; fluffy brainrot- had to take out some random hcs
he buys you flowers. i like to think ushijima has a vast knowledge of them, and every tuesday on his morning run he visits the cute little floral shop down your street to buy you a new assortment of pretty ones. they remind him of you, with their gentle and subtle beauty. he keeps note of what flowers he gets each time, so that he doesn't repeat. although he may not look happy, his heart skips a beat when you place a kiss on his cheek and put them in a vase.
he tries using memes for you. ushijima, very obviously, isn't much of a meme user, or entertaining texter for that matter. however he does notice how you use funny images, and in an attempt to make you laugh, sends you farmer memes. they work.
he takes interest in your day. ushijima is a one track minded person. generally, he does not pay attention to anything that isn't volleyball related. however, the tall boy loves hearing you describe your day, even if it's in extreme detail. you lie down on your sofa, your feet on his thighs as you ramble about your new coworker, and how you absolutely hate cheese. whatever it is, he's listening. it's something he looks forward to.
he bakes with you. or at least, he tries to. neither one of you are good at it, so you always end up making a mess out of the kitchen. but he loves the excitement on your face when he sends you a new recipe for chocolate cake, even if you both know it's just gonna end up as a food fight. one time, you almost burnt down the kitchen while trying to use an oven and had to call daichi for help.
he gives you shoulder massages. i get the vibe he's very good at those. whenever you're stressed, you sit between his legs as his hands knead your shoulders and he talks about a funny video he saw that day, a cute dog he met or just, anything really. it's something that relaxes you both without fail.
he pranks people with you. you can't look me in the eye and say this man doesn't absolutely adore pranking the shit out of asahi, daichi, and the second as well as first years. and of course, your angelic laugh is always a bonus to the pissed off faces of the pranked. you often brainstorm new ways in practice, with sly smiles on your face. asahi calls them "devil smiles."
he shows you off. he posts you every other day, he talks about you at practice, at lunch, in classes, all the time really. he can't help it, not when he's so hopelessly in love with you that everything reminds him of you. it’s at the point where its kind of annoying, but no one has the heart to say so cause they’ve never seen atsumu so happy. he loves you, and he will make sure everyone knows.
he gives you his hoodies. you? steal his hoodies? nah. mans dumps his entire closet on you. he wants you to wear his clothes, whether it be shorts three sizes big, or a tank top that hangs on you. he even sits and consults you while ordering his clothes, since they're "not only mine, they're our clothes," in his words. it makes him feel like you want everyone to know you're his.
he doesn't sleep without you. it's not like he can't sleep, but he refuses to go to bed until you get in there with him. this means he clings to you when you're working late nights, wrapping himself around you from the back, and mumbling in your neck to stop working and sleep cause he's tired. no, he will not listen if you tell him to sleep himself. most nights you give up the second he places a sloppy kiss on you, you just can't bear seeing his droopy expression and know that he needs the rest.
a/n - thank you @tsukkiangel for the help with tsumu's <33. 'm gonna make this a series.
synopsis. sakusa seems like the kind of person who's not scared of anything but he's only human, he's definitely scared of something too and one thing that scares him the most is fatherhood.
tags. dad! sakusa x fem! reader, fluff, domestic, comfort(?)
word count. 1.0k
notes. im honestly glad how this one turned out, i live for dad! kiyoomi and i just imagine how nice it would be to comfort him ;;-;;
♡ reblogs are much appreciated !!
sakusa carefully sits up on the corner of your shared bed not wanting to wake up your peacefully, sleeping figure. hands clasped together as several thoughts cloud his mind. people around him think so highly of him, deeming him as the kind of person who doesn't get scared of anything thanks to his serious nature.
but that's not true at all, he's just like everyone else— human. we're all scared of something, be it something small or huge and so is he. he's scared of something as small as a cockroach roaming around their house or something big that plays a huge responsibility, and genuinely frightens him the most is being a father.
a huge transitioning into his life that is both exciting and scary at the same time. every sort of emotion he has rarely felt dropped within him– fear, anxiety, helplessness.
the very moment his firstborn son came into this world, time suddenly slowed down. the words of the doctor and nurses congratulating them for a healthy baby boy were like distorted, reverb voices as your faint incoherent mumblings that he has successfully deciphered as he's here accompanied by the cries of his child rang through his ears not in an annoying way but rather an alarming one, as if telling him to get his grip together.
and when he held him gently and securely for the first time in his arms he snapped back and grasped the reality that he's now indeed a father.
being a father is a lifetime responsibility and plays a huge role in influencing a child's growth.
he's scared, scared that he might not do what a father exactly needs to do, give the kind of love and security a father needs to give. how do you even raise a child properly?
usually fathers are the perfect image of being the role model of the family, how can he be a role model when he doesn't even know the proper way to raise a kid? what is even the right way? what and how do you even teach them?
he cannot control these thoughts that continue to cloud his mind every single night, especially that he is now a father of three beautiful children which means he'll even play the role and responsibility of a father more.
he wants his children to feel loved, secured and open to him, to be able to grow up into respectable and kind beings. he wants to be a great father for his children yet he's terrified because he doesn't know how.
too caught up with his thoughts he didn't notice how the bed suddenly dipped beside him.
"something's troubling you, what's on your mind?" he almost jumped out of his seat, clearly startled upon hearing your hoarse voice, obviously just woken up.
he shifts his head towards you as you lean the side of your head on his shoulders, hands traveling from his back before wrapping your arms around him, hugging his broad figure. "just some things."
you hummed, "and what are these things?"
he falls silent upon hearing your question. he's not so sure if he has the courage to share with you what he was actually thinking. he doesn't want to appear incompetent in your eyes but after a while of giving it a thought he remembers what you told him before about not bottling up his thoughts and it's not healthy for him to just deal with it alone, that's why you're there for him. to have someone he can share everything with, and besides you deserve to know it as well since you're his wife.
realizing he's not answering instead of pushing him about it, you decided to just squeeze his hand. letting him know that you're just there for him no matter what. he'll just share it to you soon, whenever he's ready.
"i'm scared.." he pauses. you hummed as a response, urging him to continue what he's saying. "that i might be a failure and disappointment to our children. i thought i'd be used to it by now but seeing them grow up right in front of my eyes. i'm scared that i might not be what they expect me to be because i don't know what i'm doing being a father. i cannot help but question myself if i'm even doing it right since no one really taught me how to be one."
your heart clenched upon knowing what's been bothering your husband's mind, it was evident within his voice— the sadness, fear and fullness of his worries.
"i'm scared too, kiyoomi. i'm just the same as you, we both entered the stage of parenthood without having any idea at all how to be one but you're here with me in this journey. we both can help and learn from each other, with you by my side i feel like i can accomplish anything. anyone who tells you they know what they're doing is completely lying because there's just no way."
a faint smile appeared on his face, hearing you say those words comforted him, it felt like a heavy boulder was lifted from his shoulders. relief washes through him knowing that he wasn't the only one worrying about not knowing how to be a parent. both if you want the best for your children, it felt great to him that you got his back, and even if he won't express it much he's got yours too.
he brought his lips closer to your forehead before planting a gentle kiss, his way of showing his love to you when he can't muster up the courage to verbally say he loves you. "thank you, love."
you smiled. "besides, i think you're already doing an amazing job as a father, you know."
you divert your eyes from him, fixating your sight to the framed drawings hanging by the side of the wall. he follows your gaze, eyes softening and chest swelling up with pride after seeing what you were looking at.
hanging on the wall were several framed drawings from your children, ranging from oddly shaped houses down to a happy family drawing but he knew what you were pointing at. it was a drawing of him playing— no, teaching them how to play volleyball with the words "best dad in the world" written in squiggly letters, highlighted with the strokes of crayons on the side.
if his family thinks he's the best dad, then the same goes for him.
Ahhh, your rejecting and regretting series is so good, my heart 🥺❤️ Can you do another one but with kuroo and kenma? You can ignore this request if you don’t wanna do it, I love your writing style and your blog! Stay safe and have a good day! 💞💞
Hey, bub! Thank you so much for the kind words, I appreciate it ♥️ I hope you don't mind me doing this only for Kenma. I got carried away so it got quite longer than I intended 🤦♀️ Anyway, here's your request! I hope you like it ♥️ Have a good day, stay safe and hydrated! Mwah!
a/n: read the note on the last part.
Rejecting and Regretting 6
genre: angst to fluff
warning/s: cursing, do message me if i missed any
a/n: please do read the warnings before you proceed. warnings have been put there for a reason.
ft. timeskip!kenma kozume
title says it all
Masterlist | Updates
When you moved in to your apartment, you never expected your neighbor to be THE Kenma Kozume
If truth be told, you've been a fan of his ever since he started streaming
You knew that he didn't know you nor would he pay attention to you so you did not bother telling him that you were a big fan - the first one to always comment when he starts streaming
Not only did you think that it may make him uncomfortable but also make him feel like you were only trying to befriend him for his reputation
One night, as you were coming back from a short trip to the grocery store, you were walking with your earphones in and nose pointed on the screen while rewatching one of his videos
What you didn't know was that Kenma was walking behind you and was actually staring as you smiled and giggled while watching
You almost squealed when a hand came on your shoulder, almost punching the person behind you
Oddly, that was the starting point of your friendship
Although Kenma was hesitant at first (duh, you almost punched him) , he slowly eased when he felt that you were genuine
You basically went from neighbors to roommates because of how often you went to his unit, just playing random games and having occasional sleepovers
It wasn't long then when you realized that your "fangirling" towards the streamer developed into something more
You realized that you were no longer looking at him as the Kodzuken of the gaming world but just Kenma Kozume
You knew that you were fucked and thus you tried hiding it, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't
So you came up with a solution - confess. You decided that you would take the leap, confess, and hope that everything would turn out well, not knowing that it was only one sided
You shifted from one foot to another as you waited for Kenma to open the door of his unit.
Earlier, you both planned another sleepover and you took the initiative to cook dinner for the two of you instead of ordering another takeout.
As you waited, you could feel your stomach grumbling as the scent of the freshly baked sushi wafted in the air.
To be honest, you weren't really a good cook but you taught yourself how to with the help of youtube and cookbooks. You weren't even planning on learning how to do it but you were getting bored of takeouts, plus, you also wanted to impress Kenma even for a bit.
When the door finally opened, you smiled widely at Kenma while showing the food you made.
"Told you to not bother knocking and just make your way inside," he muttered before taking the pan from you and letting you in.
"Unlike you, I have my manners, Kozume," you playfully said as you plopped yourself on the couch head first.
Hearing him mumbling something under his breath as he arranged the table, you propped your elbow on the couch to watch him with a small pout playing on your lips. Your eyes followed his every movement and you couldn't help but question how someone could look so perfect.
His hair was a mess in a half bun and he was wearing nothing fancy, just his old sweatpants and a hoodie. Despite that, he still managed to look like a model, specifically those who preferred the "woke up like this" look.
"Y/n, are you going to eat or not?"
You blinked your eyes when you noticed the frown plastered on Kenma's face. Immediately, you stood up and walked over to the table with a small blush on your cheeks after being caught daydreaming.
"Sorry," you said sheepishly.
Kenma's apartment was then filled with the sounds of utensils clanking and small conversations the two of you were sharing.
Even though it seemed like Kenma wasn't paying attention, you knew that he was listening. You were aware of how much he preferred listening and observing more than talking anyway. It's just that you wished that he would talk more around you.
Somewhere in your conversation, you tried hinting your feelings towards him. In fact, you think that it was pretty obvious, but it seemed like Kenma didn't notice - that or he was purposely avoiding to indulge you.
"Getting in a relationship with a fan isn't boring you know? It actually sounds exciting, to be honest."
At that, Kenma heaved a sigh which instinctively made you shut up.
His eyes were already casted on the food infront of him instead of you, eyebrows furrowed as if he was suddenly put in a bad mood. "I dont... really like this topic," Kenma said with a dismissive tone.
You felt your heart drop upon hearing that.
You've already practiced your confession several times and there was no way you'd let such words discourage you that easily. All you knew was that you had to get it out of your chest - now or never.
You placed your utensils down and looked at him straight in the eye despite him trying to avoid your gaze. "Why not, Kozume?" you asked, trying to push him to talk.
"I just don't see the point. Why would you want to date your fan? That's... weird," he simply answered, "What if they don't really like you? There's a high chance that a fan would date their idols because of popularity and fame. It's nothing but a self satisfaction."
"Hmm... I guess you do have a point," you said with a nod.
Placing your elbow on top of the table, chin resting on your palm, you pointed at yourself with your free hand which made Kenma look at you with one eyebrow raised. "Then what if it's me who wants to date you? Im a fan of yours, after all. Would you also reject me?" you asked hopefully.
Without wasting any second, Kenma answered, "Of course. Why would I date you?"
You didn't know how to react upon hearing that. You wanted to believe that he was trying to tease you but there weren't any signs of that from the tone of his voice. Moreover, he had nothing but a serious expression on his face.
"Because I like you," you answered with a low voice.
That simple phrase caused the silence to enevelope the two of you. The anticipation made your hands feel clammy to the point that you had to let go of your utensils to grip the sweatpants your were wearing.
Silently, you stared at each other as if waiting for the other person to break the silence - until Kenma did.
"Well, I don't." Standing up, Kenma took his plate and placed it on the sink, his back turned against you as he continued, "I think I'm going to stream for a bit. Make yourself comfortable."
You stared at Kenma as he made his way to his room wordlessly. "Make myself comfortable? Just who the fuck would say that after rejecting someone?" you muttered under your breath.
Knowing that it would be pointless to distract him while streaming, you started to clean the table and proceeded on washing the plates. As you were doing so, you whispered a curse when a tear suddenly slid down your cheeks.
You weren't supposed to cry. You prepared for this so you should've been able to take the rejection properly, right? He was Kenma Kozume after all. Although you became close with each other, it seemed as if he was really beyond your reach.
And now you ruined the only thing keeping you close to him - your friendship.
You decided to leave his unit after that. You felt that proceeding with the sleepover would only put a tense atmosphere between the two of you. Moreover, he did shut you out, right? Though he told you to make yourself comfortable, the way he acted said otherwise.
Maybe he only said it not to hurt your feelings.
"As if he hadn't already," you murmured, shutting and locking the door behind you.
In hopes of cheering yourself up, you decided to take a warm shower and pamper yourself to he point that skincare products basically littered your vanity when you finished and don't forget the fact that you ended up smelling like a strawberry because of your bodywash.
By the time you went to bed, you were feeling a little better... or were you?
As you laid on your bed, staring at the wall beside you while hugging a pillow close to your chest, your mind suddenly went back to what happened awhile ago.
You thought of how dismissive he seemed towards you. He wasn't always like that. Kenma had always been enthusiastic when you're around. Sometimes you would even end up watching beside him as he streams.
Groaning, you buried your face on your pillow when you felt yourself tearing up once again. "Tomorrow will be better," you mumbled against the soft material as you slowly allowed yourself to fall asleep.
In fact, it got worse.
