#sakusa drabble

[i6eyes]

random bf texts with sakusa kiyoomi

note : first, literally ignore the whole status bar. second, each picture is a different conversation, except for the three in the middle, and the last bottom two !

💌 : 6eyes my a*s, i started this blog for sakusa after all. god i love him.

[gabseyoo]

FIFTEEN SECONDS — SAKUSA KIYOOMI

content: female reader, friends to lovers, love confession, fluff, bit of comedy. word count: 1,2k.

note: here’s a little something for valentine’s day, hope you like it!

What should I say?

“Here.” No, too dry.

“Here, it’s for you.” Shit, still too dry.

“I bought this for you, I hope you like it.” Okay, that one wasn’t so bad. 

For the past ten minutes, Kiyoomi had been locked in a brutal staring contest with the small black box sitting on the café table. The thing wasn’t even looking at him, and yet he was the one losing.

This was ridiculous. He was ridiculous.

He had bought the damn gift two weeks ago. Two weeks of overthinking, of waiting for the perfect moment, of nearly shoving it to the back of his closet out of sheer nerves. But then Valentine’s Day crept up on him, and he thought—maybe this was fate giving him a chance.

Or setting him up for humiliating rejection.

Kiyoomi had rehearsed this moment in his head. And still, here he was, breaking into a nervous sweat over a bracelet. What if you didn’t like it? What if you thought it was stupid? What if you liked someone else?

Then, in the middle of his internal crisis, a familiar voice nearly made him jump.

“Hey, Kiyoomi.”

He looked up so fast he almost knocked the gift off the table. There you were, standing in front of him with that impossibly pretty smile, your presence alone enough to make his pulse go haywire.

“Did you already order, or should I—?” You asked as you sat down in front of him. 

“I already did.” He forced his voice to stay steady. “Iced latte with two shots of vanilla, right?”

Your smile grew. “You know me so well.”

Yeah, because I’m hopelessly in love with you.

The words were right there. On the tip of his tongue.

Relax, Kiyoomi. Ease into it.

That was the smart thing to do. You didn’t just shove a confession at someone out of nowhere—there should be a conversation first, something natural.

“So, uh…” He wracked his brain for something—anything—normal to say. “How’s work?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “It’s fine?”

What the hell was that, Kiyoomi? It was comical how his calm and collected personality seemed to disappear at this moment when he needed it most. Was love always this complicated? Or was it because it was about you?

You tilted your head. “Are you okay?”

No. No, he was absolutely not okay. His fingers tapped anxiously against the small box. The longer he waited, the worse this was getting. His nerves were eating him alive. He could already feel the impending doom of chickening out.

Screw it.

With zero transition or warning, he grabbed the box and shoved it across the table. “Here.”

Goddamn it. 

You blinked in surprise. “For me?”

A stiff nod. This was fine. You’d open it, love it, and then he’d tell you. Smooth. Simple. Foolproof.

Except…

You were taking your sweet time untying the ribbon.

Kiyoomi clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to do it for you. Why were you so slow? Was this some kind of test? Did you already know he was panicking and just wanted to see him suffer?

Finally, you lifted the lid. Your lips parted as you took out the delicate silver bracelet, the small star charm catching the café’s warm light.

“Oh, Kiyoomi…” You breathed. “It’s beautiful.”

His fingers twitched under the table as your eyes widened slightly. “Wait… this is—”

Kiyoomi looked away, pretending to be fascinated by the café menu on the wall. “Yeah.”

Your fingers traced the charm, realization dawning. “This is the bracelet from that shop at the mall, isn’t it?”

He cleared his throat. “Maybe.”

You turned to him, eyes suspiciously bright. “You went back for it?”

Kiyoomi picked up his coffee, taking a slow sip as if that would somehow make this moment less humiliating. “You wouldn’t stop staring at it.”

“I looked at it for like, five seconds.”

“It was at least fifteen.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable.”

This was it. The perfect moment.

He took a breath, preparing to say the words that had been stuck in his chest for way too long.

“I—” He began, but the words he had rehearsed for days were interrupted when a waiter appeared at the table.

“Here’s your order! One vanilla iced latte and one black coffee.”

Kiyoomi clenched his jaw so hard he thought he might crack a tooth. Not now, man. 

He nodded stiffly as you thanked the waiter. Okay, fine. Minor setback. 

“What were you saying?” You asked after the guy turned around, taking a sip from your drink.

His heart was about to beat out of his chest. Now. Now is the time. Just say it: I like you.

Kiyoomi opened his mouth, determined to do it, but then— 

“Do you need any sugar?”

Oh my god.

Kiyoomi glared at the waiter. Who was back. Did this man have a vendetta against his love life?

He mumbled a half-hearted, “No, thanks.”

“Cream?”

“No, thanks.”

“Any appetizer? We have a special red velvet cake because of Valentine's Day.”

Was this a joke?

“We’re fine.”

“Actually, I want a slice of cake.” You said.

Before the waiter could leave, Kiyoomi muttered, “Make that two.”

The guy finally left, and he was beginning to get irritated by his bad luck.

Just do it now! He scrambled at himself mentally. 

“Y/N, I bought–” He hurried to say, but then the loud hiss from the blender machine drowned out his voice.

Was this the universe making fun of him? 

By now, he was one more interruption away from actually losing it. So, ignoring the annoying noise, he decided to just keep going, “I bought this because–”

“Oh! Look at that dog outside.”

Kiyoomi stopped mid-sentence as you turned to the window, grinning at a fluffy golden retriever wagging its tail on the sidewalk. Are you serious?

But, when he turned back to you, you were watching him with amusement.

You two made eye contact for a few seconds, he blinked, you blinked, and then— you laughed.

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “What?”

You smirked. “Kiyoomi, don’t be so shy.”

His stomach dropped.

“I like you too.”

For a full three seconds, his brain just ceased to function.

You… what?

His ears burned. His grip tightened on his cup. His entire soul left his body. “You knew?”

You giggled, tapping his hand lightly. “Of course. I actually got something for you too.”

You reached into your bag and pulled out a small gift box, setting it on the table in front of him. Kiyoomi tried���really tried—not to look too eager as he picked it up and carefully lifted the lid.

Inside was a watch. The watch. The one he had lingered on in the mall that day.

“You looked at it for at least fifteen seconds.” You teased, a knowing smile playing on your lips.

Kiyoomi froze. His fingers tightened around the box as the realization sank in.

You had noticed. Just like he had noticed you staring at the bracelet. You both had thought of each other.

For a moment, he couldn’t speak. His throat felt tight, his chest oddly warm. He looked up at you, something soft, something real in his gaze.

“This is—”

“Here they are! Two slices of red velvet cake!”

Kiyoomi visibly twitched.

Oh, come on!

[clawsdevour]

curls

wc: 0.2k content warning: fluff, sakusa x reader, sakusa's curlz, cuddling, not proofread

྇݁ ͏ . ິํ้ ꕥ :

jet black locs of hair, tangled and curled despite being damp and wet. sakusa's hair, you just can't get enough of it. if he ever thinks about straightening his hair you think you'd die.

something about the way his hair is naturally twisted into perfect bouncy curls that frame his porcelain face, tainted with his complimenting moles right above his thick eyebrow. his dull and droopy eyes that light up when you're around make you flutter every time you make eye contact.

you love playing with his curls. pulling one out till it looks like it's been straightened to let go and see it go back to its original state never fails to amaze you. the scent of his hair was your favorite scent ever, you just love getting the delicate whiff of his freshly washed strands.

the way his toned and vascular arms wrap around your body for a tight cuddle under the warm blankets despite how cold he may appear. his black head of hair nestled under your chin as his stern face inches closer to your skin.

your arms are wrapped his broad shoulders, just reaching and locking your fingers together when he looks up with a sleepy gaze that keeps you at peace.

burying his face back into the crook of your neck, he curls himself into you to keep the both of you warm.

masterlist here

[omi-boshi]

"What are you doing?" Kiyoomi asks from his place on the bed, wary.

His arms part as he makes space for you to wiggle your way onto his chest. He breathes a laugh at your antics, watches as you take his face between the palm of your hands. The grin that tugs on your lips is a little lopsided, a little cheeky.

The bright red of your lips catches the light and it is the last thing he sees before you begin your assault.

Kiss. On his lips.

Kiss. Right cheek.

Kiss. Left cheek.

Kiss. Tip of his nose.

Kiss. The moles on his forehead.

By the tenth kiss, he is roaring in laughter. The kind of laugh that you've only ever heard when he's with you. It's loud, it shakes his entire being, jostling your body that lies on top of his if not for the arms he has wrapped around you to keep you in place.

It's a little ugly, a little silly the way he snorts in between laughs, but it is offset by the unbridled joy so clear to your ears. The kisses you leave by the corner of his eyes are distorted by the way they're crinkled in laughter. From there, his grin is a permanent fixture as you continue to fill every gap on his face and neck with kisses.

As the tint on your lips slowly fades, his laughter does too, mellowing down into a dopey little smile, eyes bright. You pull back to admire your handiwork, your smile just as dazed.

One arm unravels from your waist to cradle one of your hands still cupping his cheeks. He nuzzles into the touch, eyes tracing over your features, gaze so warm you feel it on your skin. It moves you to lean in once more, to kiss him on the lips.

Longer this time.

And Kiyoomi is more than eager to reciprocate. It's heavier, wetter. More breaths, gasps, and the occasional bites. There is an attempt at deepening the kiss further; Kiyoomi's tongue tracing the seam of your lips. But the giddiness that thrums through him pulls his grin wider. Every time your teeth clash, it makes you laugh into his mouth. It is truly in vain that you try to kiss properly.

When you finally pull away, it is to Kiyoomi mirroring you and cupping your cheeks with both hands.

"What was that for?" He is breathless as he asks. The look on his face no less lovestruck than it was before. The tint on his lips was the most smeared compared to all other kiss marks on his face. It makes you giggle, amused.

"I just wanted to kiss you, is all." You kiss the palm of his left hand to emphasize. "And I wanted to try out the lipstick I bought today." You nod towards the tube sitting innocently on your nightstand.

Kiyoomi shakes his head, chuckling to himself.

He hugs you to his chest, rolling you onto your back, placing himself on top of you. He reaches for the tube of lipstick, smile growing mischievous.

"Guess it's time to return the favor."

[cierai]

MAKE UP FOR IT — ft. sakusa kiyoomi

warnings — none

for the fourth night in a row kiyoomi had to cancel date night. or as the both of you have been saying “rain check”. you’d be lying if you said you weren’t upset, but you understood. whenever he had last minute practice or team meeting he couldn’t help it.

you knew after the second night he cancelled when he’d do it again by the look in his face. he made the same face every time. his eyebrows pressed together as he stared at his phone and his face dropped. he glanced from the phone to you before turning it off and putting in his pocket.

sakusa inhaled deeply preparing to let out a heavy sigh but you stopped him before he could. “rain check?” you say as you began to take off your earrings. you guys had plan to go out to dinner this time. you wore your best outfit and put on a new pair of earrings kiyoomi had bought for you.

