ddalgimelon

[ddalgimelon]

[ddalgimelon]

timeskip tsukishima 🤑🤑🤑🤑🤑🤑🤑🤑🤑 nothing else to say tbh

[ddalgimelon]

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.

[ddalgimelon]

thank you for all the notes on my kenma headcannon!! i'm so appreciative of everyones love!! currently working on part two guys i swear!! <3

[ddalgimelon]

boyfriend!kenma x fem!reader (๑>◡<๑)

smutish.. mainly just random headcannon (18+ just incase)

famous streamer!kenma who you're known since elementary school

the two of you met in kindergarten class.. both of you were the shyest quiet kids. slowly developing an unspoken alliance together. silently taking care of each other and eventually becoming each others best friends.

bestie!kenma who could comfortably act himself around you. he's the biggest complainer you know. especially when his loud new friend kuroo started introducing him to volleyball.

bestie!kenma who'd take your hand yelling, "run! run!" as he would show your the best hiding spots to avoid kuroo.

bestie!kenma being your number one taste taster whenever you helped your mom in the kitchen. he remembers the first recipe you mastered on your own. (apple pie, slightly on the bitter side– still apple pie instantly became his favorite food)

bestie!kenma whose been secretly making out with you since late middle school

he was beat red the first time you asked him to kiss you. your reason being that there was a boy you desperately needed to confess too (literally him😫) but first you had to learn how to kiss duh!!

bestie!kenma who was sputtering empty words trying to reason with you why it would be a bad idea. too bad you didn't care to listen, shutting him up with an aggressive first kiss.

giggling between kisses, you thought about how it was just like the movies <3

bestie!kenma who would grip your waist whenever you two hid in his closet to kiss. your newest excuse being needing to master the skill. something about leveling up blah blah whatever gamer language. it honestly took kenma up until your first year of highschool to catch on you were just obsessed with kissing him. dummy

you respected him enough to not do it around his volleyball team. funny enough kuroo caught you guys once but never said anything to spare kenma the embarrassment

anyways... 🫡

thirdyear!kenma who now had to learn to do other things to keep you satisfied. 😒😒 otherwise you would climb onto his lap and take it from him, when all he wanted to do was play his game.

sassy!kenma starts here!!

he'd sigh and pretend he doesn't wanna mess around but you can literally feel how into it he is?? 😭😭😭 his eyes roll feigning annoyance but he's quick to put his controller down and his hands are helping you rock against him... 🤣🙄

and for the first time ever... kenma helps you turn so your back is against his chest and his hand slithers down into the waistband of your panties..

you've definitely sent him a few nudes before but he was always too shy to see you naked in person.

but.. new year, new me!! he's teasing the fuck out of your little clit. while you continue grinding down on him.

kenma's fingers are long and slim. and his hands are precise from various activities (volleyball/gaming) so he picks this skill up fast.

literally wants to eat you out after watching you cum on his fingers. finishes in his pants at the thought

🙄🙄post-nut clarity gets him and he's suddenly all shy and embarrassed again. literally pushes you off his lap. 😓

a couple weeks later.. he's repeatedly looking over at you like he's got something to say. the irritation causing a frustration "what?" from you.

he subtly asks "hey are you my girlfriend..?" and you're like "obviously kenma😒.." he's funny with it too going, "okay. just making sure."

bf! kenma who now gives you special privileges and lets you suck him off. his moans are soo pretty your a little jealous. he's like putty the first time you kiss at his tip. his favorite thing is when you give tiny kitten licks to his balls. he's throwing his head back and pushing your head to take him entirely.

it's his first time getting head, so he doesn't know to warn you when he's cumming🙁🙁, ends up cumming all over your face and hair..

honestly it's kinda hot but you pretend to be mad at him. "kenma! you got it all over my hair too!" 😠

"...sorry."

bf!kenma who makes it up to you a couple days later. when he finally fucks you after literal years (two) of you begging for it. is surprisingly a little rougher than you pictured him to be.

honestly really loves doggy and missionary. he starts with missionary and lovess seeing how reactive you are. his tip is right there pushing in slightly. your blushing face and teary eyes turn him on so much. gets lost in how pretty you look. 🙁

forgets it's literally your first time too and pushes right in and sets his pace. is absolutely gripping your legs to keep them open. he's an athlete after all so he has the strength to rag doll you😭😭

chooses not to though because he doesn't like to overexert himself.

when he finishes, he couldn't pull out all the way. 🙁 soft embarrassed kenma is back. he hides in your chest. but don't worry he (begrudgingly) buys you a plan b with his allowance. 🙂

still in your third year, i think he'd start streaming/youtube around this time.

has a steady build up to fame. within the end of the school year he reached a half a million on youtube!!

convinced you to start a youtube for baking and "all that girly shit" (his words) 💆‍♀️ buys you a camera and editing laptop with his new big boy money 😍

you post aesthetic bake with me's, makeup tutorials, and short vlogs. he edits your first couple videos, before showing you how to edit and upload on your own.

you steady get a following too!! around 40k !! not nearly as much as kenma but still amazing.

you guys start college eventually. kenma goes into business and computer science!! smart boy!!! he starts a baby company and starts investing into stocks with his big boy youtube money?!? becomes even richer and buys a house for the both of you to move into.🤗

you chose to major in media arts communication 😍. kenma makes a joke about how you can be his sweet lil manager <33

back to the house kenma bought.. it's definitely a fixer upper but it's yours and your in love! feel like adulthood.. though your mostly excited about the unlimited sex you get to have now without either of your parents around.

kenma is excited about his new streaming room. 😍

both you and kenma help eachother with content and sponsorships but neither publicly say anything about eachother.

with your youtube content, sometimes you show kenmas figure in the background. small clips of him driving, helping you cook, or even just his hands. very subtle shots of him.

when you do actively film him, you try to avoid getting his full face. you'll show just the tiniest bit of his jaw line. or slivers of his side profile.

for kenma's content he doesn't show you at all. the occasional wrist slip will apear of you bringing him dinner and twitter goes crazy.😱😱

it's not that you two are keeping your relationship a secret, you two have always been private about one another. neither of you deny having a partner, but neither of you give proper answers to your fans.

kuroo says maybe you guys are just sadists who like to tease everyone. (you're definitely a masochist though kenma thinks)

the closest kenma's fans got to a girlfriend reveal was that one time he almost leaked your nudes 😔

he was on stream showing pictures you sent him of the apple pie you made when he accidentally swipes too far. he's quick to notice mid-swipe that the next picture is NAWTT apple pie....😅😅

"so yeah guys this is the apple pie my girl made for me– she sent me pictures, ..oh fuck."

he awkwardly turns his phone around and laughs a little. his ears are red but luckily his hair hides them. after stream he watches the clip back and releases a sigh of relief. the shot is mostly blurry and you can really only make out the color of your skin.

kenma tells you about it later offering an apology with it. all you do is giggle saying you wouldn't mind your nudes exposed. it's not like they knew your identity anyways.