Not only was Kenma avoiding you, he was also acting as if he didn't know you - as if you didn't exist.
Earlier this morning when you were taking the trash out, you waved at him in hopes of lightening up the mood, but instead of usually greeting you, Kenma didn't even spare you a glance. He basically walked pass you without saying anything.
At first, you thought that maybe he didn't see you. Maybe his mind was elsewhere while walking. That could be possible right?
But when it continued for several more days, you realized that he was indeed avoiding you.
You felt a mixture of pain and anger. You were supposed to be the one avoiding him since it was him who rejected you but why was it the other way around? He could've atleast talked to you, let alone smile. Did he not value even just your friendship?
As the days went on, you were slowly getting tired of being the only one to put effort on rekindling your relationship. It was exhausting to keep on chasing over someone who didn't even acknowledged you.
Maybe you were just a bother to him after all.
So despite your will to keep on getting his attention, you decided to stop. If he didn't want you then so be it. You already confessed and did your best to show him that you're genuine. That's all that matters.
Kenma stared at your door beside his intensely, hand mid-air to turn the knob of his own unit.
It had been two weeks since he last saw you and for the third time of the day, he was yet again met with nothing but silence when he tried knocking on your door.
Where were you?
He knew that how he acted towards you was unreasonable but he didn't expected himself to wake up feeling like shit everyday without seeing you. He did this. He pushed you away. He said he didn't like you, right?
Groaning frustratedly, Kenma entered his unit, heading straight to his streaming room to cool off his head. If he couldn't see you personally, then perhaps he could at least see your name on his viewers.
He knew you always watched his stream and how you would always be the first to comment. Sometimes, you would even donate a huge amount of cash as a tip even though you always complained about being broke.
"They're not watching?" Kenma said unconsciously as he noticed how your name wasn't on the list.
That instantly caused a ruckus in his stream's comment section. Several fans kept on asking who Kodzuken was referring to and some even got the right answer since he streamed with you several times already.
But instead of saying anything, Kenma stayed silent. He focused on his game, occasionally shifting his eyes to the comment section and interacting with his fans.
His eyes, however, caught one comment. It was a link with the caption "Isn't this y/n?". Out of curiosity, Kenma decided to check it, finding out that you were indeed the person in the video.
No, it wasn't a video. It was a live stream of someone like him - a player.
And there you were, seated beside the unfamiliar person with a fluffy blanket wrapped around your body and your your head resting on their shoulder.
Who was that and why did you look too comfy?
"Sorry, guys. I'll have to end the stream now. Something important came up," Kenma said with a small wave before ending his stream.
Stalking the other streamer's socials, Kenma frowned upon noticing several pictures of you attached in their instagram. They were even posted just a few days ago which meant that you must've been spending time with them throughout the days you weren't at home.
Something stirred inside Kenma. It was an unpleasant feeling blooming inside his chest, clawing at him and making him realize one important thing.
He was in love with you.
And it was only confirmed when he remembered how nervous he was when you confessed, how scared he was when he heard the door shutting after he rejected you, and how stupid he was for only realizing it now.
"Shit," he whispered to himself as he quickly tapped on his phone, his finger hovering over your number, debating wether or not should he dial.
Suddenly, he shifted his gaze on the monitor of his pc which was still displaying the unfamiliar streamer when he noticed how you snuggled closer to their side.
Muttering anther curse, Kenma clicked on your number, his eyes focused on the montior of his laptop as he watched you picking up your phone.
"Please pick up," he pleaded when he noticed the frown on your face.
It took him a full 5 minutes and several dials to finally make you give in. He watched as you whispered something on the person beside you before making your way out of the room.
On cue, your voice suddenly met his ear.
It was still as soft as he could remember and with the fact that he finally admitted his feelings, his cheeks burned when he felt his heart racing.
Say it. Say it.
Say you like her.
"I-" pausing for a moment to rethink his words, Kenma sighed deeply before answering, "I'm sorry for being mean."
He was met with silence from the other side and for a moment, he got scared that you dropped the call.
It was until he heard some rustling sound that he realized you were still there and was purposely trying to stay quiet.
"Can we talk about this in person?" you said with a tiny voice.
Out of panic, Kenma nodded, forgetting that he was ralking to you over the phone and not in person. Mentally smacking himself, he answered, "Yes. I'd prefer that."
And I'd prefer if you're here instead of that caveman's room.
"Then, I'll be there in 20."
The moment Kenma heard someone knocking, he was quick to open the door.
His lips basically parted at the sight of you. It was only two weeks and yet why did it felt like he hadn't seen you in a month?
"I'm sorry," he cut you off, arms wrapping around you as soon as you stepped inside his apartment.
He felt how your body became stiff in his hold and without wasting any chance, he poured everything out. "I'm sorry for how I acted towards you. I treated you as if you were the last person I wanted to be with and when I didn't see you for several days, I realized how much I hurt your feelings." He took a deep breath, eyes focusing on you as he gripped your shoulders slightly. "Forgive me? I promise that I'll make it up to you."
Kenma hoped that you could notice the genuineness in his voice. He wasn't the type of person to talk too much but for you, he'd do it if it means having you forgive him and give him another chance.
"It's... alright, Kozume," you answered with a small smile.
"It's alright?" Kenma asked slowly. He knew that he should be happy that you forgave him easily but the way you said it made it seem like you were only forcing yourself.
It's like you didn't mean it.
"W-what do you mean it's alright?" he repeated.
"It means exactly what it means. I don't really see the point of holding a grudge against you, you know? You rejected me and I accepted it." Shrugging your shoulders, you walked pass him and went to sit on the couch. "I guess I just got too ahead of myself. I mean, you're Kenma Kozume, the Kodzuken of the gaming world. It would be impossible for you to like me, right? Sorry if I made you uncomfortable with my confession."
Kenma swallowed the lump forming inside his throat, eyes darting away from your figure as he shook his head no. "No... That's not true."
"What do yo-"
"I like you. How could you ever think that low of yourself?" he said, finally looking at you before he walking towards your direction. "It's not Kodzuken to you, y/n. Kozume - just Kozume. I don't want you to think that I'm someone all high and mighty just because people acknowledge me. I don't care about that. I want you. I want you to look at me the same way you did before. I want you to keep on clinging to me and to keep on cooking for me despite not knowing how to. I want you to like me again. I just want you.."
You felt your eyes well up with tears. After a long time of pining over someone you thought you wouldn't be able to reach, it was finally here - the moment you finally manage to hear the words you've longed to hear from him.
"D-do you mean that?" you asked with a small sob, your hand covering your face as you felt yourself being lifted and placed on Kenma's lap. "What if you're only saying that to make me feel better?"
"Of course I mean it. I was too stupid being scared of acknowledging my feelings towards you that I ended up rejecting you. I'm sorry." Gently, Kenma rubbed your back as he kept you in his arms, words of apologies continue slipping past his lips as he waited for you to stop crying.
"If I told you I still like you, would you promise not to treat me like shit again?" you asked while wiping your cheek with the back of your hand. "You were really mean to me, Kozu."
"I'd promise," Kenma answered with a nod.
Looking at him, you sniffled one more time. "Then I still like you," you said without taking your eyes off him.
You didn't fail to notice how Kenma's cheeks turned a lighter shade of red and the thought of how he got more flustered by your second confession than the fact that you were seated on his lap made you smile a little.
"Oh," Kenma uttered, as if suddenly not knowing how to react.
"You're supoosed to kiss me like those cliche movies," you said while encircling your arms around his neck.
Kenma's blushed even deeper after hearing that. Gulping, he gave a stiff nod before leaning in and finally planting his lips on yours.
His lips were soft against yours. Despite how tense he was at the beginning, he slowly managed to relax, fingers interlocking with your hair as he kept on moving his lips in synch with yours, both of your eyes closed as you savored the moment.
You felt yourself smiling in your kiss as you realized something - no longer were you just a fan but his s/o.
If you're reading this, hello.
I've decided that this will be the last part of the rejecting and regretting series. Though I had a lot of fun writing these, I'm no longer satisfied with how I'm writing them. The scenes were slowly becoming repetitive as well as the words. I'm craving for something new- something fresh that I've yet to explore. It was quite overwhelming how much people loved this series and I'm very thankful for that so I feel a little bad that this would be the last one. Don't worry, I still have some stuff brewing up that I hope you'd all enjoy.
Thank you so much for the love, support, and most importantly, for reading the series up until this last one. ♥️
sakusa kiyoomi only hired you as an innocent face to cover for his clan’s less-than-innocent dealings. but it’s that innocence he falls in love with—and it’s that innocence he’ll protect, at any cost, when someone tries to take you from him.
part one || part two || red peony || white lily || mafia au masterlist
pairing: black jackals mob boss sakusa kiyoomi x afab!reader, nsfw pwp, 9.4k (part two of two)
warnings: major character death, kidnapping and mentions of drugging, yandere (lite?) character, oral sex (f!receiving) and protected sex, graphic depictions of violence
notes: written for Mayfia collab by The Church of Meian! masterpost can be found here! please heed the warnings, this part is a bit more graphic than the first part.
thank you all so much for the love on this series, i absolutely loved writing it and consider it to be one of my best pieces ;;; the suna "sequel" red peony is currently in the works so stay tuned!
banner by the amazing @vanille–kiss, please check her out for more art! i owe her my life!
special thanks to: @vivianvampyric, @karasunomygod, and @vanille–kiss for betaing and the church for walking me through my trouble areas. i really couldn't have finished without you guys <3
Sawamura Daichi used to be a good cop. Trying to provide for his four younger brothers and sisters by becoming an upstanding law enforcement officer—something respectable. Steady. Useful to the public.
But the salary of an ordinary policeman isn’t enough, especially not when his sister got hurt, his brother got sick, and a downsizing meant his job wasn’t as stable as he once thought. When he was passed over for a promotion again, for another one of the higher-ups' sons or cousins or whoever—well, that’s enough to make any man turn to the mafia for some extra assistance.
Sawamura has been in the Black Jackals’ pocket for almost a year now, and it’s his desk Sakusa leans over as the officer runs through security camera footage from outside the shop. On screen, a small silver car with no plates sits in front of Itachiyama’s Flowers at the same time he was dealing with Heiwajima back at his hotel. A short man in a black hood enters the shop, and even with the blurry footage, he can see a struggle happening through the front windows. Then the figure emerges with your limp body hung over his shoulder before he stuffs you in the trunk and drives out of view.
Sakusa grips Sawamura’s desk so tightly that his monitor begins to shake.
Hoshiumi Kourai is a dead man walking.
“Do you want me to send some reinforcements to the shop?”
“No,” Sakusa grits out between his clenched teeth. “That will be taken care of. Follow the car.”
Sawamura flips through a few different CCTV feeds on the possible route the car might have taken. They lose him sometimes and have to go back to another video, but over the course of an hour, Sakusa watches as the unmarked car pulls off the highway and onto a back road before disappearing. Something about that back road seems familiar. Sakusa keeps staring at the screen, even after the video has stopped playing, thinking hard about why it’s picking at his brain.
“Pull up a map of the area,” Sakusa demands, and as soon as the cop pulls up radar pictures of the pulloff, he remembers.
Miya had said something about Ushijima purchasing a large amount of land and an abandoned factory on the outskirts of Tokyo a few weeks ago, but Sakusa had written it off. It wasn’t near his nor the Raijin’s territory, and if the Adlers needed another base to store their weapons, it was no skin off of his back.
Sakusa isn’t writing it off now.
His knives hidden in his jacket and his suit weigh heavy as he stares at the GPS map before him. He doesn’t know if Hoshiumi is working alone or if he’s involved others in the Adlers clan, like he did with Heiwajima. Based on the fact that Hoshiumi left Tokyo proper instead of going to an Adlers base or the Ushijima estate, Sakusa can only assume the clan leader is none-the-wiser to Hoshiumi’s transgressions. His next move needs to be calm, calculated, thoroughly thought out to avoid a clan war with the Alders.
But he isn’t any of those things right now.
“Delete these videos. 3:30 PM in your home mailbox,” is all Sakusa says before he exits the police station, fishing for his phone in his pocket. The compensation Daichi will receive is nothing to him but the information he received is invaluable.
Sakusa is going to bury Hoshiumi underneath that abandoned factory where no one can find him.
ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ
The factory is pitch black when they pull up. There’s nothing around for miles, save for the three large buildings in various states of disarray. Hinata and Miya stand by his sides, fiddling with their guns before fitting them in their belts. Sakusa isn’t the biggest fan of guns—too loud, too messy, too easy to miss—but for Hoshiumi, he’ll make an exception. It would be poetic justice to kill him at the hand of his own clan’s contraband, after all.
Hinata takes off to the furthest building, footsteps nearly undetectable as he wades through old garbage and tall grass. Miya takes the building to the left, leaving the main building to Sakusa. He’s as quiet as possible as he creeps closer to the open walkway, the steel front doors long broken and rusting on the dirty ground. Inside are old, broken machines, steel links littering the ground and broken pieces of flooring.
He listens for a bit, but when he hears nothing, he slips inside, careful around the pieces of glass and machinery. The place is quiet—eerily quiet, the type that raises the hair on his arms as he scans around the building. He came with only Hinata and Miya to avoid a large-scale attack; he doesn’t want to start even more problems with the other mobs until this problem is taken care of first. But Sakusa doesn’t sense the presence of any other Alders members either—so maybe Hoshiumi was thinking the same thing.
In the back of the open building, he sees two dark figures: one pacing around on a piece of flattened grass, another tied to a pole that extends to the broken and open ceiling. Sakusa leans behind a crumbling pillar, patting his pockets and belt loops for his guns and knives. He knows he’s stronger than Hoshiumi, taller and more powerful in hand-to-hand combat, but Hoshiumi is fast—and if Sakusa can’t get him away from your side, you’ll be in danger as well. That fact brings a sick churning to Sakusa’s stomach.
There’s a faint sound of a groan, then another whine, before Hoshiumi starts laughing. He sounds unhinged—the laughs are hollow. Pained. They make Sakusa’s hands tighten by his sides.
“Are you awake, doll? Must have given you too much.”
You make another whimpering sound and there’s a crunch of gravel beneath Hoshiumi’s shoes as he walks closer to you.
“This wouldn’t have happened if you would have come to the Adlers instead of the Black Jackals,” Hoshiumi muses. There’s a pause before the man clears his throat and loudly finishes, “Isn’t that right, Sakusa-san?”
Sakusa’s heart jumps, but he’s collected as he steps out from behind the pillar, sharp eyes landing on the Alders underboss. He’s crouched by your side, the gun loose in his hand as he tilts your head up with his fingers. Sakusa can see you clearly now—there’s dried blood on your forehead and the collar of your blouse, your hair is matted to your scalp from your sweat, and your tongue lolls out of your mouth as you try to lift your head on your own.
Heat spikes through his veins and makes his fingers shake. Is it his drugs that Hoshiumi used to sedate you? Is it his fault for not taking the Alders underboss more seriously? Is it his mistake for not giving Hoshiumi a warning like he gave to Ushijima? As he stares at your lolling head, whines leaving your mouth as you come to consciousness, Sakusa feels the last of his patience start to fray.