“i’m sorry.” he starts as he steps towards you and grabs your hands in his firmly. “it’s okay i’ll be fine, we’ll just try again another night,” you smile as his thumbs rub circles on the backs of your hands.

that was the same thing he did next two times it happened. you didn’t even want to rain check anymore. when kiyoomi was about to suggest it, you began to act casually. “it’s fine i’m just gonna head to bed, i’ll see you in the morning.” you dismissed yourself. as soon as you feel like you were out of his line of sight your mouth formed into a frown.

“oh okay, i love you.” your boyfriend said and you smiled before your turn and face him . “i love you too.” kiyoomi gives you one last apologetic glance before he leaves and that was the last time you thought you’d see him that night.

at almost 12 AM you woke up to kiyoomi rubbing your shoulder and calling your name. “y/n, wake up i have something for you.” your vision was blurred and distorted from the darkness of your room.

rubbing your eyes didn’t help much with your sight but your boyfriend noticed this and turned the bedside lamp on. “babe here,” he whispers as he grabs your hands to help you sit up. “what is it?” you said, your voice raspy.

“i have something to show you, come on.” he urges you once more and you finally process that you’re awake and agree to follow him.

the tall dark haired male leads you by your intertwined hands out of your bedroom and to the patio in your backyard.

you gasp almost immediately at the sight. “when did you have time to do this?” you ask as your hand slips out of his and you inch towards the beautiful setup on the patio.

there were string lights hanging around the backyard and your eyes were lit up in awe. “when i got home and you were asleep,” he tells you and you frown at kiyoomi before pulling him into a hug.

“i love you, you know that right?” you say before placing a kiss on to his soft cheek. “i would hope so,” he squints and his soft lips meet your forehead. “i love you too,” he smiles “and this is my apology for missing date night. i wanted to make it up to you.” he explains while grabbing your hand and pulling you toward the little dinner set up.

as the two of you sat down you continued to stared at the set up in shock. there were some of your favorite meals and appetizers, along with snacks you loved. “wow you went all out!” you mused reaching for a snack.

“do you forgive me?” kiyoomi asked, sliding his hand out of yours and to your thigh. “we’ll see,” you shrug while taking a bite out of your treat. “we’ll see?” he repeated back to you confused.

“yeah, we’ll see how the rest of the night plays out.”

needless to say the rest of the night plays out well. so well in fact, you wake up the next morning in nothing but kiyoomi’s shirt. before you, he wakes up and sees the marks left down his chest in the mirror before he heads in for practice.

reblogs are appreciated

[causenessus]

Hi! Congratulations on your 1K, you really deserve it! I've just seen your post about your event and was thinking of sending something. Could you write ⭐️ with Sakusa where the reader is his roommate and suffer from insomnia ? And could the reader be personality-wise like Sakusa, but the two are already close friends or whatever you want them to be ? This is maybe silly lol, anyway thank you for this event it’s really cool!

can't sleep? | sakusa k.

sakusa x f!reader

written in second person

one word prompt from 1k followers event: ⭐ -> insomnia

"maybe i'll just place my hands over you and close my eyes real tight. there's a light in your eyes and you know <3" from look on down from the bridge by mazzy star

word count: 2.8k words

anon. thank u for this. u have fed all the omi girlies well tonight <3 thank you so much for requesting and i hope you enjoy this fic!!!

notes: lots of fluff <3 THEY ARE STRETCHING!!! JUST STRETCHING TOGETHER i stress this bc i couldn't take myself seriously and even y/n has a moment of "should i ask what we are after this?" but they're just stretching okay. also i frequented this list of stretches and literally followed its order so in case you want to know what stretch they're doing LMAO THIS SOUNDS SO WEIRD I'M SORRY 😭 i attempted to proofread this!!! but i'm sorry for any typos </3

THANK YOU TO @nectardaddy FOR HELPING ME DECIDE ON A COLOR AND MAKING ME VERY EXCITED TO WRITE THIS!! I HOPE YOU ALSO ENJOY IT <3

kiyoomi likes his routines. he likes to be home by a certain time, eat dinner at a certain time, make sure the dishes are washed, and then he likes to retire to bed by a certain time. when he decided to find a roommate in order to split costs, he had been slightly worried that his routines would be ruined, but the universe had worked in his favor.

you had been his first option. he hadn’t even tried to send out messages to anyone else "just in case you declined his offer," he had just simply hoped you would say yes. you were quite frankly everything he could hope for as a roommate; he had known from the times you'd hung out throughout your years in high school that you liked things to be clean similar to him, and trying to find a time for you both to meet up throughout college meant he knew that your current schedules would line up nicely.

and luckily you had agreed enthusiastically, excited to move in with one of your closest friends. it eased your mind to know he would also be organized and keep to himself, which was not something you could say if you had moved in with someone like atsumu (would only become a reality if you had no other option) or osamu (you would consider it, after a lot of convincing and compromising).

and kiyoomi had been right. the decision to room had worked out perfectly in nearly every way. you always got home before him and would make your own dinner and take care of your dishes, leaving the place empty and spotless for him by the time he returned. sometimes, you even left notes for him, saying you had leftovers that he was free to eat if he wanted. 

and it wasn’t that he didn’t want to see you. you were good friends, after all, and one of the few people he found he could always tolerate even when a day had stressed him out. but you both had agreed that you liked having time in the kitchen to yourself rather than two of you trying to be in there at the same time. it wasn’t anything personal; you were both independent people who valued their alone time. and when he saw you around the apartment, he never failed to talk to you, even if it was just a small nod of acknowledgment. you always had a calm and collected kind of demeanor, which he reasoned he liked because it was similar to him, in contrast to the men who had too much energy for their own good that he was surrounded by every day.

your similar attitudes had also led to a lot of shared nights together. sometimes on the nights when you stayed a little bit later at work or school, he would come home and you’d still be eating at the counter, zoned out on your phone, not even noticing him until he placed his bag on the table.

“oh, sorry, omi. welcome back, i can leave–”

“no, you’re fine. stay there,” he’d cut you off.

he’d navigate around the kitchen, gathering what he needed while you continued eating your own meal. sometimes things were peacefully silent between you both as you resumed scrolling on your phone; you were just two roommates in their kitchen, illuminated by the warm light of a hanging lamp overhead. other times you asked him how his day was, and you would both chat while he made his own dinner, and if his day was bad, sometimes you invited him to watch a movie with you.

that was something that had confused him. he always was preparing himself to say no, that he was tired, or that he just wanted to be in bed in an hour, but instead he often found himself agreeing to the proposal. he realized after a bit of thought that it was because he liked being around you. he was willing to amend his routines to include you in them.

a friend had once warned him that he could never really know someone until he lived with them. and he had found that with you, he only liked you more once he started rooming with you. he liked how responsible and respectful you were with everything you did, aware of your surroundings and the space you shared with him. he found that he looked forward to seeing you every day, and when your door was shut, sometimes he felt conflicted. like he wanted to see you, but he didn't have the right to invade your space so instead, he was stuck alone in his own room, with you across the hall.

the only problem between you both (although he hated to call it that) was how late you stayed up. but even then, you tried to be careful about how loud you were, stepping quietly over the aged floorboards and using minimal lighting to navigate your way through the apartment. 

he wasn’t going to call you out for it. it was only a mild inconvenience, and he knew you couldn’t really help it. you had warned him before you moved in that sometimes you got restless at night, unable to sleep no matter how badly you wanted to.

he didn’t mind, he told you, and you had signed the lease. and truthfully, he didn't. but recently, your sleepless nights had become more frequent. for him, he rarely struggled with the problem. he could easily pass out on his bed at any time of the day. but sometimes he would wake up to your footsteps through the thin walls.

part of him worried for you, thinking to himself that this was what, the eighth day in a row he had woken up to you wandering around? while another part of him (a very cranky one) really wanted you to go to bed (for your sake and his own).

he stepped out of his room, blinking rapidly as he tried to adjust to the lighting of the living room lamp that was on. it wasn’t as bright as if you had turned on the overhead lights, but he’d just come from his pitch-black room.

you were curled up on the couch, knees pulled to your chest and biting the side of your thumb, still unable to get rid of how antsy you felt despite getting up from your bed. you looked up at him as he stepped into the room, the light of the screen reflecting against the side of your face, “oh god, omi. i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to wake you.”

the moment he sees the bags under your own eyes, any hint of irritation he felt about being woken up immediately fades. “it’s fine,” he says, coming to sit with you on the edge of the couch, “can you not sleep?”

you exhale a long breath through your nose at the question, “no. it’s been bad lately. i can’t fall asleep or i wake up a few hours later just feeling even more tired.”

“so you’re watching tv?” he says, raising his brows and looking at you. you purse your lips, pouting under his gaze, fidgeting with the sleeve of your shirt.

you give him a small nod, “yeah. i mean, i’m really tired but i can’t sleep so i came out here to watch something.”

“well screens aren’t going to help you fall asleep,” he chides and you sigh.

“i knew you were going to say that. but what else am i supposed to do?” you complain.

“have you tried stretching?” he suggests.

you look at him, brows raised in confusion, “no, why would i do that?”

he rolls his eyes at your sass but it can’t be helped. he really only knows about the benefits of stretching because they’ve been ingrained into his mind from years of volleyball, “it helps relax your body, especially when you're stiff or sore so that you can go to bed. it’s what i do when i can’t sleep.”

“oh,” you reply, playing with a stray string coming out of the couch.

it’s silent for a moment. “are you not gonna do it? are we just gonna sit here in silence?”

you look up at him in embarrassment, “well, i don’t know what stretches to do! you don’t have to stay up with me, omi. you can go back to sleep. i don’t want you to be tired tomorrow.”

he sighs, laying back and sinking into the couch, “i’m not sleeping until you do.”

“well then tell me what i should do,” you say, extending your legs in front of you, placing them firmly onto the ground so you’re sitting up.

he stands and your eyes follow him curiously, unsure of where he’s going. eventually, he’s standing behind you at the back of the couch, and turns your head forward so that you’re looking directly at the wall in front of you. “what are you doing?” you ask, body going rigid.

“i’m just guiding you through some of these stretches, relax,” he answers and feels you calm down, letting him push your head gently towards one shoulder. his hand is on your opposite shoulder, keeping it straight while you feel a stretch in your neck.