"yeah, but i'd get a twitch ban😒"

in your second year of uni, kenma is at over 2 million subscribers!! he's invited to events and parties but mainly declines. he attends the occasional charity event but prioritizes hinata's volleyball games.

your youtube is doing well too!! 700k subscribers and you receive a variety of pr.

neither of you bother to answer personal questions but your honestly surprised you two haven't been linked together yet.

you both live in the same house, attend the same college, and are usually out together. either luck is on your side or your fans aren't putting two and two together.

you suppose it's a lot harder for kenma's fans to find out more about you. while they definitely know you exist.. they have no other leads.

revisiting bf!kenma

bf!kenma absolutely hates condoms😭😭

it's not that he doesn't want to use them, he doesn't want to buy them.🙄

the last time he bought them a fan had approached him and asked for a picture together. kenma accepts and poses for the picture. he's standing next to the fan holding up a peace sign. ✌🏼

sighhhhh....

he doesn't think much of it at the time. just a nice moment with a supporter of his until he gets home and opens twitter.. 😭😭

the picture is all over his feed and mentions. going viral on the gamer side of twitter. at first he's confused until he analyzes the picture a little more.

are we serious..🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

in his peace sign hand is the box of condoms he purchased an hour ago... not to mention the isle of assorted condoms, lube, and other contraceptives behind them.

shy!kenma is back😭😭😭

he's soooo embarrassed. he knows all his online friends have seen it. he knows you've probably seen it. and when his phone rings with a familiar contact displaying he knows kuroo's seen it.

probably the most annoying part of this situation.

anyway's kenma swears he's never buying another box of condoms ever again. so unless you go buy them (you won't) raw it is.

bf!kenma learns quickly he loves it raw. the feeling of you much too good to go back to condoms. kenma's pull out game is still really bad... and honestly neither of you give pregnancy a second thought. 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

looking back maybe you should've!! 🤗

you're half way through your third year of college when you notice a significant increase in your weight. you appoint it to be you bad eating habits and make a mental note to cut back.

a week later your in the doctors office. but funny enough for kenma.

bf!kenma has been experiencing extreme nausea and sleep troubles. ☹️☹️

he's even thrown up a couple times but no over the counter medicine has been working.

bf!kenma has been canceling streams to try to pass his sickness but to no avail, you decide to drive him to the doctors. thinking maybe it's food poisoning from the new receipe you tried??

the doctor run tests but nothing comes back. going over kenma's symptoms and descriptions the doctor asks if you two are sexually active.

you'll like 😳😳, what does that have to do with anything..

kenma feeling another wave of nausea lays back onto the clinic bed, expecting you to answer. not wanting to lie, you nod your head towards the doctor.

the doctor turns in his little swiveling chair and starts typing on his computer.

"..and are you two engaging in unsafe sex?"

again you nod, blushing a little. the doctor asks if you've felt any thing different lately, like kenma.

"um, not really? i feel very healthy. maybe i've gained a little weight recently."

the doctor nods along to your words. and your kinda just thinking 'shouldn't the focus be on kenma?'

when was your last period?"

oh! 😳😳 when was your last period? you take a moment to think, your brows furrowing in thought.

"you're not sure? that's okay."

the doctor calls a nurse in who guides you into another room, she gives you instructions to pee in a cup and leave it in a special compartment.

after following instructions, you leave the private bathroom and head back into kenma's room. you're sweating hard!! there was definitely a high chance you were pregnant. but your honestly just confused about kenma's condition.

after returning, you take a seat next to kenma, he immediately leans into your shoulder.

"so... they think i might be pregnant.."

kenma jumps up and looks at you like 😳😳 no way 😳😳😳 then immediately gets a wave of nausea and has to lean back into the doctors chair😵‍💫

before you can speak again the doctor enters the room again, "..so your definitely pregnant. congratulations."

whaaaattt? 🙎‍♀️ everyone's just kind staring at eachother.

the doctor speaks up again. "regarding kenma's condition, looks like its couvade syndrome. it's something a lot of expecting fathers experience. thinks like morning sickness, fatigue.. all early symptoms of pregnancy. and since all his test came back negative, while your pregnant test came back positive– we have our answer."

great.

you two drive home in silence.. kinda weird the boy you've known since you were five.. is going to be your baby daddy.

now you guys have to figure out how to hide your relationship AND your pregnancy... 😆

a/n: like and reblog for part two maybe?? idk im not a writer so this isn't the best. but i hope it was fun to read!!

[ddalgimelon]

Near Death/New Life

I’m just having a little fun with this one.

Dilf/Villain!Sakusa x ExVillain!Reader

CW: Blood, Depictions of Calamity, Non-Character death, Scout/Director AU, Mentions of PTSD, Weirdly enough lots of full in all of that, Reader’s hair is mentioned as being straightened not straight so this could be for anyone who prefers that style, reader is once again very attractive, and Kiyoomi is once again out of his rabbit ass mind about you, also bad family dynamic mention.

WC: 6.1k

What the fuck is a kid doing here?

You’re both frantic and methodical as your heels click wide steps in the toddler's direction, quickly sliding your earplugs into his ears before swiftly securing him in your arms. As most kids, he’s enamored with you. - Fewer though, you can pinpoint the amount you’ve found so passive about being caught in a fire fight.

The gun shots are loud and disorienting as you try to get the two of you to safety. There are panicked voices, frenzied voices. Voices shrill enough to turn reverberated acoustics into buffeting chambers, too tangible not to feel forceful. — Ah, man… you were only here on family business. A run and done more concerning the swiftness of business than who died in the process. Your sister called you in her office like an hour before this and told her that she didn’t care what happened as long as you were there to be a fly on the wall. Soak up any information you could and report back, then it would be over. ~ This life would be over. Your servitude to crooks and creeps and everyone else in between. You’d be free of this kind of shit.

But now you’re holding some guy’s kid, visible to all the men who know you and who you work for. In a sundress. Short little skimpy thing that was supposed to get you a free dinner and maybe a discount at the local market. - Being this overstimulated makes using your ability to fizzle out of this situation unreliable. You’re on foot until you can get to a quieter area.

Your heels skid marks into the polished maple of the auditorium front rooms, you nearly trip when a man with too many eyes points a pistol in your direction.

Your lips are pinched as you duck away and find cover behind a marble fixture. “St- I’m holding a kid!”

“Why should I fucking care?!”

You huff. “Because if you got any and this kid fucking dies, you’re responsible for whatever happens to them!”

You square your shoulders when his footsteps start to ring closer. You’re really gonna have to find a way to kill this guy, huh?

The toddler coos as you brace yourself to lift off the ground.

—

The smallest wounds sting the most, don’t they?

The Yakuza has always been a long time friend of your family. Even when your jurisdiction was just American based. ~ Little business trips to Japan were not uncommon in your childhood. Men with tattoos of snakes and serpents, and god’s corresponding with the sky; were never any less than kind to you. A few of them even - were less than thrilled when you became of age, because that meant you had to work.

Because that meant you had to work like them.