“I’m here as you wanted,” Sakusa begins, not daring to take a step forward. His eyes are on the barrel of the gun that Hoshiumi trails down your forehead. “Though I’m not sure why she is.”
“You shouldn’t be so public, Sakusa-san,” Hoshiumi mocks, fingers dancing down your throat and over the red marks Sakusa nipped in your flesh just this morning. “You never know who is watching you defile their things.”
He was watching at the flower shop. That information makes Sakusa set his jaw, anger flashing through him like a bolt of lightning. His things. Who the fuck does Hoshiumi think he’s talking to? He just signed his death warrant twice over.
His gloved fingers slowly reach into the sleeve of his jacket just in case he has to throw his knife. He takes a deep breath when his fingertips brush the hilt of the dagger sewn into his jacket, the action keeping him calm enough not to start fighting just yet.
“Hm,” he responds evenly, chancing a small step forward. “I believe I warned Ushijima last week of your behavior.”
“Boss has nothing to do with this,” Hoshiumi snaps, throwing your head away like you’re garbage before he stands up. There’s a fire in his eyes, burning even hotter than the heat in Sakusa’s cheeks. “I’m only taking what is mine.”
“And you’re willing to start a clan war for it?” Sakusa ventures again, his eyes flicking down to you and back again.
“Don’t mock me when you’re willing to do the same,” Hoshiumi spits before raising his gun. Sakusa stares at the barrel of the pistol pointed right for him, mind running through his next move, but only one sticks out: Protect her.
As soon as Hoshiumi’s finger moves toward the trigger, Sakusa leaps back behind the pillar where he hid. Even with his reaction, he isn’t fast enough—he feels a stinging pain in his right arm and sees a cut through the sleeve where the bullet grazed his arm. Blood begins to stain the white fabric as he moves, grabbing onto the dagger in his jacket and the gun on his belt.
Bullets fly by him, embedding themselves in the pillar and ricocheting off the metal machinery as Hoshiumi keeps shooting. Sakusa bides his time and counts: seven, eight, nine…
Before the tenth shot, Hoshiumi stops and laughs loudly. “Aren’t you going to fight back? I didn’t know the Black Jackals were so cowardly.”
Sakusa takes a deep breath, turns off the safety to the gun, and leans to his right. He fires twice, purposefully missing both, before he moves behind the pillar again. Eleven, twelve, thirteen… Four more rounds and Hoshiumi will be out, and Sakusa will have the perfect opportunity to strike with his dagger.
He leans to his left this time, crouching down and firing at Hoshiumi’s feet. Hoshiumi gives a low grunt of pain when one of the bullets grazes his calf, and he shoots twice more when Sakusa leans back to hide. Two more. He clutches the dagger in his hand as he gets ready to lean again when—
“Well, I guess if I can’t have her, no one can.”
Sakusa moves before he even thinks. He aims right at Hoshiumi’s chest as he pops out from behind the pillar, and it hits his upper shoulder before the underboss can react. He stumbles back with a groan and Sakusa charges, dagger tight in his hand when he swings for Hoshiumi’s face. It’s enough to throw him off balance, the shot from his gun blasting into the ceiling. Sakusa drops his gun to grapple with the underboss, hands tight on his wrists as he pushes him back and forces him to the ground.
Hoshiumi’s gun drops to the dirt when he grabs at Sakusa’s coat, and the two men fall in a pile of messy limbs and pained groans. An elbow to the side of his head makes Sakusa shift back, but a swing of his hand and his blade is buried in Hoshiumi’s leg, making the man yell out. Sakusa yanks the blade out and pushes the underboss away with a hard kick to the chest, scrambling to his side so he can wrap his hands around Hoshiumi’s neck.
The man is smiling. Even though Sakusa’s grip on him is tight enough to make his face go red, even though Sakusa can hear Miya yelling from outside the main building, even though Hoshiumi’s kicks for freedom don’t do anything—he’s smiling. Sakusa lifts Hoshiumi’s head and slams it down to the ground once, then twice when Hoshiumi laughs at him, choking to say something but unable to form the words.
Sakusa watches Hoshiumi’s eyes go bloodshot, watches his face start to turn bright red as his grip tightens, and all Sakusa feels is calm. Sweat clings to his forehead, his curls stuck to his skin as he slams Hoshiumi’s head down into the ground again and—
Suddenly there’s an arm around his neck, tugging him up and away from the Alders underboss.
Miya holds onto his shoulders so tightly that Sakusa can barely struggle to get back to Hoshiumi. The underboss gasps from breath on the ground, rolling around trying to stand to no avail, his hand on his bruised throat as he gasps to catch his breath.
Sakusa tries to kick at the man again, but Miya pulls him away with a harsh tug, fingers digging into his shoulder so forcefully that it makes Sakusa wince.
“Fuck off, Atsumu. He’s mine.”
The use of his first name makes his blood run cold. There’s only been one other time Miya Atsumu has used his first name—on the day of Meian Shuugo’s funeral, when he was still just a person and not the leader of the Black Jackals, when he was still Sakusa Kiyoomi and not “Boss” to the rest of the clan. I’m sorry for your loss, Kiyoomi, Miya had uttered, a sadness in his eyes that made Sakusa tear up and blink to hide it, before he bowed his head in respect and walked out the door of the funeral parlor. Sakusa had made him his underboss the very next day.
“Don’t start a clan war.”
Sakusa pulls himself away from Miya’s hold with a gruff swear in return. As much as the need to kill Hoshiumi rages through him, he knows his underboss is right. A warning and a killing are much different—Ushijima won’t hesitate to retaliate if Hoshiumi “goes missing.” He fixes his dirty coat and gloves as his underboss grabs hold of Hoshiumi’s bloody shirt and forces him to the ground on his stomach. Sakusa’s eyes quickly flick over to you—even with all of the commotion, your head still hangs down, eyes unfocused as you try to pick your head up and mumble something incoherent. He needs to make this quick.
“Put his hands out, Miya.”
With his weight on Hoshiumi’s back, Miya grabs the man’s wrists and forces his hands out in front of his body. There’s blood mixed in with his white locks and bruises all over his neck and face, and his red eyes stare up at Sakusa like he’s challenging him. Sakusa grabs his dirty dagger from the ground and walks over calmly, bending down in front of the man before sending the blade right through the back of Hoshiumi’s right hand.
He hollers in pain and tries to tug away from Miya’s grip, but he doesn’t get far before Sakusa pulls the knife out and stabs it down again. Blood spurts from the wounds, dripping down and staining the dirt beneath them as Sakusa stabs again and again, until Hoshiumi’s hand is completely covered in his own slick blood and he can no longer move his fingers.
Then he does the same to the other hand.
The factory rings with the man’s pained cries, but Sakusa is nothing but neutral as Miya keeps stabbing. When his dagger has no steel left uncovered in Hoshiumi’s blood, Sakusa stands back up, holding the dirtied blade by his side as it drips to the ground.
“I believe you’re mistaken,” he says calmly. Venomously. Enough to make Hoshiumi’s wet eyes narrow as he stares up, face covered in dirt, blood, and trails of his tears. “She belongs to me and me only. Have I made myself clear?”
Hoshiumi doesn’t respond, but his jaw shakes with his anger and he jerks against Miya once before he falls back on the ground.
“Tie him up outside. I’ll let Ushijima know to come collect his garbage.”
With one last venomous glance to Hoshiumi, he strides over to you, bending down on one knee by your side. His fingers are gentle as he lifts your head, and your unfocused and pupil-blown eyes land on him with barely a hint of recognition.
“You’re okay now,” he soothes, running his fingers over your face before he hurries to saw away at the ropes tied tightly around your wrists and stomach. When the rope snaps in half, you fall forward, and he grabs you, bringing you tightly to his chest. His voice is barely a murmur when he says, “I’m here. You’re alright.”
“I’m—” You begin to say, your voice hoarse and lined with your tears, but he won’t let you.
He holds your head to his chest, drowning out your words as he cradles you in his arms. “Stop talking,” he commands before his voice drops to a loving whisper. “Let’s get you home.”
He’s careful when he lifts you, protective arms tightly wrapped around your legs and back as he exits the factory, leaving only Hoshiumi’s blood and the ghosts of your pain behind.
ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ
Sakusa doesn’t let you go the entire drive back to his estate. Not when he texts Ushijima where to find his underboss; not when he drops Miya and Hinata off at the flower shop, asking them to call others to clean up; not when he arrives back home to worried calls of Welcome home, Sakusa-dono, how can we help? as he carries you inside.
You clung to him the entire ride, silent and still as you buried your head into his shoulder. Sakusa saw the bruises from the ropes on your wrists; he saw the cut on your forehead from whatever Hoshiumi did to you—and it makes anger and regret creep into his veins, heat flushing through his body as he cradles you close. He should have been there to protect you. He should have told you who Hoshiumi is, who he is long before this happened. He should have killed Hoshiumi when he had the chance, before Miya could peel him off and let the white-haired man live to see another day.
With a quiet command, his attendants draw you a warm bath in his personal bathroom, and only then does Sakusa let you go, brushing your sweaty and damp hair out of your face.
“I’ll stay outside,” he murmurs before taking a step back.
You look up at him with your bloodshot and tired eyes, bottom lip trembling, and Sakusa can’t tell if it’s because you want to cry again or if you want to say something further. Then you nod, and with a sharp turn, step inside the large bathroom, the bamboo doors sliding closed behind you.
He sits outside in a chair and waits. And waits and waits, eyes flicking to and from the bamboo doors and the phone in his hand. It’s been an hour since you walked into the room, and he hasn’t heard anything other than water running. No footsteps, no splashes, no faucets turning off and on. He considers calling one of his attendants to go check on you, but then he hears a soft thud from inside and he’s on his feet in an instant.
You don’t answer his soft knock on the door or the even softer call of your name. Sakusa debates it for only a short moment before his concern wins out, and he pushes open the door to check on you.
You sit underneath a running showerhead, sitting on your backside but hunched over on your hands, your wet clothes clinging to your body. You don’t even hear him come into the room, your soaked hair falling in front of your face, and you barely look up when he turns the water off and kneels down next to you. His gloved hand runs over your chin, forcing you to look up at him, and the look in your eye makes him choke on his breath. Lost. Scared. Vulnerable. He knows all those feelings well—his first kill, when he’d first heard about Shuugo’s car accident, when he realized Hoshiumi had taken the one important thing in his life: you.
“Sakusa-san,” you whisper, and he has to force himself to look away from your lips so he can wrap you in his arms. Your wet body clings to his as he stands and brings you over to the warm bamboo floor bath in the middle of the room, setting you on the ground by the edge of the tub.
He grabs onto the collar of your dirtied blouse before his fingers move to the first button.
“I’m taking this off,” he tells you, but he hesitates. A strange feeling overtakes him and squeezes his lungs. He wants your permission. When has he ever needed to ask for permission?
You give a quiet, “Okay.” and the feeling subsides immediately. His fingers pop button after button on your blouse until it hangs loosely from your shoulders, and with careful fingers, he pushes the wet fabric off, setting it in a pile next to your legs. He’s gentle as he peels the rest of your clothing off, letting it drop into the growing pile until you sit before him completely naked, eyes downcast as your fingers cling to the sleeves of his button-up.
Fuck, you’re beautiful. He wasn’t able to see all of you in the flower shop, but now that he can, it makes his throat go dry and his cock twitch in his pants. He ignores it, forcing his eyes not to roam over your body—you don’t need this right now. You need help and that’s what he’s going to give you.
“Get in,” he orders softly and helps you slide into the ground bath. You sink down into the water until it reaches the bottom of your chin, and he sighs when you look up at him with wide, curious eyes. “I’ll call someone to—”
“No!” You immediately yell, making him sit back on his legs slightly, then you chew on your lip to keep quiet. “No, please, I… I don’t want them. I only—” You take a deep breath, your eyes pleading with him when you whisper, “I only want you here.”
He breathes out through his nose, hesitating over your body before he murmurs an ‘alright’ and sits back. The leather gloves come off first, and he carefully sets them aside before he rolls up the sleeves of his button-down shirt. He lathers up the washcloth his attendants set out for you and he holds it out to you, then immediately moves over to the shampoo when you take it and start to wash yourself. He pumps a few times into his hands before he carefully sets them on your head and starts to massage the shampoo into your scalp. You pause, washcloth hovering over your arms, before you lean back into him, sinking down a little further into the water.
“I was so scared,” you mumble. Sakusa can hear the tears in your shaky voice when you repeat. “I was so, so scared.”
“You don’t have to tell me.”
You continue like he hasn’t even said anything. “He came into the flower shop and… and—” A deep breath. “I told him I couldn’t serve him because you didn’t want his business anymore and… he went crazy. Started throwing things, saying I was his girl, not yours, and when I said I wouldn’t go with him, he—”
You take another breath but this time, you don’t continue. You’re sobbing again, face tilted down toward the now milky water as you let yourself cry. Sakusa dips his hands into the water to clean them before he wraps his arms around you, holding you tightly against his chest. When you lift your hands to wrap around his forearms, he sees the bruises around your wrists again, and red hot anger spikes through him, making his jaw clench.
“I should have been there,” he murmurs as he sets his jaw on top of your head. He doesn’t care about the soapy locks beneath him—all he cares about is the way your fingers dig into his skin when he adds: “I won’t let it happen again. I promise.”
He holds you as you cry—until your body stops shaking with your sobs; until your pained whimpers grow quiet; until you cling to him silently, your soapy head tilting back against his now-soaked shirt.
Sakusa helps you finish bathing, fingers careful against your scalp as he washes and conditions your hair, and when you’re finished, he helps you out of the bath. He hands you a towel, patiently waiting for you to dry yourself before he hands you one of his robes to dress yourself with. It’s much too big on you, but a sick thrill runs through his stomach when he sees how good you look in his clothes. His clothes, because you’re his, no matter how many times Hoshiumi—or anyone for that matter—tries to take you from him.
You follow him out of the bathroom and down a few hallways until you reach a set of dark oak doors. There, he turns around to you and gestures toward it.
“You can stay here for the night. No one will bother you.”
“Wait,” you breathe, your chest beginning to heave. His eyes narrow as he looks at you fumbling with the sleeves of his robe as you stare up at him. “You won’t be with me…?”
“My room is down the hall.”
“Can you stay?” You nervously ask him.
“I want you to stay,” you insist more firmly, then your face falls and you quietly add: “I don’t want to be alone.”
He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t. You’re vulnerable, hurt, scared. And yet he orders you to follow, until he’s opening the door to his bedroom for you and letting you inside.
Your eyes open in wonder as you take in his bedroom. The large bed is separated from the rest of the room by a sheer black curtain. A couch in the middle of the room is surrounded by golden statues, and art with abstract black and white shapes lines the walls. You follow him behind the curtain, standing awkwardly until he orders you to lay down on his bed. You crawl toward the pillows, but before you slip underneath his silk sheets, you pause and look back at him.