“thanks,” you mumble as he repeats the movement for the other side of your neck. he gives you a small “mhm” in response, focused on making sure you’re feeling the stretch without hurting you.

he ends up leading you to the ground, modeling the stretches for you so that you can follow along. he guides you to lay on your side, with one arm extended out in front of you while the other is behind you, and you face each other as you both lay there, arms mimicking a T.

you giggle, unable to control yourself as you stare into his eyes. “what’s so funny?” he chuckles, smiling at the sound of your laughter.

“i just feel so stupid right now,” you answer, shifting slightly in your position. “but this is helping a bit, i think. i’m feeling a little better.”

he hums in acknowledgment of your words, his smile staying on his face before you switch to the other side.

“what’s next?” you ask, sitting up.

“do you know what the cat-cow is?” he asks, brushing off his arms from where they touched the ground. when you look at him, mouth agape, he gives you a defensive look back, unsure of what caused your reaction. “what?” he says, tilting his head slightly.

“omi, i’m not getting on my hands and knees,” you say, embarrassed that you even have to explain yourself, but you’d rather say it than humiliate yourself further on all fours.

“oh my god,” he rolls his eyes, putting a palm to his face, “you’re turning this into something it’s not. i’m not gonna look at you or anything. i’ll even turn away, okay? just do it, it’s good for you. i’m tired of hearing you complain about your back.”

you sigh dejectedly but comply, moving into the position. you can’t deny that you feel less stiff, but you also can’t help but overthink the entire situation. if anyone had told you a year ago that the man you had been crushing on for years was going to ask you to move in with him and months later he’d be on the floor stretching with you because he really wants you to be able to sleep, you would’ve laughed in their face.

but this was reality, and this felt like an intimate moment between you both. you were unsure of what to make of the situation; it had come as a big enough shock that he cared enough about your sleep. but you also shouldn’t have been that surprised. 'he’s just being a good friend,' you try to reason. he asked you to move in because no one in their right mind would want to live under the same roof as atsumu, and you both value a clean, organized house.

but where were you supposed to draw the line between friends and something more?

his careful attentiveness towards you had started to make you think that maybe he saw you as more of a friend as well. you never imagined that he would ever want you to stay in the kitchen with him while he was cooking when it had been a bad day, and you were even more surprised the first time he agreed to watch a movie with you. you considered yourselves good friends but you didn’t expect him to actually want to spend so much time with you on top of everything else he had going on. he never seemed to tire of seeing you around the house; instead, he always made sure to say hi or ask how your day had been.

you wanted to bring it up to him soon, you really did. the feeling was starting to eat away at you, and this night together wasn’t helping in the slightest.

after a few more stretches, you stood up, reaching your arms above you as you yawned. “think you’ll be able to sleep now?” he asks, following you up and dusting off his clothes.

the thought of going back to your stuffy room makes you drop your arms and the content look on your face fades away. you felt tired, but something about your room just felt so unwelcoming. you didn’t want to walk back in there, where the air would feel heavy, your mattress would be too stiff, your pillow too soft, and blanket too scratchy. there was always something that bothered you about your bed every night, and being alone with your thoughts again would prevent you from falling asleep. you’d be stuck tossing and turning in your bed on a bed that never felt clean or comfortable, you could already feel it. 

“what’s wrong?” he steps into your line of sight. you look up at him as a thought crosses your mind, making you immediately look back down at the ground, face turning red.

“um–” you start, and then immediately close your mouth. it was a stupid thought.

but what’s the worst he could do? say no? give you a disgusted look? kick you out into the cold after spending half an hour stretching with you? that last one was a little extreme, but maybe you’d say it and he’d laugh in your face. or gag (being dramatic, again). either way, whatever he said, if it wasn’t a yes, your life would be forever ruined.

“y/n,” he says, and you look back up at him, feeling like you’re about to collapse under the weight of his gaze. but your mouth opens, unable to keep it in.

“i just–” you have to stop to take in a deep breath, the words getting caught in your throat. he keeps looking at you the entire time, waiting to listen to what you have to say. “i don’t want to go back to my own bed,” you blurt, finally spitting it out. “it just doesn’t feel right. i don’t know how to explain it, but i know i won’t be able to sleep alone in my own bed. i’m sorry,” you add an apology on at the end, feeling embarrassed by your own confession.

when he doesn’t respond, you feel even worse. “nevermind, forget i said anything, i’m so sorry. thank you for helping me stretch, i’m going to go to bed now–” you spin on your heel, moving to run away as calmly as you can manage when he catches your wrist. you let out a small exclaim of surprise at the touch as he turns you back around.

“don’t apologize. and don’t lie to me. i want you to sleep,” he says, looking away as he runs a hand through his hair, preparing to say his next few words. “would it–” he shuts his mouth, feeling the anxiety settle in his chest, “would it help to sleep with me?”

neither of you are looking at each other. he’s staring at the wall and you’re looking at the floor, face hot and burning. “if you don’t mind, i think it would,” you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear and look back at you, letting out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding in.

he’s still holding your wrist, too, he realizes, but he doesn’t let go. he runs a thumb along the side of your arm, grabbing your attention again. he’s looking you in the eyes, and he wants to tell you that he’s not uncomfortable with sleeping in the same bed as you. in fact, it’s quite the opposite, but he’s not sure what you’ll say back, so he settles for a neutral response, instead, “yeah. of course i’m fine with it.”

maybe in the morning, when he wakes up next to you, finds your limbs entangled with his under his sheets, and sees the sunlight peeking through the curtains and onto your skin, he’ll be able to choke out a three-word confession. but for now, he only leads you silently to his room, letting you slip under the covers first before he follows after, holding you close.

[mitsuyaya]

[ it's in his kiss ] sakusa kiyoomi

contains: 900+ words. historical/royalty au, fluff-y, suggestive, kissing, reader is referred to as my lady, unedited as always

end note: this is a lil sumn for the series I'm planning on. i wrote this for noritoshi before but looking back this fits omi more

haikyuu masterlist

If escaping the clutches of your controlling family before was the most difficult problem you've ever known, you'd wager trying to decipher Sakusa’s way of thinking can compare to that. You'd admit, even all of those months you've spent and gained the trust of the infamous cold-blooded future duke, you still can't grasp how his mind works, just like what is happening at the moment. 

“Should we practice kissing so it would not be too awkward during the ceremony?” you could not whip your head fast enough after those words left his mouth. As much as you try to squint your eyes to find even a trace of embarrassment or humor on his face, you still couldn't find any. The gleam in his eyes is proof enough that he is very much, serious. 

“Do you say that in jest, your grace?” there's just no way that he would say that, even if he does look like he is, you just can't believe that. Sakusa doesn't say a word, only taking steps to close the gap between the both of you. 

“Do I seem like the type to do so, my lady?” There's smugness laced between his words and the tone of his voice, it irritates you so much that you want to wipe it across his annoying face, god if you didn't need this man to be your husband. 

In all honesty, even if you were the desperate one to cling onto this man and begged him to sign a contractual marriage, this situation still embarasses you. Even the mere idea of what's to come after your wedding sends a shiver down your spine, oh god just what will happen during your wedding night?

“I do not see a point in doing this. It's not like we would kiss for longer than a minute” you try to find a way out of this humiliating conversation, why must this conversation exist in the first place it's not like you're going to make out in front of the guests. 

“If you want everyone to buy the story of us being ‘the empire's perfect couple’ ‘absolutely, hopelessly in love’ this is a necessary step” he's right, you'll die before you can admit that though, and the looks on his face with that everlasting smirk plastered on him, tells you that he can see that you understand it now, makes you want to choke yourself to death even more. 

“If you are this reluctant now, what more could happen during the wedding? Should we just end this fraudulent marriage here?” parallel to his tone earlier, this feels like he's challenging you, trying to make you desperate, riling you up to make you take the bait.

Sakusa is perfect in everything he does. He knows too well, he knows you well, that's why you chose him to be your husband – the idea of that before thrills you, hoping that you can be friends even with this fake marriage that is about to happen, but now you're starting to hate it. 

And because he knows you too well, you can't help but take the bait, begrudgingly of course. 

“Fine. It's just a kiss anyway” you really can't win in any argument with this jerk.

“See…” he lets out a small laugh, amused by your antics, you closed your eyes wanting this to end faster. Sakusa's breath is just a few centimeters next to yours, you can feel it, just like how he gently cradles your chin with his forefinger and thumb, cradling it as if you're fragile, it's uncharacteristic of him to do so. 

“There is no need for your pointless rebuttals but that is what I like about you, anyways” just right when you open your eyes and about to ask him what he meant by that, Sakusa already planted his lips against yours. In contrast to everything about him, his lips are so soft, so heavenly, so entrancing. 

There's no definite pattern, no pace, just a kiss shared between two people who're very much not in love but are under a contractual marriage. 

His hands are now cupping the side of your face, his touch is sending static underneath your skin, it's making your insides dance, making your mind and heart beat rapidly, like you're about to explode any moment.

Your hands find purchase in his chest, unsure whether to push him away or to pull him even closer because you just couldn't get enough of his intoxicating lips, couldn't get enough of him. Even if you hate to admit it, Sakusa is a great kisser, so much for saying he's never been in a relationship before.

If you're not entirely focused on kissing the man you just refused to kiss earlier, you would've heard someone knocking on the door but what you heard instead is a high-pitched scream and sound of teacups shattering. 

“Your grace, apologies for the…Oh my!” you were quick to push him away from you, making him fall to the ground from the force. You tried to catch your breath while searching for the owner of the voice you both just heard, this is literally the worst. The poor employee, whose cheeks are still tinted with bright red, apologizes a couple of times before sprinting and slamming the door loudly. 

Dear God. You wouldn't be able to look them in the eyes or Sakusa ever again. Speaking of Sakusa. 

“Your grace, I am so sorry, I didn't- I wasn't-” 

“This is ridiculous” great, as if this day could get any worse. Sakusa's eyes are wide open, brows narrowing, this is by far the most furious you've ever seen him. The nerves in his fist are threatening to burst from the way he's been clenching it. Oh my heavens, please help me.

“I know, p-please I am truly-” before you could apologize again you heard him say with much more intensity than you've ever heard him before, “I haven't even gotten to the next part yet. I should buy this store and fire every single one of them.” 

Wait, what did he just say?

[chosugarplum]

run your mouth

sakusa kiyoomi x reader

warnings: nothing, just kisses at the end and a weird question from reader the whole time.

ps: my first language isnt english so this must have severe grammatical errors

"If I..."

At the same moment that he perceived your voice entering the room, his head immediately turned around to gave you a warning look, telling you to be very cautelous about what are you about to say. For the past months, Sakusa got acquainted with your weird sense of humor.

"Listen up" you proclaimed before he starts to say anything else "If I hypothetically ask to lick your moles, you would let me do it?"

