#sakusa kiyoomi angst

[emmyrosee]

tw// cursing, yelling, long stints of fighting, Kiyoomi is a little toxic, blood, patching up injuries, broken noses, ANGST- please be safe friends ❤️

I talk a lot about Kiyoomi being an amazing sport about your clinginess, your closeness, and your affections, right?

But what about when he's not?

What happens when the one day you try to crawl into his skin, spilling your head over his shoulder and squeezing him tightly, peppering kisses over the side of his face and jawline, and when he asks you to please stop, you don’t.

“You’re just too yummy,” you say happily. You bite his ear, “this is your tax.”

He shrugs you off sharply, “I’m not paying the tax today.”

You stumble back slightly, regaining your footing and taking a step back from him. “I’m sorry… bad day?”

Bad day. Yeah. It was. He can’t fathom how bad today was, how every time he said anything, Miya was right in his ear simply talking, sending shivers of annoyance to course through kiyoomi’s veins. How Bokuto accidentally almost hit the ball straight to his face, his own intensity almost causing Kiyoomi the season. How meian benched him for being too intense, too much and needing to ‘cool off’ with every spike and scowl kiyoomi flails to the other side of the court. How the threats of sending him home for his attitude started, causing Kiyoomi to shut his mouth but white knuckle the rest of the day.

But kiyoomi doesn’t answer that like a normal person.

That would be too easy.

“Maybe I just don’t want you dangling off of me the second I walk in the door.”

His mind screams at him to shut up, but he can’t.

You take a deep breath in, “I didn’t know, I’m sorry. Usually you… you don’t mind-“

“Well maybe I should start minding.”

Shut up.

Your eyes hold betrayal as he spews his venomous words, your chest rising and falling as he balls his fists to try and ground himself.

“I’m sorry. I’ll think more about your feelings when I try to cuddle you.”

“What you do is not cuddling-“ the balled fist slams against the countertop. “It’s clinging. It’s suffocating. It’s ridiculous, and it’s obnoxious-“

“‘Yoomi-“

“And for the love of all that is fucking malevolent would you PLEASE STOP CALLING ME THAT!” He roars. “I gotta deal with it from FUCKING MIYA, now I have to deal with it at HOME FROM YOU?”

You don’t know why you do it. But you flinch.

He’s so loud, so in your face and so mean that it happens without you even knowing you did it, the only indication being that his face instantly drops and pales at the mere idea of you being so afraid of him you flinch.

He says nothing. He can’t. What could he say?

He quickly makes a dash to the door, grabbing the keys dangling from the hook and leaving right then and there, bile rising in his throat and chest swelling with disgust as your terrified face plays over and over, like a movie he can’t turn off because he’s the one who put it on.

He runs. He runs fast and far, down the street and over hills and across crosswalks that don’t permit him from crossing yet, trying to create distance between himself and the monster he was god knows how long ago.

He finds himself- somehow- at work, the bright lights of the arena snapping him back to reality that you’ve been alone for who knows how long, but at least long enough where he’s back at his physical job. On foot.

The gods give him the smallest semblance of mercy as Miya and Hinata are still together, setting and spiking away until their hands grow calloused, cheering with each successive spike sent hurdling to the floor.

Hinata notices the panting Kiyoomi first, his head cocking in concern. “Hey… thought you didn’t want to train with us?”

“You.” Kiyoomi’s dark eyes fall onto Miya, and without even processing the fact that he shouldn’t be doing this, he makes a blind dash at the blonde, who then instinctively runs the other way.

Hinata instinctively darts out of the way, “woah! What! Miya what’s going on!”

“I didn’t do anything!” The blonde whines. “Not this time! I swear!” Hinata scrambles into action, chasing after Kiyoomi who’s on another runners high as he chases his teammate around the linoleum floors of the volleyball court but is still no match for Hinata’s own speed.

Great for Miya Atsumu. Terrible for sakusa Kiyoomi.

Bulky arms wrap around Kiyoomi’s waist and immediately weights around him, slowing him down from skinning Miya alive, “no, sakusa! Enough!”

“I’ll kill him!” He barks at whoever will listen to his threat. “I’LL KILL YOU!” He points a finger at the blonde.

And Hinata’s not proud of it. Honest! But it’s what he had to do to stop his friends from mauling each other, and he trips Kiyoomi flat onto his face, a sickening crunch! under the squishing cartilage of nose and skull slamming into the floor. He lays there in defeat, panting softly into the floor and crying even quieter as his two teammates surround him.

He needed to cry. That’s it. Now that he’s crying, his salty tears mixing with the blood dribbling from his nose and the gash in his head, he feels better, he feels lighter and like he’s finally getting to express every fractal of emotion that surged through his veins all day in what is finally a healthy way.

It only cost you being uncomfortable around him.

He safely decides it’s not worth it.

“Sakusa,” Hinata begins. “What happened?”

“I was cruel,” he says, now wailing into the floor. “They flinched at me. I ruined everything. Again.”

He can’t tell from looking, but he practically feels the weight of understanding fall onto his teammates, a soft ‘ahhh,’ falling from Miya’s lips. He hears the squeak of shoes next to his head, and when his bloody face turns upward to see Miya Atsumu’s calm, non-judgmental features, he cries even harder, his tears mingling with blood as they fall to the floor.

“Go home, Kiyoomi.”

“I can’t. I shouldn’t.”

“Yes, you should,” Hinata interjects. “You need to be there. I don’t know what happened, or what Atsumu did to piss you off, but I know you want to sort this out.”

“I ran here,” Kiyoomi sniffles. His hand instinctively comes to wipe his nose, the taste of blood filling his throat once he’s finally able to see just the sheer amount he’s bleeding.

“YOU RAN HERE?!”

“I had to. I had to go somewhere.”

“I’ll take him home,” Miya sighs, calmly stepping away for a moment to grab his keys and bag. Hinata claps a large, comforting hand on Kiyoomi’s back, his own feet stepping away as Kiyoomi childishly stays on the floor, blood trickling onto his lips and down his chin. He’s gonna have a gash in his head for sure, maybe even a black eye, and he hopes you’re open to taking him to the hospital to get it clean.

The car ride back home is silent, save for the occasional sniffles coming from Kiyoomi and his pinched nose, stuffed with bloody toilet paper. Miya keeps his car surprisingly clean, it smells like pine and citrus and it cuts through the tension and pounding in kiyoomis head from the smell. He doesn’t know when, but Kiyoomi mumbles a soft “I’m sorry” at some point.

Miya chuckles, “you’re having a bad day. We all get those. You ain’t special.” It makes Kiyoomi chuckle softly, for the first time in what feels like days. When the car rolls up to your shared house, kiyoomi shakily gets out of the car, slamming the door closed and leaving Miya to drive off.

“Kiyoomi?”

“What?”

“You come at me like that again, I’ll give you another black eye.”

Kiyoomi chuckles and shakes his head at the blonde, “you’d never even get a shot in.” He rolls his shoulders, sniffles back a little bit more blood, and makes his way inside, shaky hands opening the door and stalking in like a zombie.

When he comes into your view, you’re quick to get on your feet, getting up to fuss over him.

“Fucks sake,” you gasp, cupping his cheeks and inspecting the dried blood over his face. “You leave for two hours and come back beaten up?”

“I fell.” Not really a lie.

“Yeah, don’t care,” you snap, grabbing his wrist and tugging him to the bathroom. “Let me clean you up. Is your nose broken?”

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

You groan and gently grab the bridge of his nose, and he whines and reels his head back petulantly out of pain. “Ow.”

“Yeah. Go to the doctors, Kiyoomi.”

Kiyoomi.

Shit.

“Please come with me?”

He sees you tense up as you grab a wet towel, pausing your movements and taking in a deep breath to calm down, “yeah. Yeah I’ll go.”

“Hold my hand when I’m scared?” He tries to joke.

You don’t laugh. You don’t say anything. You dab the blood from his lips and chin, careful of his nose and the bruising around his eye. “I don’t know where you fell but you’ve got a black eye blooming.”

He tucks his swollen lip into his teeth nervously, “I ran to Miya.”

“Osamu?”

“No. Atsumu.”

Your hand pauses again, “did he hit you?”

“No. He’d never.” Even if he did deserve a smack coming to him.

You roll your eyes and escort him out of the bathroom, “come on. I’ll drive.”

The drive to the hospital is silent.

The waiting room is silent between you both.

Sitting in the doctor’s office is silent, save for the crunching of his nose as his doctor recenters his nose and he whines in pain. You do squeeze his hand through the pain, even if he doesn’t deserve your kindness.

The ride home is silent.

Your walk to your bedroom is silent, and as Kiyoomi sets up a bed on the couch is silent.

The next few days are silent. Kiyoomi can’t play due to his nose, leaving him to merely watch on the sides with a protective splint covering the bone. At home, it’s no better, with you dodging his kisses and affections with no indications you’ll ever want them again.

He wonders, briefly, if this is it. You realize you’re too good for him, worth more than a man who plays volleyball and screams at people, you deserve the stars and moon and you’re not getting it from him.

Between losing you and volleyball, he hopes its punishment enough

He can’t take it anymore. He’s lost the two loves of his life in the span of four hours, over a stupid mistake he made his bed with.

It’s been four days; you haven’t said six words to him, and he doesn’t even bother trying to get affection from you, he knows better than that. But he’s yearning for you, and while he’d never force anything onto you, he just wants to know:

Is there anything worth salvaging? Or is it just an exhaustive task, one he already knows the answer to, and you’re just too kind to tell him in person?

He needs to find out.

“Smells good in here,” he says quietly, looking at you with optimistic eyes. You give him a shrug back and continue to dress the warm bread with garlic and butter. “What’re you making?”

“I… I uhm saw a thing online on how to make bread shaped like a frog,” you say, turning back to it quietly. “Thought it would be fun.”

“It’s cute.”

“Thanks.”

The room is quiet, and when Kiyoomi hesitantly leans in for a kiss, you turn away, not ready for his affections yet.

Maybe ever again.

“I would like to kiss you,” he says, pleadingly.

“I don’t want to kiss you.”

“That’s okay. Can I… can I hug you?”

At the idea of being trapped in his arms, you shake your head, pushing him away and trying to make some distance. He obeys, but as you continue to shove him, he suddenly tries to intervene

“Please, stop,” he chokes, grabbing your hands to still you.

“Stop what?” You ask, even though you know the answer. Your hands do stop shoving him, but you avoid his gaze intently.

He sighs shakily, “I love you. I love you and every part of you. I love when you try to get inside of my skin and take my socks off with your toes. I like when you pick my nose and tickle me because I hate it, I like it when you sniff me, please just love me again.

I was so agitated that day, and that wasn’t your fault, and now I’ve ruined us because I was cruel. But please,” he collapses to his knees and wraps his arms around your legs, “just love me again. You’re safe, and it’s okay. Please.”

You don’t return his emotion, having been hurt by showing it before has made the feeling sour. “Kiyoomi-“

“It’s ‘yoomi. What happened to yoomi, why won’t you call me that anymore?”

“You screamed it out of my vocabulary, in case you forgot,” you snap. He squeezes your legs tighter like a child. “You don’t get to keep doing this. You don’t get to decide one day to snap or tell me know about something I’m doing, then a few days later tell me you miss doing it. For fucks sake, I flinched!” He starts to tremble against your legs. “And now you tell me you want to go back to how it was! You’re out of your mind.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’ll try my hardest to be better for you. A better man. A better boyfriend.”

“There’s almost no way for you to be worse.”

This time, he lets you go and stands up. His eyes are swollen with tears, the dark irises even deeper from the reddening of his scleras. “So, what?” He begins, voice wobbly. “We’re just never going to show affection again? Be in loveless love? Is that my punishment?”