And so the move to Japan was as seamless as it was sudden. — A sixteen year old and your adopted brother, and their esteemed eldest sister; their more than eager willing guardian with two… “Pollinated” children. — Three figures, two potentially, with more than enough resources to carry out stories of promise and admired business making; power and more power. An enterprise making its first steps at becoming international. And with the allies they had, it all went off without a hitch.

The Yakuza were the loving cousins of Gethsemane, they were responsible for their immediate boarding. They let the kids train there while Gethsemane found its footing, they welcomed them into the best schools that could shelter kids of their background. There was even a point in your late teens when one of the big bosses demanded you’d be guarded on your communes to school. Because “Pretty girls like you are a target to some of the ugly pieces of shit that like to skulk around here. If it’s the last thing I can do before you graduate, it’s make sure one of my kids is safe.”

They’ve always been kind and reliable. Close to family even. So, when your sister came up to you and told you that your last job was to steal from them, kick tail and run when a fire fight breaks out and act like their deaths mean nothing; you were reasonably upset.

“It’s not stealing. Just eavesdropping.”

You furrow at your sister from her place at the far side of her office, leaning on her hip as her arms fasten themselves over her chest. “We’re wiretapping information on affairs that have already been spoken for. You’re having me coax them into giving up information on offshore accounts.”

“You don’t have to coax them into doing anything.” The Vicuna in her suit jacket hisses as she shrugs. “Just sneak in there and try to remember everything they say. Swipe a few cellphones if you can.”

“If things get too dicey, cut and run. Like I said, this isn’t the most important thing in the world. - Just get what I need and get out of there. Then you won’t hear about it again.”

Your sister’s mask unfastens with a click. Her breaths look more painful than ever.

“It’ll be easy.”

Some dead guy’s kid is in your hands and you’ve been splattered in blood. An under the table affair held at a meager event center has turned into a public massacre.

The guy laying at your feet looks like someone you know but not enough to address by name. His throat is slit and the veins in his eyes have bursted from suffocation. The familiarity makes it hard to look at him for too long - he looks like someone who may have frequented your childhood. Takuto-kun you think it was? Your mouth waters and your tongue turns salty.

You hold the toddler tightly to your chest as you numbly step over the body and toward the rest of the building, where more corpses remain. It looks like… someone pointed at the crowd and started firing. Like a domino effect of exploding heads and gusting torsos, a snowball of a big reaction that got bigger with every passing moment. There’s no way that this isn’t gonna hit the news. You’ve never seen an information trade eat shit this badly.

All you remember is one of them started yelling. One of them felt threatened by one of the new kids at the table and got antsy when he showed his chops. You couldn’t see his face but his voice wasn’t entirely familiar and the Yakuza’s always been picky when adding new faces - especially to the higher ups. His tone is even, slightly agitated but even. He’s the clacking of a boiling top as he addresses him.

“I’m not here to fight with you, Nushibā-san. So, sit down,” He sighs. “All I’m saying is that you’re pricing us way above your quality grade.”

“Are you trying to say my intel isn’t good enough?”

“If it wasn’t good enough I would’ve cut you a deal on half of it and left by now. - What you’re trying to sell me, and for this price; is a blatant misuse of my time.”

There’s a snort thrown in the air, sarcastic as it is foreboding. “Your time? You think I’m the one who should be concerned about your time? Some new guy Yakuza cuck? Do you know who you’re dealing with here?”

“I do. Do you think talking to me like that is smart?” You can hear it in his voice, he’s genuinely asking.

“I think you’d better start groveling like a dog for my forgiveness. If you know what’s good for you.”

Chair legs skid and there’s a distinct sound of metallic clacking - a pop! That nearly knocks you back into form as your vapor thickens toward the hallways. You’re barely put together when bullets prepare to fly.

There’s a kid in front of you.

Call it maternal instincts or just your reservations about having a toddler’s death on your hands but saving this kid was a knee jerk reaction. Having your ears bleed for this kid, maybe not. Getting blood on your Louboutins and those stomach pains that are familiar to every mass civilian slaughter - when you should be home devouring a bowl of chicken hibachi right now; it’s pretty safe to say that this wasn’t entirely voluntary.

But now there’s a kid in your hands, no older than three. Crayon Shin-chan shirt soiled by brain matter and blissfully unaware of the bedlam that has erupted around him.

Your ears are trashed at this point. Existing and not existing at will is a pretty good hand to have but it has its caveats. Your hearing’s enhanced as a side effect to your mutation and you didn’t exactly bring a back up pair of earplugs for a run-and-done. And even if not for that, you can still hear in the air you pass through, and if you can’t relax enough to literally break you and this kid down to a molecular level safely, you could wind up getting the both you fused into a wall you can’t hear coming. Not ideal. — Which means you're completely grounded by overstimulation and stress. Also means you narrowly miss that sound of wind that rushes behind you and just barely misses your head.

You're disoriented when you duck out of the way, you can only manage to pull away a hand to defend yourself with as you keep the young boy belted to your chest. Some guy you rushed from earlier that you must’ve forgotten to finish off in the heat of things. His movements are sloppy and spiteful - and there’s a gash in his head that turns his face red. His arms are stretched into scythe like spikes that cut through the air with a whistle, each swing feels closer than the last.

Your defenses are cut into parcels. It’s all you can do to dodge and keep the little boy held securely in your arms. And the irony sets in that you’ll die playing hero.

The wall is a bad end. You curl up the moment your back collides with it. You hope your body is enough to buy the kid some time.

A gunshot isn’t what you expect to hear.

Not from so close anyway. That clap of descending metal pops before muffling and the rest becomes white noise. Whatever just happened was enough to make you lock over this kid like a cage. Drop to a crouch and curl over him like a wounded animal protecting her cub. You don't even open your eyes to anticipate what’s coming next.

The hand caressing reassuringly down your back is a surprise.

He’s hard to register through the waning panic as he carefully turns your shoulders in his direction, a figure as you panickedly push him away and hold the boy tighter toward your chest. Solidified vapor turning your free hand into a gathering of claws before you even realize it.

He’s Yakuza. The tattoos reaching out from underneath the rolled sleeves of his dress shirt make that much obvious. He’s no one you recognize. Probably only a few years your senior. Dark steel-like eyes that scrub frantically over you and the child in your hands, and he’s gentle as he reaches out for you both.

“You’re alright,” It’s the voice from earlier. The calm sounding guy. “You’re okay. I got you.”

He must recognize the smoke that gathers at the bottom of your hair out of apprehensity.

The man blushes a little. “I didn’t… recognize it was you at first,” He blows out a breath. “I should have figured you’d go the extra mile for us.”

You furrow.

“That’s my son,” And the finger pointed in his direction makes you flinch. You almost doubt him if not for the way the child turns and lights up at his father, already reaching in his direction.

What a fucking coincidence that was.

He’s careful as he helps you off the ground, scanning you over as your legs wobble and your hold on his son apprehensively gives when he tries to take the toddler in his hands. You hand him over like you’re afraid that if you do it too quickly he’ll break and fall apart. And you have to steel yourself not to let your grip linger as his father rightfully claims him again.

Call it maternal instincts then.