"What? Which one?" his voice sound slightly disguist, but the way his eyes softner when he turn to look at you, its shows that, if you asked, he happily gonna say yes.

When you met Sakusa, he was almost speechless and quite distant, always looking up on ways to avoid contact. Not only with you, you notice someday that he actually doesn't approach others people in general.

His team were the only ones who had permission to get close to him, and even his teammates didn't go far away, they always keep some limits to not transgress his boundaries.

The first moment in which both of you had to swap a few words were in a bar. One of your friends was "getting close" of Miya Atsumu, and have asked you to go with her so it's wasn't gonna be so stranger to her to meet some of his teammate.

You accepted and somehow - nobody know how - you ended up being placed next to Sakusa. Most of the time was very peaceful and quiet, but when all of the people in the table decide to become ghosts, you two have to start some convo.

The talk was very polite, just some questions about your profissional life - "what you do?", "how do you knew that was this you wanted to work with?"

But it has starded a thing between you and Sakusa. From that moment above, you accepted every offering that you friends does, in hope that he was in there, and Sakusa had done the same thing with Atsumu's offerings.

Each appointment brought you a little closer of him, until the moment that he asked for you number. since that moment your relationship climb some steps up to this exact moment.

"So you would let me?" you ask, challenging him to answer. "Hum? Kiyomi. Would you let me" you tighten your eyes, approaching him in the bathroom.

Your face is above his shoulder,with your cheeck scrunched on his skin, Sakusa can feel the heat that comes from your body. He looked at you in the mirror, a small lift in his lips.

"If you ask properly" he gazes at you, mesmerized with your face, nothing could change his mind about you being the prettiest person he ever seen.

You stare him in dare, removing your face from his shoulder and immediatily wraping your arms around his hips, you start to make a pout.

"So Please, please, please, let me get what I want~" you sing and Sakusa raises an eyebrow.

"You have to do better than that, sweetheart."

Your pout increases and you get an idea. A great idea.

Your fingers reach for his face and pull him closer.

Slamming your lips against his, you put your arms around his neck while you feel he placement his hands on your waist, opening your mouth when you recognize his tongue asking for access, your tongues slide against each other and you hear a small whimper from Sakusa. Smiling, you stop the kiss and murmurs slowly as you plants little seals on his lips.

"Can I" seal "please" seal "lick" seal "yours" seal "moles"

You separate your body from his and Sakusa has the glimpse of your whole figure, your eyes glowing in his direction, how could he say no?

"Yes, anytime you desire" he look at you smiling, and you know that this man loves you more than anything else.

chosugarplum, 06/18/2024.

[euphoricimagination]

꧁༺ 𝓜𝓮𝓮𝓽 𝓬𝓾𝓽𝓮: 𝓢𝓪𝓴𝓾𝓼𝓪 ༻꧂

You were in your favorite coffee shop after your day at work had finished, a small and very cozy shop that was in the middle of Tokyo that surprisingly didn’t have many customers for being in the heart of the country.

After a very tiring day you decided to visit, ordering your favorite pastry and coffee to have while continuing the book you were reading at the moment: The Flowers of Buffoonery by Osamu Dazai.

You were comfortably reading there when suddenly loud voices start to come closer, soon entering the café four people with big bags.

“I told you this place is so quiet! Almost nobody here!” one with greyish hair says

“How d’ya know about this, Bokuto-san? Ya don’t read” one with blonde hair asks

“Akaashi showed it to me when we where in uni!”

“Akaashi-san does seem like someone who would like this place” an orange hair one says now.

You noticed that the black hair one didn’t say anything, in fact he looked rather annoyed by his friends; but deciding to mind your own business, you continue reading while they order. Soon enough they came to sit near you, enthusiastically talking about volleyball and whatever had happened in their practice. You had seen them before, but not enough to know their names.

“Excuse me” you hear a few minutes after, the orange hair dude now beside you smiling brightly “It says Osamu Dazai? Like the dude from Bungo Stray Dogs?”

“Eh? Well, yeah, but…”

“Osamu? Ma brother was named after an author?” the blonde one says, taking his things and setting himself on your table

“You idiots, Osamu Dazai is a real person and a famous author” the black hair one says, looking carefully at the book as the other ones also join you

“Yeah, but it is true that he appears on the anime, all characters are based on real life authors, Dazai being one of them”

“ahh, I see! Thanks for letting us join you! I’m Hinata Shoyo” the orange hair says smiling, making it harder for you to even be mad at them

Surprisingly enough, despite being strangers, they made you feel really comfortable, everyone being chatty and making sure you join their conversation.

“I heard that this book it’s quite good, the protagonist is recovering after a suicide attempt, right?” Sakusa asks you, looking at the book again

“yeah, he’s the only survivor out of the couple. Its much more…joyful than his previous works”

“I see, I might try reading it. How did you found out about it?”

“honestly…because of the anime” you chuckle, making him have a faint smile “it is very good though, so I’m kinda glad I did pick it up”

“I’ve heard of the author, never actually check it out though” he says while looking over at his teammates, who know where loudly discussing about a match “sorry about them, you were reading peacefully and they came and ruined that”

“it’s alright, I don’t mind. They’re funny”

“They’re annoying”

“Omi-kun! Why do ya look more comfortable with her than us? We’ve know each other since high school!” Atsumu whines with a small smirk

“Unlike you bunch, she knows how to act outside”

“Ah! I know! We have a game on Sunday, why don’t you come to watch us Yn-chan?” Hinata asks you, also with a knowing look on his eyes, it seems that the three other players realized something about Sakusa

“Yeah, we can show you how awesome we are! You can see Omi-kun in action too!” Bokuto adds, a slight shade of red in your cheeks

“We have to go, we have practice early tomorrow” Sakusa stands ups, sending a sharp look to the guys and making them stand up saying their goodbyes. Sakusa is the last one to leave, looking at you right before he left “I do hope you can come to see us….maybe you can lend me that book after”

[noirflms]

୧ ˚₊ LUCKY RITUAL — sakusa kiyoomi

it’s your and his thing before he goes to stand on the court and win the game.

kiyoomi is not an affectionate man, yet he had his heart out to you – all yours to keep. he isn’t a big fan of his love in the public, a rather private escapade is what love is to him. from kisses he steals from you away from the eyes of the paparazzi in the bounds of your shared home is love to him – not the way that miya atsumu has a new girl on his arm every now and then.

it was not easy for you to make the man open up to you. it was way difficult that you had thought it will be. he was sheltered, a boy bound to his very own bubble and not letting anyone enter it. he hated when anyone crossed this bubble of his – even his cousin komori was cautious of it.

it was not in him let someone in so easily. he was a man within his walls, a man who didn’t like others to enter in them. but that changed when he met you.

you were rather eccentric and quite the opposite of him. you were open when he was so hard to read, you loved people and he hated them. you were like the sun while he was the moon and he wasn’t far away from this ideal prospect which he had created in his mind. to him – you were never meant to be his, yet here he is now, surrounded by his teammates in the locker rooms who kiss their partners with a goal to win in mind.

“ you’re thinking too hard , omi. ” he is brought of his stupor at the sound of your voice. you stand beside him with his hand holding onto yours. he has no heart to let go yet and you make out when his grip on your hand turn tighter and you don’t miss the chance to squeeze it in reassurance.

“ you make me think too hard. ” he musters, his voice muffled due to the mask he wears and the words sure do make your eyes widen but you soon your lips break into a huge grin. the sound of your chuckles makes his eyes soften as he looks at you, his thumbs drawing circles on the back of your hand – a thing he does when he feels nervous around many every now and then.

“ you’ll do good. i know. ”

your words make him sigh. it’s heavy as it takes through his whole body. he washes out the noisy teammates of his as he leans down to rest his head on your shoulder. he hates the way you make him feel and he certainly hates the butterflies you give him even after all these years. he feels your fingers brush through his curly tuft of hair and another sigh of relief is released.

the sound of the loud voice of the announcer echoes through the locker room. all players of his team ready to head out, assuring their partners they’ll be fine, they’ll be good. it is then all are pouring out of the room, calls of kiyoomi’s name are said aloud, telling him to be quick, hinata waving his hand at you and so does bokuto with a huge smile on his face, atsumu being pulled by the ear by their captain as he waves at you with a pain stricken look while sakusa watches it all.

as all walk out, it is you and him that are left behind. he has hands still on your waist, he doesn’t want to move. but he knows he has to, he has to rush out their and win, be the good ol’ sakusa kiyoomi he has always been.

“ will you win? ” your voice makes his eyes turn to you, his fingers are turning to pull his mask off, and amidst the silence his lips land on yours, he gets the taste of your cherry chapstick – it is always the one you wear to his matches. it is your and his little ritual before the match, to share a kiss before he smashes his opponents in the court.

it’s a lucky ritual of his, one he never forgets to do before any match. it took him a while to turn accustomed to it, but he likes it, he likes the way he gets to kiss you with the rush of adrenaline in him before the match, he likes it when a kiss shared with you ignites him whole. he likes to kiss you is all and that he is something he’d never deny. your laugh into the kiss finding it sudden, and you know his lips would smell off your cherry chapstick as well.

“ of course, i’ve got my luck with me. ”

that is all you hear before he steals a kiss of your lips and is rushing through the hallway to his team as you laugh looking at the tall man in a hurry. he’s always been like this, yet it is you who makes him a man like this and he would never change a thing about this.

highlighter sakusa >>>>

NOIRFLMS 2023 ! all rights reserved - plagiarism is a crime , do not translate my works without permission. REBLOG MORE PLEASE !