“It’s NOT THAT BLACK AND WHITE!” You yell, losing your composure for the first time that fight. Your hands come down to grip and smack the bread against the counter, ruining it and sending crumbs flying everywhere. You sigh and lazily throw it in the sink in defeat, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. “You sincerely think I wouldnt love nothing more than to wrap MY arms around you, squish your cheeks in MY hands, crawl into YOUR lap and cuddle when you get home? You think I wanted to make bread shaped like a fucking frog for fun? NO! I’m doing it, because YOU told me YOU didn’t want me to DO THOSE THINGS!”

“I was wrong!” He yells back. “I’m sorry!”

“THAT DOESNT MEAN IT WAS STILL OKAY TO DO!”

The room is silent. Too silent. Theres a rattling of dishes that can be heard from your screams of agony, a cabinet creaks and somewhere away, the dryer dings to signal its contents to be done.

Kiyoomi takes a deep inhale in through his nose to keep himself grounded, and you watch with balled fists. “I want you to feel like you have space. You deserve that. But you also need to know you’re endgame for me. You’re the only one I want, the only one who makes me feel excited to wake up in the morning and slip into sleep at night. And if this is it for us, you need to know that you were the greatest thing that ever happened to me.”

You give him a sad, shaky sigh.

“I made a mistake. I made you feel unsafe in your own home. You never deserved that, never deserved that level of cruelty. Do you understand?”

“I think so,” you murmur.

“Do you need me to stay with Bokuto for a few nights?”

“No.”

“Do you need me to sleep on the couch?”

“…no… I don’t think so.”

He tears up at the idea you’re not completely upset with him, enough to sleep next to him in the same house. “What can I do to make you feel more comfortable?” He chews at his swollen lip, “I want to help you be comfortable around me again. Please.”

You gnaw at your lip as you process his words, and with a small shake of your head, you slowly, almost so slowly he doesn’t see it, slink towards him, resting your head on his chest and wrapping your arms around his waist. When his arms loosely slither around your waist, you tighten, but you don’t stop him.

It feels foreign, but so right at the same time. His swirling head is finally stilled. The demons stop their bark as you bury your face in his chest, sniffling softy in the fabric.

“Last time you left,” you begin. “You came home with a black eye from Miya. I’d hate to see what happens if you come home from Bokuto’s.”

“Okay, hold on, it was not from Miya.”

The change in tone has you laughing in his arms, and he tries to keep cool and not immediately pull you into a spine crushing hug that’ll spook you away from him again. He can’t help himself though, from rubbing his face against you and taking inhales of your scent, the shrieking and howling in his mind finally going quiet at the contact of you.

“Kiyoomi?”

“Yeah?”

“You ever talk to me like that again, I’ll give you another black eye.”

He chuckles and does, finally, squeeze you tighter, “I don’t blame you for a second.”

#WHEEEEEEEEEEEE #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi angst #sakusa kiyoomi fluff #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x gn!reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader angst #sakusa kiyoomi x reader fluff #sakusa kiyoomi imagine #sakusa kiyoomi haikyuu #sakusa #sakuss fluff #sakusa angst #sakusa x reader #sakusa x reader fluff #sakusa x reader angst #sakusa x gn!reader #sakusa imagine #sakusa haikyuu #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x gn!reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x yn #haikyuu x y/n #angst to comfort #angst to fluff

[box-of-roses]

'*•.¸♡ Machine Heart♡¸.•*'

Characters: Sakusa, Y/N

Synopsis: Sakusa is going to learn why you don’t take things for granted in the most brutal way possible

Warnings: Vomiting, Blood, CHARACTER DEATH, Crying, Regret

Words: 2k

A/N: I was listening to music and found this song. It really sets the vibes if you listen while you read

Valentine’s Day. How funny it all sounded to you now. You’ve been with the same person for five years. The first year was wonderful, he got you a bouquet of flowers and wrote you a wonderful heartfelt letter. The second year was okay, he still gave you flowers but ones you had already told him made your nose itchy. The third year is when it started going downhill and going fast. He worked, you can’t be too mad at him for doing his job…but he forgot. He had forgotten a lot that year. Your birthday, your anniversary. He hadn’t forgotten his teammates' birthdays. He hadn’t forgotten the anniversary of joining his team. He had forgotten you though.

The fourth year is when you started getting angry. Your lovesick eyes scanning the posts from friends of their significant others. The rings gleaming around their fingers. Why couldn’t he care again? What made him stop caring? You made a dinner and waited up for him to get home. When you awoke the next morning though you found his shoes by the door, the bedroom door closed and yourself still asleep at the table. Food ice cold and candles gone out. Light coming from the bathroom along with the sounds of running water.

The fifth year was when you started rethinking everything. You hadn’t prepared anything this year, too tired of being cast aside. So what if the flame of his love went out? You still had someone. It was when he posted a message for his friends telling them Happy Valentine’s Day. He couldn’t do something that simple for you? You started thinking of what you had done.

Your eyes kept staring at the simple post. Photos of him smiling with his friends. Telling them he cares about them even though he doesn’t say it much. That he didn’t know where he’d be without them and that he couldn’t live without them. You didn’t want to be upset at his friends. You’re not entirely sure that you existed. There weren’t any posts of you with him on either social media account.

He decided early in the relationship that it would be better if the public didn’t know. You just didn’t realize that also meant his friends. His family. You felt like you had wasted five years of your life. You couldn’t stop loving him though. He was still the light of your life. Even if you weren’t the light of his. That’s when you felt a tickle at the back of your throat.

You grabbed a glass of water and took a few sips. That didn’t help, it was a grainy feeling like you were swallowing sand. You rushed to the bathroom as the feeling went up your throat. Making it just in time you leaned over the toilet. As your body heaved flower petals came out of your mouth. So did blood. You had heard about this before. Hanahaki. You were going to die. You had been trying for years to get Sakusa to love you again. This was just the final nail in the coffin. Ha, coffin. You’d be in one of those soon.

Your body heaved again. More petals filled up the water. Blood splattered against the sides of the pristine white seat and walls. You knew you were going to have to clean it up before Sakusa got home. You wondered to yourself when he had become Sakusa again. When did he stop being Kiyoomi? Was he ever really anything other than Sakusa to you? More petals fell out of your mouth. It was getting hard to breathe and your vision went black.

You’re awoken again by the door opening. Your eyes fluttered to life. He was finally home. On Valentine’s Day. The day you realized you weren’t going to be alive for much longer. What a sick joke everything seemed to be. You flushed the toilet and began to clean up the mess you made. You heard a knock at the door. Checking your appearance in the mirror you took a paper towel and wiped away at the blood coating your lips and edges of your mouth. Opening the door you’re met with the man who caused this demise.

“I’m going out with my friends tonight. I trust you’ll be safe while I’m gone.” You nodded.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Go have fun with your friends!”

“I wasn’t asking permission. I just found out you were home and didn’t want to be questioned first thing after stepping through the door.” He turned around and you closed the door. Maybe this was for the best. He talked to you so coldly that you actually shivered. You didn’t want to just give up on life but you didn’t want to subject anyone else to your problems. Perhaps any proof of your existence was already wiped from the house.

There was one photo of the two of you in your bedroom. Not his bedroom. Your bedroom. You had been okay with having separate rooms in the beginning. You had a lot of things and so did he. What was so bad about having separate spaces and spaces where you were able to be together. Except you were never together anymore. There wasn’t a shared space. The house might as well be yours because of how little he was there.

You knew he wouldn’t be there often. I mean he had away games all the time before you moved in together. But it was different. You felt your eyes well up with tears as you reminisced about the past. At how sweet he used to be. The apartment seemed much colder than it had been before he came home. You didn’t dare leave your bathroom though. You didn’t want to run into him. He was about to go out and seeing you would ruin his day.

The pricking in your throat started again. At this rate you were going to be dead before the day's end. It was harder to breathe than before. You rushed to sit back down. You didn’t want to hurt yourself more than you were already. You should have left him. Maybe this wouldn’t have happened. But, you couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him no matter how much it hurt to stay. It hurt more to think about leaving. As flowers came out of your mouth you wondered who would be at your funeral. Tears ran down your face as you realized he would show up. But maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he would pretend he didn’t know you.

What was he going to do when he found your body. It would be limp and grey, blood lost and flowers around your lips. They began sticking as the blood dried. You wondered if the flowers at your funeral would be the same ones you were currently choking on. This disease is poetic in a way. Love and flowers were both beautiful if taken care of properly. Love could sprout and blossom and cause more things to grow. Love could also hurt. It could grow thorns and you could bleed and choke and cry. Love could be just as deadly as it is life giving.

You knew that the next part was the thorns. The stems and sharp edges scraping your throat as they would come up. You couldn’t stop crying. Why you? What had you done to deserve this besides being unloved. Is it really your fault that he didn’t love you anymore. You felt it was unfair. Why didn’t he throw up flowers? Why couldn’t he feel what you were feeling? You were back to anger. The tears were hot as they rolled down your cheeks.

You picked up one of the flower blossoms. They were beautiful. Blue. White in the center. The disturbing factor was the blood that got caught in the folds and tears of the petals. The way it dripped onto your hand. The contrast of the blue and red. It made you think of the contrast between the two of you. Your vision started going in and out again. You grabbed the water you brought with you and drank more of it.

You tried to clean yourself up as you picked yourself off the floor. You looked terrible already. Because you knew what was going to end you left the bathroom and picked up your phone. The object that started this mess.

That observation wasn’t fair to your phone. It wasn’t the phone’s fault he didn’t love you anymore. You wrote messages to your parents and friends wishing them well. You set it up to send in a couple of hours. With how quickly this was developing you figured you’d be gone by then. Funny. The universe didn’t even try to give you a chance to fix this. It had as little faith in someone loving you as you did yourself. Your eyes no longer welled up with tears. You were coming to terms with what was going to happen. You wrote your last note and went back to the bathroom.

The letter was sat by the door. On the little table where you put your keys. You silently secluded yourself as you felt your lungs fill up with flowers that wouldn’t come out.

It was a few hours later when Sakusa finally returned home. As he set his keys down he noticed a note. He picked it up and began reading it.

‘I’m not doing this to make you feel guilty. I would like my funeral to be a small affair. Please let my family know this wasn’t their fault. I loved you. I’m sorry I wasn’t enough for you, you’ll find me in the bathroom. I wanted the least amount of mess cleanup for you because I know you hate blood. Thank you for caring about me in the beginning. I love you, take care of yourself.’

The paper fell through his fingers. What did you mean he would find you in the bathroom? His feet carried them to your bathroom. He was scared to open the door. When he did his fears came true. There you were flowers growing out of your mouth. Blood plastered around your mouth. And skin, your skin was grey and you laid there lifeless.

What had he done. He could have prevented this if he continued loving you. He should’ve continued loving you. He does love you. He loves you now that he can’t have you. He misses the things you would do for him. He misses you.

He sits in the bathroom for hours. Just holding your hand. Wishing he realized this would happen. He feels so stupid for requesting the things he did. He regrets not showing you off when he could. He regrets not loving you like he should. He wishes he could kiss you and you would wake up. He wishes he could wake up and that it was a dream.

He wishes he could love you like he used to. He doesn’t know how long it’s been when he hears a knock at the door. His stomach growls and his throat feels dry. His eyes are red and puffy as he swings the door open. Atsumu is standing there. He hadn’t heard from his friend for two days. Seeing his state he comes in and hugs him.

Sakusa pushes him off. “It’s my fault. I’m the reason they’re dead.”

“Who’s dead Omi?”