“Will you sleep here, too?”
Sakusa gestures toward the chair in the corner of the room. “No, I’ll watch over you from there.”
“And if I ask you to stay here, next to me?” Your question makes his heart jump and he has to force himself to breathe evenly when you continue, “If I ask you to hold me… would you?”
“You need to be careful,” he warns you with a dangerous flash in his eyes. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“I think I do,” you reply softly, your lower lip trembling as you grip the sheets beneath your fingers. You’re so fucking tempting, inviting him to have his way with you, inviting his darkness to corrupt the light that still shines in your eyes, even now.
His voice is gruff when he orders, “Lay down.”
As you maneuver yourself under the sheets, Sakusa carefully strips off his wet clothing until all he’s left in is his boxers. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes ogle his body, though he isn’t sure if it’s because of him being nearly naked or the sprawling tattoos that cover his chest and half his back. Dark red and black ink mixes together to form flowers and vines all across his flesh, from his collarbones down to his nipples, and when he turns toward his closet to grab another robe for himself, you gasp.
He glances down at his arm and sees the forgotten injury. There’s dried blood around the cut on his upper arm where Hoshiumi’s bullet grazed him. The skin is red and inflamed, but it doesn’t hurt when he tries to move it. He hears you shift and he looks back at you with a glare that softens when he sees you shrink into yourself.
“It’s fine. Stay there.”
He takes his time to disinfect the area with a small kit he has in the bathroom next to his bedroom, and when he wanders out to grab his robe, you’re laying down on his pillows, eyes still open and on him, even with your hands tucked under your cheek. He knows he should be mad you’re laying on his silk with wet hair, but he isn’t. All he cares about is that you’re safe with him.
“What are you looking at?”
“What does the date mean? On your chest, there’s a date above your heart.”
Sakusa hums as he slips on his robe then walks over to the bed, careful when he slips next to you under the sheets. You lay so close that if he even lifts his hand, he can brush the bare skin of your collarbones and run his fingers over your lips to pry them apart and feel your warmth for himself.
“What does it mean?” you press again, shifting slightly so that your bare legs brush up against his.
“It’s the day my cousin died and left me in charge of—”
“The Black Jackals,” you whisper, eyes searching his as you bite your lip. When he nods, you continue, “Hoshiumi-san said—”
“I don’t give a fuck what he said,” Sakusa snaps, and when you try to shrink away again, he grabs onto your arms, rolling you both over so his body hovers over yours. His knee settles in between your legs, hands on either side of your head. Your robe is looser now, showing the swell of your breasts to his wandering eyes.
“He dared to touch what is mine,” he says as he drags his bare fingers up your flesh, feeling the way your chest heaves as he crawls higher. When he reaches your neck, you tilt back for him, showing him the red marks he made earlier at the flower shop. They’re already fading—he’ll have to make more tonight. “No one but me will ever touch you again, do you understand that?”
Your breathless ‘yes’ is barely audible over your panting breaths, and you shiver when his nails drag up to your chin, grabbing it between his fingers with a slight shake of his head.
“I don’t think you do, so let me show you,” he responds before he swoops down and slots his mouth against yours.
Eager lips cling to each other, your fingers dragging through his curly hair when you part your mouth for his probing tongue. He swallows the needy moan you release when his knee pushes up into your robe and runs over your bare cunt, the heat making him groan. Your tongues move fast, dirty, and needy as your fingers grope at his robe, trying to push it off his shoulders with a high-pitched whine. Your cunt grinds against his knee as you pull back to breathe, saliva still connecting your tongues as you gasp for breath.
His fingers are quick to tug at the tie holding your robe together, and with a flick of his wrist, your body lays bare underneath him. Sakusa drinks you in, from the way your breasts move up and down when you breathe, to the way you pussy quivers against his knee as he brushes against it again and again, to the way you whimper his name and run your fingers over your collarbones like you’re enticing him to lean down and claim you.
So he does.
His lips find yours again, his large hands grabbing your hips and shifting your body so your legs part and he can easily slip between them, just as easily as his tongue slips inside your mouth. Your fingers tug at his robe until they push inside and your warm fingers run over every inch of skin they can reach. It sends a shiver up his spine, a more pressing need to feel you, deeper, closer. Sakusa runs his teeth over your bottom lip, dragging it down until you whine, your lust-filled eyes watching as he sucks and tugs until it’s red and swollen.
He makes marks all the way down the side of your throat, his hands pushing up your stomach until he grabs your breasts between them. You whimper, back arching into his hands, your fingers shaking as they tug at the tie holding his robe together. It falls open and to his sides just as he makes it down to your chest, a trail of red left in his wake. He spends time nibbling and sucking at the flesh just above your heart, making sure that when you wake up tomorrow morning, there will be his mark right where he belongs.
When you shift your hips and his half-hard cock grazes your inner thigh, you gasp and push your hips forward to feel it again, fingers clinging to his still robe-covered arms. Your whimper turns into a moan when he finally takes a hard nipple into his mouth, sucking and licking until it’s just as red as your bottom lip.
“Fuck,” he whispers against your skin as he moves to the other nipple. “All mine.”
His possessive growl makes you shiver and cling to his hair, holding him flush against you as he works your nipple between his teeth, tugging, sucking, rolling. Your hips move against his, his hard cock slipping between your wet folds, dragging up and down as you grind against him. Your chest heaves underneath his mouth and you let out a loud moan when the head of his cock brushes against your throbbing clit, your legs opening further.
You squirm underneath him as he trails lower, hot and wet kisses matching his hot breath as he works his way down to your hips. He nips at your hip bone as his fingers slide up your inner thighs, and when you shiver and try to close them, he slaps your sensitive flesh, earning a sharp gasp.
“Keep them open,” he orders, and you nod, eyes shining as you bite your swollen bottom lip.
He stares up at you as his thumbs trail up your folds, dipping inside to feel how wet you are before he drags them over your clit. You keen, head falling to the side as your hips jerk up to meet his fingers. He drags them slowly again, cock twitching at the low whimper you give, at the way your swollen lips part with a whisper of his name.
Looking at how needy you are, how your eyes and flushed cheeks practically beg for him, he can’t help himself. He leans up on his elbow, settling on his side next to you so he can claim your lips, tongue pushing into your mouth as a finger pushes into your wet cunt. You moan, hips pushing down to meet his shallow thrusts, your fingers dancing down his toned stomach until they brush against the head of his cock. His tongue delves deeper as he moves his pointer finger faster, the way your walls clamp down around him making his cock pulse even more.
As soon as your hand wraps around his wet cock, he pulls away from the kiss to curse, pushing a second finger into you to make you whimper. It grows into a loud groan when he brushes against your clit, curls his fingers just right, long digits brushing against your tight and gummy walls as he works. Your huffs for breath mix in with the squelching of your pussy, and his groan joins yours when you start to pump your hand up and down his dick, thumb running along his leaking slit.
You’re so wet, gushing around his fingers as your eyes tightly close, his finger circling your nub and making you moan his name. Your thighs shake around his hand, your toes curling into the bed as he fucks you even faster, and he knows your orgasm is looming, your walls spasming around his quick strokes.
“That’s it,” he pants against your mouth after hasty drags of his lips. You’re like water on a hot day, like an oasis to a dying man—and he can’t get enough. “Say my name.”
“Sakusa-san,” you whimper, hand squeezing around the base of his cock and tugging harshly a few times, making him grunt.
“My name,” he demands again, nipping at your ear, your throat, your jaw, anywhere he can get his mouth on.
“Kiyoomi!” You squeal, and just like that, you fall apart around him.
He watches with hooded eyes as you cum, your body trembling and arching as you cry out, head thrown back against his pillows. Precum leaks from his tip as you keep squeezing with your pleasure, and he keeps moving his fingers, slick pooling down his digits and your folds as he works you through it. When your moans turn into little needy whimpers, he slows down, his thrusts lazy as he drinks in your face, flushed and sweaty and just for him.
You gasp when he swipes your sensitive clit again, eyes flying open to stare up at him dazed, mouth parting with a whisper of want you, please, please. Sakusa groans, pulling his fingers out of your wet pussy and placing them on your tongue. You wrap your mouth around him obediently, tongue darting out to taste yourself on his digits as he rummages for a condom in his bedside drawer; it’s difficult when he can’t take his eyes off of you, his stomach flashing with heat when you grab his wrist and bring him closer to keep sucking your essence from his fingers, but eventually he finds one and throws it your way.
Your mouth still bobs up and down on his fingers as you fumble to open the condom, and you even place it on the tip of his dick and roll it down without him having to say anything.
“Fuck, that’s a good girl, so obedient,” he praises as he grabs your hips with his free hand, using the saliva on his fingers to wet his condom-covered dick before he lines himself up with your entrance.
You moan when the tip pushes in, and it takes all of his self-restraint to pull out and not push in further. When he pulls the tip out, you gasp, eyes opening to look at him. He keeps your gaze as he does it again, pushing only the red tip into your quivering cunt, thrusting shallowly twice before removing himself.
“Kiyoomi,” you whine impatiently with a pout.
The way you say his name makes his cock throb and he licks his lips, staring down as you use a hand to part your folds, to show him how wet you are for him. He slaps his cock against your open entrance and you squeal when he hits your clit, hips grinding against nothing when he pulls his cock back and does it again.
“I want you to beg,” he demands, fire in his eyes raging enough to make you shiver. He wants to hear his name spill from your lips, to listen to you cry out for him, to remind you that you’re his and his alone, from this point forward.
“Please fuck me, please,” you answer immediately, reaching out for the collar of his robe to jerk him closer. He nearly falls over, catching himself with a hand next to your head, and your voice is a husky whisper when you continue, “Need your cock so bad, Kiyoomi.”
He can’t contain the strangled moan that falls from his lips, and he pushes in to the hilt with one strong thrust. Your head falls back as you gasp for breath, and his fingers trace over every new mark on your flesh, his hand wrapping around your chin and forcing your head down to look at him when he pulls out and thrusts back in. His thumb catches the drool that threatens to fall from your lips and pushes it back in, and you immediately wrap your lips around his thumb, sucking as he starts a slow, torturous pace that makes you whine.
“Is this what you wanted?” You nod around his thumb, and he pulls down your bottom lip, making your mouth open and tongue loll out for him as you bounce with his thrusts. “Answer me.”
“Yes, yes,” you moan, hands wrapping around his wrist as you push your hips into his. Your words are muffled into his fingers when you groan, “Please, I need you.”
He jerks his hand away from your chin and replaces it with his lips, your mouth immediately parting so you can tangle your tongues together. His robe hangs off of his shoulders, your fingers creating a trail of fire as you trace them over his inked shoulder blades, fingertips digging into his flesh as he starts to rock his hips faster. You moan into his mouth, legs wrapping around his waist and hooking behind his back, but not for long. His fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs as he pulls away, pushing your legs into your chest, knees grazing against your bouncing tits as he hits deep.
His thrusts are quick, deep, hard enough to make the bed squeak beneath you as he fucks you into the mattress. You moan loudly when he kisses your cervix over and over, arms thrown over your head to grip the pillow between your fingers. Your eyes are barely open, but your gaze stays fixed on his face as he thrusts. Sakusa curses when your walls flutter around him, and firm hands lift your hips so he can hit a place in your gummy walls that makes you cry out his name.
Fuck, he needs to be closer. This isn’t enough. With a harsh tug, he sits down, pulling you up by your elbows so you can straddle him, his dick still hot and pulsing within your walls. Like this, your tits brush against his chest when you start bouncing up and down, your robe falling off your shoulders and hanging around your elbows as you cling to him. Your kiss is messy, full of tongue and saliva that slides over your lips and down your chin as you move.
Sakusa shifts his legs, planting his feet into the bed so he can fuck up into you, matching your bounces with heavy breaths. You whimper loudly against his lips, eyes open and focused only on him as you slide your hands over everywhere you can touch, like you’re committing his body to memory, like you can’t get enough of his warmth even when he’s so hot that his cheeks are flushed an angry red.
When his fingers find your swollen clit again, your body shakes with your moan, walls clenching so tightly that he chokes out a groan. You feel so good, so tight, so overwhelming that he knows he won’t last much longer. There’s a tingle in his spine, a tightening in his balls that matches the way you begin to tremble, fingernails scratching for something to cling to as you ride him faster.
“Who do you belong to?” Sakusa breathes out, relishing in the way your eyes snap open and focus only on him.
“You,” you whimper, tugging at his hair as your walls squeeze him even tighter.
“Say it, come on,” he orders gruffly, his fingers tight enough on your hips that he knows you’ll have bruises, but he doesn’t stop slamming his hips upwards, chasing the pleasure creeping throughout his body.
“Kiyoomi, yours, yours, I’m yours, I’m—”
The scream you let out tears from your throat as you cling to him, fingers tugging at his hair as you ride your high. Your walls squeeze around him and make him choke on a breath, and he holds off just long enough to watch you fall apart, head thrown back, cheeks flushed, body trembling as you continuously whimper. Sakusa leans forward and bites down on your shoulder hard, making you keen in both pleasure and pain, before he’s filling up the condom with ropes of his cum. His groan of your name is muffled into your shoulder, and he shudders into you, goosebumps rising on his flesh as he completely empties himself.
For a short while, the only sound in the room is your labored breathing, but then you whisper his name and he’s on you again. He can’t get enough of your mouth on his, of the way you part your lips for him so obediently so you can languidly stroke your tongues together. He knows he’s in trouble when he pulls back and sees love shining through your eyes, your fingers tracing over his two beauty marks before moving down his face.
He never thought he deserved love, not after the things he’s done in his life, in the name of the Black Jackals, in the name of power and strength and money.
But the way you stare at him makes him think maybe—maybe—he was wrong.
ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ
A shrill ring wakes him up early the next morning, and as soon as he sees Miya Atsumu on his screen, Sakusa thinks the underboss might be the next one six feet under. He answers, quickly checking on you still asleep and carefully tucked under his arm, voice low and full of his annoyance.
“This better be good.”
“There’s a package at the hotel for ya, Boss,” Miya muses, amusement clear in his voice. It makes Sakusa sit up and move you to lay on the pillows instead of his arm. “From Ushijima. I brought it inside to wait for ya.”
Sakusa has to keep the smirk from rising to his face, giving a disinterested ‘Hm.’ before he hangs up the phone. He looks over at you, your chest rising and falling evenly, your face angelic, peaceful, innocent. He’ll keep it that way for as long as he can, starting with the white-haired piece of shit currently sitting in the basement of his hotel waiting for him.
He’s buttoning up his black shirt when you finally stir, your tired eyes blinking at him before you cutely rub them, sitting up in bed. The silk sheets fall from your chest and show him your bare chest, red marks littering your flesh, a deep bruise from where he marked you right over your heart.
“Sakusa-san?” You shakily ask, tilting your head. “Where are you going?”
“When we’re alone, it’s Kiyoomi,” he answers, leaning over you to press a kiss to your lips. “I have some work to do. Stay here.”
“When will you be back?”