[uwurakax]

ー　死神　♡

halloweenie vibes ig, and im probs not even gonna get one fic out for it ( lmaoo whats new ), so just for spoop, enjoy a smol sakusa drabble, bc i felt like being nice to him :')

(( trigger warning for wanting to unalive, but its not bad, prkmise ))

thinking about grim reaper!sakusa who always watches over you;

you both met centuries ago. where? he can't say. how? he doesn't know. why? he forgot those details long ago. he doesn't even remember his life anymore. what he did, his friends or even his family. but he feels a phantom pain when he thinks about them.. family. he thinks maybe he was close to someone once.. its only natural right? at least before he met you.

he does recall one thing however; you died.

he does relive that, and that pain is real. so vividly he remembers praying, crying out to whatever deity or higher power that may be out there to listen. to not take you away from him. how you never had enough time, and that you were taken too soon.

it was the first time he had cried.

he wouldn't, no, couldn't live without you. the haze and cacophony leading up to his final days as a man, as a human, are not a time sakusa likes to reflect back on. barely existing and the shell of the proud man he once was, he just wanted to be with you.

it was peaceful that day the day he decided to take his own life. it was warm, with the sun shining vibrantly and the gentle breeze to offer a soothing kiss on his skin. it was like you were waiting... happy to be reunited.

he never felt the chill of the ocean below, tripping off of the cliff he was determined to jump from and hitting his head. a show of mercy in the hell he had to endure from being parted from you. painless and quick.

sakusa felt weightless when he awoke. was he still alive?

no, he came to find that he was indeed successful. a voice surrounding him that was everywhere and nowhere at all all but confirmed his passing. it also confirmed it had heard his desperate cries and prayers over you. the voice didn't know why, but it was willing to answer sakusa.

it had the power to bring you back, but it would come at a price.

the higher power would grant you life, but sakusa would be cursed to be undead. a leader of lost souls for the unfortunate.. or perhaps fortunate? to guide them into the afterlife.

it didn't matter what he had to do, as long as you got to live. he all but readily accepted, unknowingly cursing you too.

for life, and existence has a balance. if sakusa was cursed with being eternally dead, then you'd be cursed with eternal life.

but one couldn't live forever of course, humans don't live forever. so the universe found a workaround.

you would live and die, again and again and again. forever reincarnating, just to live and having to die; and all sakusa could do was watch.

as he led more and more souls to find everlasting tranquility, he had to watch yours being forced away from him into a new life that would soon become you.

he was confused the first time it happened, watching your reincarnated first life be born and grow. how you became who you were when you were with him. he was content like this, watching you from beyond. as long as you got to live your life.

you married and had kids in that first life, and he couldn't help but wonder if that could've been you and him. how would life have gone for him if you weren't taken away?

he learned early on what exactly he subjected himself and inadvertently, you to.

no matter how many centuries ago it had been, it still never made it easier, and sakusa had soon come to grow cold and disdainful of the world. of everything, and with noway to undo it, he had to withstand it.

be forced to watch the love of his life live without him, and knowing he was the cause of her never being able to reunite with any of her loved ones.

sometimes you'd die young, too young that sakusa couldn't even beat to glance at your soul. other times you'd live a full and long life. he wished every life you had would be like that, and if he had to pull strings to speed up someones passing for hurting you? he was more than happy to oblige. scum didn't need to live, and he was more than happy to send them to the realm now coined as hell.

he didn't know why he kept up with this self torture, tormenting himself to being so close and yet so far from you. at least he never had to forget your face or your voice; the one constant that never changed.

and so he stood, across the road from the coffee shop you liked to frequent, watching as you lived your life; or at least this one. he could practically smell the pumpkin spice. the seasonal drink that became your favourite autumn beverage two lives ago.

you feel someone staring at you as you thank the barista for your drink, the warm takeaway cup heating up your hands. so you look outside the large pane windows, but nothing seems out of the ordinary.

through your entire life you've felt a presence around you, watching you. you couldn't explain it, but it always felt familiar. familiar and safe. like a guardian angel. as ridiculous as it sounded, you always felt like nothing bad could ever happen, but you couldn't help the sad sigh that spilled from your lips. you really wished you could know who was constantly watching over you.

sakusa didn't mean to come as close as he did, at least not while you were awake. he knew his very being emitted a bitter and crisp air. humans could sense death, even if they couldn't see it. a lost soul wandering the busy streets. sakusa lost his empathy long ago, for it died along with you, but he held is tongue and the urge to roll his eyes at the floating mass. it stopped at the corner of the coffee shop, and he made his way over quickly. practically teleporting, going through cars and people, sending shivers through them as he passed. he didn't care. the sooner he could deal and send the soul into the afterlife, the sooner he could be with you.

he hastily guided them, showing them the welcoming light as it faded away. he never saw it, but even he could feel the blinding affable glow when he led them there.

he was ready to go back across until he heard the recognisable sound of tires screeching. please don't let it be you!

a scene he knew all too well was occurring. it didn't matter how many times he saw it, a heartache felt only hundreds of times. it didn't stop him from trying. even if he tried countless times before, knowing the end result would be the same. sakusa would always try, for you, even knowing it was pointless.

so imagine his shock when he can feel you underneath him, a carnage of vehicles behind him and you looking up at him, actually seeing him whispering

"it's you"

[gabseyoo]

HEELS — SAKUSA KIYOOMI

content: msby!kiyoomi, female reader, established relationship, fluff, kiyoomi carries reader. word count: 0,4k.

note: more boyfriend kiyoomi because i love him.

“I told you.” Kiyoomi said, his tone laced with amused exasperation as he adjusted his grip, carrying you effortlessly toward the car.

You rolled your eyes, though a smile tugged at your lips. “You can’t say I didn’t look stunning.” You reached up and lightly tapped his cheek, your playful tone softening his mock annoyance.

Tonight was a gala dinner hosted by the V League, which you saw as the perfect night to wear your new heels that were waiting for their moment to shine. It must be said that you completely ignored your boyfriend when he told you to be sure to bring a spare pair of shoes, since he didn’t think you would last long in those heels since you would have to be on your feet for so long. 

“You still look stunning.” He replied, mimicking your gesture by gently patting his fingers against your leg. “As stunning as you would’ve looked even with crocs.”

You cringed at the mental image. “Crocs with this dress? I don’t think so.”

Your boyfriend chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, I’m serious this time. This is the last time I’m carrying you.”

“You always say that.”

“And you always conveniently ‘forget’ to bring spare shoes.”

“Maybe I just like being carried.” You said with a smirk, resting your head against his shoulder.

Kiyoomi glanced down at you, his grin widening. “You know, I’m starting to think you wear those heels on purpose. Just for this.”

“I made it that obvious?”

“Kinda.” He admitted, his voice warm and teasing.

“Well—” You said with mock seriousness. “If you’re really done carrying me, I guess I’ll have to start packing flats in my bag.”

“Let’s be honest—” He said, his smirk turning into a full smile. “You know I’ll carry you to the car every time, no matter what.”

You tilted your head, pretending to think it over. “True. It’s a good system we’ve got here.”

Kiyoomi laughed, the sound deep and genuine. “Yeah, a system where you get spoiled and I get stuck as the chauffeur-slash-pack mule.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love it.” You teased, brushing your lips against his jaw in a fleeting kiss.

“I better have a reward when we get home.” He whispered with his lips against your cheek in an undeniably flirtatious tone. 

“I already have a few ideas.” 

“Fine.” He murmured, his steps slowing as you reached the car. “But next time, I’m picking the shoes. Deal?”

“Deal.” You said with a laugh, though you couldn’t help but add, “Just don’t even think about crocs.”

“Too bad.” He teased as he set you down gently. “They’re already in my cart.”

[horrorcore2002]

id fuck him soooooooooooo hard tfffff-

I’m on my knees begging for more kiyoomi 🧎🏽‍♀️it doesn’t even have to crime kiyoomi. I’ll accept anything. Also I love your writing, keep up the good work!

Honeymoon

lovesick crime lord!Kiyoomi x reader

cw: smut smut smut. oral (f!receiving), slight dub-con, choking, spit, dumbifaction, praise, obsessive lovesick thoughts, talks of breeding, creampie, PnV sex, multiple orgasms. Pure filth

wc: 3.7k

“Kiyoomi-” You shudder as he presses himself against you. “Is… consummating the first night really necessary…?”

Kiyoomi lifts his back to look at you more directly. Eyes a little glazed over and way too far gone to have only just slipped you out of your reception dress.

“If you really don’t want to, we don’t have to.” He breathes. “Just… let me have a little more of you, or else I might actually die.”

And he might just mean it. He’s been wound up tight since the two of you kissed at the altar. Passing lingering touches during talks with your families, holding you closer than ever during the couple’s dance, hell, you were surprised he didn’t leave a handprint on your dress, with how heavily his hand had been latched to your thigh all evening. It’s not like this is the first time the two of you have had sex. - Hell, with how often you were getting the seats wet in his car these past few days leading up to this, you were almost afraid he’d be a little over it.

But now you’re his wife. Now you’re a Sakusa. All his and he now all yours and that pretty rock on your finger matching the wedding band on his. - Your name’s engraved into the inner finish of his ring unlike the little love note he left on yours. Protruding letters somewhat so it scrapes a bit whenever he inches it up, and you’re not ashamed to say it’s a little butterfly-inducing to see your name all but carved into his left finger.

He wants you more than he thinks he can take. He feels like a teenager about to lay his crush on prom night. You’re so pretty in the flickering candlelight that he thinks he might actually throw up.

So in lieu of ruining the mood by anointing you in wedding cake chunks, Kiyoomi instead dips his head to pour a few slow kisses down your throat line. “Let me make you feel good if nothing else. That's all I want.”

“Just to make me feel good?“

“Whatever you want,” He suckles in a bruise, and you reward him with a sound that makes his face hot. “Just let me make you cum. I wanna hear you cum for me, angel.”

You shiver under his molten kisses. Goosebumps climbing up your arms as his loving hands caress anything worth caressing and honestly starting to feel just as amped up as he is. This guy’s frenzied. Hair standing up on his arms when you reach up to toy with the little curls on the low of his nape and wrap your legs around him like you want him to melt into you.

The bulge in his suit pants is so prominent that he’s one good touch from just ripping through the vacuna. You’re gracious enough to grant him permission with a soft ‘please’ that almost sends him over the edge, and without a moment to stutter, he dives in gratefully.

Kiyoomi’s lips are sensuous and tender as he presses them against yours. Firm grip keeping your jaw fixed in his direction as he peppers loving kisses between lecherous ones and sucking your bottom lip in his mouth until they’re over-kissed and swollen - every taste of your lips sends him further off the deep end.

You whimper in his mouth. His callous hand grabs a hefty handful of one of your breasts and teases over your covered nipple with his thumb until they’re erect and pointed proudly through your négligée. His breaths feel almost winded. Just being able to touch you like this after all day is sending him into a frenzy. To be completely honest, he’s spent most of the day counting the seconds till he could finally whisk you away into your lover’s suite. And even still, with you so close his mouth waters in anticipation.

He pulls the strap of your slip until the entirety of those pretty tits are exposed to the conditioned hotel air; he barely wastes a second sucking one of your nipples into his mouth while he toys with the other one.

You croon. You hate how good Kiyoomi is at making you feel so wanted without even trying. Arching your back until you're feeding your breasts into his greedy mouth, you dig thin crescents into the bicep of his arm without even thinking.

Or recognizing all those pretty sounds you’re making. Kiyoomi fondles you down the path of your slip, squeezing and groping anything he can get his hands on as he slides your nipple out of his mouth with a lewd pop! And wraps his lips over the other as he finally finds the little hem of your gown.

He wants to make you feel good. It’s easy to forget who you’ve got on top of you right now. A man responsible for the suffering of too many people to count and too many problems in this nation that only he can benefit from. Immoral, corrupt, inimical things. So bad it could make you sick. - Kissing down your stomach and leaving hot trails in his wake as he goosebumps from how overwhelmed he is at being this close. This personal - He’s this loving.