“Y/N.” Atsumu doesn’t ask who that is, he can tell that Sakusa cared for you. He’s curious why he had never heard of you before. He doesn’t want to push him right now though. They sit there for the rest of the night. In the couch in your home, surrounded by the things that reminded him of you. Atsumu only gets up to make them food. Considering Sakusa’s state he figured he hasn’t eaten. He wishes he could do more.

Sakusa tells him not to go into the bathroom in the master bedroom. Atsumu doesn’t ask why. Atsumu just hugs him and lets him cry.

I hope you guys enjoyed! I got this request and thought it was perfect to post for Valentine’s Day. My askbox is open if you want to send in a request. Like this was, you can find that here. If you liked this consider checking out my other works! Love you guys!!! <3

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated

Masterlist

#hq x reader #haikyu x reader #shroom writes #haikyuu angst #sakusa x y/n #sakusa x you #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa imagines #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #haikyuu sakusa #hq sakusa #sakusa angst #sakusa kiyoomi angst

[noosayog]

wc: 500

warnings/content: denial of feelings, angst

part 2. directory here.

--

For as long as Sakusa has known you, you've always been a mainstay in his place. You were there when you wanted to watch a movie, when you wanted to nap, and when you wanted to eat with someone. At one point, he even thought of you as a nuisance with how often you overstay your welcome. After a couple weeks of macro-dosing you, he has come to like you and didn't mind you being there. So much so that he gave you a spare key. 

The morning after, Sakusa regretted it. He has always seen you as a friend, close enough to be siblings. It must have been the alcohol rushing through his veins, clouding up his judgment. Surely, you were the same. Surely, your confession was an outcome of being swept away by the fleeting tension from dancing together the night before. He thought it only natural that you both return to your prior state of relationship after the talk. 

He wasn't expecting you to ignore all his calls and texts and stop showing up at his place. He noticed that you took your toiletries, extra clothes, and toothbrush home. You even went as far as to avoid group-setting hangouts to just to avoid him. 

After a couple weeks of this going on, he’s suffering from withdrawals; he doesn’t think he’s ever gone this long without you just showing up somewhere - his house, the coffee shop beneath his apartment, his practice to pick him up. By chance, he learns from Hinata that you would be at a dinner tonight and he was looking forward to seeing you and talking to you. He arrives at dinner early and bounces his leg anxiously, ignoring Hinata chattering away on his right. He lays his jacket on the empty chair next to him, to reserve the spot that has always belonged to you. 

But when you walk in with Atsumu hovering by your side, he doesn’t know what to think. You don’t look at him and slide into the booth as far as possible, Atsumu still glued to your side. 

“Is this seat taken? Iwaizumi asks him. 

Sakusa glances at you, but you seem to be engrossed in conversation with Atsumu. Reluctantly, he shakes his head and pulls his jacket off the chair. When Iwaizumi sits down, Sakusa slides down in his seat, arms crossed over his chests in a sulk. 

Dinner is fine. It really is. You brush off Atsumu’s flirting and you even speak to him a couple of times. You address him when everyone’s browsing the menu and then when deciding on dessert. 

“Kiyoomi, what are you thinking of having?” you ask. 

“Atsumu, what about you?” you also ask. 

Dinner was fine, Sakusa wasn’t lying. It’s just that you were calling him Kiyoomi instead of Omi, sitting by Atsumu’s side instead of his own, and treating him like he was everyone else. He hadn’t realized how easy you’ve always made it for him: that you were always the one showing up, holding conversation, initiating casual touch. It’s only now when Sakusa's on equal ground with everyone else, does he realize how special he was to you. 

And how special you were- are- to him.

#noos writes #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu angst #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you #hq imagines #hq angst #hq x y/n #hq x reader #hq x you #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa angst #sakusa kiyoomi angst #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x you #sakusa x reader #sakusa x y/n #sakusa x you #sakusa hcs

[jinchuls]

𝒯𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒾𝓈 𝓂𝓎 𝒮𝑜𝓁𝑒𝓂𝓃 𝒱𝑜𝓌 ₊˚✩

ᡣ𐭩 prince!sakusa kiyoomi x princess!reader

about 𝜗𝜚 a childhood of bliss, a youth of love and a future seemingly dim. what happened to the man that left? and what’s to happen to you now you’re tossed into a loveless marriage with the man that once held your heart?

content 𝜗𝜚 sfw, childhood friends -> lovers -> strangers -> lovers, slow(ish) burn - each chap will have any relevant warnings so please be careful!

notes 𝜗𝜚 REPOSTED & REWRITTEN, the series of many blog ago (the og ukaishin) that never left my mind and i will finish it this time (been working on it slowly for a while now teehee)

divider by @/cafekitsune

𝘼𝘾𝙏 𝙊𝙉𝙀

in sickness and in health (5.3k - link to previous blog)

you are a princess, first and foremost (4.1k)

tba…

#𝓈𝒾𝑔𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝑒𝒸𝒽𝑜 ༉‧₊˚. #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi angst #sakusa kiyoomi fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff

[mavrintarou]

Wipe Your Eyes [7- end]

Thank you for your patience and support, and thank you for hanging on to this ship. Here is the last part of Wipe Your Eyes, I hope you all enjoy.

Warning: heart warming fluff and some steamy pregnancy sex

Sixth part

Y/n watched in silence as Kiyoomi folded and hung the newly washed baby outfits their baby boy received during the baby shower. Kiyoomi insists on taking charge of it, leaving her to sit idly in the comfortable glider watching while rubbing her belly.

At almost eight months, they were both as ready as they could be for the arrival of their little one.

Y/n observed her husband and noticed how his curls had grown past his ears and spiraled in various directions, giving him a captivating rockstar vibe. Kiyoomi had always been incredibly handsome and sexy in her eyes, but something about him lately made her adore her husband more than ever. 

A few weeks ago, she had walked past him in the living room, engrossed in the second book of Dad’s Guide to Pregnancy. Y/n suddenly halted in her tracks, eyes narrowed as she noticed something different about him; when she discovered it, her eyes widened. “When did… you get glasses?”

“I went to the eye doctor the other day, and they said my vision has slightly changed and prescribed me some glasses.”

Y/n’s heart pounded against her chest, feeling her teenage crush fantasy come true seeing Kiyoomi wearing black square-rim glasses that added an extra touch of sophistication to his already captivating presence. His curls add an extra touch to his new glasses.

She blamed the pregnancy hormones that made her pounce on him.

Kiyoomi chuckled, after he read in the book that a pregnant woman’s libido increases during pregnancy, he was prepared and ready to serve. He found her most adorable when she needed him but was too embarrassed to ask but he picked up on her cues. She would look at him with a longing gaze and blush profusely as if she just had a naughty image of him in her mind.

He patted his thigh, setting his book aside, “come here.” With just a month remaining until their little one arrived, Kiyoomi found her lovely waddling over. She used to be shy sitting on his lap but now, she would climb and straddle his lap.

His hand rubbed her bulging belly and immediately he felt a movement from within. Kiyoomi’s excitement is becoming increasingly difficult to suppress; it has evolved into a daily ritual for him to tenderly stroke and converse with his unborn child, both in the morning and at night. The sheer joy and anticipation coursing through him were poised to overflow as the countdown to their due date drew nearer.

Kiyoomi slid his hands underneath her shirt and pulled it off. Y/n had become self-conscious of the stretch marks and discolored skin of her belly but he was always assuring to kiss those thoughts away. His fingers quickly unclasped the clips of her bra, freeing her engorged breasts that had been showing signs of leaking.

He tugged his shirt off, tossing it along with her clothing, he absolutely loved being skin to skin, having her belly pressed against his front side.

“I need you now, Omi,” she whispered breathlessly and needy, rocking her hips against his growing bulge. She didn’t like how she would have random spurts of moments where she was horny and needed him right there and then.

“Yes, love,” he cooed, shifting her onto her back on the couch. They have been friskier lately, Kiyoomi has been making love to her almost anywhere and everywhere. In the shower, in the kitchen, and in the bathroom. Once, they almost made love in his car until they were interrupted by the car beside them.

Kiyoomi tugs off her bottom sleepwear pants, dropping them on the ground. His fingers grazed her soaked folds and groaned, “you’re so wet already…”

“For you, just for you,” she murmured, “please…” she widened her legs.

His fingers slipped easily inside of her and curled against her tight walls before he pumps them in and out of her pussy. “You’re becoming greedy, three fingers aren’t enough for you now.” His thumb pressed and circled her clit. Her walls soon squeezed his three fingers and he chuckled, he wants her pussy to squeeze his cock instead.

His joggers are tugged low enough to free his cock before he gripped one of her legs and aligned himself and thrust inside. His hips rocked slowly, intentionally driving her mad until she begged him.

“Faster, Omi… faster.”

Kiyoomi enjoyed having the upper hand at the moment since she was limited to positions with her large belly. The doctor suggested only positions that would not strain her or the baby, which meant that he could only make love to his wife from behind or on her back. Recently, Y/n has been complaining about being on her back so he has been finding ways to satisfy her from behind. She was so sensitive that even a shift of angle or lifting one leg had her trembling at his mercy. His hand caressed her belly, a sense of pride surging through him as he recalled the last ultrasound appointment, the nurse announced their baby was most likely going to be tall when they did a quick estimate of his size.

He slipped his cock out and tugged her upright, “turn around and hold onto the couch then.” He shifted behind her and slipped himself back inside of her. He fastened his thrusts, pounding into her with more speed and depth.

“Omi,” Y/n moaned his name repeatedly, “I’m – I’m so close….”

“Wait for me,” he whispered hoarsely. He hovers over her, rutting into her as he reaches to grope her breasts, tweaking her perky nipples. “Wait for me,” he repeated again.

“Omi – Omi… oh Omi,” she chanted as her orgasm erupted.

Kiyoomi thrust one final time, jerking with each spurt of his ejaculation. He pulled out and reached for a napkin to catch the spilled seed. After wiping her down, she collapsed against the couch. He hovered over her before kissing her, “are you satisfied, Mrs. Sakusa?”

She cupped his face, kissing him a little bit longer. “Are you?” she reached and wrapped her hand around his semi-hard cock. At her touch, he felt a jolt within him, and his cock began to harden. “Are you satisfied, Mr. Sakusa?” Her eyes linger on him and she smiles, “I love the glasses on you.”

.

Kiyoomi continued to go to therapy until it was appropriate for the both of them to go to one session. Dr. Kitagowa coached and approached them on how to have healthy communication that meets each other’s needs, thoughts, beliefs, and feelings.

Each time they returned home, Kiyoomi and Y/n would have a discussion and address their past mistakes and how they would approach the situation with what they learned.

Their marriage is steadily getting better with each passing day. Ultimately, they both admitted that they wanted their marriage to work for their baby and each other.

“I can’t live without you,” Kiyoomi whispered one night. “The thoughts scare me and I don’t even want to know.”

Y/n snuggled closer into his embrace, “me too, Kiyoomi. Me too.” It was a few minutes of silence before she called his name, he hummed quietly and she pulled away to lift herself onto her elbow. “I have something to tell you.” His brows furrowed and she reached to smooth it, “it is nothing bad, but I initially reached out to Genesis Publishing to decline their offer because I didn’t want to leave you or Japan. No matter how great the compensation was, it didn’t outweigh the importance of staying here with you. However, they’ve now come back with an alternative proposal: I can continue to stay in Japan, with the only requirement being that I visit the corporate office quarterly for a week's stay. What are your thoughts? Do you think I should accept this revised offer?”

Kiyoomi propped himself up on his elbow, and she could discern the multitude of questions swirling within his mind, leaving him uncertain about where to begin.

“Go ahead, ask me anything,” she assured, placing a hand against his cheek, rubbing her thumb against his cheekbone.