“Late afternoon,” he tells you between kisses, lips sliding over yours, slow drags of tongues that make you moan into his mouth.
“Can—” Another kiss, another moan. “Can I come with you?”
“No,” he immediately declines as he pulls away. If he doesn’t, he knows he’ll spend all day here, making you his again. “You’re safe here. We’ll be going out tonight so spend your time getting ready.”
“I don’t have—”
“You will,” he says simply, giving one last touch to your chin.
“O-Okay,” you flush, and after a second of biting your bottom lip, you add: “Be safe.”
It isn’t him you should worry about, Sakusa wants to tell you, but nods anyway, tugging on his gloves and mask before leaving you in his room. The car ride to the hotel is short, and Miya greets him in the lobby, leading him down into the basement boiler room where Bokuto and Hinata already wait for him.
Hoshiumi looks even worse than when Sakusa left him last night, his eyes nearly swollen shut, leaking pus and blood from large cuts around his eyes. His hands lay tied in front of him, useless and covered in dried blood around the open cuts through his flesh. The former underboss doesn’t even look up when Sakusa enters the room.
“I think he’s dead already, Boss,” Hinata says, scratching the back of his head. “He came in a box like this, so…”
“He’s not dead,” Sakusa answers simply, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. “Bokuto.”
“Sure thing, Boss.”
The white tarp is set up in no time, larger than the one at the businessman’s house, nearly covering the entire floor of the boiler room. Miya grabs the man and throws him forward, and Hoshiumi lets out a pained grunt when his head bounces off the cement floor.
“I want him in pieces,” Sakusa says calmly, pure enjoyment running through his veins when Hoshiumi looks up at him in alarm through swollen eyelids. “And save a finger.”
“Yes, Boss.” Three pairs of voices answer.
Sakusa doesn’t stop watching—not even when Hoshiumi struggles against Bokuto’s hold, not even when Miya holds him down with a boot to the back, not even when Hinata cuts through his right pointer finger in one fell swoop.
No one can hear Hoshiumi’s screams so far down, the sound of steam and pumping machinery drowning out any form of rescue the man could ever call for.
ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ
Suna Rintarou sits across from him in a booth at Ushijima’s jazz club, typing away at his phone while brass instruments blaring in the background. A waitress sits in his lap, fingers curling around his hair even though he hasn’t paid attention to her once since he ordered her to sit down.
Sakusa’s half-empty glass of whiskey sits next to an unopened cigar box, and as soon as Ushijima Wakatoshi returns from the bar with a gin and tonic in his hands, Sakusa slides it his way.
“Consider this a thank you for your generous present this morning,” he says as he leans back and fixes his mask, fingers tapping against the thick wood of the booth’s table. “Unfortunately, I had to dispose of it after some use.”
“Is that so?” Ushijima muses, opening up the box. The Alders’ boss pauses as he examines the contents before he picks up the Cuban cigar, lifting it to his lips so Kageyama can cut the end and light it for him. Ushijima closes the box, Hoshiumi’s pointer finger forgotten as quickly as the former underboss himself.
Sakusa glances to his right, where Miya stands at the end of the bar, close to where you converse with Oikawa Tooru. The jazz singer talks animatedly to you, the sequin jacket slung over his shoulders almost falling off when he overdramatically lifts his hands to emphasize whatever he is saying. You giggle, brushing a loose lock of hair behind your ear, your eyes flicking back and forth from his booth to the man before you, and Sakusa’s eyes wander over the tight-fitting black dress he purchased for you earlier before his gaze settles back on Ushijima.
“I trust your business is finished then,” Ushijima answers after a flick of his eyes over to the bar.
“Wonderful. I believe that’s all the issues we have for tonight.”
“You’re both so boring,” Suna complains, throwing his phone on the table before whispering something to the woman on his lap. She giggles and stands, and Suna looks at the both of them with a raised eyebrow. “Why am I even here?”
“Your delivery will be ready tomorrow,” Sakusa nods toward the bar, where you sip at your drink, waiting for him to finish his meeting. Oikawa is back on stage, saying something into the mic and making the crowd holler. “The same as always.”
“Make it twice the amount for making me come all the way out here just to hear you say that,” Suna grumbles as he stands, tugging the woman not-so-gently toward the back of the club. Washio stands from the neighboring booth, grabbing the phone on the table before he follows suit with barely a nod to the two heads of the neighboring clans.
As soon as Oikawa starts singing, Ushijima dismisses Sakusa with a wave of his fingers, and he’s more than happy to leave the booth and be back at your side again. You greet him with a sultry smile, crossing one leg over the other, and Sakusa thinks Suna might have the right idea by disappearing into the back with that woman. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to keep his hands off of you until you make it back to his estate, but you make it extremely difficult when you pout and ask him to stay a little bit longer to watch Oikawa’s show.
He lowers his mask and presses lazy kisses along the side of your throat as you watch, gloved fingers traveling up the slit in your dress to touch along as much of your thighs as he can. You lean back into his chest, eyes barely focused on Oikawa’s performance as he grows closer and closer to where he’s craving to touch. Before he can swipe his finger over your panties, Oikawa thanks the crowd, and Sakusa grabs your arm, practically dragging you out of the club and into the waiting car, leaving Miya to fend for himself.
His hands are all over you, groping at your thighs, your ass, your breasts, leather-clad fingers running along your panties before pushing them aside and thrusting into your dripping core. You cling to him, hips gyrating over his as you squirm on his lap, your head falling back with a groan of his name. You make it back to the estate far too soon, and he carries you into the house, ignoring the greetings of his staff, too focused on the way your wet kisses dance over every inch of his neck, your voice low and needy in his ear when you murmur, I need your cock in me so badly, Kiyoomi.
He barely has time to pull his pants down and slide on the condom you pull from your purse before he presses you up against his bedroom door, your legs wrapping around him and quivering when he slides in. Your head drops back against the wood, your eyes swirling with lust as you stare at him, a satisfied smile on your face as he drills into you, too quick and too needy.
He takes you on the door, on the floor, then bent over the bathtub in his private bathroom, marking your back with his seed when he rips off the condom and tugs himself to completion, his overstimulated cock sensitive and leaking against your ass. When you look back at him, tear-stained cheeks glowing, a dumb smile on your face, Sakusa nearly loses his breath.
He’s going to ruin you just as you’ve ruined him, because you belong to him, just as much as he belongs to you.
ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ ⵈ
It’s easy to pretend everything is fine when you’re together, but as soon as Sakusa sends you to the flower shop after you insist on working “to feel normal again”, doubts plague his mind.
Sakusa is no stranger to betrayal. No stranger to killing. No stranger to taking out those who try to double-cross him, just like Adriah Thomas did soon after he became head of the Black Jackals. Like businessmen with loose lips or underlings who don’t know their place in the world, killing to protect your empire is one of the backbones of the mafia world.
What about you? Would you go running to the police, telling them everything about the Black Jackals just so you could save your own ass? Would you give him up if the police ever did their fucking jobs and got a clue?
Would he be able to kill you if you ever tried?
As soon as his meeting with the Minister of Architecture is finished, he orders his driver to take him to the flower shop. His hands flex and squeeze atop his thighs the longer the car ride goes, and he plays with the ends of his gloves until he arrives. He practically rips off the door with how fast he opens it as soon as the car stops.
The white Itachiyama’s Flowers van sits in front of the shop, and Sakusa sees both you and Hinata carry vases of flowers to rearrange inside the back of the vehicle. The vase with the flowers you arranged for him sits on a table outside, the black petunias and white shasta daisies flourishing in the sunlight. When you emerge from the van and spot him, your entire face lights up, your smile making your eyes disappear.
“Sakusa-san!” You call before you wave for him to come into the shop.
Sakusa Kiyoomi lets out a breath, fixes his mask so you can’t see his smile, and follows you inside.
HEY BESTIEE! may i request a fic with kenma kozume and a reader who is just obsessed with him but kenma is just oblivious so the reader thinks he doesnt like them? (pls make it extra fluffy i feel happy today) <33333
Author's note ; AHHHH YOU CAME BESTIE SORRY I WAS OFFLINE me being a dumb betch BUT OK!!! AND YESS SIR/MAAM THIS IS GONNA BE A HELL OF A RIDE
Warnings ; none, mild angst, → to fluff ;)
Kenma Kozume x gn!reader
"i love you!" "You do?" "I do!"
Kenma never thought about love. Except for little romance dialogues he’s pressed “a” to skip, because he already thought of a way to defeat the next villain in the game. Kuroo would stop that though since he is now looking up at him, brows furrowed and lips in a pout.
“Kyanma! We talked about this! No video games during lunch!” Kuroo grunted out, putting his gaming console into his bag, which is to Kuroo’s right, while Kenma is on the left.
“Hey guys! Hope I’m not late! Kenma, how are you? Your game? Defeated the villain yet?” bombarding him with questions, Kenma groaned and looked away, picking at his food, ignoring you and lacking eye contact. You decide not to press it, getting out your bento instead, making small talk with Kuroo.
“So Kuroo! I heard you’re the volleyball captain now!”
“Yes! You’ve heard right! And Kenma’s still on the team!”
“Kenma! What’s it like? Bein’ on the team? Is it exciting?” You smile, stars in your eyes, looking at him expectantly.
“It’s whatever. Can you please be quiet? You’re too loud and it’s annoying.”
“Sure thing Kozume!” You realize how loud you are, when you shut your mouth you’re met with silence, embarrassment fills you as you eat instead. Using his last name seemed appropriate for the response.
As you walk home with Kuroo, you make sure you have Kozume on the inside of the sidewalk, he tends to sway when not having his head up, so you take the outside, Kuroo talking about volleyball in front of you. You smile and talk with him, opting out for your inside voice instead of your outside voice. You then gently tug Kozume to the left instead of the right, him looking up briefly before he immediately goes back to his game.
“Really? I’m still on 109.”
“Mhm. I’m still collecting the easter eggs.”
“You finished the game?”
“Nearly. 300 levels in total. Just collecting the little bits.”
“Cool!” Oops. Inside voice! C’mon! You cringe at your mistake but Kozume didn’t seem to notice. Oh well.
You frown as you make your way home, having to split where you usually do. Exhaling, you reach into your bag to take out the confession letter you made for Kozume. You have to redo it since you used Kenma instead of his Surname. Should you add his honorific? But you were still in the same grade as him.. Better safe than sorry. And you did just that. As you turn off your lamp, already finished your homework, you go to bed, hoping that Kozume will at least notice your efforts.
“Hey Kuroo! How are you?”
“Hey! I’m okay! You seem rather peppy today! Waiting for Kyanma?” His nickname for the console boy made you smile, holding the confession letter in both hands, nodding to answer his question.
“Oh! Confessing to Kyanma? Good luck! I sure hope he at least praises you for doing so.”
“Me too…” frowning at the fact Kenma might not even care, care enough to notice puts a damper on your mood. You shake your thoughts, knowing he wouldn’t. Right? Right… the little voice in your head says otherwise, thinking back. You’re beginning to think,
“I don’t think he likes me,” You frown and put the letter in the pocket of your uniform.
“But, but but but! Gotta think positive right? Worth a shot!” he smiles and laughs his unusual hyena laugh. And nods along with you, walking down the road, you notice Kozume isn’t there with Kuroo.
“Say, where’s Kozume?”
“Kyanma? He’s coming late, he has a doctor’s appointment.”
“Ah.” You think, what if he doesn’t come to class either way? Oh well. You walk into your homeroom, you sit down and take out your utensils for the class. You barely pay attention, but notes really save your ass. The day flies by when you finally have your final class. As you walk to the gym to bid Kuroo farewell, as you have a lot of homework, you see them, taking a break on the bleachers. You also see a familiar guy there, with his very familiar console… Kozume. You wave to Kuroo briefly before Kozume looks up to see what the commotion was about, waving at you, looking very bored, borderline irritated, before going back to his game. Leaving the gym you head home. Remembering that you still have the confession letter.
Wait. the confession letter. Damnit. Oh well. You’ll see him tomorrow!
Waking up to a good morning when you wake up naturally, is probably a big blessing. Feeling refreshed, you head to your closet to get ready. Doing a regular skin care routine, and feeling great, you remember about the confession letter. Today is the day, today. Getting everything else ready, putting the finishing pieces on your uniform, you head to Nekoma. Seeing Kuroo and Kozume where you three usually walk together, you routinely make small talk with a rooster head, while the console boy is busy on his console. You brought extra lunches and snacks for the boys, knowing they have practice matches and games coming up, and soon. They need to be at their best, specifically Kozume. Usually there’s not a problem, but once he burns out, he crashes. And he might not be at his best after that. Especially with Lev, having a tall guy on the team is great, but the tall guy plus newbie combo is a dangerous one.
“Hey there! Looking great!” You see said boy making little finger guns at you, while Yaku reprimands him by throwing a volleyball at him. You thank Lev before complimenting him on getting better at receiving. Lev smiles and blushes while he waves off your compliment, claiming you're distracting him. And yes, you did while Yaku bumps another ball at his head. Watching them play, you see their coach, talking with the other coach. You see them and walk over to them, seeing if you can ease their pain.
“Hey there, we just really need another manager, because usually our girls help us out but they’ve been coming later and later. Do you think you can join Nekoma’s v-ball team for a while until we set them straight?”
Thinking about it, being Nekoma’s v-ball manager isn’t that much of a burden, but there are pro’s and con’s. Thinking about Kuroo, Lev, Yaku, Kozume, you say
“Of course!” they smile and you see their shoulder’s visibly sag with relief. Them thanking you; you wave them off and go back to your little spot on the bleachers, opening up the duffel bag you brought along with your school bag, and you see the bento boxes you’ve labeled for each and every one of them. Kozume’s at the top. Looking up when the whistle blows, meaning the end of practice, you call out to Kuroo, saying you made bentos for them. Him immediately smiling and calling the entire team over, Kozume lagging behind. You hand him his bento and he walks away, going back to his console. Opening it up he looks annoyed. Chances are that you made a food he didn’t like, or he didn’t like it at all.
Frowning you assumed correct, although he may be stealthy, you saw him sneak the food into the trash. You looked away just in time, the sadness tugging and thrashing about is almost too much. Kuroo notices and puts an arm around your shoulder, later Lev smiles and looks down at you (assuming you're shorter than him). Lev thanks you for the bentos, going on about how delicious they were. Kuroo agrees, smiling at you while simultaneously eyeing daggers at Kozume.
Kozume. Hm. You assume that you will call him Kozume permanently. It doesn’t feel right to call him by his first name. He didn’t even bother to say “Hey you can call me Kenma y’know?” He didn't care. He didn’t. Bother. Oh well. Neither did you. But your heart continues to set aflame whenever there are small moments in which Kozume does engage in eye contact, the occasional brush of hands against each other whenever his hands a re fidgety, lack of console in his hands, allowing you to tie his hair whenever it grows out, or even brushing a strand of it out of his face. He didn’t care. And frankly, you’re beginning to notice he never will.
