look amazing." There were quite a bit of people there last night, someone had offered you a cup of something, and then another, and then another. You remember an image of your ex's eyes hovering over yours, the warmth of their breath fanning over your lips as you lean in and nearly- nearly kiss them.

And you remember hearing them admit to someone that they never cared for you, that it was all a stupid dare and they were getting bored.

Your mind goes back to the four months you spent together, and all the nearly kisses you had.

You gulp down the water, grip tight around the glass. Omi was right, you sigh. How annoying.

Ah shit, Omi.

You dash back to your room where your phone lay abandoned and you huff impatiently as it takes forever to turn on.

You have 3 unread messages from - Omi 🤮

Omi 🤮: Hey are you feeling better?

Omi 🤮: y/n?

Omi 🤮: When you're done moping about that damn fool text me, okay?

You no longer feel bad about making him stay on call with you at that ungodly hour.

You're mean, you respond. Jerk, you add for good measure.

The response is almost immediate.

Omi 🤮: You're alive

Omi 🤮: I was starting to get worried

This boy-

Omi 🤮: How do you feel?

Your angry reply dies as you fall back on your bed with a huff.

you: Like shit

Omi 🤮: Have you eaten?

Your stomach grumbles and you grimace.

you: I'm on it rn i swear

He doesn't respond, so you let your phone plop next to you on the bed. Then it starts ringing.

"You're not 'on it' or anything, you liar."

"Oh my god, what are you a creep"

He chuckles. "Just go get food. You'll feel better."

"Okay, okay, you're so annoying," you put him on speaker once you reach the kitchen.

"You're the annoying one here."

"Whatever," you laugh as the cereal falls into the bowl. "You love me anyway."

"Hmph," is all he says, and you laugh again, imagining him scrunch up his face (like he's constipated, you snort), like he always does when he doesn't want to admit he cares.

"Are you still gonna come?"

"Why wouldn't I?" you ask. "I gotta be there to support my bestie, my bff, my partner in crime-"

"Stop," he groans and you laugh again. "I just figured you'd be too busy moping about that loser."

"I am not moping," your grin falls from your face and he snorts.

"You woke me up at 2 am last night because you were moping."

"I just got my heart broken; jeez Omi, can't you be nice to me for two seconds," you groan. "I was gonna apologize for waking you up but since you're being an ass about it now I won't."

"You love me anyway," he repeats your previous words back to you, and you wish you were there to wipe that stupid smirk off his face.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," you roll your eyes. He hums, and you sigh.

He says nothing else, letting you eat your cereal, a more somber mood settling between you both.

"Thanks," you eventually say. "I mean it."

He hums again.

"Love you." And seeing the 6:34:27 long duration of the call, you know he does too.

six inch heels (sakusa x reader)

Synopsis: Based on this idea I had yesterday. Essentially, giving Sakusa a lap dance in front of all his friends <33

Warnings: fem!reader, lap dances, partial nudity, light smut at the very end, exhibitionism (kinda?), handjobs, blowjobs, grinding and messy kissing, reader is on a power trip, vague mentions of alcohol, light swearing, minors please DNI. 1.2k words!

Kiyoomi had been adamant about his boundaries for the night, “Bachelor parties are for almost-married men to cheat on their future wives one last time before they’re legally committed. Unfortunately for you, I actually love Y/N. Do not fuck this up for us.” 

Miya, the self-appointed party planner, had only grinned in response, sharp canines coming into view. 

“Allow me to clarify,” Kiyoomi’s jaw ticked with irritation, “That means no strippers, no bottle girls, and no exotic dancers of any kind.” 

“I gotcha,” the setter responds coolly, “I won’t do anythin’ to drive a wedge between you and Y/N, alright? You can trust me with this.”

And that was the end of that.

This ‘bachelor party’ was more of a kickback than anything else, much to Kiyoomi’s appreciation, with maybe 20 mutual friends and teammates huddled in Miya’s small off-campus apartment. The event was uncharacteristically well-panned, with enough food and drinks for everyone to indulge in. The turnout was great, and Kiyoomi was actually having a good time playing Miya’s dirty games and laughing over good memories. 

“Alright, alright!” Miya cheered, after settling Sakusa in a lone dining chair in the middle of the living room, loudly tapping a fork against his Heineken, “I have one last surprise for Oomi tonight, so everybody please shut the fuck up. Sho, the lights!” Hinata grins deviously before flicking the lights off and huddling to the front door. 