His eyes shut for a brief moment before opening them again, “I’m still processing what you just said but I feel relieved about their new proposal.” He reached to rest a hand on her belly, “if it is something you want, you should take it. I’ll support your decision regardless of what you decide.” He gazed into her eyes before promising, “but if you accept, you will just have to take baby and me with you because… we’re a family.”

Y/n giggled and leaned to kiss him, “yes, we’re a family and yes, you two will come with me because a week without you two will be too long.”

.

Kiyoomi cherished every aspect of Y/n’s pregnant body, appreciating its beauty and the transformative journey it represented. In what felt like the blink of an eye, her body underwent remarkable changes, with the roundness of her belly expanding seemingly overnight. 

Kiyoomi made an effort every night to rub lotion around her expanding belly and body in general. Though he tried to conceal his laughter, he found her extremely adorable when she struggled to reach her toes or below her knees.

Having reached a new level of patience as a husband to a pregnant wife, Kiyoomi faced a situation where Y/n was taking longer than expected to get ready for her birthing class. Taking a deep breath, he called out to her from the living room in a gentle tone, “is everything okay?”

Instead of her usual “yes,” Kiyoomi was taken aback as he heard Y/n’s quiet voice utter, “no.”

He found her lying on her back, her legs hanging off the edge of the bed with both her sneakers on but shoelaces undone. She looked up at him with tears flowing down her cheeks and a pout on her lips. “I… I can’t tie my shoes.”

Kiyoomi’s lips trembled as he tried to contain his laughter. He stepped forward and knelt on a knee, taking one ankle at a time and setting it on his lap as he tied her shoelace. “I’m here for you, Y/n. I’ll tie your shoes for you – you just need to ask, okay?” He reached up to wipe her tears away.

“Okay,” she answered meekly.

.

“What’s wrong?” he murmured, tightening his arm around her belly. “You’ve been moving more than usual.”

Because of Kiyoomi’s extreme sensitivity to sleep, feeling every movement or noise, Y/n had tried her hardest to not shift so much while being his arm but she was not able to find a comfortable position.

Now that he was awake, she shuffled until she faced him, their bellies pressed up against each other.

“Ask your son that, he’s active at this time.” To make her point valid, the baby kicked or punched right into Kiyoomi’s guts making him flinch. “Apparently he thinks it’s play time.”

Chuckling Kiyoomi reached and turned on his night lamp and rubbed Y/n’s naked belly, “hey you,” he earned another movement, “why are you up this early?”

“I think he’s said he’s up because daddy forgot to give him a belly rub with lotion.”

Kiyoomi raised a brow before realizing he did indeed forget his nightly routine. “Well then,” he reached for the bottle of lotion and squeezed some on his hands before rubbing it all around her belly. He leaned down and murmured, “daddy is sorry he forgot.”

.

Y/n has been watching her husband for the past hour sitting in the glider in the corner of the hospital room rocking his daughter against his chest. His shirt is off as he shares a skin-to-skin intimate bond with her.

“I can’t believe, he is a girl.” Y/n burst out giggling.

Almost seven hours ago, she gave birth to their son who came out as a girl.

She just remembered that Kiyoomi did not dare watch the birthing process, especially after the classes they took, he begged and apologized to her in advance that he did not have the heart to be down south when the time came. He stayed up north with her the entire time, holding her hand and being her biggest supporter.

“Congratulations!” The midwife announced holding the screaming infant. “He is…” she paused, “a… girl?”

Y/n and Kiyoomi exchanged a shocked expression that mirrored each other perfectly.

“Boy or girl, it doesn’t matter to me,” Kiyoomi answered pressing a light kiss to the top of his daughter’s head. She was so tiny in his arms.

 Y/n had a deep suspicion that Kiyoomi had desired a daughter in secret, yet he was equally content with their son during the gender reveal. She could observe how his entire world transformed as he gazed at their daughter with the same adoration he reserved for her.

.

Y/n did not find her husband or daughter in their usual spot on the couch and checked her nursery, also finding it empty.

She slowly opened the door to their bedroom and exhaled softly seeing them both sleeping on the large bed.

Kiyoka, now nine months old, had been successfully transitioned to her own room a few weeks ago. Y/n had anticipated it would be challenging for her to sleep without their daughter, given the months they spent sharing a room. Surprisingly, Y/n took it well, but Kiyoomi found the transition difficult. It was no surprise, as Kiyoka used to sleep on Kiyoomi’s side of the bed when she was in the same room, making it easier for him to tend to her during the night.

Though he does not voice it, Y/n was aware of him getting up almost every hour in the night to check on his daughter before coming back to bed and pulling Y/n close.

“She’s fine, we have a baby monitor, remember?”

“Just want to make sure she’s not cold,” he mumbles, “what if she misses us?”

Y/n groan, “Omi, she’ll be fine. We’ll go get her when she wakes up.”

Every morning, Y/n is woken up by her daughter and husband, “good morning mommy!”

Y/n changes her clothes and gently crawls into bed. Kiyoomi opens one eye and quietly motions for Y/n to come closer so he can wrap his arm around her. “You’re back?”

“Hmm, I missed you two,” she answered, pressing a faint kiss on her daughter’s curls and a kiss on his lips.

Kiyoka inherited her father’s curls, the moment she was delivered and had her first bath, her mop of hair was in different directions, just like her father’s in the morning after a night shower.

“We missed you too,” he murmured, “we had an eventful day.”

“Oh, how so?”

“Kiyo, had a poopy diaper explosion today.” Y/n’s eyes widen, she’s heard of horrific stories but has yet to experience an episode, and the one time, it happens without her there. Even though Kiyoomi handles Kiyoka’s poopy diapers like a pro, she can truly tell how he felt deep down.

As a joke, Kiyoomi’s friends, Atsumu, Kotaro, and Hinata got him a hazard suit as a gift during the baby shower. It is still in its original packaging in the closet. “I just threw her entire outfit away,” he paused, “and her toys… and the entire playpen.”

“Kiyoomi!”

.

Kiyoomi’s fists are in the air as he successfully earns the winning point for the team. He turned around and looked at the crowd, instantly spotting his wife and daughter cheering for him.

It’s the radiance and pride beaming from his wife’s face that fuels him every day. As for their nearly one-year-old daughter, she appears oblivious amidst the jubilant clapping and cheering from everyone celebrating the MSBY Black Jackals’ victory.

“Daddy Kiyoomi, where are you?”

He pushed through the crowd, excusing himself as he could spot the curly mop head of his daughter.

She is the first to spot her daddy and excitedly reaches for him when he is close enough. Plucking her out of her mother’s arms, Kiyoomi smothers her with kisses.

“Good job, Omi,” Y/n congratulated, pushing herself onto her tippy toes to press a kiss to his lips. “You deserve a reward later.”

Kiyoomi hums in agreement and affectionately drapes an arm around her shoulder, “I look forward to it,” he replies.

EXTRA:

Kiyoka ran around, laughing her heart out chasing the other toddlers her age.

“He so cute,” the mom beside Y/n commented, Y/n tilted her head with a genuinely confused raised brow. “Your son,” the mom quickly added, she pointed to the child Kiyoka was playing with. “That’s my daughter, Haruka.”

Y/n cast a glance at the two children, realizing that the other mom had mistaken Kiyoka for a boy. It was an understandable mistake given that Kiyoka was dressed in a matching track outfit and sneakers, which emphasized her sporty appearance more than her gender.

From infancy to her first year, Kiyoka’s hair growth had slowed down, resulting in a bob of curls that resembled her father’s current hairstyle. There was no denying that she was a splitting image of Kiyoomi, except for the absence of his two beauty marks. He even got her matching masks that she would wear when they ventured out in public together.

Y/n smiled, containing her giggles. “That’s actually my daughter, we were told she was a boy but… that wasn’t the case when she came out. She received a ton of clothes at her baby shower and I’m putting them to use.”

Later that night after Kiyoomi tucked his daughter to bed, Y/n told him about their day at the playground.

“We should consider updating her wardrobe,” Kiyoomi suggested. He had been the sole buyer of girl’s clothing for their daughter, but as soon as she learned to express her preferences for outfits, the dresses he had purchased began to accumulate, untouched in her closet, as she favored different attire instead.

Y/n was aware that he felt disheartened because their daughter showed no interest in wearing the clothing items he had bought for her. From the frilly dress to the pink and purple unicorn t-shirt, Kiyoka preferred to wear the black t-shirt like her dad’s, the one with the same “MSBY BLACK JACKALS” lettering. Y/n found herself having to buy more of those toddler shirts because her daughter insisted on wearing the same one every single day.

“Omi, love,” Y/n couldn’t contain her chuckle, she leaned to kiss the pout away. “You have to realize how much she adores you. Just look at the way she gazes at you; she wants to be just like you.”

Most days, Y/n’s heart swells up with affection when she witnesses their daughter imitating her father. There was a particular instance when Y/n and Kiyoka brought lunch to Kiyoomi’s practice. As he observed his teammates on the court, Kiyoka stood by her daddy, mirroring his posture with arms crossed and legs spread apart.

Y/n was able to snap a photo of the two, making it her lock screen image.

“So…” his expression shifted as if sudden realization had struck him. “It’s my fault?” Guilt was evident on his face.

Y/n burst out laughing and pulling him into a tight hug. “No, love, it’s no one’s fault. You are her idol, she just wants to like you and dress like you. She is still young, just let her be.”

“Do you really mean it… you think I’m her idol?”

Nodding her head, Y/n pecked his lips twice, “yes, I might have carried her for nine months and birth her, but you are by far her favorite.”

. . .

E/n: Can you imagine, rock star hair looking Kiyoomi with glasses? #nosebleed

@pierroswife @queenelleee @eadyladlegard @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy @chickflickjunkie @saikisho3 @sunawayx @vicolangelo @tsumu-senpai @famebydefinition @imnotjo @jojowantstocry @levistiddies @ushygushybaby @gina239 @qualitygiantshoepsychic

#haikyuu smut #haikyu x reader #sakusa smut #haikyuu sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi smut #sakusa x reader #sakusa fluff #sakusa kiyoomi fluff #sakusa kiyoomi x y/n #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa angst #sakusa kiyoomi angst

[irisintheafterglow]

Need (college au!sakusa x you)

summary: passion is a passing thing, accidental chemistry. it's not what you two are at all. (or, you get wasted at a party and the only thing in your mind is him)

wc: 2.28k

cw/tags: childhood best friends to strangers to lovers, angst/fluff with a happy ending, mentions of drinking and parties including being drunk and vomiting, pet name (gorgeous), a tasteful amount of self-loathing (if you can call it that, it's just angst), swearing/explicit language, mutual pining

note: taylor swift lyric title cuz yk it's a signature at this point. also i was throwing around this idea with either suguru or bakugo but i could not get omi out of my mind for the life of me. hope you enjoy!

likes, reblogs, and feedback are always appreciated!

“Hello?”

“Remedy.” The silence from the other end of the phone is so suffocating, you think he hung up. The thought sends another wave of emotion rolling through your body and you’re shaking, again, in the corner wedged between the toilet and the bathtub. 

“What?” His voice is strained but just as smooth and low as you remember. Your empty chest aches even more. 

“Remedy,” you plead, head spinning from the fluorescent lights of the bathroom. “Remedy, remedy, remedy, remedy, remedy.” It’s the only thing you can repeat at this point, too overwhelmed to think of anything else. Everything was distorted and hazy, like your eyes were looking into two differently-patterned kaleidoscopes. His voice is the only thing keeping you grounded, at this point. 

“Where?”