The next day during one of your classes with Kuroo and Kozume, you see Kozume to the side, with a girl. A girl? Oh. She’s confessing. Oh. He said no. The second hand embarrassment has you and Kuroo cringing at one another. Kuroo then takes your hand in his, running his thumb over it, a way of saying I’m sorry. He’s not apologizing because he broke your heart, but because his best friend did. What was very funny was that Kozume saw it all. Well. Kuroo’s hand and yours. And a pang of jealousy hurts. You? Or him?
“Are you and Kuroo dating?” He deadpans, looking at you specifically. Being nearly able to cook food on your cheeks, you look away, and thankfully Kuroo answers for you.
“No we aren’t. But are you and her dating?”
“No. She's too boring. Like all the other girls here. They don’t even know video games like they do.”
“What’re you saying Kyanma?”
“First of all stop it with the “Kyanma”, and second of all, I already like someone else.”
Kuroo tightens his hold on your hand. A reassurance this time. And another apology. Because his best friend broke your heart twice. You stay with lack of eye contact, which slightly irritates Kenma, because he knows what you’re doing. It takes two players to finish this game. He scrunches up his face and walks away. Thinking. He’s most likely missed his chance with you.
Walking home with Kuroo, he frowns and doesn’t bother to turn on his console. Opting out to put it in his bag. Frustrated, and confused. But mostly annoyed. Not to mention he’s giving the coldest shoulder he can muster for Kuroo and Kuroo only. Putting his hands in his pockets, he refused to talk, look, or even acknowledge his presence. It simply amuses Kuroo. Knowing what the situation is about he no doubt has a way to rouse him. He smirks as he taps his lips, smiling coyly.
“Y’know. They're a really good kisser.” he smirks as he sees Kenma flinch out of his peripheral vision. Tapping his lips once more; he opens his mouth to say something but Kenma immediately cuts him off.
“I don’t care if Y/n is a good kisser or not.”
“Kenma. I never said their name.”
And that. Is how the cats play when the mice are at bay. And Kenma fell for the dirty old rat trap. And thus. Kuroo won, but then again rouses Kenma. Saying how pretty Y/n is, especially in his uniform when she’s staying at his place. This seriously gets him angry, Resulting in Kenma shouting out to Kuroo, in the middle of the once peaceful atmosphere; “I don’t care.”
But then Kuroo laughs, reassuring that he’s not dating them and saying he has a chance if he cared so much. “I don’t care.” “You cared enough to care.” Man. Kenma really wanted to punch his best friend, but he knows he’s right. And right now. He’s beginning to realize it all. Butting himself, and angry at himself. He leaves his console at home. Going to school without his console was weird, sure, but going to school mainly to confess to you was a whole level he wasn’t prepared for.
Going to school, you and Kuroo made small talk, mainly Kuroo trying to convince you to allow him to fake confess to you, saying it’ll make Kenma confess. Finally giving in, he takes a piece of paper, writing on it horribly, knowing it was just for a prank, you wished he wrote better, lack of neat handwriting made you cringe. Kenma in front of you both, head down, presumably on his phone, playing a game there.
As Kenma, Kuroo and you arrive at the cafe in school, you see Kuroo cough to get a small crowd, and then you stand, wandering over to him, asking him if he’s sick, he says no and then takes out the paper. Gasps and whispers are heard and Lev lets out a whoop, probably Kuroo’s idea, but it was funny nonetheless. Saying you don’t understand, he takes a step back, bows and shouts,
“Accept my feelings! Y/n San!” and a litter of people begin to applaud, Kenma behind Kuroo, tugs on his shirt, and pulls him away, handing you a letter and going back to his seat. Confused Kuroo stands next to you, asking if it was what he thinks it was, nodding you unfold the paper,
Hey, I know u and Kuro aren’t dating. Go out with me instead.
It wasn't the first time that you got that question. However, it was your first time answering it for Akaashi. "I do."
"And why so?"
"It just," You shrugged, pressing your lips into a thin line. "makes sense." You noticed that Akaashi's pace slowed down next to you, a chuckle emerging from his lip. "What's wrong?"
"Hm? Nothing," And he caught up to you, hands stuffed in the pocket as he smiled at you. For a second, all the thoughts regarding what you were talking about left your mind. Your eyes settled on his emerald eyes shining under the moonlight, a smile creeping up your lips. He looked ethereal under the winter's moon. But then again, his words pulled you out of your thoughts. "What's so funny?"
"Huh?" You both stopped, his eyes lingering on yours, anticipating an answer. "No, nothing. By the way, do you believe in fate?"
He scoffed before padding forward. "No."
"I'd rather have the credits for being able to date you than complimenting some random arrangements of stars." You stopped, fingers tucking on the sleeves of his coat, eyes dripping with disbelief. Some days, it was hard to believe it was this Akaashi that you were dating because you fell in love with the romantic Keiji, the one who sought love in everything. "What's with that expression?"
"It's funny coming from you." And so you both began walking one again, the crunch sound of dried leaves filling the spaces between him and you. "You said you believe in soulmates and that is fate."
"My principles reformed, y/n." It was a joke — of course. Akaashi always joked about his principles and their contradictions. However, this time, he seemed serious. "Say y/n, do you think what we have right now, between us, is it because of fate?"
"I'd say yes," Your eyes landed on the pout on his face, a chortle escaping your mouth. "Keiji, do you think the moon ever wanted to be in perpetual orbit with the sun, meeting only when the numbers allowed?"
"What do you mean?"
"What I mean is, do you think the moon really wanted to revolve around the sun?" You glanced at him, expecting a response, recapitulating when you didn't receive any. "I think it wasn't the moon's choice to fall into orbit but, it was its choice to stay. In simple words, revolving around the sun is its fate and sojourning in the cynical realm was its decision because that's how the world operates."
Akaashi didn't want to believe that. Be it destiny or his own efforts. He had you by his side, and that was all he cared about. He couldn't sense any celestial magic swirling in the air. It was as simple as a cakewalk — you walked in and his heart started beating differently. That's what happened a year ago. That's how he realized he was in love with you, no stars and signs, nothing — just him and you.
"You mean," But he was curious about the things inside your head, despite the consistent dissent that your hypothesis was, in fact, inaccurate. "Falling in love with me wasn't your choice?"
"Not exactly; it was fate. Me and you, we were destined to meet and fall in love. That's the bare minimum the universe could've done for us. However," Once again, you both stopped — this time under the street light he proposed to you — looking at each other with unconditional love. "Staying in love with you was my decision."
He snickered, intertwining his hands in yours as you both started walking again. The walk to your home has never felt so distant. "I'd still like to believe that you fell for me because of my godly visuals and, not some astrological theory."
"Well, you aren't completely wrong." You giggled.
But then he stopped this time in front of your house. Perhaps the little tour for the night eventually came to an end. Slowly, his lips pressed onto yours, melting into the warmth of the dim streetlight and your cheeks, each languid second rolling into the next like calloused winds caressing the desiccated leaves as they created a melodic rustle.
"Don't you think we should thank the universe for bringing us together? Just because you believe in fate, of course." He pulled away, hands ghosting your cheeks and braiding with yours again, foreheads pressed against each other.
"And how do we do that?"
"It's not that hard," You managed to catch a glimpse at the smirk on his lips before he veered closer to your ears and whispered, "Take my last name."
"What do you mean 'what' ?" You smiled at the frown on his face, grip fastening around his hands. "Do the stars a favor and marry me. You know, they won't have to worry about us anymore."
"As much as I like the idea, we're still in high school, Keiji."
"So what? I don't mind marrying you right now" He pulled his hands out of your hold, shuffling through the pockets of his coat to pull out a small box. The grin on your lips grew wider as he pulled out the ring — the one you spotted this morning but didn't buy — slipping it over your finger. "Happy birthday, Mrs. Akaashi."
You glanced at your finger — middle finger — Akaashi wouldn't propose you officially like this. Not here, not in front of your house at 12 am when cold autumn winds are howling through the night sky. He planted a soft kiss on your ring finger, pulling you even closer before mumbling, "I'm saving this one for the future, my dear fiancée."
"—hopelessly in love with you, yeah." And you're convinced that the Akaashi in front of you is still the hopeless romantic boy you fell in love with a year ago.
Dusk must sink to shadows. . . for you to see starlight.
sakusa kiyoomi x gn!reader + hurt/comfort, angst and fluff + warnings: alludes to a traumatic former relationship but not explicit on the details, allegories of a noose and choking sorry + established relationship + stormy weathers are stormy + minimal edits for change !
+ part of @sunarent‘s because i love you collab !
+ wc: 1.9k
Oh, Sakusa Kiyoomi is about to break your heart.
Your lip trembles as you clench your fingers, the realisation is imprinted on you like a brand. It singes, alive, at a fact that you were ignoring. A fact you had realised three weeks ago and kept pushing and pushing to the back of your brain.
That you and Kiyoomi are falling apart.
That he didn’t love you anymore, wasn’t willing to meet your halfway anymore.
That he had stopped sometime ago. . . and had decided to walk back.
It starts on long days.
For Kiyoomi, long days were the worst. Practice had run longer than necessary, nothing had been working for him all day— the world’s vendetta was large and pressing, like the world on Atlas’ shoulders, one more weight to push down and down — and then coming home and just. Not feeling like existing. And maybe that day you didn’t notice. Maybe that day you had been wrapped up in a pretty good day to his sour one. A promotion at work, a compliment for your hardwork, etc.
Your happiness is sunshine on a good day. . . but it’s infuriating on a bad one.
His patience is thinned, but when your voice continues to prattle on, more than oblivious to his clipped tone and strangled sighs, he set his cup down a little harder than necessary; but the difference, the tone, the accompanied silence— quiets you as you face a storm burning to crackle. Exhausting every willpower not to snap.
“Can’t we just. . . eat in peace tonight? I’m really exhausted.”
And you quiet, you apologise, you didn’t notice it was this bad. So you nod and thread awkwardly at the silence.
It’s never healthy to keep it in, but you should’ve known better with Omi. He adored you so, and he had always internalised a lot of his problems. You knew that meant he keep everything to himself until his own, personal band of boundaries snaps, unable to protect you or your feelings anymore.
A bad day follows a bad week.
The relationship feels tense, and usually, he’d have a good one and bring the world back to its axis. . . or he’d come forward, in need to apologise, of comfort, and you’d meet his olive branch with barely strangled relief.
And as you waited with baited breath, stewing in the disarming silence. . . it dawned on you that it was never coming.
When he comes home— always later than you — his scowl is deepened, his exhaustion like a permanent coat, stapled to his skin. His dark skies grew darker, crackled with thunderstorms and lightning, and warned of dangerous waters below.
And the silence is a noose tightening on your neck.
You try everything.
You keep to yourself, walking on eggshells and broken glass, cook his favourite meal, make sure the bathroom is ready for him, and don’t engage him unless absolutely necessary. In its stead, you do more of the housework, you keep the plants alive, do the dishes and insist on recycling the day's trash. I’ll do it. I can do it.
I have to do it.
. . . Some of your past relationships have not been good. And you know your Omi was different. You know he was.
But the pressing silence is a choking hazard. It’s familiar. And trauma moves you like a puppeteer with a few strings and a mocking smile; your growing fear is fodder. Your hopelessness, a delight. The sinking feeling in your chest, in the pit of your stomach, is a memory you thought you’ve forgotten.
A memory that laughs at your futile attempts to keep this together.
But a tightening band snaps. So very easily.
You were doing everything, and what you didn’t know, Kiyoomi had started to feel the silence too.
And when he tells you to sit back down after dinner from where you usually wait until he’s in the bathroom, cleaning up more thoroughly and hopefully relax more, and you rush to clean the dishes in fear of an old memory resurfacing— you know in the back of your head he wouldn’t, he isn’t like them, stop it, stop it — you freeze. Stock still.
This isn’t part of the script, you think numbly as Kiyoomi’s low voice continues. Deep and so, so exhausted.
“— I’ll be at the hotel for a few days, just. To clear my head. Everything has been so exhausting and I—” His eyes, dark and pretty, flutter to you, and notice your hard stare on the table with wide eyes. He can’t unearth your silence; it’s wrapped around you like fog, to protect yourself. But if he could hear the pounding in your chest, feel the sinking feeling in your stomach— he would know fear and panic when he sees it.
But he can’t. Because you’re good at hiding, keeping silent to lessen the damage.
And he’s so, so tired.
Sakusa Kiyoomi leaves the house the very night, a duffel bag already packed— since when? When? — and when he takes your hand, your knuckles and your cold skin to pull you gently, closer you two have been in weeks, and your eyes flutter close as his lips press on the side of your head.
“Let’s talk about this when I get home, okay? I’m sorry.”
And that promise repeats, brands itself to your forehead with a sear. You move on autopilot. The silence lingers, but it's a shadow. An impending stagnation full of scary maybes and unknown fucking variables. You wake up, eat breakfast, go to work, come home, eat dinner, and go to sleep. Rinse. Repeat. There are no dreams or nightmares; your food tastes like ash and nothing in your mouth; and fear is pressing on your back like an ugly, ugly shadow.
But there is no finality. . . until you come home and see his car parked in the driveway.
Happiness is a blossoming warmth that starts to burn until you remember.
Let’s talk about this isn’t hope. Not fully.
It could also be heartbreak.
And the past few weeks burn and burn in your mind, in your brain, and your tears are out of you before you could even get past the fucking threshold. Because I love him, oh my god, I love him so much I can’t lose him please.
There had been small conversations about the future, but they had been so, so pretty you know you yearned for it to come. To become the present, the past, and live happily ever after.
Oh, because I love him. So much. Dear God, please.
It takes you minutes to compose yourself. Right on the WELCOME MAT you bought together when you first moved in. The little plants you bought that he adored watering surround it like a little mob of colourful pots.
“Did you. . .” He tilted his head at the tape and marker, leaning against the doorframe with an up tilt of his lips and crinkle in his eyes. “Did you name the plants?”
“Duh.” You offered your hand and he helped you up as you groaned, the back of your legs tense from crouching so long. But you smiled at your handiwork, and its prettiness on your face makes him move on a subconscious scale— kissing the corner of your lips. “We have to name our babies, right?”
As you slowly peel off your shoes, struggling to keep your shit together— you beg any deity that will listen. Your pleases are repeated, are chants to hymns to offers in exchange.
Anything, you vow as you notice the frigid silence. Again. This silence will kill you. I beg of you. Just let me love him.
Keep us together.
The script is clarified— its period intense and final; the set is perfected, and the actors are ready. You can see how it all plays out now. The heartbreak is a written work with a baited audience waiting for the shoe to drop.
But then Kiyoomi is there and he’s doing this heartbreak all wrong.