You don’t even realize there are tears in your eyes until he - rather invasively - thumbs away a fallen droplet, before reaching further and setting aside your straightened hair for a light grip on your nape, firmly guiding your head to the side.

“Your ears are bleeding.” He says. And before he can ask he notices the earplugs stuck in his son’s ears.

If you weren’t so traumatized you’d notice the immediate flash of tenure in his eyes. “Let’s go,” He pulls you forward. “Medic should be close by.”

—-

The partial deafness was temporary. This new “acquaintance,” was not.

Flowers are typical in recovery. Get well cards and little personalized gifts, trinkets and candies; the occasional home cooked meal. The reactions among your peers were expected. Worry and concern, and the appropriate amount of hovering. One of your civilian higher-ups gave you a month of paid leave, since most of their doctors don’t regularly live through a terrorist attack and try to reach out the next day about their schedule. Everyone has been kind and understanding, the scouts send wishful goodbyes in your early retirement and you’re sent off with eager hope of your return.

So, it’s safe to say that none of those aforementioned people aren’t the ones sending you metric tons of flowers basketed all over your front porch every morning.

The thank you money was expected, you’ll give him that. After the Yakuza found out that your last job as a scout was spent protecting one of their own, they were so overjoyed by such an act of loyalty that they sent you enough bonds to have you comfortable well into your thirties. As well as a cute little candy red Mclaren topped with a nice pink bow parked in your driveway.

The keys jingle in your hand as you read the card taped to it.

“For our youngest daughter. Thank you for all that you’ve done for your family. Please get well soon!”

There’s a little something more when you turn it over.

“To the pretty girl who I’m indebted to.

- Kiyoomi.”

The check attached to the note turns that comfortable thirties into a cozy fifties.

Money like that would be fun if you could actually spend it though. With your student debt now miraculously paid off, your lawn cleanly cut and your freshly planted flowers watered before you can even pay the guy next door to do it; even the restaurants you go to address you like they’re already expecting your arrival, and their smiles are wide as they escort you and your friends to the best seats in the house.

When you expected to retire you expected to do so without difficulty, not live life in what could essentially be described as easy mode. Living life and doing it without challenge was always the dream but it was never what you got. Trauma is what you got. Cuts and gashes and harsh words that still sting as they linger. Sleepless nights that remain sleepless. And helplessness - No way you could go to a therapist about most of the shit you’ve seen, let alone have done in your young life.

The walls move on their own accord the days you remain restless.

“You can always come back, you know?”

You snuggle against the phone pressed against your head as you lay cozily among an assortment of electric blankets. His voice is a penance that makes those still healing wounds in your head throb painfully, but it’s deserved. All of it’s deserved.

“I know.” You hum. “But I don’t… think I can. I can’t… - Not now, at least.”

“I get that.”

There’s a long stretch of silence that reaches out for an empty moment.

“When was the last time you got some sleep?”

You shrug as if your brother can see it. “I got an hour and a half yesterday.”

“Why not-…” Toshi sighs. There’s something faint crunching in the background. The sounds of bugs buzzing and a few rustling leaves. It sounds like he comes to a stop at the prospect. “Why not… Ask Neesan for something to help you sleep?”

“Because I don’t want them thinking I owe them something. I told her I was done and now I am.” You roll over on your back. “I give her even the smallest opportunity to hold something over my head and then I’m a mile deep in some Peruvian jungle… How’s that going by the way?”

“I ate a bug before I called you.”

“Was it tasty?”

“Like steak dinner.”

You giggle a little weakly. “Great. Save me a bite then.”

—-

The wind feels nice.

The soft wind that accompanies the spring feels nice on your skin. It feels fresh and foreign, a soft kiss on your cheek that welcomes you into the living world and reminds you that you are among them.

You don’t know how long you’ve been spaced out for.

Sleep hasn’t come easy since your retirement started. It hasn’t come at all in the past few days. When you wake up and your heart’s racing. Your face is hot and your skin is sweaty. There’s no comfort in that. Fear and guilt - There’s no bed that doesn’t burst on the embers of repentance. You don’t deserve sleep as much as you deserve anything else.

This is you atoning for your sins.

It takes a particularly hard gust of wind to blow the mail you’ve been holding out of your hand and you out of your sleepless trances. The shadows under the trees have moved just slightly, you wonder how long it took for the wind to turn cold.

Your eyes are heavy in the gloom of the late evening as you turn on your heel and toward the front door. There’s a murkiness that lingers in the air that’s most likely from disorientation and sleep deprivation, a line in reality that feels blurred as you focus on the doorknob and try to grasp at what you’ve been doing.

There’s mail in your hands. It’s evening. You should be eating dinner. — Even if you don’t want to.

It takes longer than it should to realize that your door doesn’t close behind you.

Your smoke frightenedly bristles at the tall figure in the doorway, foot keeping the door from fully closing before carefully pushing it the rest of the way open. Whoever it is is so tall that you have to crane your neck just to find their face. Silken fabric, black accented by gold stops at a pendant just under their collar, and when you find their face it’s the familiarity that makes you let out an allying breath.

“Oh,” Your voice feels foreign. “It’s you… Kiyoomi.”

The sound of his name in your voice makes the scowl he’s wearing soften a bit. “Yeah.”

“What are you…?”

You don’t flinch when a possessory hand is holding you by the jaw and pulling you forward an inch, tilting your head in his direction and smelling the mint on his breath when he leans closer.

Kiyoomi regards you with a look that says displeasure. “So you really aren’t sleeping.”

He pushes past you without invitation.

•••

It’s almost funny how much he doesn’t fit in your lounging area.

A quaint little tea spot littered in flowers and baby pinks, disrupted by a man who at smallest is about 6’4 and largest much too big to fit in a saucer chair. Springs creak as his socks slide clumsily against the area rug. And the silliness of it all nearly makes your lips crack up in a smile, glancing at him as you pull the kettle off the stove.

He’s already opening his mouth to speak when you start towards him, but you interject softly.

“Is the little one with his mother or his nanny?”

Kiyoomi’s ears are tinted as he responds a little boyishly. “No. - Uh, well, yeah, he’s with his nanny. ~ But his mother and I aren’t on speaking terms.”

You hum as you carefully pour his tea. “He hasn’t been negatively affected by this whole ordeal has he?”

“No.” And the smell of something floral pervades his senses. “He doesn’t remember a thing.”

You nod as you move on to your own cup. “That’s good-“

“Why aren’t you taking care of yourself?”

You don’t even spare him a glance as you pull the spout away. Methodical movements slow and a little slurred as you pull out a chair and sits in it with a sigh, hands folded loosely in your lap.

You’re hollow when you look up at him. A caged bird. Barely the energy to sing with how exhausted he knows you are. — But despite it you’re a painting. One that with somberness is still just as captivating in its beauty. Your eyes on him makes his face hot. Makes a man like him feel both big and small at the same time. Even in such a poor state he thinks you’re the most enchanting thing in the world. ~ And his displeasure deepens at the thought of someone like you living life so tumultuously.