“Party on 18th and 40th, in the bathroom. Can’t miss it,” you relay, incredibly ashamed at how easily your words slur together. He hangs up abruptly and your phone clatters into the mystery-stained bathtub. Disgraceful. The whole situation was embarrassing beyond belief–calling your childhood best friend turned stranger to tell him that you got wasted and the only thing you could think about was him. Part of you hoped he wouldn’t show up, hoped that he would confirm the theory in your mind that he hated you now. Minutes felt like ages while you continued to occasionally dry heave into the toilet and grimace through the blinding pounding in your forehead. He’s not coming, you realize as you try to stand on gelatinous legs. And why would he? He doesn’t know you anymore and you don’t know him. He’d never be found in a place like this, anyway. 

Or, so you thought. 

The bathroom door is shut with a forceful kick below the handle. “Easy, easy,” he cautions, grabbing your forearms to support you. Every nerve in your body can feel where his palms meet your skin and it’s intoxicating, more than anything already in your system; any fearful paranoia riddling your body dissipates when you register his presence. The sound of his voice murmuring your name floats into your ears like a drug and your knees give out at the sudden feeling of safety. He delicately sits you on the marble of the sink, careful to make sure you don’t lose your balance as he scans your face and body. Standing between your legs like this, he was in closer proximity to you than he had been in years. You’d forgotten how handsome he was in person, drastically different from the faded image you tried to retain in your mind. 

“Hi, Omi,” you drawl dopily, tilting your head to the side and smiling. He can’t help huffing out an incredulous laugh at your mood switch. 

“Hey, gorgeous. Are you hurt?” You slowly shake your head from side to side and he nods, eyebrows still drawn in concern. Even in your intoxicated state, you can tell how flustered he is because he seems to have no idea where to put his hands. They take turns disappearing as he crosses his arms, muscle flexing under his jacket, and then uncrosses them. He settles for putting them on either side of yours, gripping the edge of the counter. “Wanna tell me why you’re shitfaced in a frat house?” You hum in thought, rotating your neck carefreely and your face starts to burn as his fingers gently pull your chin back to face him. 

“Went with the roomies.”

“The same ones from first year?” You nod, your vision slightly starry. “They’re not good for you, idiot.”

“Oh, you think I don’t know that?” The corner of his lip turns down into a frown at your sudden attitude. “Where the fuck else am I gonna live?” His body abruptly pulls away like he was offended. He starts to make his way back to the door and another wave of dread sinks into your gut.

“Look, if you’re gonna make me come all the way over here just to–”

“He looked like you.” It makes his voice halt in his throat, your words. His hand is frozen as it hovers above the handle and he looks at you over his shoulder. Your face falls a little further, voice unsteady. “He didn’t act like you, though.” He stiffens like he wants to say something, but his jaw stays clenched while he takes you back into his arms and drapes his jacket over your exposed shoulders before guiding you out of the house. The warmth from his jacket and the lingering smell of his cologne continue to help ground you back into the present. While you’re navigating the raging crowd to the exit, he’s careful to stay as close to you as possible without hindering your movement, glaring daggers into any guy that approaches. It felt like a fever dream, having Omi at a party with you when he’d sworn off these kinds of scenes for as long as you’d known him. 

“I’m not that interested in slowly annihilating my liver. Probably isn’t good for Olympic prospects,” is what he said when you asked him if he was going to party in college. The sun was dipping below the neighborhood’s houses while you sat together on the roof of Omi’s, a tradition you picked up starting in middle school. It made your heart hurt a little bit, whenever he talked about going pro in volleyball. You noticed the change over the course of high school, how he canceled plans for a last-minute training camp or stayed so long after practice that you would just walk yourself home. You knew it made him happy and fulfilled the hunger of his competitive side, but it was still saddening to watch your best friend slip away little by little. “Why? Are you going to ragers every weekend?” You scoff and roll your eyes, taking another sip from your soda to avoid answering the question. Still, he’s watching you; you can tell from the corner of your vision and you shrug. 

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll try one just to get grossed out by it and then never do it again.” He gives you a rare chuckle, breathy and low. His smiles and his laughs, however stingy he was with them, were just as beautiful as the rest of him. It made your chest ache even more. 

“Well, in the event that you’re so wasted you can’t see straight, call me.” Your first instinct is to laugh but you fight down the urge when you see the thoughtful expression on his face. “I’ll come get you and make sure you’re not with some douchebag.”

“Mmm, my hero,” you tease and he gives you a lightheartedly annoyed look. “What if you’re, I don’t know, in practice or something?”

“We can have a code word.”

“A code word?”

“Yeah, so that I know if it’s really important.”

“You wouldn’t get me if you didn’t think it was important?” It’s supposed to be a joke, but something shifts in your expression that makes you feel guilty for asking something so unlike him. 

“I’ll get you every time, no questions asked.” 

True to his word, he didn’t end up asking a lot of questions. When you were through the front door, his hand covered the top edge as you ducked into the passenger seat of his car. You still felt like you were in a daze while he drove, leaning your head against the window and staring off at the passing streaks of yellow and white. The quiet between you two was stifling, nothing like the late-night drives you made him take you on when neither of you could sleep. It was unsettlingly cold and you pulled his jacket tighter around your body, sinking further into the leather seats. 

“I’m not taking you back to your dorm,” he states blandly. Tension riddled his body ever since he found you in the bathroom and all you wanted was for him to relax. How could he, though, if you were on the verge of vomiting again in his car? 

“I know.” It’s all you can muster out of the pure shame covering your body like a rash. You trusted him and knew where he was going, but it still didn’t give you relief. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know you are. You couldn’t get one of your friends to take you home?” His voice and expression are both unreadable, intentionally blank to not give away his inner thoughts. There it is, you think. There’s the loathing he feels toward you for being another weight on his back. You’re careful with your words and they barely come out as a whisper. 

“I didn’t want them.” His attention flicks to you for a moment, like he doubted the sincerity of your answer. His eyebrows raise in mirthless disbelief.

“But you wanted me?”

“I needed you.” He shakes his head; he didn’t believe you.

“There’s a difference.”

“Not to me.” 

The shame continues to rise around your body like water and you’re sinking in it, struggling to breathe while emotions threaten to spill from bloodshot eyes. But, even more, the shame is distorted by an unshakeable feeling of confusion. You didn’t know how he felt about you, nor did you really understand how you felt about him. The last time you spoke was months ago and yet you let go in his presence as if nothing had changed. It was driving you out of your mind, not knowing what he was thinking. The feeling stays stagnant in your body even after you shower at his apartment, in his bathroom with his body wash. He leaves one of his old jerseys for you to wear, saying his bed is yours for the night. Everything smelled like him, familiar and nostalgic. Everything was telling your brain that you were safe, so why weren’t you able to relax? 

His head pokes through a crack in the door to check on you right before you turn his bedside lamp off. You’re wrapped in his blankets and wearing his clothes, but everything about your situation just felt wrong. He can see it in your face, too, and respectfully has a seat on the edge of the bed next to you. 

“Talk to me.”

“I don’t know how anymore,” you mutter pathetically into his pillow. He exhales deeply, rubbing his eyes and you expect him to leave you right there. It’d be too much work for him to unpack exactly what was going on. 

“You said there was a guy that looked like me,” he offers. You merely hum in assent, still too disgusted with yourself to look at him. In contrast, his voice is a patient plea for you to keep talking. "Why'd he matter?"

“I kissed him and pretended he was you.” Sneaking a glance at his face, you find it completely blank, the only sign of emotion being the miniscule widening of his eyes. “His hands started to wander, though, and I just knew. I knew he wasn’t you.” 

“How did you end up in the bathroom?” His words are strained and shaky, but neither of you will look at each other.

“Threw up. It felt gross, kissing him.” Kiyoomi breaks for a millisecond, his face contorting in anguish before schooling itself back into blankness. “It felt gross to kiss him because he–”

“Because he looked like me,” he finishes, unable to mask his sorrow. Something clicks in your mind and you sit up pencil-straight, suddenly completely sober. 

“No.” You don’t attempt to hide the urgency in your tone while you slide closer and place your hand on his shoulder. He flinches but doesn’t pull away. “Because he wasn’t you at all, Omi. He wasn’t who I wanted, nor who I needed.”

“And who is it that you want? Is it the same as who you need?” He’s finally looking at you, eyes softer than you’d ever seen. Whether purposeful or not, both of your bodies had shifted closer to each other as if they were stuck in each other’s orbit. 

“It’s been the same for as long as I can remember, even when he disappeared for a little bit,” you confess and you attempt to give him a smile. He’s completely speechless at what you’re implying, and his reaction is enough to tell you that he feels the same. 

“And…would you let him stay with you for the night? To make up for lost time?” His knuckles hesitantly brush your cheek in question. You take his hand in yours and press a feather-light kiss to his fingers in answer. 

“As long as he promises not to disappear again.”

“He won’t,” he states with finality while he pulls you back into his bed, pulling you into his chest as naturally as breathing. He sighs into the top of your head when you’re flush against his body, the tension you felt earlier gradually dissipating. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you more.”

“That’s not possible. I fell first, after all.” You can hear the smirk in his words even as your eyes flutter shut. You pull whatever energy you have left in the tank to respond to his quick remarks. It doesn’t last for long when you feel sleep start to tug at your mind. 

“And I fell harder. Who’s winning now, hmm?” 

“I still am. Look who I have in my arms right now.”

“Your athlete is showing, Omi,” you murmur on the verge of passing out. His fingers tracing swirls on your skin through his jersey wasn’t helping your fight to stay awake. 

“Rest, then; we have a lot to catch up on in the morning.” 

“Promise you won’t leave.”

“I promise I won’t let you go.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#sakusa x you #sakusa x reader #sakusa x y/n #sakusa kiyoomi x you #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi fluff #sakusa kiyoomi angst #haikyuu sakusa #kiyoomi sakusa #haikyu fluff #haikyu x reader #haikyu x you #haikyu au

[admiringlove]

exes.

synopsis. hq boys bringing up their exes during an argument.

genre. headcanons; angst to fluff.

characters. sakusa kiyoomi, kuroo tetsurō, oikawa tōru.

warnings. swearing, crying, etc.

author’s note. i contemplated publishing this, it’s been sitting in my drafts for a month :/

navigation. main menu, hq menu.

— SAKUSA KIYOOMI.

sakusa was a very private person. so, dating him came with the fact that he had boundaries. and his career wasn’t easy on you either, because he preferred to keep your relationship private. 

you weren’t the type of person to argue with that. in fact, even you preferred it this way. it would be way easier if the two of you were hidden away from the crazy fans and the invasive media. so you went along with it. you’ve known kiyoomi since college; you’ve adjusted to his mannerisms, his quirks, his ups and downs—everything, really. he couldn’t be more grateful to you. 

but everything came crippling down when you thought that it had been too long since the two of you started going out. that maybe, just maybe, you and kiyoomi could still lead a private life if he just announced to his fans that he has a significant other—just mentioning it, or posting a story on his instagram or any other social media. the first time you had brought it up, he’d dismissed it lightly. you’d tried again and again, but he just wouldn’t budge. 

just like today. but something was off about today as well. you hadn’t exactly had a good day at work, and neither had he. but you approached the argument either way, even though you probably shouldn’t have. 

“we’re happy, aren’t we?” he asks in a taunting way, “why do we need to tell the whole world we’re together if we’re content.”

“omi,” you take in a sharp breath, “we have been together for eight months. eight. that’s more than half a year.”

“yeah, so?” he raises an eyebrow, shrugging. you hate the way he’s so dismissive whenever the two of you come to a disagreement. while you’re usually level-headed, you tended to have a complete change in personality when you were arguing with someone. just like today. 

“do you- oh my god, kiyoomi!” you huff, “i’ve been nothing but patient for the past seven months, but this is a limit that you’re crossing. i thought that after so much time you would be comfortable but no-”

“this is getting annoying,” he sighs, “why are you acting out like this? everything was fine until last month.”

“because,” you grit your teeth, “i don’t wanna be some secret fling anymore. if you can’t take responsibility then i don’t want to be a part of whatever this is.”