And you’d be stupid to expect he meant anything less than that from him. - It’s hard enough to comprehend the fact that he means it when he says he loves you this much. Means it when he says he wants to spend the rest of his life with you. Means it when he says he’d rather die than be with anyone else. Being propositioned straight into a marriage with a man known for being notoriously cruel and callous kind of negates those typical feelings of sureness. A man who’s only recognized by his cold stare, inability to find satisfaction in the most faultless of things, and so wrought with endless power that the entirety of Asia can do no more but bow to him. A boogeyman - for as long as you’ve known about him. Even in living with him, you see his callous nature and pray to never find yourself on the receiving end of it. But when he looks at you, he’s different. When he looks at you, speaks to you, speaks of you, he’s -

He groans at the way your wetness soaks up your pretty panties. Lovesick.

You more or less instinctively hump into his hand as he starts to rub in lovesome circles. Lewdly adjusting the movements of his hand in various circling and up and down motions that saturate your panties till they’re drenched in your slick. Honestly, if he keeps at it you might just cum from that alone.

Kiyoomi must hear it in the way your airy breaths have started to pitch because right as he just about brings you to the edge - he stops.

He’s positioning himself at the apex of your legs before you can even protest.

His lips are molten as he kisses up your supple thighs, fingers blistering as he caresses your plush skin staunchly. Every tender press of his lips is more gluttonous than the last, humming in between the smack of your cosseted skin the closer he gets to your hot center.

Your tits rise and fall as you pant at the anticipation; even in your apprehension does the way he fondles you give you goosebumps.

Kiyoomi presses a slow kiss to your covered slit. He all but buries his face in it as he groans at the mere sampling of your cassonade juices. Making out with your pussy through your ruined panties and riling himself up even more than he originally meant to. Whatever he anticipated you tasting like was an insult to how phenomenal the reality is as he sucks through the cotton. He swears he might just finish in his pants the moment he gets the real thing on his tongue.

His breaths shudder as he reaches over your hips to gingerly pull your panties down your legs, raising up to press chaste kisses on the “V” of your pelvis as they slide wetly down your legs, and he can barely brace himself when he spreads your thighs and bares your flower to his hungry eyes.

Kiyoomi sucks in a tight breath.

“S-Shit,” He licks his lips. “Look how fucking perfect you are.”

He shivers at the way you visibly tighten up at the praise. A bead of your glittery slick wets the carnelian in the hotel divan. Rightfully, he grieves it. - Something so delectable shouldn’t be wasted on some crummy furniture. It should be pouring over his tongue and lining the walls of his lungs like it lawfully deserves.

You shiver as his heated breaths blow feverishly over your exposed cunt. Jumping a bit when you feel his fingers spread your lips apart to bare you to him fully.

And then his tongue is lapping up your clit.

The conjoined sounds of your surprise and his mind-numbing bliss bump into one another and flutter into the open air. He’s so devotedly slurping up your pretty pussy that you almost consider this is more for him than you. I mean, he’s tonging up your cunt so messily that it almost feels hoggish. The wet sounds of his sloshing tongue turn your ears hot as you start to mindlessly hump into his face, already so overwhelmed by the pleasure that your head’s gone all fuzzy.

Kiyoomi moans into your sloppy pussy as you start to card your fingers through his hair, drunkenly humping into the seat of the divan as he dips his tongue into your sweet little hole.

You trill at that intoxicating feeling of irresistible bliss. “F-…Fuck! Ah…H-Holy shit…”

He sloppily drags his tongue up your open cunt to suck your clit into his mouth, suckling on it tenderly till he’s sliding it from between his lips, and lapping it up all over again.

God, if he keeps going at you like this you’re gonna fucking cum. It’s like his tongue is heating up the more he goes at it - so sloppy with his cunt flavored spit that it makes a puddle that pools along your backside. He’s eating you out like it’s all he’s meant to do.

You outright whine when he pulls away for a pensive second, cooing to you as he sucks your slick from his lips and rubs his fingers in quick circles over your swollen clit.

Kiyoomi asserts breathlessly. “Let me see that pretty face, baby.”

You raise on your elbows a little dazedly. Spaghetti straps pulled up to maintain your dignity from his earlier ministrations falling again over your shoulders in a way he could only describe as mouthwatering. The differing color of your areola peeks from the disarrayed fabric of your little slip, and the hazy look in your eyes makes you look more beautiful than he can rationally take.

He wants to pour himself over you and let you wear him like a second skin. He salivates at the way your clit throbs under his fingers. “Keep your eyes on me.”

Kiyoomi swivels his hand until his middle finger is lined up with your hole. “I don’t want you to miss this.”

Your face cinches lewdly when he eases his finger in and pumps it a few times, and you whimper when he pulls back to add another finger. But the way you gape as he bends his neck to flatten his tongue against your clit, and shiver under the extended eye contact, it's enough to make him feel like near cumming untouched. You’re starting to drive him too crazy.

But he doesn’t know the half of it until you reach for his scalp again. Carding your fingers through and then tugging, his stomach butterflies as you wantonly throw your head back, and he groans as one of your legs lifts just over his shoulder.

But then you’re moaning out into the air. “Fuck. Fuck! Fuck me, Kiyoomi! Fuck me! Fuck me!”

That’s what pushes him over the edge.

Kiyoomi’s grunting into your cunt like a love-drunk whore as his eyes roll and he falls into that beatific bliss. He’s pistoning his fingers into your squelching cunt like his life depends on it, lapping you up like it’s the only thing keeping him living. Raunchily he makes out with your pussy until you're falling on your back and holding onto his hair for dear life, suffocating him, but he couldn’t be any more thrilled about it. Giving his breath to the woman delivering him into such mind-breaking pleasure is the least he can do. Especially when your thighs tighten over his ears, and you’re fucking into his mouth like it’s all he’s good for.

He’s hard as a rock before he even finishes his initial orgasm, moaning into your cunt as he brings his free hand up to belt you even more firmly against his face. And he almost falls over the edge again when he realizes you’re cumming.

“Yes! Yes! Ffffuck! Oh my god! Fuck, Omi! Fuck. So good! It’s so good, baby!”

If his balls get any tighter, they might explode.

Kiyoomi fucks his tongue and fingers into you ruthlessly as you ride out your orgasm on his face. No doubt singing loud enough that anybody walking parallel to the suite would hear it clear as day, but he relishes in it. Unabashed as he moans into your spasming cunt and indulges himself until you’re whimpering from the overstimulation. He just barely comes up for air when his lungs start to burn from the lack of oxygen.

You pant into the room as your body finally goes limp. You’re shaking. Legs quivering at his sides and struggling to catch your breath. The amount of pleasure you’re still coming down from makes the underlying haze all the more sweeter. - But you don’t even get the chance to revel in it when he’s already hovering over your fucked out form.

Kiyoomi’s lips are so tinged with you that it’s almost all you can taste. He kisses you with such frenzied fervor that you have to holster your hands on his shoulders to keep him at bay.

He breathes into your lips. “You did so good for me, angel. So fucking good,” You can hear his belt clinking between you both. “I love you so much. Fuck. I love you so much.”

You pant into the air as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. He’s so solid and all-encompassing that he’s all you can focus on right now. “Kiyoomi, you’re- Fuck, you gotta-“

You squeal when the tip pops in.

Even after all this time it still stretches you out to an almost painful degree. Pulsing as Kiyoomi pushes in, so hot and heavy that it feels like he’s tearing you apart from the inside. He groans so drunkenly in your ear that it nearly makes you tremble. But you can do no more than stay locked in place as he breaches your insides, and presses himself in until he’s filled you to the hilt.

Kiyoomi peppers you in wet kisses as he coos at you to relax, so far gone from the amount of pleasure he’s experiencing all at once that his words almost slur. “ 's okay. You’re okay, baby. Jus’ relax for me. It’ll feel good in just a second.”

You grind your teeth as your nails dig into his shoulders. He hisses as you start to break the skin, but it only makes his cock twitch in your velvety insides.

He’s in your fucking stomach. And it feels… bigger somehow. Like now that he’s your husband he’s giving it all to you finally and you can barely take it. So thick and heavy. Fuck, he’s so deep inside.

You must’ve muttered that last part out loud because his hips flinch at the sound of it. Still shushing you as he sucks bruises into your pulse point and rubs up your thighs like he means to console you.

When you start to squirm he palms your lower thigh and lifts your leg up just under the knee. Gearing his hip back till half of his wet shaft is exposed to the air and lifting his head for a good look at you.

The way your eyes roll back as he finally starts his brutal pace is enough to all but turn his pupils into hearts.

Kiyoomi swallows your clipped whines as he shoves his tongue in your mouth. Stopping every other thrust to press himself into you until his balls are squishing up against your ass and grinding himself in so deep that you swear he’s coming up through your throat.

You’re tearing fabric beads out of his dress shirt you’ve been clawing into him so hard. The thought of you marking him up makes his heart start to flutter.

“Shit. You feel that?” He grunts against your lips. “Feels so fucking amazing. All ‘ve been thinking about all day.”

You try to respond with something along the lines of “You’re too deep!” Or “Slow down!” But it only comes out as blissed out mumbling.

Kiyoomi slams in a few cutthroat thrusts that turn your guts into soup. You unlatch one of your hands to dig your nails into the cushions of the loveseat as your toes curl. “I’m almost pissed. - Keeping this perfect pussy away from me. ~ My perfect pussy away from me. Almost went insane knowing just how - oh fuck - fucking… phenomenal you’d feel. Think I just might put a baby in you.”

You wail through the pleasure to slur out disjointedly. “N-…No baby! Don’t wan’ a baby, Omi! Don’t…ah! Don’ want it!”

“No?” He lifts your other leg till he’s holding you in a mating press, watching those pretty tits bounce as your drool runs down your cheek. “You don’t want my baby? This pussy’s begging for it.”

You sob so prettily when he starts to dig you out like he hates you. “No! Nononono…! Don’t want a baby! Wan’ you, Omi! O-Only - fuck - Only want you, Omi!”

And even through all this, hearing something like that come from your mouth makes his face hot. It makes him hold onto your thighs with the kind of tightness that’ll bruise tomorrow. Heart squeezing as you cry out for him through teary eyes. “Yeah? You want me? You want Omi?”

“Yes! Yes! Yes! Only want Omi! F-fffuck! O-Only want my Omi!”

He wants to marry you all over again. He’s really not gonna last if you keep talking like this.

Kiyoomi hoists one of your legs on his shoulder to free his hand for a grip on your jaw. The difference in angle as he leans in for a sloppy kiss makes you both groan.

Your eyes are glazed over when he pulls away, mouth still gaped open to moan drunkenly in the air, but just the sight of your kiss-swollen lips is just too tempting to pass up.