“I’m distracted, if you can blame me.” You say. “You don’t do or see the things that I have and expect to be able to maintain yourself like any other person could,”

Your grip shakes as you sip your tea. “I adore your gifts. I apologize if it looks like I’m not enjoying them as much as I appreciate the gestures.”

Kiyoomi’s frown is pulled down by concern. “You can’t just not sleep. Or eat like you’re supposed to. ~ If it’s guilt you’re concerned about then you’re wasting your time. I don’t know anyone who’s done more good than you.”

“Then you don’t know too many people, Kiyoomi-san. We at Gethsemane are not vigilantes. We’re tools for hire. There are very few things that we are not adept at doing,”

“Very few,” You clarify evenly.

“The good I’ve done on my own fruition is outweighed by the suffering of people whose torture I could’ve prevented, but didn’t. I’m directly responsible. I…deserve this.” And saying that out loud for the first time is-

“That’s bullshit.”

You look at him with a little jump before pausing with a lengthy stare.

“I’m not a woman worth pursuing, Kiyoomi.”

He clenches his jaw at that.

“I’m not. I-I-I’m not… I’m not girlfriend or wife or mother material,” You shake your head a little brokenly. And you’re beaten down. Weighed down by the guilt on your shoulders and doing your best to blink away the penance gathering in your sunken under eyes.

“I’m damaged goods,” You declare softly. A little weakly even. “And if you’re looking to build a relationship with me then I’m not very capable of maintaining awareness, let alone the happiness of someone else.”

He blows a short breath from his nostrils as he stares at you for a long thoughtful moment. His frown now tightened into a line that’s more complentative than disappointed. His eyes are hardened by thought. But you know that his mind’s been made up when he finally raises himself out of his seat.

You knew his mind was already made before he stepped over the threshold of your door and into your home. When he sent all those flowers and paid off your debts. When he stalked you for the past few months, watching you live out your life and figuring out how he could mold it to his.

Even as he bends on his knees to lower himself he’s nearly tall enough to meet your eyes, tender as he pulls your hands into his.

He’s already decided that you’re his. You know it when you look into his eyes.

“I’m going to take care of you,” And that’s not a question. “If it’s anybody’s happiness that we should be concerned for, it’s yours.”

Your smoke reaches out to him as he raises himself again, and his lips are soft against your forehead.

It’s again that you don’t realize you’re crying until he’s thumbing your tears away. “Because you deserve that happiness. And because I'll see to it whether you like it or not." Kiyoomi hums against her forehead. "I'm indebted to you."

“You won’t have to worry about anything from here on out.”

—-

He's a carbon copy of his father.

You didn’t notice it in the heat of all that mess but you nearly question if his mother was in the room when he was conceived. — Little curly top with a few moles scattered over his face, dark little eyes that brighten when they zone in on you, even his mannerisms are a little similar. He carefully puts the toy car in his hand down on the floor behind him with the feathered practice of someone who cherishes his things.

And then he’s bounding in your direction.

You’re quick to kneel down and catch him when he trips over one of his feet on the way over, righting him back in a standing position before he’s preparing himself to climb in your lap.

You inhale through your nose before blowing it out in a chuckled breath. "Hello again. You seem excited to see me?"

He firmly grasps the collar of your dress as he lays his head against your chest.

You say it more to yourself than for anybody to hear. "Oh no… You're gonna steal my heart, you know."

The firm hand on your waist nearly makes her jump. “I’ve got competition then.” Kiyoomi slides by.

You shiver at the way he so adoringly holds eye contact as he walks by. “Is he always so trusting?”

“Not at all,” Kiyoomi rolls his shoulders as he moves for the doorway into the hall. “Shinji’s never really been good with other people. Especially adults,"

He beacons for you to follow him. "But I suppose there's a few things he might remember from that incident. Your care over him including."

He's holding onto you like he’s afraid you’ll leave without him again.

You’re curious as you follow him through the grand halls of his luxurious penthouse. Long wide corridors adorned by decorative wall fixtures and a few open doors leading to rooms of various uses. A gym. A study. An in-home office, a nursery. This house was clearly built for a family, and a growing one at that. ~ You didn’t wanna pry when he said he and the mother of his child didn’t talk because frankly… Well, you didn’t care. But seeing it all up so closely definitely sparks some interest.

Especially when you get a look at the master bedroom.

Large and largely fixed. Red and maple themes and a bed so big you could lose yourself in it. A man as big as he is needs a lot of space you suppose. But it clearly wasn’t meant for one person, and seeing all of his kind gestures now, she’s starting to put together that he eventually intends to get at least some proper use out of it.

Yet you follow behind as he leads you inside anyway.

“There are other bedrooms that you’re welcome to if you’re too put off by the idea but I’d prefer you sleep in here with me,” And though he sounds unbiased his ears are tinged with embarrassment. He really hopes you don’t assume he’s some perv or something. “It’d be easier to keep tabs on your sleeping that way. But regardless you’re entitled to your privacy,”

Kiyoomi seems to fluster a bit when you sit on his bed, son still lovingly in hand. “I won’t cross any boundaries. Not unless you ask-“

“Do you do cuddling?”

He stiffens up like a little boy. “I can do cuddling if you want.”

You adjust Shinji in your grasp as you nod, careful to not awaken the sleeping toddler who’s once again staining another one of your expensive dresses. And it’s uncanny how well he fights in your arms, how right he looks in your arms. Kiyoomi tries not to reach for his heart when you dip your head to press your nose against his scalp. In the three years since his son’s birth, motherly affection wasn’t even a possibility in his boy’s life. Not from anybody other than himself anyway.

But you close your eyes and take in that sweet combo of No Tears and Baby lotion. With no motherly experience to your name, you rub his little back as he starts to snore, and promise yourself that your hands are forever ment for keeping this kid’s life as cherished as possible.

You nod minimally against Shinji’s scalp. “That’s good then.”

——

Your skin is sore to the touch when you step out of the shower, but even scorching hot water is nearly hot enough to wash away your sins.

It’s usually around this time that your mood nose dives. That’s expected. Your stomach tenses and your muscles pull taut, and the prospect of laying down to sleep just to wake up in a terrified fright again is enough to make your eyes start to water from the fear. You’re scared. You think you’ve been your whole life in some way. Scared of the future, scared of the consequences, scared of your sister, scared of the guilt. You didn’t want this. You wanted to help people. Make a good genuine difference with your mutation instead of just making this world even worse than what it is. A travel nurse. A doctor. A PhD. — Do you know how fucking hard that is to do when you’re also blackmailing politicians for a living?!

Your sister called you the closest thing to a siren when you completed your first contract. She hears her new roommate shuffle around in the room just over. You’re starting to think she was a little right.

You’re silent as you glide meekly into the bedroom, arms wrapped around the slip he offered that’s - much too on the nose to be subtle. The sleeping pills in your system have kicked in somewhat. But you’re too on edge not to stay vigilant.

He’s on a phone call when you approach him propped up on the bed, too caught up in whatever he’s discussing to notice you until you’re crawling in behind him.

His eyes widen a little before settling again, the horror-t on top of his pajama pants makes him look as young as he is.