“you do realize you’re behaving just like nami, right? that nagging pain in my ass who kept telling me to make our relationship official even though we dated for only two months. 

“w-what?”

“what else do you think?” he taunts. you can tell he’s lost his cool but the things he’s saying pricks at your heart. it hurts. it hurts so much that you don’t know how tears start flowing down from your eyes. sakusa isn’t looking at you, he’s pouring himself a glass of water in the open kitchen while you look at his back in disbelief from the living room. you wipe at your cheeks and when your boyfriend finally turns around is when he realizes how badly he’s screwed up.

“[y/n]-”

“save it, you jerk,” you spat, “go find another pain in the ass to sleep next to tonight, i’m going over to atsumu’s.”

sakusa’s eyes widen in fear, he keeps the half-empty glass on the counter haphazardly, following after you like a lost puppy until you slam the door on his face. he flinches, breathing unevenly and irrational thoughts racing in his brain. 

“i’m sorry,” he says, leaning his forehead against the white door, “that was a jerk move.”

he hears shuffling on the inside—it felt like you were sliding your back down on the door. he heard a few sniffs, and guilt ate away at him. he didn’t mean to hurt you at all, but the words came out on their own. maybe it had been the swarm of fans outside the gym today because of hinata’s birthday that ticked him off. or the fact that one of his tires punctured on the way back home from work. he doesn’t know why all of this happened, but he wants to go back to how the two of you would be in the bathroom applying lotions and creams to your faces before going to bed. you would make jokes saying that kiyoomi looks like a ghost and he would say that you don’t look too different either. sometimes he’d poke your waist before leaving the bathroom just to see how you’d react. sometimes he’d kiss the top of your head and immediately make a yucky expression because some of the lotion got onto his lips and made his whole mouth taste like bitter, soapy flowers. 

he doesn’t get a reply from you. but he still stands there, waiting for you to open the door or give him an earful. 

and after around fifteen minutes, you do come back out. but with a bag filled with some essentials, and a mask covering your face. sakusa’s eyes perk up, “where are you going?”

“move,” you seethe, “i’m going to atsumu’s for the night.”

“i can’t let you do that,” he says, shaking his head and trying to cup your cheeks. you take a step back from him, and his heart breaks. he tries to look into your eyes but you’re looking everywhere but at his own.

“well excuse me if i don’t wanna be a pain in someone’s ass,” you mock, “now, move.”

“i didn’t mean it,” he cries. his eyes are red, and he looks miserable. you roll your eyes, even though you want to believe him, “omi, i’ve known you for five years. you say shit you mean when you’re angry.”

“i wasn’t angry,” he reasons, “i’ve had a bad day, and i know that doesn’t excuse anything but you’re not like her. i’m so sorry. you didn’t deserve it. i don’t deserve you.”

“look, kiyoomi,” you sigh, “figure it out, okay? i don’t wanna be treated like crap. i’m leaving for now, but i’ll come back later.”

“[y/n]-”

“no, omi,” you say, walking away from him, “i said, figure it out. i’ll be back tomorrow night. until then, sort your thoughts out. okay?”

you turn, walking towards the door and opening it. you glanced back one last time to say goodbye when you catch a glimpse of his face.

“please don’t leave me,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. your eyes soften, “i’m not leaving you, dummy. i’m just goin’ over to atsumu’s to cool off for the night. i’ll be back tomorrow. till then, just. reflect, or something.”

“o-oh. um, okay. uh, can i ask you a question before you leave?”

you nod, humming as you grip your bag tightly. his voice is quiet, “are we gonna be okay?”

“i don’t know, omi. i don’t know. but we can try.”

— KUROO TETSURŌ.

kuroo was always sophisticated. you appreciated that about him. in fact, it's what drew you to him more. he was so ambitious in college; he could go on about volleyball for hours. it would be like that on your dates at first. you, him, a muffled movie, blankets and random talks about your futures together.

but when your futures are what drift you apart, can you really blame each other? you weren't college kids anymore—the pipedreams you shared weren't real, life caught on and jobs became hectic. schedules didn't fit with one another anymore. you grew up, and so did he.

and that might've taken a turn for the worse. the complete opposite of what you had imagined it would be.

"tetsurō," you say, losing your patience by the second, "i'm only asking for you to make time. you work overtime way more than you need to and it's honestly affecting our relationship-"

"does your job not affect our relationship?" he asks cockily, raising an eyebrow. you scoff, "you know i gave up that promotion so we could spend more time together. why can't you put in some effort too? it's not like i'm asking for much!"

"i'm only working overtime for us, [y/n]. where the hell do you think all the money goes? it's savings. for us. i work for us. what, am i just not supposed to do that anymore?"

"i didn't say that," you pause, "make time for me, tetsurō. that's all i'm asking from you."

he grumbles, running a hand through his gelled hair. and then, he says something under his breath that you thought would've never come out of his mouth.

"nari wasn't like this at all. tch."

you blink, tilting your head to make sure you heard him correctly. he's taking his coat off and hanging it in the rack. he doesn't see the way your eyes fill to the brim with tears as you whisper, "what?"

he pauses abruptly, turning around, "love, i didn't mean-"

"your ex didn't give up her promotion for you because she was fucking her boss behind your back," you grit your teeth, "if you want me to do that too, all you had to do was just say so."

kuroo stops in his tracks. mouth opening and closing like a goldish’s. he looks shocked at the sudden change in your attitude, but he knows it was deserved. you run up the stairs, locking yourself in your shared bedroom as your fiancé paces around the apartment in worry.

he fucked up. and that too, terribly. it took him a long while to move on from his first love—and who was the one who helped him throughout the process of him returning home drunk off his ass or needed soothing? you. you, his best friend, his roommate (at least, that's all you were back then), and someone who was irrevocably in love with him but never uttered a word.

it took him a long time to convince you that he was over his ex, and that he'd realized he was in love with you all along. college kids might've been all you were, but you were intelligent enough to know that he was the one you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. his corny chemistry jokes, your clumsy habits, him being better at sports and you being better at video games, him knowing how exactly to make your coffee in the mornings, you knowing just what he needed whenever he was sick. you two just clicked. there was nothing complicated about it, really.

he was the one who proposed to you. and now, it seemed like he was the one who was breaking your relationship into pieces. kuroo cursed, taking his shoes off and racing up the stairs. just then, you stepped out with a bag.

"i'm going over to kenma's," you mutter, "leave me alone for now."

he shakes his head, "no."

you raise an eyebrow at him. your somewhat calm composure scares him, but he continues, "i can't let you leave. i need to fix this."

"you can't just ‘fix this’, tetsurō," you say, trying to walk down the stairs. but he grabs your arm, "i'm sorry. none of that should've been said."

"but you said it anyway, didn't you?" you retort, "what, you want a fortune cookie for apologizing?"

"[y/n]-"

"go back to your so-called nari if you miss her," you snarl, "i'm done."

"no," he cries, "we aren't done. stop."

you continue walking towards the front door, and he grabs your bag. you tsk, trying to take his hand off. but his grip is too strong.

"stop walking away and listen, will you?" he says. his voice is barely a whisper. your eyes cloud with anger, "i've been trying to talk to you for the past hour. but all you've done is demean my feelings for the entire time, and you even had the audacity to compare me to your ex. do you know how hard it was for me to date you in the beginning?"

"i-i do," he sighs, "please, just listen to me. i'm sorry. reminding you of my ex was uncalled for. i won't do that ever again. it was an honest mistake, i swear."

"tetsurō," your voice cracks, "do you even know just how much you hurt me tonight?"

and he sees it. you break down. you stop acting like everything is okay, and your eyes finally let out tears in front of him. you had probably already cried in the bedroom as you packed your overnight bag, but here you were, sobbing as you tightly held onto his dress shirt, hands forming fists. his eyes soften, and he cradles your cheek with his hand, "i know saying 'sorry' isn't gonna be enough. but i really am sorry. i love you, and i can't lose you because i was an idiot and said shit i didn't mean."

he looks up, a few tears of his own falling from his eyes, "i'm sorry. please, just-"

you place your head on his chest, your forehead making contact with his clothed skin. he looks down, abruptly stopping as his hands reach the back of your head, caressing your hair. your cries are quieter than before, tuning down to mere sniffs, "you hurt me, tetsurō."

"i know," he says, nodding, "i shouldn't have said any of that."

"do you," you pause, as if to wonder if you should really say it out loud. to save yourself of the pain, maybe. but you keep going, "do you still think about her?"

kuroo cups your cheeks, forcing you to look into his eyes, "i'm gonna be honest with you. i found some old high school photos on my laptop today. it's the only reason i even thought of her."

you whimper against him. god, how he hates seeing you like this. he kisses the top of your head before reassuring you, "you don't have to worry about me thinking about anyone who's not you. i can assure you that literally everyone around me knows how much i love you."

you almost roll your eyes. he lets out a sad chuckle before continuing, "no, really. kenma gets annoyed by how much i talk about you sometimes. so do some of my co-workers. i was gonna ask you to come to the expo with me, and they were all going to complain about me to you."

a giggle escapes your lips as some tears fall. kuroo presses a kiss to your nose before whispering, "you don't know how much i love you. the words simply aren't enough. and i hate myself for making you think any less."

"tetsu," you let out a sound before wrapping your arms around him. he laughs, wiping a stray drop away from the corner of his eyes. kuroo lets out a strangled sigh, "you don't know how much it means to me that you're calling me that again."

"tetsu," you say again. he looks down to see you peering up at him, "i love you. please don't say anything dumb like that ever again."

"if i do, i give you full permission to throw concentrated hydrochloric acid into my eyes."

— OIKAWA TŌRU.

you were embarrassed by your fiancé today. again.

oikawa tōru was your high-school sweetheart. he was your first love, your everything. his smile made your heart skip a beat, his touch made you forget about the rest of the world, hs gaze made you think all your problems were tiny compared to your love.

until he had to leave, that is. that was probably one of the most strenuous parts of your relationship—life, maybe. he loved you too much to make you feel the pain of his absence, and you loved him too much to let him go without you. so what did you do? you applied to universities in argentina for your courses.

and you got in. the day you broke the news to him through a surprise party with your friends by your side, you saw him be the happiest boy on earth. his eyes went from the dullest brown to being as bright as the sun. his smile returned, and you embarked on a journey. together.

years flew by. you grew older, more mature and responsible. you had some ups and downs—one really bad argument happened back in college where the two of you took some time off and thought about everything you wanted from life. but then he showed up outside your friend's apartment(where you were staying then). it was raining heavily that night, his hair was slopping wet and sticking to his face. he was with someone during your time off, and he realized that everything that he wanted in life was you.

because it was you, who understood him. you, who supported his dreams. you, who he was so irrevocably in love with that he compared everyone else to you. the three-month break meant nothing. the words he had said during the argument meant nothing. he was yours; he was always going to be yours. ever since he met you at the park as a child trying to chase his toy car, he was yours. remember that time when the two of you had your first kiss while star gazing on the roof of your home? yeah, he still blushes while thinking about it.

you were bitter at first—that he'd gone to someone else after the two of you had taken a break. but with time, you understood that too. he couldn't ask for more.

but today irked you. the past two months irked you. you were grown-ups now. you had responsibilities. just as how oikawa was your responsibility, you were his. so why is it that, in the past two months, oikawa tōru stood you up on every single date the two of you had meticulously planned to fit into both of your schedules? all six of them.

"tōru," your voice is stern, "what part of 'you stood me up' don't you understand? even after i spent a week trying to plan tonight out? i get that your career is important but you spending extra hours at the gym practicing isn't work. it's you being stubborn."