The dimming lights was the first red flag that his boundaries were about to be crossed, and when the red LEDs turned on in their place, Kiyoomi was quick to catch on. A slow, deep bass floated from the surround-sound speakers, racking through his bones from every angle. Sakusa stood to put an end to whatever was about to happen, words of protest building on his tongue.

His mind goes blank when Hinata opens the door, though, and the words die in the back of his throat, when it’s you that steps into the apartment. Your hair is that sexy kind of wild, black eyeliner so sharp it could cut someone, in long heels that clack clack clack against the floor with every step you take. Skin sleek with oil, you're dressed in the skimpiest two-piece Victoria’s Secret had to offer, the lacey fabric leaving very little to the imagination. Kiyoomi’s favorite playset.

Kiyoomi gasps your name, his jaw quite literally on the floor. It didn’t take long for you to stroll in front of him, your powerful strides demanding attention from those around you. Someone whistles their appreciation. 

Despite your six-inch heels, Kiyoomi still towered over you, but it was clear that you held all the power here. Looking up at him with pretty mink lashes, you place a manicured hand to his chest, pushing lightly.

“Sit.”

Kiyoomi has never moved so fast in his life. 

Music continues to play over the sound of his whistling teammates, as you circle the chair he’s sitting on, like a shark circling its prey. There’s a predatory smile pulling at your lips, dark lipstick making you that much more alluring. Finally, you stop, throwing a leg over his lap bending forward, your cleavage being pushed into his face, with hands trailing over his knees and up his thighs, painfully close to where he needs to feel you most. Grinning like you know his thoughts, you rock forward, sinking down on his lap as your ankles catch the sides of the chair, giving you leverage to grind down on him. His teammates are fully screaming now, howls of laughter and disbelief echoing from them. You look so fucking good, and part of Sakusa gets off on knowing  everyone is just as effect by you as he is. 

Pride simmers hot in his veins at the sight of being watched, of knowing how badly they wish it were them you were dancing on, and Kiyoomi finds that his hands have a mind of their own as they smooth up the expanse of your thighs and around the curve of your barely-covered ass, pulling you closer and pressing you again him harder. 

Leaning back, your hands grip his knees as you roll your body to the music, your hair barely covering that lustful look in your eyes. Like a moth to a flame, Kiyoomi watches your abdomen contract and relax with the motion, your torso perfectly rolling in sync with the bass. He doesn’t know what comes over him, he really doesn’t, but suddenly he’s kissing up the exposed skin of your sternum, pulling a sweet moan from your lips.  Bringing your head forward, your fingers thread across his scalp, gripping the strands and roughly pulling him to kiss you, his lips molding to yours with ease. Bringing a hand to his shoulder, you dig your nails into the hard muscle there, swallowing your fiance’s groans with a well-timed grind of your hips. Kiyoomi’s hard now, just like everyone else in the room, and he finds the publicity of this little stunt of yours might be the hottest thing he’s ever experienced. It’s quiet now, Sakusa realizes. Despite the music playing, his guests have fallen silent, bewitched by the magic of your body. 

There’s a thin string of saliva connecting you two when you pull away, and Kiyoomi has to stop himself from audibly moaning at the sight. Dipping down into the shell of his ear, “Take me somewhere private.” you whisper. It’s not a question, “Before I fuck you in front of your friends.” 

Kiyoomi fails to see the issue with that. 

Like a zombie, he has no other thoughts except you. Callused fingers dig into the plush of your thighs, lifting you and himself up with ease. Sakusa stares with a passion that could only be described as hunger, eyeing you like a starved man. His feet mindlessly take him to Atsumu’s room, lowering you to the floor gently gently, never once breaking eye contact. You push him against the door sternly, fingers playing with the hem of his slacks, swiping your nails over his V-line with a teasing softness.

“I can’t believe you” he harshly whispers, a shudder trailing up his spine, “I can’t believe we just did that.”

“Really? Because it seems like you liked it.” you quip, your soft hands finding the outline of him through his pants and squeezing, “Who’s got you so worked up, Ki?”

Kiyoomi’s mind is too clouded with lust to give a real response, and he groans when you start jerking him slowly, throat bobbing.