Sakusa Kiyoomi— your Omi — is cooking in the silence of the kitchen. The oiled pan sizzles and it makes him swear when it dances. He’s wearing your apron— or the apron that came with yours, matching a couple ones as a gag gift, but he’s wearing it. His hair is a little tousled and his back is a familiar sight, and when he turns, he’s back. It’s the face of the man you love. It’s him, it’s him, it’s—
“Oh, welcome home.” He smiles softly. Hesitantly. “Please sit, I’m making dinner. . . or I’m trying to make dinner but I promise it’s going to be good. . . I think.” Before you can open your mouth, he continues, turning back to his sizzling pan. “And I’ll do the dishes, okay? Don’t offer, you’ve been doing them for almost a month. As well as the recycling. And the laundry’s already done, I noticed you hung some and they’re already folded on the bed, just gotta put them in the dresser. The bath’s also ready. I think the water’s still warm, but there’s still hot water, and good thing I bought bath salts ‘cos you’re out of—”
And he turns again, because your silence is broken by sobs. Your world is spinning and his panic sparks, already half stumbling toward you as he takes you— shaking and crying — to him so softly; panic in his beautiful eyes as he brushes the streams of your tears away. Insistently. Panickingly.
And he lets you cry when he recognises what it is. The ah in his eyes is palpable, and panic is replaced by guilt and hurt, and the silence isn’t as choking anymore, not when it's broken by your sobs. Not when he pulls you to his chest and buries you in his shirt. He keeps you there, warm and tight, rubbing your back soothingly as you calm down. As your sobs turn to cries, turn to sniffles, turn to hiccups.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats again when you’ve calmed down enough. Your fist tightens on his shirt; above it, wet with your tears. “I’m sorry for scaring you, for leaving. I saw how. . . how it was affecting you, my bad mood. My bad month. And it hurt me to see you walking on eggshells so I thought it’d be better if I handled it by myself. I couldn’t bear to see you get hurt in the process. . . but I did, nevertheless. I’m so sorry for leaving. For scaring you like that.”
He pulls you back lightly, tilting your chin up and strangling a watery, hesitant smile as he cups your cheeks and runs a thumb across the lashes of your red and plump eyes. “I will always come back to you, I promise. Because I adore you. I love you so much. You’re my home. If.” He hesitates. “If you’ll have my stupid ass back.”
You hiccup out an incredulous laugh. Because it’s true. The incredulity that you’ll never want, yearn or dream in starlight once upon a times about Sakusa Kiyoomi is so absurd when your future is written across several universes, several stories and happily ever afters— intertwined in red with his.
As if you’ll never love him, even until your next lives.
You reach out and cup his cheeks, bringing him down to your height and he lets out the softest sighs. As if the awning of a door closing back on the frame with an audible click. A righted axis of a little universe. A puzzle piece fitting back in.
“You’re my home too, Omi. As long as you always return to me, I will always reach back for you.”
You were working hard on something. Tsukishima could see it. It was related to him, that was all he knew about your secret project. He could see it in the way you were staring at him all day, and the way you always said "wow Kei, you're so tall" every day. Every single day. And it seemed to slightly annoy you somehow, he could hear it in your voice, even if you were smiling at him and your eyes were shining bright with a passion he had never seen before. It was the first time it wasn't a compliment. The first time he didn't like how it sounded. You two had been dating for a month, even though you never explicitly said it to everybody. Karasuno team knew that you existed but nothing more. Nishinoya and Tanaka sometimes teased him about it, without even knowing they were already a couple.
As days passed, he heard more and more about how tall it was. About how it was bothering you. It's not like you needed to say it was bothering you. He just wondered what changed. It never bothered you before you two were dating and you knew each other since your first year of high school a year ago.
That day, he was going to train with his team members. On his way, he saw you and your bright smile again. He knew already what he was going to hear in a few seconds. And he heard your voice :
- Kei, you're so tall, I...
- So what ? he cut you off, irritated. Does that bother you ?
- Of course, it does !
He didn't expect such a blunt answer. He glared at you while you were looking for something in your bag.
- Do you know how many balls of wool I had to use ? And how much time it took ? I thought I could finish it before the end of summer...
You had taken a sweater out. A yellow and blue sweater. Tsukishima Kei swore he had never seen a sweater that ugly during his whole life. But you were handing it to him. Your smile was so wide, and your eyes were sparkling. You were so proud of yourself. He only scoffed, took it, and silently put it on.
He felt you hugging him. Was that why you had been complaining every day ? He sighed overly loud, pretending he didn't like your attention...
- Do you like it ? you asked, a little hesitant
You were cute like that, melting in his new sweater. He loved you so much. He wished he was able to say it out loud but he settled on :
- I love it.
You stepped away, looking at him with a smile.
- You should go practice or you'll be late. I love you.
You said it. You said it first. He wanted to be the first to say it so bad but you did.
- I... yeah.
"What a pathetic answer", he thought. But you winked and you were alresdy on your way back home.
He ran into Nishinoya on his way to practice. He was staring at his sweater with a very confused look.
- This sweater... doesn't look like something you'd wear.
- It's ugly, right ? Y/N made it for me.
Nishinoya smiled and said :
- Yeah... who wouldn't put the sweater that was made by someone you love ?
Tsukishima didn't answer, making his teammate laugh.
- You didn't deny you loved Y/N...
- I have no reason to lie, your boyfriend simply answered.
Hey ! This is a little something I wrote based on a couple I know ! I hope you liked it. Have a good day !!!
Warnings: potentially swearing, but just fluff otherwise :)
Pairing: Tsukishima Kei x Fem!Reader
A/N: I wrote this a few days ago and honestly just thought the idea was cute and sweet so I hope you enjoy!
They were just pens. Cute pens that wrote really well and came in any sort of colour she’d want, but in the end they were just stationary. So why was she so happy?
Tsukishima hadn’t thought much about it. He had gone shopping over the weekend and saw them. There were cute animal designs on them and his lips turned up into a half smile, half smirk because she was the first thing he thought about.
“Ah, my pens are going to run out of ink before I even start studying,” she had huffed just the week before. It was barely louder than a whisper, but Tsukishima heard it even one row over.
He wasn’t really sure how someone properly gave gifts. Was he supposed to wrap it? Put a bow around it? Did it require a card? He frowned tightly, staring at this package of new pens once he got home. Would she be disappointed if he wrapped it and she found only pens? Would she wonder why? They’d only started going out a few weeks ago... was the first present he gave her supposed to be something better? Something with more sentiment? Something more romantic?
Eventually, Tsukishima waved away the constant questions he had for himself and settled on just wrapping some brown paper and string around it, like they do sometimes in smaller shops. It looked plain, boring, not at all exciting. So maybe she wouldn’t be disappointed when she opened it up. In a moment’s weakness, Tsukishima found himself drawing a little heart on the corner of the package’s wrapping, catching himself smiling at the thought of her opening it.
The next school morning, there she was. Sitting at her desk, a few minutes earlier than everyone else as usual. She liked to say she enjoyed the few moments of silence and the view from her seat out the window.
“Here,” he said flatly, dropping the package onto her desk. She jumped a little, his voice surprising her.
Tsukishima watched as she stared at the package, confused for a moment, glancing back up at him, “What’s this for?”
What was it for? He had to wonder that himself. He didn’t have a good answer really, he just... thought of her. Tsukishima settled for a shrug before settling down at his seat and pretending to absentmindedly scroll on his phone. But his curious eyes dragged themselves back to her, finding her gently pulling at the string and carefully unpacking the wrapping.
Why was she being so careful with it? Why was she acting like it was the most beautifully wrapped present? He knew it wasn’t smooth or nice looking, he knew there were bumps everywhere. So why was she treating it like that?
Tsukishima waited for her to laugh, look over at him and go, “What the hell is this?” That’s the reaction he would’ve had anyways. What kind of weirdo gives pens as a gift? Why would she want that? He wouldn’t even want that so why-
A small sound escaped her lips and Tsukishima sat up straighter for a moment, ready to defend his choice. Even if he wasn’t really sure why he bought it, he was sure as hell ready for a fight if he needed to.
But her eyes just looked up at him with those sparkles in them, her whole face glowing and her lips curled into that heavenly smile.
“They’re so cute!” Y/N beamed, turning over the small box to examine all the pens from the outside. “How did you find them?” She asked eagerly, holding it near to her body with a tight grip, like it might slip away.
Tsukishima shrugged again and felt his face going warm. He looked away quickly, running a hand through his hair nervously, “I just... found them and thought you’d like them.”
If he had been next to her, maybe he would’ve heard her heart skip a beat, maybe he would’ve seen how that one sentence made her fingers tremble.
“You can open them you know, they’re not for decoration or anything. You’re meant to use them,” he told her after noticing she was still admiring them in the box.
“Oh! Right,” Y/N’s smile wasn’t getting any smaller and her cheeks were starting to hurt. Her fingers opened up the box and pulled out her favourite colour, doodling little objects on the top of the paper in front of her. “They write so smoothly!” She gaped, turning to look at him with wide eyes. “Oi! You didn’t go spend too much money did you?”
Tsukishima snickered at how accusatory her voice was and shook his head, though he was happy knowing that the pens were that good of quality. “Do... Do you like them?” He asked after a moment, watching her doodle and write out her name a few times.
Y/N nodded excitedly, folding up the wrappings and string and tucking them into her bag.
“That’s just garbage,” Tsukishima pointed out, seeing how careful she was still with everything he had given her.
But Y/N just shook her head, smiling over at him, “It’s the best present ever, Tsukishima, I want to remember it!”
He wanted to tell her that was dumb, that the pens would eventually run out of ink and that the wrapping would probably sit in her room somewhere collecting dust. She would probably throw it away somewhere or put it for storage and a few years later, wonder why she even kept it. But seeing that look on her face, Tsukishima wanted to believe that maybe she would keep it. Maybe she would look at those pens every day and think of him.
And she did.
And she kept that brown paper and string in her desk drawer at home, her fingers tracing over that little heart he had drawn on. It didn’t matter that it was meant to be thrown away. Because even when the ink in the pens were gone and Tsukishima offered to buy more for her, that brown paper and string would still remind her of the best present she had ever received.
FIC FILES MASTERLIST - DIGITAL DOWNLOAD 10K FOLLOWER EVENT.
so i wanted to do something positive where we give light to everyone’s amazing works! please feel free to recommend your own works or someone else’s! ( with permission of course ). please heed the warning’s on each fic and be sure to support the creator’s by liking, reblogging and leaving a nice comment on anything you read <3
a/n’s note: you are in for a ride, honey! enjoy! this is just a thirst not a full fic ;-;
You and Kotaro were a weird couple per say, everything that you do, no matter what it is, is sexual. Take this vacation for example. You, your husband, and your kid are going to the countryside, for some fresh air.
You were the one who suggested it to Bokuto, who unknowingly has another lewd idea in mind. He had weird kinks, he liked breeding and lactating, he would crawl from under the sheets and suck on you nipples regularly milking you. So he thought why not try it again on you on this vacation?
“K-ko.. Can’t d-do this..“ You moaned out, his firm hands grasping on your tits. He stripped you off your clothes a few minutes ago, having brushed against his bulge while carrying some hay.
“Shh, just be quiet cowwy, hm? Gonna milk your wonderful tits dry.“ He cooed, licking your right ear lobe, you twitched against his touch, mewling and moaning breathily. “Been a long time since I got to do this, and I can have your milk all to myself“
He chuckled, squeezing your sensitive nipples making you lactate, you arched your back and moaned, looking at the amazed Kotaro who kept squeezing it, “Look at that cowwy, your tits were begging to be milked earlier, don’t be shy now, hm?“
You nodded breathlessly, your legs shaking from anticipatiom. “Master, master please f-fuck me! Breed me master please please please? I’ll be your good cowwy!“ You sighed, the milk splattering over the cement floors of the barn you were currently in.
“Gonna breed more babies into ya, that’s what you want cowwy right?“ He teased, taking out his cock and smirking, bending you down to grasp on the fence. “Open up cowwy, Daddy’s gonna breed you nice and good.“
He pushed his length inside you, making you squeal loudly, he hammered your insides relentlessly, his massive hands still placed on your tits, “’S time for milkin’ again cowwy, gonna gulp it all once were finished, but for now let me breed you.“
You nodded hazily, mind clouded with dirty thoughts as you kept getting pounded like an animal, but you took it like a good girl, Bokuto’s personal cowwy.
a/n: take the fluff when you get some Tsuki simps 😐 here have it 🤲🏼🙄
You sighed as you closed the door behind you with your back pressed against it for good measure, your door was all too fond of not latching all the way and swinging open on a particularly strong rush of wind. Gently pushing yourself off the door you hung your bag on the hook nailed into the wall on your left, gingerly stepping out of your shoes before flopping down onto the couch; you could wait to change out of your jeans another time.
“Tch, since when do you like lounging in your jeans?” A snarky voice came from what sounded like the entry way to the kitchen.
Well, maybe you wouldn’t be napping in your jeans today.
“Since work started kicking my ass.” You mumbled into the couch cushions your face was currently pressed between when you felt cold hands move your ankles up so someone could sit in their spot.
“You know I can’t hear you when you mumble.” Tsuki’s hands attentively rubbing into the tender muscle of your calf contrasted coldly against his sharp tone.
You sighed and flopped, turned, and adjusted all so you were finally comfortably lying on your back with your legs in his lap, making sure he’d be able to hear you this time.
“Fuck you.” You deadpanned with your arms now crossed, doing your best not to smile when one of his infamous crooked ones; the ones he was known for giving you when you’d done something especially endearing to him; the ones that always got you to smile back; spread across his face.
“Oh, so it was a really bad day, huh?” He raised his eyebrows and moved his hands up to your thighs, giving some attention to the sore muscles there, too.
You hummed and let your eyes flutter close at the soothing ministrations of Tsuki’s hands on your legs.
Moments like this reminded you of how much he really did cherish you. He was never one for blatantly telling you how he feels with sweet words, everything was almost always accompanied with an insult or eye roll.
It wasn’t like he was incapable of being romantic or sweet, he surely could be when he wanted to, it just wasn’t him. Sure, the idea of Kei all smiley and bright looked cute in your head but if it was a regular behavior of his - he wouldn’t be him.
Your boyfriend was goofy in his own way, just like how he showed his love in his own way:
Greeting you as soon as you came home so you never were alone for more than you wanted, but never smothering you. There was always enough room for you to tell him if you needed some space. And then giving you anything you needed to recharge after a tough day at work, like napping.
“Do you wanna nap? You look like you need it.” Tsuki scoffed at the end of his sentence but reached a hand up to caress your cheek, letting you know he was only being playful.
You turned your face into his palm, scrunching it up a little while you nodded.
Soon you were resting against his chest and letting his heart beat lull you to sleep, his body heat and long arms encasing you only helping.
“Mm, love you Kei.” You slurred out into his chest in your half asleep state.
He leaned down to kiss your temple,
“Cant hear you when you mumble.”
You sighed and smacked his torso just a tad bit harder than you meant to, although your internal apology didn’t mean much when you heard the deep chuckle vibrating from his chest.