"if i'm stubborn then you're a hypocrite," he retorts, "you pin the blame on me all the time. do you not remember how you kept postponing because of your dumb endless meetings? when i was the one that was free? when it wasn't volleyball season?"

"those dumb meetings are why i earn so much more than last year," you're firm as you pour yourself a glass of wine, "you're being childish, tōru. do you know how embarrassing it was for me? at the same restaurant where you've been abandoning me for the past few months? it's been six times where i've had dinner alone."

"oh, so i'm being childish?" he asks, in a mocking tone. his voice gradually getting louder, "i was at work, [y/n]. i had to work. because i have a game next week. what part of that is so complicated for you to understand?"

"what part of 'we planned this beforehand because you have a game next week and won't be free then' is not understandable for you?" you retort, sipping from your glass as you walk toward the living room. the hardwood floors feel nice against your feet, and just as you're about to sit down on the couch, you hear something you never thought you would.

"tch. yuri wasn't like this at all when i was with her."

the glass of wine in your hand almost falls, but you get a hold of your grip in time. the mature argument you thought you were having isn't 'mature' anymore. oh no, it's much more. you place the glass on the coffee table before looking at him with fury.

"excuse me?" your voice is much ruder than before, "the girl you pity fucked? the girl you were with for the three months when we weren't together? the girl you fucked, pretending that it was me? really, tōru?"

he flinches at your sudden change in tone. his lips are pressed in a straight line as he finally looks at you. your eyebrows knitted together in confusion and betrayal, your eyes covered with rage—but oikawa knows that there are tears behind the clouded anger, ready to spill at any given moment. you were an open book to him, but right now, you were building walls between the two of you that he wasn't sure he could break.

"i-i didn't mean that-"

"oh yeah?" you taunt, stepping a little closer, "what would you do if i went back to the one-night-stand i had when we took a break, huh? what then? do you want me to tell you he was better than you?"

he winces at the words. gosh, he doesn't remember the last time you lost your cool in this way. the last time you two had an argument as serious as this, was in college. both of you were childish back then. but now? you were the one who was trying to stay calm and talk it out, whilst he acted like a total buffoon.

"you know what?" you voice cracks, "screw this. screw you. i'm going over to a friend's. fuck whoever you want."

your footsteps are like pins pricking into his heart when you walk up the stairs of your home. the slam of your shared bedroom door makes him flinch, and his eyes close. when they open, he sees your degree hung up on the living room shelf where his trophies and medals sit.

fuck.

he remembers how he'd warned you that argentina would be nothing like japan. back when the two of you were just kids. back when you left your country and came here, just because he would be alongside you. 

he still remembers the day you’d shown him your acceptance letter. you moved halfway across the world for him. you didn’t even bother applying to japanese schools because of him. you learned a whole another language for him. and what did he do in return? he told you that the two-and-a-half month fling he had was better than you. 

he curses himself as he runs up the staircase. when he opens the door to your bedroom, he finally sees you. sitting at the edge of your side of the bed, clutching a bag as small sobs escape your lips. your ring sits prettily on the nightstand, staring back at him in horror. the ring that was always on you, that you never took off, was sitting somewhere that wasn’t your finger. 

he walks up to you slowly. taking in a sharp breath, he kneels down in front of you. he takes your hand in  his, rubbing his thumb against your skin. you choke back a sob as you ask, “what do you want now?”

“i’m sorry,” he voice is soft, “whatever i said down there was uncalled for. i was acting like a child. you shouldn’t have had to go through that. i’m pretty sure that one-night-stand you had would treat you better than how i’m doing at the moment.”

you chuckle before mumbling, “all i wanted was to spend time with you. we even planned it together because i didn’t wanna bother you with the upcoming season.”

god, how he wishes iwa-chan was here right now so he could get a beating. this is probably the first time he wanted to get beaten up by his best friend willingly.

“i know. i’m sorry. i love you, and i think i just,” he pauses, as if thinking of what to say. or confirming in his mind that it’s the right thing to tell you, “i think i said what i said because you weren’t agreeing with me. i got so used to you doing things for me that i took you for granted. and you didn’t deserve any of that. you deserve someone way better than me. hell, you studied your ass off in high-school so you could come to a whole new country just because of me. you did so much for me. i guess... i guess that got to my head a little. you love me so, so much and i’m so grateful. but [y/n], i proposed to you because i don’t think i can even breathe properly without you by my side. so call me selfish, but i still want you to stay. please don’t leave me because i was an arrogant idiot who said things he didn’t really mean.”

“i’m not going to leave you, tōru,” you murmur, “i’m not going anywhere just because we had a stupid argument. we’re both adults.”

“do you um,” he’s scared of completing his sentence because you might say yes, “still need to go over to your friend’s house? i can drop you if you’d like. i don’t want you driving while you’re feeling so low.”

“no, no,” you wipe away your stray tears with your other hand, still holding onto oikawa. you pause, pondering if you really want to say the words you’re thinking, “tōru?”

he hums. 

“please don’t say anything like that ever again,” you look at your lap instead of his honey-brown eyes, “i don’t know what i’d do if you did.”

he understands what you mean. he gets it. he knows that you will leave if he repeats his mistake. because as complacent as you were, you still had a lot of respect for yourself.

“i promise.”

© all works belong to admiringlove on tumblr. plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

#haikyuu angst #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa toru x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #sakusa angst #sakusa kyoomi headcanons #kuroo angst #kuroo tetsuro headcanons #kuroo tetsuro angst #sakusa kiyoomi angst #oikawa angst #oikawa toru headcanons #oikawa toru angst #oikawa drabble #sakusa drabble #kuroo drabble #sakusa fluff #kuroo fluff #oikawa fluff #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! angst #haikyuu!! drabbles #haikyuu!! #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu hurt comfort #haikyuu fluff

[rewh0re]

─ ILLICIT AFFAIRS ; SAKUSA KIYOOMI

Is it evident enough that this is lowkey inspired from miss Swift's song 'illicit affairs'? Fluff to angst tho nothing major. Lot of laughing kiyoomi in the beginning. Allusions to cheating (but is it really so?), Secret relationships and possibly fwb and one sided love.

Contrary to popular belief Sakusa Kiyoomi did smile. It was barely there, a small uplift of the corners of his lips, gone in the blink of an eye, but it was a smile nonetheless. This small smile was reserved for most of the world. Sakusa gave this small smile when he was doing press interviews or in gala parties, in fancy events you could only ever dream of going to.

But you, you saw him smile, you saw him laugh. You saw his lips stretch into a wide grin, his eyes slowly turning to crescents and the smile eventually fading into a boisterous deep chuckle that left you mesmerized the moment you heard it.

So this is heaven you would think when you would hear that laugh. This laugh was reserved for close friends, family and you.

"What?" He would ask when he would catch you staring as he laughed at your lame jokes under the sheets of your bed with you.

"You're laughing," you would tilt your head and smile at him and he would break into more fits of laughter. "It's pretty Omi, do it more often!"

And a pink hue would slowly cover his face at your words. Each time you complimented his laugh or him in general, he would turn a shade of red. It was cute. This was life with Sakusa Kiyoomi. The life that you could only experience at the wee hours of the night in the confines of one of your apartments when no one was around. It had always been like this. Kiyoomi would come to find solace in you, with his hood up and sunglasses on even when the sky was a midnight blue with the moon as the source of light. You, lovesick and smitten by the being that is Kiyoomi would always take him in whenever he came to you, even if it was not everyday. Even if it was never ever in the mornings or when the sun was up.

Meeting with Kiyoomi was always a clandestine affair. It was a matter of secrecy never to be revealed and he made that clear everytime. You took what you could get, making most of the love you held for him. He would laugh with you in the confines of your bedroom, leave as sneakily as he had entered, would never hint at being in a relationship when asked about it and always asked you to never reveal this illicit affair of yours.

You would find yourself asking one question when he wasn't around 'was it really love that you both shared or just a one sided travesty that he entertained?'

And with the passage of time came what you feared the most, the man to whom you had poured all your love and self to was rumored to be in a relationship with some famous actress, which he claimed was a false one. He held you tight in his arms as you hit his chest, he whispered sweet nothings into your ear, he gave you false hopes and made you believe that what you had indeed was love.

Then suddenly, the visits stopped one night. His social media and number were inaccessible and you contemplated confronting him directly.

But you stopped when you saw the front page of the newest edition of some magazine you found on your way to the local bookstore. There he was, your Kiyoomi smiling his smile, the smile you saw so many times during the late hours of midnight when everyone slept. Only right now, it was directed to the girl he got into a relationship with a few months ago. The headline read something that your mind could not quite process because the only question you could ask yourself was whether he was ever yours.

You stared at that picture for what felt like a millennia and the only thing you could focus solely on was that smile. So true and so, so genuine. Luminous enough to make mascara run down the eyes, his smile was reminiscent of a love that never was there.

REBLOGS + FEEDBACKS ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED!!

#hq #haikyuu #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq fluff #haikyuu fluff #hq x you #haikyuu x you #hq x y/n #haikyuu x y/n #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi fluff #sakusa fluff #sakusa kiyoomi angst #sakusa angst #sakusa x yn #sakusa x reader #sakusa x you #hq angst #haikyuu angst #sakusa fic #hq imagines #—storytelling🌙

[quepidbow]

hii do yall know that one timeskip!sakusa x reader fic where him and reader hooked up??

this sounds do broad but i remember like sakusa being obsessed w reader and he got kinda :( that she forgot what happened the night before cause shes so drunk ,, but she tells him to remind her of that night :)

like she was shocked in the beginning that she slept with THE sakusa kiyoomi and allat ,,

i also remember one of the first part where she tried to say "ohayo" but got caught off when kiyoomi kissed reader deeply and he replied after ??

please help .. </3

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x reader #sakusa smut #sakusa angst #sakusa fluff #sakusa kiyoomi smut #sakusa kiyoomi angst #sakusa kiyoomi fluff

[ghostlygeto]

PLEASE "this was a mistake" (hurt no comfort - I LOVE IT) with either Kuroo or Sakusa you can decide 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙇🏻‍♀️

woah crazy this totally hasn’t been sitting in my ask box for two months because i was having the most god awful writers block in the history of the universe haha. i am so sorry please forgive me.

pairing: sakusa kiyoomi x reader

warnings: hurt no comfort, sakusa is an idiot fr :(, not proof read as per usual, gonna be real i have no idea what prompt list this came from <3

wc: 710

“this was a mistake”

neither of you loved spending all this time apart. but sakusa was part of a big league team now, which meant traveling. sometime's he'd be gone for weeks before returning home to you just to leave within a few days. it was hard, on both of you. you coped the ways you could, video calls and constant texting. but it was never the same, was it? every voice mail or 'sorry i missed your call' text made the distance between the two of you more and more apparent. the distance that was more than just actual, physical distance. it was between the two of you emotionally as well.

things were okay until he returned home from his most recent trip. you noticed he stopped replying to texts the days leading up to his return, he didn't even let you know when he had landed safely back in your area of japan. he came inside all huffy, muttered a few words to you before excusing himself off into the bathroom for a shower. declined you invitation for a bath together instead, and locked the door behind him. none of this was typical kiyoomi behavior.

when he finally came out of the bathroom he looked like he had been crying. "y/n, can i talk to you?"

"of course, omi, anything," you made space for him on the couch next to you, anxiously awaiting his next words. "is everything okay? you've seemed kind of distance since you came home, i wanted to give you space just incase you needed some but-"

"this was a mistake," kiyoomi let out a deep breath, "i can't keep doing this with you. the traveling and the distance, and i know it's not good for you either." he watched as your face went from concerned to heartbroken in the matter of three seconds. he couldn't believe he was doing this. to you, of all people. the one person he's ever felt a real connection with. but he knew this would be better for both of you. he’d stop feeling so guilty for leaving you alone so often and you’d stop being lonely all the time.