“Louder,” you command, unbuttoning his pants and sinking to your knees. With wide eyes and trembling legs, Sakusa watches you earnestly, throwing his head against the door and moaning shamelessly when he feels your tongue on him. Damn Atsumu and that brilliant mind of his. You, the perfect loophole. 

Sakusa’s knees nearly give out when you hollow your cheeks. He can’t wait to marry you. 

Dimples and Laughter

Description: Sakusa has dimples. That’s it. This is what we are talking about today.

Disclaimer: I saw a post with something similar to this where they talked about Sakusa having dimples and I forgot who did it so when I find it, I’ll tag them. Just know that’s my inspiration for this. Anyways, enjoy my first post!

Genre: Fluff, sorta marriage and parenting au, drabble, slice of life, 

Character Pairing: Timeskip Sakusa x Reader + your nine month old daughter, Rina

Warnings: none (unless babies count as a trigger warning lmao I’m really sorry), SAPPY AND ROMANTIC AF

A/N: I’m so obsessed with him

Word Count: 1.5k words

-

You roll over to your side, groaning as the sun’s rays penetrate through your eyelids, stirring from your restful slumber. You reach to feel the side of the bed where Kiyoomi normally sleeps, the sheets now cool to the touch from abandonment. You sigh into his pillow, the subtle scent of his cologne wafting into your nose. You want to stay there forever, but most of all, you want his strong arms thrown around your waist, burying into his toned chest, the warmth emanating off his frame in waves and warming your body. 

You feel yourself growing bored without his presence. You swing your legs over the side of the bed, trudging to the bathroom and turn the nob in the shower to get the hot water running. You throw your clothes into the hamper before hopping in. After showering, you grab some clothes from your closet and slip on a pair of sweats and t-shirt before tying up your damp hair. As you walk down the hall to begin breakfast, a fit of muffled laughter comes from behind a cracked door of the nursery.

Curiosity bubbles inside your chest and you tiptoe closer, leaning against the cool wood. Peeking through the small crack, the sight of your husband sitting on the sparkling clean floor, playing with your daughter, appears. A smile creeps onto your face as he holds her and lifts her up into the air and pulls her back down onto his lap. Her squeals of laughter fills your ears and Kiyoomi can’t hold back a deep chuckle, gentle and fluid, a flash of a smile flickers through his quiet laugh. Your eyes scan his handsome face, the beautiful head of curly, dark locks, obsidian eyes, his defined jawline, and the two moles above his right eyebrow only accentuates his beauty. 

You continued to watch your husband play with your daughter as another squeal of laughter falls from her lips. Slowly, but surely, the small, fond smile grows into a grin, full of genuine joy, and stretched ear to ear.

His smiles were infrequent. Occasionally, you will receive a smirk or a lipped smile that shows the tiniest indent of dimples, but other than that, Kiyoomi Sakusa rarely smiled.

Your breath hitches, absolutely dumbfounded. He’s grinning. Out of four years of dating, three years of marriage and almost a year with a child, you had never seen him beam with pure happiness until now. The dimples hidden behind his calm, nonchalant expression emerge. He has dimples, the indents on his cheeks so prominent that you are tempted to stick skittles in them and convinced that they will stay.

Understanding the rarity of this small moment, you stand there, lingering by the door and taking in every second that brilliant smile is on his face. The last thing you wanted was forget the smile that brought out the divots in his cheeks. It was like falling in love with him all over again, the feeling strangely familar, yet still foreign. Your mind spaces out, your heart swells with love, threatening to burst through your chest because your poor heart can’t take it. How is it possible that you can fall in love with him more than you already were? 

He’s difficult to read under his calm and collected demeanor. Everything is out of the blue with him, but he never fails to make you fall for his beautiful unpredictabilities. When he kisses your forehead through his mask after coming home, showering immediately and once he does, his lips will always be found on yours; when he mutters, “thank you, love,” when you hand him a cup of coffee or tea; when he purposely places your favorite mug on the top shelf of the cabinet so you have to ask him to grab it for you and he gets the chance to kiss your shoulder or cheek and hug you from behind; when you catch him staring at you and he doesn’t look away, he has a fond look of awe in his eyes, unwavering, and heat rushes up your face. 