“Yeah, love you too, stupid.”
it’s just, it’s just a little smth sweet for the kids !! you guys know what I’m talking about right here right aajsjsjsks
anyways just smth sweet cause I been kinda down and I know finals are stressing everyone out 🖤🖤
love y’all :) <3
requests are open
taglist: @sweet-darling91 @plutowrites (good luck w your paper sweetie :,() @peachysimp
daishou's eyes dilated in shock, seeing you by the door of your shared bedroom, arms folded around your chest—gazing at him with those comforting eyes that he grew accustomed to. the male who sat on the bed looked down in pure shame.
even after all these years that he had broken up with his former girlfriend yamaka mika, he would be lying mostly to himself if he were to say that he didn't have feelings for her anymore.
and it was wrong, he knew that since he has you now—his fiancé who had been with him for almost five years now. but his heart really belonged to mika, and not you—who stood beside him in his lowest points; he felt like an absolute idiot.
an idiot, considering that it felt like he only used you to temporarily forget the pain he felt years ago—guilty, even.
you released a dejected sigh, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder—already knowing the answer.
"you should go to her already, i heard that yamaka's flight would take off in an hour or two," pointing towards the little box on top of the cabinet, you continued, "our engagement ring's in that box."
before he could even interject anything, you beat him to it, "just go, please. i understand that even after all these years your heart still yearns for her; the person you truly loved from the very beginning."
a pained smile appeared on his face, murmuring, "i'm so sorry, [name]." he grabbed his coat before immediately exiting the room without ever looking back.
you sat near the bed, letting everything sink in by the moment. "yeah... i was never and will never be the person you love the most." tears trickled down your face, while you were quick to wipe them away.
there was no point in crying over someone who was never yours in the first place. there was no point in crying over someone who never really loved you from the beginning.
Author's note ; nothing, just having major gentleman Akaashi, that's all and im making it ur problem oh yeah this is also for @mysterystarz bc we both like Keiji
Warnings ; none, just a lot of thoughts
Always has a spare pair of generic reading glasses, just in case you lose yours if you have any, and always compliments you when you put them on
Not to mention he has a permanent rosy nose, and it only gets rosier when it gets cold, and when it does, he nuzzles the nose into your neck, while you two cuddle under a blanket, with a cup of hot cocoa, reading his latest draft
His lips are so soft and for what? Pink, thin and very soft.
Will always take off his glasses before he kisses you if he has them on and always places his hand on yours when he does kiss u :(
If his hair grows out, it gets curlier, and if he slicks it back, there’s this one cowlick that refuses to go down, he hates it but u love it :)
Whenever he walks with you, you’re on the inside of the sidewalk, holding his hand, or he has a hand on the small of your back, being the gentleman he was born as :(
Always leave a fresh flower for you on the dinner table when he leaves for work from a little garden he grew just for you<3
Pairing: Kuroo x reader (female reader mentioned in few parts)
Warning: mentions of death, mentions of cancer, slight implication of suicide, mentions of hospital, angsty in general
Word count: 1K
A/N: I have nothing much to say about this. I wrote this after days of without motivation so please support this. Any kind of constructive criticism is accepted and reblog if you like.
The night was still and brisk. Acrid air of the forgotten autumn day obscured around everywhere. As the dusk transitioned to dark night, the little fog wafted around lightly. Kuroo stood at the exit of the hospital, cigarette in hand. He took a deep puff and inhaled all the tar from the little cylindrical killing machine, exhaling the silvery ash into the stagnant night. Kuroo was never the one to smoke. Not in his 27 years of life he had taken in a drag of cigarette...peer pressure had nothing on him. Yet this Kuroo, for the past 9 months had taken in the amount of cigarettes that could probably double that of a regular chain smoker. He would pop one in his mouth, especially on days like these. Days which began and ended at hospital visits.
Taking leaves from the office became a natural occurrence for Kuroo. No matter how many times you’ve said that you can manage on your own, he refused to budge and would drive you to hospital, side hugging you whenever you both walked. He chuckles as he remembers what you said. Leaving you alone to go to hospitals? He would rather resign. Kuroo can never fathom leaving your side. Not when he had promised it under his breath. He recalls his promise whenever he sees you. Whenever he watches you snuggle deeper in his warmth while you both sleep, whenever you both work together in the office room at home, whenever he sees you curling into a fur ball during winter, whenever he sees you doing nothing but intertwining his hand in yours while lying down.
He had promised to not leave your side when he had first made love to you. He had promised to not leave your side when he slid the ring over your finger.
He had promised to the first drop of rain that descends from the sky, to the moist soil which gives out the scent of rain, to the blinding stars, the murmuring leaves, to the dense cloud, to you- his beautiful wife and most importantly to himself.
Kuroo sighs as he finishes the cigarette, the last embers of the ash fell into the bin.He looked longingly at the sky as he wondered where it went all wrong? Why, out of all people in the world, it were you who has to face this? Where did he go wrong? It felt like a double edged sword that constantly assaulted you and him, bleeding the heart till it dried.
You were the one who was receiving chemotherapy for the past three hours yet he, being on the other side of the cabin, felt the burn. His guts felt like it twisted nauseatingly.
He reminisces about the earlier days. You had captivated his attention and feelings right from the moment you stepped in his statistics class. The way you would balance the pencil on your upper lips with a pout, the way you would tie your hair in a bun without a band and let it fall over your back, the way you would squint your eyes at him if you didn’t get his puns. He remembers the way you had looked when you walked towards him wearing that white kimono on that day. The day where you stole his last name the way he had stolen your heart for him, many days back.
Nostalgia made Kuroo bleary and his thoughts became bleary when thoughts wafted around him, reaching to the conversations he had with the doctors just a week back.
“Kuroo-san, this is difficult for you, I understand but you need to know this. We are trying our utmost best and giving the top chemo to her but her case is complicated...with what we have in our hand, she can go on for 4-5 months but anything has the possibility to happen.I need you to be mentally prepared.”
Kuroo sat there, in silence. His head buzzing with so many words that were still processing. What do they mean by, 'go on’ , like you are some object?
Kuroo understood that day what people meant when they say their whole world shatters around them. He could see the cracks on his soul as they slowly crumbled, throwing him into a mindless abyss. He could feel the darkness encompassing him as he watched you slowly drift away from him. As each hour passed, he felt the twist in his insides increasing even more. And here it was, tears that inexhaustibly rolled down his cheeks giving declaration of his own succumb to the journey called life.
He now recalls the days where he just held you and cried into the air, he recalls the horrific day when they found out about this complex leukemia that nested in your body, he recalls multiple occasions where he sees you giving up on life before life gives you up. He just sees them without the capability of doing anything.
The blaring sound of the ambulance broke his trance as he now realised it was time to go back to the cabin. He took large steps towards your cabin, towards the unprecedented timeline where he could lose you any moment. He doesn’t know how he’s gonna deal with that.
Opening the door, he sees you half laying down on the bed. Your face gaunt and tired, your hair thinning out, eyes swollen from the chemo and most probably from crying. Nowadays, not a single day passes without you or Kuroo shedding a few tears. But amidst all these, you are the most gorgeous woman he has ever encountered and doubt whether he will ever encounter. You give a fatigued smile towards him when he comes closer.
“The doctors said they will observe me until morning and then discharge me.” you say. Kuroo nods at you before sanitizing himself and then lays beside you. Your hand thread around his raven like locks and his hands encircles your waist as his face nuzzled your neck. After a peaceful silence of basking each others presence, you whisper,
“Why, Kuroo? Why me?” Kuroo has no answer to this. Instead he just holds on to you, his dear life because it’s slipping away from him.
There’s no definite time when it will just completely fall off so the most he can do is clutching it to his soul before it decides to bid farewell.
terminologies used: TLC sandwhich - Tomato, Lettuce and Cheese sandwhich.
ft. aone takanobu
A sandwhich, a ball, and a 192cm giant.
You were walking around the campus, a sandwich in hand, when you failed to notice a volleyball flying towards your direction. Luckily, it did not hit your head, but that doesn't mean that your sandwich was safe.
Because the next moment, your favorite TLC sandwich was no longer in your hand but on the floor instead. The ingredients splattered on the dirt as some sauce flew to your uniform, staining the white cloth.
You stared at the fallen goodness with wide eyes, lips wobbling as you suddenly felt yourself tear up. That was the last TLC sandwich from the cafeteria and there's no way you can afford to buy another one with a different flavor.
The thing is, you forgot to bring your bento and you only brought enough money with you to buy yourself a sandwich for your break. How were you supposed to survive the day now that your only hope was gone?
But you were mistaken, because it turned out that your sandwich wasn't the only hope you had - and that hope came in the form of Aone Takanobu.
White hair filled your vision as someone bowed infront of you, a soft murmur of apology meeting your ears. "I'm sorry, I did not mean to hit the ball that hard."
As he stood up, you can't help but be surprised at his height. For someone with such gentle voice, you weren't expecting a 192cm volleyball player. He was pretty. Despite his serious expression, you felt safe under his gaze. You didn't feel intimidated nor scared of him.
You snapped out of your thoughts when the man in front of you waved a hand to your face, a semi-worried look overtaking his expressions.
"Are you alright? Did the ball hit you anywhere?" he asked.
You only managed to reply with a shake of your head, eyes looking downwards in embarrassment.
"I'm sorry for your sandwich..." Aone said as he picked up the ball resting just beside your foot.
"Oh, it's okay!" You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear before smiling at him. "I was already halfway finished eating it anyway. I'm actually quite full."
Contrary to what you said, your stomach made a rather embarrassing noise causing your cheeks to flare up and Aone's eyes to look down at you stomach.
"Let me buy you another one as an apology. It was my fault your sandwich fell after all."
Despite how many times you tried convincing him, he was persistent on buying you one.
As days passed by, your relationship with the soft giant grew, from the sandwich incident to becoming friends.
It didn't take long for you to fall for him, his gentle nature and kindness seemed to complete your day and you can't stop yourself from imagining how good would it be to be beside him - not as a friend but as a lover.
And so, here you are, 2 years into your friendship, currently holding a packed TLC sandwich with your extended arm.
"I like you!"
Aone's eyes widened at your confession. His cheeks burned at the unexpected turn of events unfolding in front of him.
Who wouldn't be embarrassed if the one they like confessed to them, in front of the whole team?
The gym was silent which made your heart beat erratically inside your chest. Nobody spoke, awaiting for the giant himself to utter the first word.
Futakuchi, who seemed to notice the tense atmosphere, gave Aone a nudge.
You lifted yourself up from your bowing position and bit your lower lip, taking the silence as a quiet rejection. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable... I'll just-"
Your words were cut off by the feeling of someone's hand patting your head. As you looked up, you saw Aone staring down at you with a smile.
He took the sandwich from your hands and handed it to Futakuchi, giving him a small warning not to eat it, before proceeding to give you attention.
"I like you too."
No other words were uttered between the two of you. Instead of stating a long confession, Aone pulled you close towards him, arms enveloping you like a giant teddy bear. "I like you," he murmured once again as he caressed your hair before pressing a kiss on your forehead.
Who would've thought that a simple sandwich will bring you the future love of your life?
Ok so someone asked me if I could do a part 2 of this so I wrote it... enjoy !
A month had passed since the day you left your boyfriend. During that time, he didn't text you once. It was during the second week that you understood that he didn't want you around anymore. You saw him out with what you presumed were his co-workers. When you saw him smile at one of them, you realized that you two hadn't smile like this in a while. You loved him, and you were happy with him, but you two were going through a lot as a couple. Maybe he wasn't happy with you. Maybe talking about spending a lifetime with him that day made him realize this was exactly what he didn't want. It hurt you so much, but you were still glad he was happier now. The next day, while he was at work, you went back to the apartment you used to share and took all of your belongings left. You didn't even bother leaving a note, you just put the key in the mailbox, not even wanting to give it directly to him.
Since then, you avoided all of the places you used to go together. You focused on your work. You had been living at your best friend's house for a month now and, even if she constantly said it didn't bother her, you went looking for a new place to live. You went out looking for a new place to live with one of your co-worker who became your friend after he noticed you were down a month ago. After looking at a few apartments, you went to a coffee shop to rest.
- I'll go get the drinks, you told him.
After you ordered, you heard someone calling your name. You turned around.
- Kei... hi !
You smiled at him. You didn't expect to see him here. You only accepted to come to this coffee shop because you only went once with him.
You two felt silent for a moment until he asked :
- How have you been ?
I miss you.
- Have you been happy ?
He was looking around awkwardly. You didn't know what he wanted you to say. Happy ? You weren't the unhappiest but everything was hurting. You missed him, and yes, you could live without him. You could be happy without him. But it all felt meaningless when he wasn't here. When you got a job promotion, you wanted wanted call him. When you tried the new bakery next to your friend's place, you wanted to share the cake with him. When you saw something funny, you wished he was there too.
Before you could answer, your friend came back to you, giving you a worried look. Slightly panicked and overwhelmed, you still tried to be friendly.
- This is Kei... He's...
- Her ex-boyfriend.
You knew he was. But it still hurt to hear him say it. You couldn't blame him because you left first. You thought about all your moments together, every laugh, every smile you shared with him. It was all gone and you didn't even remember how the fight started. Why did you have to go ?
- Bye, Y/N, he just said.
You got worse after this day. Your best friend insisted on making you stay in her home because the break up was official now. Your nights were mostly watching movies with a brunch of friends.
Until one day.
Less than a week after seeing your now ex-boyfriend at the coffee shop, he sent you a text.
Kei (9:17am) : You left your scarf here. When can I give it back to you ?
You (10:21am) : Can I come and get it tonight ?
Kei (10:23am) : Sure. 7pm ?
You (10:24am) : Sure.
7 pm came faster than you thought and soon enough you were in front of the door of the apartment you thought you would never see again. You took a deep breath before knocking. He opened the door and stood in front of you.
- Come in, he said.
- No, I'll just take it.
He sounded gentle. He sounded hurt. You complied.
- I bought... your favorite cake.
You could see it in the living room on the table beside the TV, like it always used to be.
- I'm sorry, he said. I wanted to call but...
But he didn't. He didn't even bother leaving you properly.
- I was scared to tell you...
He moved around quickly and gave you a spoon.
- Eat the cake... it's for you.
It felt like you were back to when you two were happy together. You used to eat a cake and tell him about your day and he was commenting on everything, as if he wanted the conversation to last forever. But you couldn't ignore the uncomfortable atmosphere.
- No, thanks... is it the scarf ?
You pointed it out.
He gave it to you with a sad smile.
- It doesn't smell like you anymore, he mumbled, so there's no point in keeping it.
- I wanted to call you but I realized you'd be happier without me. So I didn't call.
- I'm not.
He looked at you with glossy eyes.
- I told you I was waiting for you, Kei.
He pulled you into a tight hug.
- Are you happier without me ? he whispered.
- Never... are you ?
- No. I miss you.
You pulled out to look at him right in the eyes.
- I'm not going anywhere, I promise.
You smiled, took the spoon and the cake and sat like you used to do.
- So, how have you been, Kei ?
- I've been thinking about what you said last time and I want the same so I thought we should get married. You ?
You looked at him, dumbfounded.
- I... got a job promotion.
He chuckled as you dig into the cake.
- I told you it'd be just fine.
You giggled and said :
- Should I call my parents now to tell them the good news ?