Kiyoomi hums into his smartphone as you tuck yourself into his covers, scooting himself onto his bed as you turn your back. “…That’s good then. If the rest of it’s taken care of by morning I’ll pay you extra for the grunt work. Might even throw in a favor if you make sure I don’t have to hear about it again.”

You let your eyes lose focus on the silken sheets.

“-Just get rid of everything. I don’t want a trace of him left.”

Maybe this was a bad idea.

It’s only a couple minutes he spends wrapping up the phone call till he’s putting it down on the dresser and reaching for the bed light. Silence finally pervading the room save for a few sighs and the hiss of a running fan.

The bed dips a little as he positions himself behind you in a way that feels comfortable. The ghost of his knees forming groves behind hers from his adjacent side of the bed. It’s a little awkward if you have to comment on it. It’s been a while since you’ve slept in another person’s bed, let alone a man’s bed. As big and as intimidating as he is. Feeling out of place in a sea of blankets and like you’re intruding despite the offer. Despite the application. Clear attraction to you and a - rather shameless intromission in your life. He’s a handsome man with a handsome amount of money and power, strong arming himself into being the center of your attention and you’re no better for letting him.

You clench your eyes closed. How broken down do you have to be to do something like this? How pathetic that are you that you couldn’t just handle this on your own.

The arm around your waist nearly makes you jump, the way it pulls you into his chest makes you feel like you’re inclined to.

You push the urge off with an allying sigh. Right. He’s open to cuddling. You lay your palm on his forearm. And he’s more comfortable with it than expected.

His breath is warm enough on the back of your ear to make her shudder, voice gravily enough to make you shiver. “You’re wasting your energy thinking like that.”

You furrow before humming a little puzzledly. “Hm?”

“Self loathing thoughts. Belittling yourself,” He nuzzles his nose comfortably into the back of your neck. “It’s asinine, it doesn’t help anybody.”

You’re silent for a few beats before clueing in. “Are you a telepath? That’s rare.”

“It’s an Intuition sort of deal. I don’t know what you’re thinking specifically but I can feel it,” He breathes. “Bleeds into me like ink if you’re close enough. The closer you get the more we sync up.”

“Empath then. That’s rarer,” You find yourself melting into him a little. “Especially in this business.”

“It keeps me a step ahead. Tells me what moves to make and who to keep close. Keeps me in tune with the people that I hire.”

“And you still wanted me around?”

“I especially wanted you around.”

You hum again a little curiously. A little bashfully. “What’s the catch then?”

Kiyoomi tightens his hold until you’re belted against him, hooking his legs so neatly into yours that they start to tangle. And you’re putty. Malleable and trusting, nearly inclined to call yourself safe. The smell of his shampoo makes you dizzy, and he’s every que in your body as he kisses the back of your head.

“I thought it was apathy.”

——-

It’s hard to breathe through a bloody nose.

And broken ribs, and scattered teeth. A welt somewhere in your chest that stings as it heals, and every breath is a fight for another.

This is how you survive. How you move up in the world. You dominate. Fight like each second could be your last one, and see the world for how it truly is.

A dog fight.

Little girls fight like wolves when they need to.

The body lying next to you is unmoving. Swollen and soaked in cinnabar. Bright lights turn reds into rubies, and cuts into gashes. Brown meets whites meets yellows, fingernails are broken in fragmented pieces.

With all this talk of a one of a kind scout, they sure wasted no time finding another that matched your skill set. Same drive, same variant, same skin color.

Same age.

Your tears sting as you fight yourself to rise on your feet.

They could’ve been friends in a different life.

There’s a distinct crackling that pops over your head, a voice that aches in its familiarity, slightly muffled by the grain of a well used speaker.

“Aren’t you glad it’s over?” Your ears are ringing. “Doesn’t this all mean something now?”

You stare at the girl at your feet.

She stares back.

Your first reaction is to sit up when you realize you’re waking up for the first time that night. Lift your head from the sodden pillow stuck to your face and breathe in the living world. You expect the loneliness that seeps in and the open air to sob into. The shivering cold that should accompany your sweltering skin and the familiar chill of terror. You can already hear yourself hiccup a few broken sobs as you reach for your phone on the bedside table.

But something’s turning you on your side before you can.

Kiyoomi’s arms are urgent as he pulls you into his chest, lovingly and muzzling, a blanket when he wraps himself around you and holds you near. His hands are like weighted blankets as he rubs them up and down your back, the sensation of being so secure so suddenly nearly makes you cry harder.

The way he speaks to you, like he knows exactly what you need to hear, makes you cry harder.

“I know. I know. I got you. I got you, angel,” Kiyoomi shushes with a little hitch in his breath. “That felt horrifying I can’t imagine— But it's just me and you now. O.K? Just me and you,”

“Far, far, away from whatever that was,” He breathes. “I put that on my life.”

Reblog and comment or I’ll eat your dry wall

[ddalgimelon]

instagram stories with bf!kiyoomi date night edition (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)

!! i tried making it mostly faceless but yk how that goes..

[ddalgimelon]

ooc kiyoomi probably.

"i'm so hungry, i could eat hirai asami.."

..

"what the fuck is that?"

you roll your eyes at your boyfriend's response. seeing the trend going around social media, you knew just the name to mention.

"i'm just so hungry. i bet i could eat hirai asami." you repeated.

this time sakusa turns to give you a weird look.

"baby, what?", his hand moves in a confused expression. genuinely questioning you.

“oh, you know, hirai asami, the girl who stole you from me in grade five?” you explained, picking at your freshly polished nails, which were of course paid for by your boyfriend.

he groans irritated, causing you to fight back laughter. immediately he recalled the situation you were referencing. it happened back in elementary school during lunch break. you had forgotten to bring a packed lunch therefor, had to buy something from the cafeteria. by the time you got back to the classroom, hirai asami had stole your seat next to kiyoomi.

your kiyoomi.

the memory still pissed you off to this day.

"how do you even remember her name?"

"how can i not remember? it was my first heartbreak."

sakusa shook his head, pulling your legs up to rest in his lap, softly kneading the back of your calf. you debated keeping the joke running but decided to leave it there. sitting up from your spot on the couch, you rested your chin on his shoulder. your arm wrapping around his neck to steady yourself.

"i'm just kidding. but i really am getting hungry.."

"yeah? lets go eat then."

with a quick peck against your lips, kiyoomi pats against your thighs. signaling you to stand first. he follows, abandoning his phone between the couch cushions in favor of holding your hand to lead you out the room.

"mimi, this isn't the way to the kitchen."

...

"it isn't?"

all in favor of calling kiyoomi, mimi, say "i"

[ddalgimelon]

have any sakusa biases watched the c-drama when i fly towards you (available on netflix btw!)

i wanna write an au fic based on that i think Σ(-᷅_-᷄๑)

starring omi as lurang obviously and komori would be guran😩 maybe the miya twins could act as guan fang??