The unpredictability of Kiyoomi only makes you hopelessly fall in love with him. It never fails to make your stomach flip at the small acts of affection he gives you, undeniable adoration he shows to you and to you only. It hits you when you least expect it and it's a wonderful surprise that renders you tongue-tied and you try to say the words, but your mind is in too much of a jumbled mess that they don’t fall past your throat. It was moments like these that left you star-struck and utterly speechless. You swear he’s going to be the death of you.

You decide to finally make your presence known. You nudge the door open, careful not to disturb their peace. 

“Good morning, Kiyoomi,” you whisper as you gently shut the door behind you. 

He lifts his head at your voice, a flicker of a smile still teasing his lips when he finally lets his face relax. “Good morning, darling.” The pet name always sends tingles across your body, making your toes curl and your heart ache.

Your daughter is still paying attention to him, her arms making motions in the air, trying to get his attention so he can lift her again. He obliges and the sweet ring of hysteric giggles fill the room once again.

You sit down next to him, your daughter’s large eyes on you now as Kiyoomi set her back down on his lap, his large hands holding her gently and rubbing her back in soothing patterns. His practicality and carefulness made parenthood look good on him.

“Good morning, Rina,” you say sweetly as you stroke the dark bunch of hair she inherited from her father.

She babbles as if trying to come up with a construction of sentences. You place a few kisses on her head, smiling at her nonsense words. Out of the corner of your eye, Kiyoomi lets his face break into a fond smile. You smile even wider.

“It seems to me that you have been using her as a dumbbell to workout,” you joke. He has been taking more days off to help you raise your daughter and she has grown even more fond of him. 

He quirks an amused eyebrow. “She isn’t heavy enough to be a weight.”

You roll your eyes. “I know that.” You hadn’t forgotten his taut, muscular figure, toned with muscle and minimal fat. 

“Have you eaten anything yet?” You ask as your thumb creates circles on his forearm, coiled with veins and tendons.

He shakes his head. “No.”

“I’ll start breakfast right now.” You start to stand up, but his calloused hand grabs your wrist, pulling you back. 

“Can I have a kiss?” He asks gingerly, his hand caressing your jaw. It was adorable when he asked for affection and it wasn’t often when he asked.

You give him more than just a kiss. You lean in, your hand rests on his shoulder and kisses him a few times. Each time you pull away, you smile against his lips as you lean in for another one.

“I love you.” The declaration of love whispered against his lips as you placed another kiss there to seal it, let it seep into his skin, make it known to him you meant every word.

“I love you, too,” he murmurs, his thumb cradling your cheek.

You break your loving gaze from your husband to your daughter, her eyes wide as she stares at the both of you, mouth slightly agape as her brain tries to register the tender action her parents just shared. Kiyoomi’s ears are brushed with a pink tinge. Still blushing after almost being together for almost ten years? You want to say, but you bite your lip to prevent them from falling.

You laugh, light and airy as you kiss her forehead. “And I love you, Rina.”

You lift yourself from the floor, walking to the door and closing it behind. You try your best to suppress the stupid grin on your face, but fail miserably. You walk to the kitchen to make yourself coffee. You open the cabinet to get your mug and realize Kiyoomi put it on the top shelf once again. Attempting to get the mug yourself is a lost cause because he absolutely forbids it in the case you might hurt yourself. 

You smile, but it falls from your face when your jaw begins to tense, letting you know you have been smiling so much to the point it hurts. Instead, you just let your lips tug at the ends. 

You fervently wish he never stops surprising you. Routine is a part of Kiyoomi’s lifestyle and he enjoys the familiarity and repetition; it brings him comfort. It is easier for him to follow a paved road than a gravel path. How much of a surprise it was for him to include you into his routine and take the beaten path instead so he can see the flowers while walking side by side with you.

Repetition and changeability contrasts with each other like black and white, yin and yang, like the cherry blossom petals dancing in the spring air and the autumn leaves floating in the cool fall breeze, but when they are put together, it creates something beautiful and Kiyoomi is the embodiment of that strange yet beautiful combination.

sakusa’s the type of dad to be eating cereal with his daughter on a sunday morning with cartoons playing in the back, smiling when she tells him they’re almost out of cereal. “oh yeah? you gonna pay for it, or is that my job?” he teases her softly with a sly grin, “i don’t have any money!” she cries out through giggles. “oh yeah, i forgot. six year olds don’t usually have jobs, do they?”

-𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒈𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒌𝒖𝒔𝒂 𝒂𝒖 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔-

…………………………………………………………………………….

-𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒈𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒌𝒖𝒔𝒂- 𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐄𝐜𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 .

-𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒈𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒌𝒖𝒔𝒂- 𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 .

-𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒈𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒌𝒖𝒔𝒂- 𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐀𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚 “ 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐝” .

-𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒈𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒌𝒖𝒔𝒂- 𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 3𝐫𝐝 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬/𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐳𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

-𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒈𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒌𝒖𝒔𝒂- 𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬.

-𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒈𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒌𝒖𝒔𝒂- 𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

-𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒈𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒌𝒖𝒔𝒂- 𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐨𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭.

-𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒈𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒌𝒖𝒔𝒂- 𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐛𝐜𝐮’𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦.

-𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒈𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒌𝒖𝒔𝒂- 𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐲.

-𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒈𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒌𝒖𝒔𝒂- 𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐬 .

Let me know if you guys want more🤍.

ATHLETE BOYFRIENDS. sakusa kiyoomi x top male reader

This is kinda self-indulgent. Reader is a takraw player. Search it up if you don't know what takraw is.

minors, fujoshis and blank blogs DNI. i will find your home.

It's a habit of yours to climb though his window, even before dating him. You don't care what time it is, the weather, the situation. As long as you get to see him.

Though he insisted you to go through the front door instead—which is obviously more convenient and unconventional, but you refused. For whatever reason that is still unknown to him till this day. But he digressed. It wasn't much of a big deal, though the first time you climbed through his window, the neighbor almost called the cops.

Most of the times, your reason for climbing through his window was...Nothing! It was simply because you wanted to see him. You only live a few blocks away from him but that's considered hundreds of mile for you. He'd always pretend to be annoyed and pouty from your attention, but deep down, he knows some of your visits can mean something else. Something that'd leave his puffy pink hole stuffed full of your cum.

Sakusa was tall, you were only a few inches taller than him, but so much bigger and thicker in terms of muscles and your other asset too. Kiyoomi can't help but feel so so tiny under you, writhing, struggling, letting out choked out moans as you continue to knock him up.

Sakusa knew you were a huge. You're a sport player, not a volleyball player, but you played a sport similar to it, just with your legs.

He loves seeing you hoisting up your thick leg into a position to kick back the rattan ball back to the opposing team's court. He loves seeing how your shorts would ride up a bit, showing more of those meaty thighs. And he loves seeing how you're always riled up, predatory when on court, also in bed. Or anywhere when you're feeling horny for that matter and would completely forgetting or simply ignoring his whole mysophobia facade he'd keep up when you fuck in a stadium's toilet stall.

But his favorite huge thing about you is the monster of a cock that'd rest in-between your legs. He'd always wonder how you even managed to fit it in your underwear..barely. When you're on the court, you'd always be the center of almost everyone's attention. One because you're extremely good. Two, they'd be focusing on that huge dick of yours, and maybe even your whole body. And you swore you felt everyone's eyes on you one time.

When you win a game, you'd be rewarded with a good, balls deep blowjob by him in a locker room. And when your team lose, you'd still be rewarded with a good, reverse cowgirl riding by him, giving you a nice view of his plush ass bouncing against your pelvis.

One thing for sure, he can't get enough of you.

This was rushed, but I wanted to write something :)

It just makes my heart beat ^-^ so cute

sakusa kiyoomi doesn’t believe that you’re his ‘first love’. he’s never dated anyone before you, never even gotten close to holding hands with another, but still, he would never consider you his ‘first love’.

it nearly broke your heart when he mentioned it, casually bringing it up while making dinner together after announcing your engagement to his teammates. you had genuinely thought he was about to break up with you.

“they were all talking about how great it is that i’m marrying my first love,” he said, “but i think they’re wrong; you’re not my first love.”

you didn’t know how to react, all words had gotten stuck in your throat. hands freezing midair, nearly dropping the wooden spoon you were holding, your eyes shot to him in worry.

“not because you’re not the first person i have ever loved,” he continued, cupping your face with his right hand after letting a fond chuckle leave his lips, “but because you’re the only person i’ll ever love. saying you’re my first love implies someone will come after — but that will never happen.”

his free hand took the spoon that had almost slipped as he brought his lips to yours. the soft, loving smile that graced his lips as you parted reminded you that he’s yours and will always and forever be.

“my only love,” kiyoomi whispered, making you fall in love with him all over again.