He sucks your tongue into his mouth lewdly, deepening the kiss as he grinds himself into the hilt and starts again on those vicious thrusts that has you hiccuping underneath him. His voice is heavy with lust as he asserts. “Open your mouth a little wider for me, baby.”

And like the perfect little wife you are, you broaden your lips apart till your pretty pink tongue is bared for him. “That’s right. Good girl, angel.”

The mirth in his smile makes your tears well up from the pride.

And then he spits in your mouth.

Your eyes roll as he licks the leftover gossamer trail from his lips, swallowing it as the knot in your lower stomach tightens. His firm grip on your jaw slackens till he’s skimming it down to your throat - and he reapplies his hold with a loving fervor. At this point, he’s fucking you so thoroughly that you’re sure you’d be ruined for anyone else, regardless. Cock swelling in your tightening insides, and looking down at you with the kind of adoration that says he’s far gone and he’s not coming back. So in love with you that it’s almost frightening.

His fingers press against the side of your throat till your head starts to feel light. “Tell me you love me.”

You’re starting to see stars. “Say it. Tell me you love me. Tell me you can’t live without me.”

Honestly, with how cockdrunk and wound up you are, it’s really starting to feel like it. “I love you!” You cry.

“I love you! I love you! I can’t - ah! oh god… C-Can’t live without you!” Oh fuck, you’re cumming again. “Love you so much, Omi! I love you! Fuck! I love you! I love you, Omi! Iloveyouloveyouloveyouloveyou - please… oh my god… don’t stop don’t stop… fffuckkk oh my god, Omi…so fucking good…”

He outright chokes on his breaths, little tears welling in his eyes, half from the pleasure, half from the bliss of hearing you cry out for him so earnestly. He chirps out a mix of a grunt and a whine, dipping his head into the crook of your neck as he loses his mind and fucks into you even as you clench around his hot cum.

The sound of his lovesick voice - babbling into your ear as he continues to fuck your brains out, sends you hurling into a whole nother orgasm. “S-Shit! Oh my god. Oh my fucking - Oh Christ, angel. F-Fuck! I love you too, baby. I love you so much it - Ugh… oh god… Love you so much it hurts. Jus’ wanna make you happy, baby. Wanna-… oh fuck… I’m cumming again… I’m cumming, m’ cumming…”

Kiyoomi presses his forehead against yours as he continues to empty his balls into your gooey insides, still digging in your guts as you pant mindlessly into the air. “Fuck - Take it. Take it, baby. Mhf… Fuck yeah, keep milking me like that.”

He swivels his hips a few more drunken times before finally going limp.

Kiyoomi sighs as he dumps his head on the inside of your shoulder to catch his breath for a few empty seconds. Relishing in your mirrored worn out breaths and the way your heart races in tandem with his. He presses ginger kisses up your heavily bruised neck and jaw, holding you tight even as the residual bliss starts to fade. Still just as lovesick, amative, if not a half step from straight up worshiping you as he sluggishly lifts his head, and grazes his nose tenderly against your own. Gentle breaths kiss over your lips as he hovers - and lingers there a savory moment. He finally lets himself press his lips against yours with an ardent sigh blown into the room. Gentle kisses that start slow and end open-mouthed, Kiyoomi knows this is the happiest he’s ever been in his life.

And you encourage him as he indulges himself. As he kisses you like you’re the air he breathes and holds you like it’s the only thing his arms were made for. Loving you so tenderly, so intimately, like he’s craved for every second since he’s met you, and even as he whispers words of ardor and amour between your entwined lips, you do nothing to stop him.

You might love him a little more than you anticipated.

[omi-boshi]

been having massive brainworms of yachi and kiyoomi meeting in college and becoming close friends + yachi having to play wingman for kiyoomi when he meets you

cannot stop thinking about unlikely friends yachi and kiyoomi. they probably first met during nationals in kiyoomi's last year in itachiyama. maybe she piqued his interest when he heard her tell hinata to go back to the bathroom and wash his hands properly. they met again in uni and stuck together until they graduated and had to part ways because of their career choices.

and it probably was a gradual thing too, how they became friends. with kiyoomi being generally prickly and yachi being so shy. they just started sitting at the same table one day in the library. then, small nods of acknowledgment became hesitant attempts at small talk. then, it turned into kiyoomi crashing into the chair across from yachi that he has deemed his throughout the semester and immediately complaining about some professor while yachi nods in sympathy. then, it turned into yachi buying two orders of her coffee for that day because she knew kiyoomi would try stealing her coffee under the guise of "i just wanted to try what sugary concoction you brought today, hitoka. c'mon." that he swears he doesn't like. they probably also have matching keychains that kiyoomi bought for them on a whim one day when he was out in the city. and kiyoomi was definitely the person yachi had on speed dial for when she went on dates that started well but ended up making her uncomfortable. and in turn, yachi was the first one he told about you, about the person he was paired up with for a class presentation. she was the first to notice when kiyoomi started crushing on you, even before he himself realized. to notice the way kiyoomi would stare at you longer than necessary, gaze warm with an undercurrent of longing. and the way it might not be as one-sided as kiyoomi deemed it was when she catches you stealing glances at him when you think no one was looking. and naturally, yachi is the first to set the both of you up, ditching the hangout the three of you planned with motoya and tsukasa (that was two weeks in the making, mind you) because "ah, sorry! a very important deadline was moved to today and motoya, tsukasa-san, and i haven't even done half of it." kiyoomi would be disgruntled at how bad that excuse was because the three of them aren't even in the same classes, let alone groupings. and he tells yachi as much. you are none the wiser of course. "i'm really sorry!!! i was so excited too :(( we'll make it up to you both okay? xo" yachi would send to you and to kiyoomi, "if you don't end up kissing them by the end of tonight, don't even bother texting me. good luck!" - [Today 10:19PM] thanks, hitoka

[neoheros]

sakusa knows he’s a bad date.

he’s quiet, timid, doesn’t speak much, and asks all the wrong questions at the wrong time.

he’s not very good at eye contact and a lot of the things he wants to say he feels he can’t say at all either.

(partially due to the feeling that everything he says when he talks to you ends up embarrassing him, and partially due to the fact that talking to you for long periods of time make him tongue tied).

(not that he’d ever admit that).

despite all that though, he does know the basics when it comes to going on dates:

he buys you flowers (and forgets it by his doorway), he opens the car door for you (and apologizes when it almost hits you as he opens it), and he makes dinner reservations at the restaurant you mentioned to him in passing three days ago (he did a good job with this one).

so yes, him being a bad date is not unbeknownst to him. quite the opposite in fact, it’s not only something he knows about himself, but it’s also something that he thinks about all the time.

or at least, all the time ever since he’s met you.

that’s how the two of you end up here — the evening of your first (and probably last) date, sitting on a porch step of an empty building, a bloodied handkerchief filled with crushed up snow pressed against sakusa’s left cheek, and a few missing buttons from your favorite winter coat.

sakusa always knew he was a bad date, but he never thought he would be this bad.

the plan had been simple: get you flowers, open the door for you, drive you to the restaurant you liked. sakusa had this game-plan of his memorized ever since you said yes to him four — now five — days ago.

he wrote it on a piece of paper, step by step, and kept it in his wallet sleeve in case he forgets, he repeated it to himself three times in the mirror this afternoon before he left the house to pick you up, and he said it to himself one last time in the car before texting you that he’d arrived.

he memorized it.

and still, he messed it up.

the streets are empty and the evening is quiet.

“sorry … for this.”

his words feel like they’ve been the first to be spoken all night.

on the snowy concrete just below your feet, there’s a few drops of blood making its presence known loudly against the whiteness of the snow, the drops scatter sporadically, and near it, there’s a button or two from your coat.

you sit next to sakusa on the cold steps, it’s a quiet night, and it’s not snowing anymore, but the soft bed of the cold flurry it left behind made for a beautiful evening.

you let your head fall slightly on his shoulder, “for what?”

you can feel him stiffen immediately under your touch, and he coughs, shy, and looks to the side.

it makes you smile a little bit — his efforts of hiding his expressions — it’s not like you can see him anyway with that big makeshift ice-pack covering his face.

“sorry for the bad date.” he clears his throat, more clearly now, a little louder too, but his tone almost sounds disappointed. “… and sorry for ruining your coat.”

you lift your head up from his shoulder, frowning, and you turn to face him, “it’s not a bad date.”

he doesn’t say anything to that. instead, he keeps his head turned slightly away from you, but his shoulders fall a bit when you move away from him.

“if anything, i should be the one apologizing.” you mutter lowly, “i’m the reason you got hurt.”

sakusa huffs slightly. a second pausing in the air as he refuses to return the look you give him, and finally, he puts down the “ice pack” from his cheek, and looks at you.

his cheek is scratched lightly, nothing too deep, just a red mark that’ll probably resolve itself in a few days, but his lower lip though — the culprit of the blood stained snow — is undeniably busted, still bleeding slightly, and making him wince at the sudden loss of pressure.

“don’t say stupid things.” he tells you, and if it makes him sound cold, he swears he’s not trying to be.

he just doesn’t know what else there is to say.

the truth is — it is a bad date.

he forgot your flowers, almost hit you with the car door, and now, the two of you are missing your dinner reservation because he got himself injured twenty minutes into the night.

it’s not fair, he thinks. half the things he wants to say to you, he can’t. half the things he wants to do, he messes up.

you make him fumble on his words, tongue tied, speechless, literally. you make him write things down on notes so he won’t forget them or practice on bathroom mirrors or worry in his car outside your doorstep.

he is the most capable man in his team, he is the sharpest, the most composed, his teammates and coach all count and look up to him.

but for some reason, one night with you, and it all washes away.

he doesn’t know what to say to you, he forgets things, and he falls face first flat on the hard concrete ground twenty minutes into your first date.

don’t say stupid things.

“you really won’t let me take you to the hospital?” you put your hand on his knee, turning even more to your side so you can face him better.

you have half a mind to put your other hand on his injured cheek but you don’t want to hurt him more than how he already does.

“it’s not as bad as it looks.” and as he says that, he winces, the gust of wind suddenly hitting his busted lip a testament to his bad luck tonight.

sakusa wants to kick himself, if there ever would be an appropriate time to act cooler than how he actually was, it would definitely not be now.

you don’t look so convinced, but sakusa wouldn’t know, he’s still only limiting himself to looking at you briefly before shifting his glance to something behind you or beside you or above you.