[ddalgimelon]

complacer • k. sakusa

during a boys' trip to mexico, sakusa finds himself involved in a bet to get laid while at a nightclub with his teammates after going through a messy breakup. so what happens when he accidentally runs into his friend with benefits from back in college?

tags - wc: 2.4k, drabble + nsfw/unedited, overstim if you squint, draft from august 2024, + ive also never tried writing smt like this sooo…

sakusa kiyoomi felt like he was suffocating, being squished in the corner of the nightclub with his drink while babysitting his three other teammates who were planning on who to hit on next. it was currently the off season and the four msby players decided to take a vacation to mexico to relax and have fun (it was all bokuto and atsumu after seeing some tiktok vlogs about a vacation to mexico). though sakusa should have known better, as his definition of fun was different than his teammates’.

“yer so borin’, omi.” atsumu had his hands on his face while he slurred, “single now, have some fun! i didn’t like that fucken bitch anyway.” atsumu took a heavy swig of his drink while lazily mumbling some shit about his ex.

“get yerself laid. there’s so many hot people here so take yer pick. i'm sure you'll find somebody."

sakusa just frowned at his teammate in response while serving himself and taking another shot of tequila. that’s right, he was single. he had recently broken up with his significant other two weeks before his trip as he found them cheating on him. so to cope, he just practiced and practiced. he honestly thought he took it well.

in the rare occasions that he is in a relationship, they usually last at max 3 months. it’s either “you don’t pay attention to me” or “does volleyball matter more than me?”. relationships after college felt of convenience, to feel something. sakusa felt himself lost in thought until he felt a cold splash on his chest and bokuto apologizing repeatedly.

the entire nightclub was hot and humid and it was summer in mexico so sakusa felt utterly stupid at the fact that he wore a long sleeve grey button down with a white undershirt. he felt disgusted at the fact that there was some sugary cocktail on his shirt and left to the bathroom to clean off before he could blow up at bokuto.

he rushed to the bathroom, cleaning the drink off his shirt and took off his button down, leaving sakusa in his undershirt for now. the constant bass of the reggaeton playing in the night club along with the heavy smell of weed and alcohol had sakusa feel hazy, his head feeling heavy on top of his neck. he decided on ditching his friends as he could always apologize tomorrow, he was sure they'll forgive him if he treated to breakfast tomorrow anyway. plus, hinata was the only one not shitfaced enough to at least order an uber. sakusa clung to his forehead as he bumped into someone who also seemed to head the same direction in annoyance.

“¡mil disculpas! -oh, sakusa?”

now that’s a voice he didn’t expect to hear in sometime. he comically whipped his head at the nostalgic voice and saw you, in your flowy, see through, navy blue blouse, black flowy skirt, and black little kitten heels. you looked pretty, meanwhile he felt that he looked crazy with how he was gripping a shirt that had an alcohol splatter on the chest (which was visible). the fact that he felt so hot and sweaty that his black curls clung to his sweaty forehead felt absolutely uncanny considering his aloof demeanor. an almost crazed expression etched on his face as surprise was all he could feel along with annoyance due to his teammates and the heat.

“l/n, hi.”

he didn’t have much to say, you still looked good as you did back in college. you and sakusa were friends with benefits. one accidental one-night stand turned into an every week thing. every time sakusa lost a game or got stressed over an exam, he’d take it out on you during sex, not that you complained. it was a mutual agreement. however, you were the only girl he’s ever felt nervous about.

“how’s life been?” you held a coy smile on your face as you eyed him. you played with the hems of your skirt as you looked at him with your doll-like eyes. eyes like you enjoyed playing with him, “you look bothered. um, were you-?”

“i’ve been good. um, im not gonna do anything uh-“

“oh um, i was gonna go to a bailé, if you wanna come?”

“um, sure.”

fuck it. it sounded better than staying at a hot and humid nightclub.

you two only walked a block in peaceful silence as the buzzing nightlife of the city filled the background noise. that’s until he felt a buzz from his messages:

from: miya atsumu

i see u lwft us yhu btich

if u ght laud ill desdass pau u 20 bucks

you opened the door to a ballroom club where a band was playing bachata, “im gonna go say hi to some friends!”

sakusa nodded and looked at his surroundings. at this point, the night went fairly well as the ballroom was decently occupied (considering the nightclub a block away was popular).

that’s until he felt a tap on his shoulder from you with a nervous smile etched on your face, “hey, would you want to be my partner for this song?” he felt his eyebrows raise, “what? i mean sure but i don’t know?”

it was almost comical how your eyebrows mirrored his moments ago. was he too blunt?

“i can teach you, don’t worry about it.”

right.

you took his clammy hands and held on his shoulder ss your other hand held his right, placing his left on your waist, “look, not that hard. just move your hips to the music and you’ll be fine.”

sakusa kiyoomi would consider himself to be a rather stiff individual. somebody who isn't fond of dancing or anything that didn't require him to be precise and articulate with his movements (such as volleyball), yet when he is with you, he can't help but feel like putty in your hands. as he spinned you (or at least attempted to) amongst the colorful lights of the ballroom, you looked stunning.

"i look ridiculous."

you laughed and squeezed both of his hands as his footwork began to mirror yours, "wanna leave?"

he scoffed, "we barely got here." — "yeah but you don't seem to enjoy this"

your tone was teasing as you quickly bid farewell to your friends and took sakusa with you. just like that.

the two of you ended up heading to your apartment to catch up from college.

“have you tried speaking spanish? i mean to talk to locals. doesn’t your teammate, hinata speak it?”

sakusa shrugged, “not really and shoyo is just learning. he speaks portuguese.”

“so what do you know how to say?

“olá, como está o seu dia? that’s pretty much it.”

you nodded as you ended up pulling out a cigarette from your purse and your silver lighter. smoking was a rather nasty habit you had, since college. nevertheless, he’s the one who got you the lighter as a goodbye gift after college. you side eyed him and brought the cigarette box to his face.

fuck it.

sakusa had the cigarette and put the wrong side in his mouth, where you stopped him. "you're doing it wrong. have you ever done this before?" — he hasn't and you read him like a book.

you laughed and and took the cigarette in his mouth, "im not about to pressure you, kiyoomi. don't forget you're an athlete too. plus, we're here."

after a few flights of stairs, you two were finally in your apartment.

the next couple moments were a bit of a blur; first, you simply put your bag on the coat hanger next to your door, then you turn around where he starts kissing you on your couch, with one of your hands cupping his face endearingly while the other tugged and played with his curls.

you straddled him on the couch and kissed him as he massaged your ass from below your skirt. was it wrong to say it was nostalgic of college?

maybe, but sakusa needed a cathartic release from the intensive stress of his career and felt no shame going back to his old ways from college.

you lifted up your shirt to take to off, where sakusa felt his mouth go dry. you flashed him a smile and threw the blouse on the recliner near, “got them done a bit after graduation.” you were talking about your nipple piercings, the sleek metal rod gave a bit of edge and personality to the complete work of art that is your body.

you went back and kissed him with more intensity, your tongues almost fighting for dominance as sakusa had one hand on your waist, and the other caressing your breast. in his old relationships and sexual encounters, kiyoomi wouldn’t even dare attempt foreplay and kept himself at a boundary— god forbid they wanted to make out the way you are doing right now. however, with you, he was on edge all the time, pushing away his inhibitions.

“shit…kiyoomi.” you breathed out as kiyoomi started attacking your exposed breasts, his tongue swirling around your areolas and rods. he felt a wave of pure nostalgic euphoria hit him, intoxicated by lust at the same time as he felt you grind against him. the utter symphony of your breathless whines and moans was music to his ears, adding onto whatever desires he had at the start of his night with you.

your whines only became louder as he slipped his hand into your panties, rubbing circles on your clit, causing for you to pull on his black curls in utter pleasure and grind on his hand.

“please, let’s do this somewhere else.” your head laid on your shoulder as your plush legs latched onto his waist where he carried you to your room, throwing you on the bed.

kiyoomi kneeled to look up at you and your blissed-out expression, “do you have a condom?”

even in your state, you flashed him a sly smile, “we won’t need them.”

he scoffed at your teasing words, taking off his slacks and sweat-drenched undershirt.

once he was in his boxers, you hung your arms around his neck for him to lower his posture to meet your lips, the sound of your lips clashing breaking any silence.

you placed him spread on the bed, crawling on his breathless form as you rolled down his boxers to be met with his cock, springing out towards his abdomen. it was slightly bigger than you remembered, with it being a little curved and its cute swollen pink tip spilling slight precum. still, you weren’t mad. at all.

you licked your lips and pumped at his dick, kissing at his swollen pink tip leaking with pre-cum, “god i missed this…”

kiyoomi didn’t know what to say. he was speechless. maybe it was the alcohol or the lust still intoxicating his system but this felt cathartic.

you began going in, giving his dick little kisses until you began to take it in your mouth little by little and sucked, causing him to let out the quietest of moans. as you sucked him off, you felt him gently push at your head, causing you to go faster. you began to caress his balls, which made his dick begin to twitch and him to whine. you maintained eye contact as you pumped his dick while you sucked, feeling spurts of his cum in your mouth as he released. “s-shit…y/n.”

you crawled back up and placed your knees to each side of his legs, “is it okay if we?”

kiyoomi nodded and looked at you with a glint of mischief in his eyes, “i thought we were, y/n.”

you smiled at his words and aligned his dick to your entrance and slowly went down, whining at the slight hint of pain that was brought by him slightly stretching you out. all you both could hear was the wet squelch of your pussy being stretched out by his hard cock.

“careful, y/n.” kiyoomi licked his bottom lip as he grabbed onto your hips and slowly helped you move on his cock. you attempted to move your hips yourself, gasping at the sheer pleasure when he began to thrust upwards. you grabbed onto his shoulders and then pulled on his hair as you felt the sensation overtake you, moving your hips side to side while he thrusted and rubbed on your clit simultaneously.

it felt too much for both of you, with this being the first time you’ve gotten laid since college.

until kiyoomi stopped.

kiyoomi flipped you on your back as he began to stand up, making you giggle, “thought you didn’t have this in you?”

“you’ll see.” kiyoomi licked his thumb and began circling your clit again before bringing your legs on his shoulders, “o-oh my god…”

kiyoomi slowly inserted his cock in your pussy again, adjusting to the tight squeeze you had on him. he began to thrust in you roughly again, making you moan as you gripped on his bedsheets. it felt almost overstimulated as he kept on, with said thrusting becoming sloppy shortly after you had reached your orgasm finally. it hit you like a truck.

you felt like an incoherent mess, grabbing onto his neck again to kiss him with more fervor, a string of saliva connecting your lips. it felt almost too much with the pace he was going. then again, kiyoomi was an athlete with an insane amount of stamina. however, you felt his thrusts become sloppier and the speed become slower until you felt him spill his cum in you, feeling warm.

he quickly muttered an ‘I’m sorry’ and became even more flustered.

you smiled as you threw your forearm on your eyes, “you’re okay, it’s okay.”

he slipped his cock out of your pussy, making you feel his cum drip out of you all cold.

you attempted to sit up with your elbows, softly sighing. he carried you in his arms to the bathtub in your connected bathroom, taking a bath together in peaceful silence.

———

kiyoomi has a habit of waking up early—however, he hasn’t gotten this good of sleep since high school.

he looked over to your blissful figure asleep and smiled. until he checked his phone.

“what the fuck?” kiyoomi ran his fingers through his hair as he checked his phone, spammed with several (hundred) calls from his teammates.

he kept scrolling amongst the barrage of “where tf r u” and “hello?” messages until he was greeted with a venmo notification from miya atsumu sending him 20 bucks:

i knew i could count on you ;)

[ddalgimelon]

SAKUSA KIYOOMI is a simple man. a man of routine.

wake up at sunrise, stretch, brush teeth, tidy space, eat some breakfast, take a shower. five step skincare, change of clothes, start laundry. set timer, four mile run, stop timer, take a break on the nearest park bench. people watch, run again, make a u-turn back to his apartment - take another break before practice, with intent to catch his breath, only to lose it the moment you walk past his door with your dog. you’re disoriented, messy, and in panic.

you hold onto its collar with three fingers hooked around the nylon, growing redder by the second. the leash frays at a halfway point and ends there. he clutches his keys when he sees the sweat beading on your skin, and the mess your hair has turned into in the few minutes he’s been watching you struggle. sakusa becomes disoriented, messy, and falls into a state of panic too — when he finds two pairs of eyes staring right back at him.

he’s never been akin to trying new things. against it, even. atsumu knows not to offer him food unless it’s part of his regime. sakusa’s strict, disciplined, and scheduled. his favorite word is intentional. yet what he does next is so utterly unintentional, completely on accident, fully subconscious: that he himself is caught by surprise.

sakusa asks for your number. it takes you one second to warm up to him, one minute to learn his name, one hour to tame your dog, one day to know his apartment lock’s code, one week up to the first date, one month for him to realize he loves you.

one year ‘till he calls you his.

multifandom masterlist send me a request divs by mikeykuns

@nekozaki look what you did. everyone read preservation it will change your life and alter the trajectory of it permanently

[ddalgimelon]

if anyone finds my new acc.. i forgot the login details on my old blog☹️ so i just decided to just jump the gun and restart was:emphoriai

[ddalgimelon]

one day i'll release my sakusa x reader fic 😭😭 i've had planned since literal 2020. (when i was in middle school, i'm in uni now😭😭) i'm tempted to release the teaser/masterlist but idkkk

[ddalgimelon]

kiyoomi def knows how to carry a baby on his hips i don't make the rules. also the type to be carrying a random baby at the family event (preferably a niece or nephew). he's got his sun glasses on top of his head and a baby on his hip. at the end of the night he passes the baby back to the mother (literally his sister) like it was a burden .. he's ready for his own

[ddalgimelon]

saw this and it gave boyfriend!kiyoomi's sunday reset routine 😭😭

[ddalgimelon]

interviewer asking omi if he plans on having any kids and he's like wym i got three at home

[ddalgimelon]

omi's luck is planning to just have one kid and getting triplets 😭