“hm. and it doesn’t hurt?” you cross your arms.

he shakes his head, “no. it doesn’t.” (it does.)

you raise a brow, “and you wouldn’t happen to be lying to me right now so i don’t take you to the emergency room?”

he shakes his head again, “i’m not.” (he is.)

you give him a look.

listen — sakusa already knows that he’s a bad date, but come on! he has been planning on asking you to dinner with him since the first week he’s known you, he’s been worrying about this evening since the second you agreed to it, and he’s been kicking himself in the head ever since the night began.

he’d rather bleed out on this disgustingly dirty porch step than admit that he’s a date so bad he can turn an evening meant for dinner into a night at the emergency room.

he doesn’t want you to think that he can be so bad like that. (is it too soon to ask you out for dinner again?)

you still look frustrated at his answers. but at least, he’s looking at you now.

you let out a big sigh, shoulders falling, and suddenly, you clap your hands together loudly as you straighten up.

“then i have an idea.” you say, and sakusa furrows his brows at the sudden change in the atmosphere.

you give him a prompting grin. “heads or tails.”

and it catches him so off guard, he says aloud, “what?”

you dig for a coin in your coat, “i’ll flip a coin and if it lands on heads, we go to the emergency room, no arguments, no fusses, no nothing.”

he frowns at that.

“but.” you tell him, and your grin gets wider as you show him the dime laid out on your palm, “if it’s tails, we go to my apartment, and i’ll try to fix you up there.”

his frown falls almost immediately into something else.

one night out with you and he’s already bleeding heavily and injured, and now you wanna take him back to your apartment?

were you trying to kill him?

“heads or tails, omi.”

he blinks at your words. and once again, he finds himself saying aloud, “what?”

you shoot him a funny look, your eyebrows slightly raising as your lips curve upward into a crooked smile.

you say, teasing, “if you don’t know; heads is the part of the coin with the head of the person showing on it and tails is the–”

sakusa grumbles loudly, cutting you off mid-sentence, making sure you see him roll his eyes at you, and he nudges you slightly with his foot.

he mutters, albeit under his breath, and he tries to hide it, but you can always tell when he’s smiling, “i know what a goddamned head is.”

you shrug, your grin wider now when you see his mood lighten up a bit.

“do you know what a goddamned tail is?”

sakusa huffs out an amused sigh. the smile on his face a lot more prominent now, and you only wonder slightly if it hurts him when he does it.

his shoulders fall as he’s defeated, “just take me to the emergency room.”

you let out a short laugh and the night doesn’t seem so quiet anymore.

you fall back against his shoulder, “ah, omi, are you just saving the opportunity to be invited into my apartment for our next date?”

there’s a choking sound to be heard in the air.

his face almost feels like it’ll erupt into flames by how casually you just said that, a hot pink hue creeping up from his neck to nose all the way to the tips of his ears. he blames it on the cold, and immediately, he presses the “icepack” back against his cheek.

sakusa stands up suddenly from the porch step, “let’s go now.”

and just like he said, he strides away, faster than what would usually be safe on snow-covered pavement.

“omi, not so fast!” you yell after him, rising from your own seat and following his pace, “you might fall again and hurt the other side of your face and atsumu will think i beat you up on our first date.”

he walks faster.

“i can go to the hospital myself, please don’t follow me.”

“that’s ridiculous! let me take care of you!”

he trips on his feet slightly as you say that and his heart feels like it would’ve fell from his mouth had he not caught himself before falling again.

you really were trying to kill him, weren’t you?

maybe this date doesn’t feel so bad after all.

and, is it too soon if he asks you to come have dinner with him again?

[noorpersona]

Pregnancy: Sakusa

You’ve tried the pillows. The pregnancy belt. The heat pad. You’ve leaned forward, leaned back, sat on the edge of the couch with your feet planted just right like the blogs say. You’ve even tried that ridiculous looking yoga ball that Kuroo swore helped his sister. Nothing works. Not really.

Your lower back has become a constant, pulsing drumbeat of dull pain, like your spine itself is growing resentful. The weight of your belly pulls forward like an anchor strapped to your hips, and every time you shift, you swear you can hear your vertebrae protesting. There’s no sweet spot anymore, just a rotation of tolerable positions. You grit your teeth through them, muttering curses under your breath.

You’re laid sideways on the couch now, a pillow stuffed between your knees, one arm tucked under your bump, the other flopped over your eyes like you’re shielding yourself from the end of the world. It’s not even late. The sun’s still up, golden light filtering through the blinds. You just couldn’t take being vertical anymore.

This is the part no one talks about. Not the cute baby kicks, not the weird cravings or the glow everyone swears you have. It’s this—sore, swollen, and tired in a way that sleep can’t fix. Even breathing feels like it takes effort.

And through it all, Sakusa is there.

He’s been steady. Quietly doting. Not the type to coo over baby socks or rub your feet with oil while humming lullabies, but the kind of man who starts carrying hand sanitizer in your favorite scent just in case you need it. The kind who keeps snacks in the car, reminds you to hydrate without making it sound like a chore, who started going to prenatal appointments not because you asked, but because he wanted to understand everything. Who reads parenting books with sticky tabs and highlights and pretends he didn’t.

He’s not loud about it. He doesn’t post bump photos or narrate your journey in grand poetic terms. But he’s shown up every day in ways that matter. Never once flinching when you sobbed over dropped pickles or had a breakdown in the baby aisle because you couldn’t decide between two swaddle patterns. He holds the pieces when you feel like you’re falling apart. He never makes you feel like you’re too much.

You hear the front door click open, then the quiet hush of it swinging closed. You don’t move. Just listen to the familiar sound of Sakusa’s footsteps coming in—soft, always measured, always deliberate. No keys clatter. He always puts them in the bowl on the shelf. No shoes squeaking either; he wipes them, every time. You know it’s him without having to look.

He pauses in the entryway, no doubt clocking the mess of your position. Then, his voice—calm and even, with that velvety weight that always makes your heart twitch even when you're annoyed.

“Back again?”

“Mmh,” you hum noncommittally, eyes still covered. “Felt like someone took a crowbar to my spine. So I gave up.”

There’s a beat of silence. You imagine him there, eyes scanning you—your hunched shoulders, the tension in your jaw, the deep set crease between your brows. He’s not the type to hover. Not the type to fuss, at least not where you can see it. But you know him well enough by now. If he could physically fight your discomfort, he would’ve by now. With gloves on.

You feel the couch dip near your legs. Then the rustle of a bag being set down.

“I read about something,” he says slowly.

You lower your arm just enough to peek at him. He’s still in his work clothes—jacket slung over the armrest, sleeves rolled neatly past his elbows, forearms bare. His mask is off, stashed away now that he’s home. You catch the faintest crease of worry between his brows, like he’s weighing the next words carefully.

“Can I try?” he asks.

You blink, too tired to be curious. “Whatever. Go for it.”

He tilts his head. “You have to stand up first.”

You lower your arm further to shoot him a flat look. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

You huff, but he’s already sliding a hand beneath your arm. Gently, steadily, he helps you sit up, then rise to your feet with the kind of efficiency that speaks to practice. He’s been doing this for weeks now—helping you in and out of bed, out of the car, off the floor when you insisted you could pick something up by yourself.

“I swear to god, if this is another stretch video where I end up looking like a tipped cow—”

“It’s not.”

“Because if I fall, I'm taking you down with me.”

“Duly noted.”

Once you’re upright, he steps behind you. You feel the warmth of him, close and focused. One of his hands briefly trails up your spine in a slow, soothing pass—a single stroke meant to coax your muscles into releasing some of their stubborn tension.

"Relax," he murmurs, voice low and steady, his breath brushing the shell of your ear.

Then his hands brush your hips and slide slowly beneath the swell of your belly. One palm anchors, the other adjusts. It’s deliberate, the kind of precise contact that could only come from research and repeat watching. Then—he lifts.

Just an inch. Maybe two. But it’s enough.

The relief is instant.

Your lower back uncoils like a spring released from tension. That hot, grinding ache that’s lived there for weeks just… lessens. Not gone entirely, but dulled. Blurred. Like someone finally turned the pressure dial down from an eleven to a manageable hum.

You let out a sound you weren’t expecting—a breath that shudders out of you with more feeling than you meant to show. Like your whole body’s been waiting for this and didn’t know how to ask.

“Oh,” you breathe, eyes fluttering shut. “That’s… holy shit.”

You hear him exhale, and the barest hint of a smile follows in his voice.

“Guess it works.”

You nod, or try to. “What even—how’d you think of that?”

“There’s a forum,” he says. “A bunch of people were talking about it. Said lifting the weight can take pressure off the sacroiliac joint. Sounded reasonable.”

Of course it did. It’s so— him. Reading about biomechanics like it’s no big deal. Quietly researching ways to ease your pain without saying a word. You picture him in bed at night, phone dimmed, scrolling through medical threads while you snored beside him.

You lean back slightly, weight shifting into his hold like you’re trusting it—trusting him—with more than just the curve of your belly. His hands adjust to steady you.

Then you feel him begin to lower your bump back down.

“I didn’t say you could stop yet,” you murmur, voice hushed and wry.

His hands still immediately.

There's a pause, not because he's unsure—but because he’s listening. Because when it comes to you, Sakusa never rushes.

You feel his thumbs move slightly, drawing slow circles near your hips as he steadies the lift again, as if to say, I’ve got you.

"Should’ve tried this ages ago," you mumble.

You’re still basking in the quiet relief of his hold. Your back doesn’t feel like it's screaming anymore, and for the first time in hours, your body feels like it belongs to you again—like maybe you're not just a vessel walking around with sore feet and too many hormones.

He shifts slightly, adjusting the lift with a faint grunt.

"He’s heavy," Sakusa murmurs. There’s no complaint in his voice—just quiet awe.

You smile faintly, placing a hand over his. "That’s your fault."

"My fault?"

"You’re six-three, with legs like telephone poles. What did you think was gonna happen?"

He huffs a soft, amused breath behind you. "Could still be your fault. Maybe you manifested it."

You snort. "Yeah, I manifested a linebacker. Great job, me."

"He’s not even here yet and I already feel outnumbered," he mutters.

You squeeze his hand. "Don’t worry. He’ll probably inherit your poker face. You two can be brooding and beautiful together."

A beat. Then, so quiet it barely makes it to your ears:

"He’s going to be perfect."

You close your eyes, feeling everything swell in your chest all at once.

"He already is."

And there’s something so simple, so steadfast in the way he says it that you have to bite your lip against the warm rush crawling up your chest.

You rest your hand over his where it cups your belly. "Kiyoomi?"

"Mm."

"I love you."

His thumb strokes once, slow and deliberate. You hear the breath he draws, steady as ever.

"I know," he says quietly. "I love you too."

And just like that, in the stillness of your living room, with the soft glow of daylight bleeding through the windows and his arms supporting you from behind, you feel the kind of full-body peace that no prenatal yoga class has ever given you.

You don’t move. Neither does he. Because for now, this is enough.