“omi? what do you mean this was a mistake?” you tried grabbing his hand, but he pulled away from you. no, this isn’t fair. he can’t do this to you. “whatever’s going on we can work it out, kiyoomi. don’t do this.”

“there’s nothing to work out, y/n. we’re both miserable being separated constantly. i can’t stop traveling and you can’t come with me. this is just what’s best from both of us.” no it isn’t, he told himself. he knew that, this was killing him. he hoped you knew this wasn’t easy for him, either. but he’d never want you to have to be the one to do this. no, sakusa knew you’d stay too quiet for too long and suffer in silence.

“you’re really breaking up with me?” your voice broke, “right now, after you just got home?” sakusa only nodded. you took notice to the tears streaming down his face now, matching your own. if this hurt him so much why was he doing it?

if sleeping alone three weeks out of the month meant you got to stay with him, you’d cherish the one week you did get. you’d sacrifice anything for sakusa.

and that was the problem, of course. he knew your dedication and knew you’d throw everything away for him. it terrified him, the thought of you tossing everything aside from him. he had to do what was best for you.

even if it meant breaking your heart.

“i’m sorry, y/n. i’m going to the miya’s tonight. i’ll be back sometimes with them to get my things tomorrow.” he turned his back to you, having already packed a small back with the select few things he may need in the next twelve hours. he took one final look at you, knowing it may be his last.

it sucked, and it hurt. you wanted to scream at him. but all you could do was watch as the love of your life walked out the door and to his best friend’s house, leaving you here alone again.

but for good this time.

reblogs, requests, comments nd likes appreciated! <3

#sakusa kiyoomi angst #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x y/n #sakusa kiyoomi #haikyuu angst #haikyuu x reader #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x you #mine !!

[chimielie]

kiyoomi + exes to enemies to lovers but he’s the one chasing ME as he should and we butt heads and fight until someone gets enough of our shit and lock us up together in a room hehe (fluff or angst..? choose your own adventure!)

"This is childish!" You call, shoving the door with your shoulder. "Are you seriously just going to leave us here?"

"They're already gone," says Kiyoomi from where he's seated himself on the floor, back against the wall, wrists crossed as he stretches his arms out. "No one's going to answer."

"I thought it was worth a shot," you retort, pulling out your phone and pacing back and forth—as much as you can in the tiny space, anyway. "But that's very on brand for you, isn't it?"

"And what's that supposed to mean?" You used to think that daring, condescending voice was hot, the way he always paired it with an arched brow and a tilt of his head. You shiver a little, in disgust, you insist to yourself.

"Oh, you know, Sakusa." It's impossible to say that you don't enjoy the way he flinches, his shoulders rising up to his ears when you call him by his family name. "You didn't bother trying to fight for our two year relationship, why would you try to fight this stupid prank?"

"You can't say I didn't fight for our relationship," Kiyoomi snaps back. "You're the one who keeps rejecting me, even though I said I was sorry—"

"You broke up with me!" You shout over him, surprising even yourself with your volume. "You broke up with me over something so trivial it shouldn't have been worth even a day's argument, and you think you can apologize and pretend it never happened?"

"I said sorry many times," the man on the floor says stiffly. "You didn't listen."

"I hate you," you say fruitlessly. A sob wells up in your throat and you sit down, rather heavily, on the floor. "I hate you. I hate you. I hate you."

You cry into your hands for a few minutes more, until a featherweight settles on your knee. Through watery eyes, you see: Kiyoomi's handkerchief, a soothing gray with a blue border. You don't bother to thank him for it as you dab at your eyes, rolling them back into your head so you don't have to see his judgmental stare.

"Do you really hate me so much?" He breaks the silence with a question, his voice muted, almost ashamed. You look over at him and are surprised at what you see. His own eyes are rimmed with red, his pale skin flushed with color. His trained posture is slumped and downtrodden.

"No," you choke on teary laughter, the truth escaping you without permission. "I don't think so, you—you—Kiyoomi. You broke my heart, that's all."

"I want to fix it," he says, and you wish his hands weren't as comforting as they are when he leans over to take both your hands in his. "Show me what I can do."

"You can't," you wish he would understand. You wish he weren't the stubborn, stubborn man you fell in love with. He says your name, and you fall right into his slate-dark eyes, bottomless pools of hopeful—hopeless—emotion.

"One word from you will silence me on the subject forever," Kiyoomi promises, confesses, begs. "Let me love you again. I'll do it right this time."

#NEVER chase ur exes even if theyre sakusa kiyoomi. let him come to his senses so true #pretend this rollercoaster occurs in a reasonable amount of time #sakusa x reader #sakusa angst #sakusa kiyoomi angst #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu!! angst #haikyuu!! x reader angst #hq x reader angst #shorts! #ask n answer #user: kiyoowomi

[emmyrosee]

You went to bed before Kiyoomi.

You never do that. Ever since you’ve moved in with him, your nights end with a massive pile of cuddling limbs and sweet words of sticky nothings that have you cocooned and ready for a peaceful night.

But tonight, he snapped at you. Something about being too “irate” over “something small.”

He missed dinner. And normally, that wouldn’t be a massive issue for you. But he was with asshole of a PR member who’s been trying to get with him for months, calling themselves his “work babe.” Who were you to think nothing funny wasn’t going down?

It's not a lack of trust from Kiyoomi that has you choked up. It's a lack of trust with them.

You know more than anyone when kindness turns to love, it's the same thing that happened between you both, and it kills you to think they could preform the same spell and potentially take your man from you.

You tell yourself that if they can take him, they can have him.

But the idea hurts none the less.

It hurts enough where you're curled up on your side of the bed, far from Kiyoomi's, where his smell lingers and the coldness on your body isn't offset by his warmth like it usually is. You whimper and bury your face in the meat of your pillow when you hear the front door open, and a soft call of your name follows. You didn't even know he left, to be frank, but you don't say anything as he stalks into the bedroom with another call of your name.

"Are you awake?"

"Am now," you murmur.

"Can we please talk about things?" He sounds desperate, like he knows this is killing you, weighing you down like a sac of bricks and keeping you from him.

"You talk," you say, nodding into your pillow. "I have nothing to say."

"Okay. I understand."

A muscular arm reaches over your frame to reach for your hand, and when you don't put up a fight to keep his hand away, he sighs shakily.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, linking his pinkie finger with yours. You screw your eyes shut and sniffle, and you hear him swallow thickly. “I was just so upset to know that you were right to worry-“

“What?”

“Wait- No!” He says quickly, panic in his voice. “No, wait, that’s not what I meant.” He’s never been good with his words. You let him continue, your heart sinking into your stomach all the same. He sighs shakily, “I meant that you were right about me being here. I should’ve been. We haven’t had dinner together in weeks, and I just… I got so caught up in new sponsorships and gigs that I wanted more, and I thought they had more to give.”

“They want you, Kiyoomi,” you mumble. “I see it. It’s the same way I bugged you when we first started dating, just to show how much I liked you. They’re doing that.”

“I know,” he sighs. Then, he pauses, squeezing your pinky, “I went to talk to them. Told them if they couldn't keep it professional and cut the shit, they can search for other clients. Because I don't want them making either of us uncomfortable anymore. And even if they did want me, I don't care.” He crawls over to you and bends slightly to have his head dangling in front of you, curls flipping upside down at the action. “Because I want you.”

You snort at the sight.

“So can we please cuddle, and you grab my teeth or sniff me or whatever feral thing you usually do?” He asks, leaning forward to kiss you on the nose. “Miss your stupid affections.”

“I miss giving them to you,” you say, moving a finger up slowly to try and pick his nose, just to make him squirm, a sign of a truce. He grunts and whips his head back, letting your laughter fill the room, rather than your tears. When you feel him sit back on his side of the bed, you take your time in flipping over, finally meeting his dark eyes again, filled with hope and adoration that has you falling in love with him all over again.

"You are irresistible," you say, reaching for his hand again.

"Don't care. I don't want anyone looking at me if it means you and I never fight again."

You laugh and gently kiss his hand, flicking your gaze up at him, "we'll go look at paper bags for you to wear this weekend."

He removes his hand from yours to gently cup your cheek, thumb stroking over the swells lovingly.

"It's a date."

#IF HE WONT WEAR A BAG ON HIS HEAD ION WANT HIM #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi angst #sakusa kiyoomi fluff #sakusa kiyoomi x gn!reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader angst #sakusa kiyoomi x reader fluff #sakusa kiyoomi imagine #sakusa kiyoomi haikyuu #sakusa #sakusa fluff #sakusa angst #sakusa x reader #sakusa x gn!reader #sakusa x reader angst #sakusa x reader fluff #sakusa imagine #sakusa haikyuu #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #haikyuu x gn!reader #haikyuu x yn #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n

[kyopmi]

— 𝐬𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐞

“in the rare case that i do cross your mind,

i hope you know you always cross mine.”

musician!sakusa kiyoomi x reader | 315 words | angst

[ ♪ ] Facebook Friends — NIKI

part i | part ii | part iii

sakusa kiyoomi realizes, a little too late, that immortalizing his feelings in a song means that he's likely never going to get over said feeling.

he was never the best at expressing himself verbally, so he wears his heart over notes on a music sheet instead of on his sleeve.

it has always been his catharsis.

whenever he feels like the world is spinning out of control or the tightness in his chest gets too unbearable, all he can do is grab a pencil and a paper and scribble out lyrics that mean little to no sense, forcing his mind to laser-focus on the words right in front of him instead of whatever is in his head. eventually, he'll continue writing and rewriting his pieces until they're to his satisfaction, though he can never forget the way he felt when he initially started writing his songs.

only now, as he stands before a stadium packed with adoring fans, guitar in hand and microphone in his face, it begins to dawn on him that it's a curse.

that as he's strumming the tune of his melodies and singing the story of his heartbreak, all he can think about is the one person he thought he had gotten over, and how they made him feel, and how their relationship reached heights he never thought was possible – only for everything to come crashing down with a sickening momentum all at once.

all his memories simultaneously race in his mind like a fast-forwarded tape and there's a new dread quickly rising in his chest as his fingers grip the guitar a little tighter — he's never going to forget you so long as he's singing the songs he wrote about you.

sakusa kiyoomi thinks he has some more songwriting to do.

#short unedited blurb because i can't sleep and i miss writing and sakusa #maybe i'll expand on this in the future if anyones interested hehe #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #hq x reader #hq x you #haikyuu angst #sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa angst #sakusa kiyoomi angst #pls i forgot what else to tag #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu drabbles #sakusa x reader #&works #maybe i will wake up and reread this and cringe tmrw but its ok

[noosayog]

wc: 400

warnings/content: angst

part 1. directory here.

--

You're in a familiar bed when you wake up. it's a room you've been in countless times, a result of being close friends with Sakusa Kiyoomi. 

This time, though, the feeling you're experiencing is foreign. While you're used to movie nights-turned-sleepovers, you're not familiar with how it feels waking up after having slept with him. 

The other side of the bed is empty. It's cold like he's been up for a while. You pick a shirt from his closet, like you've done a million times, and wander the house in search of him. When you reach the kitchen, you hear the bathroom door open, and Kiyoomi is shirtless, a towel draped around his neck. 

You wave a shy good morning and walk over to him, hoping to greet him with a good morning kiss. 

He returns your embrace but turns his head so your lips touch his cheek. 

“Wanna shower? We can talk about last night when you're done.” 

You agree to a shower. Another familiar course of action in his apartment. 

You find him on the couch when you're done, your mug that's reserved for your exclusive use filled with coffee. You sidle next to him and begin sipping contentedly.

He, however, looks uncomfortable and scoots away to put a couple of inches between you two. 

“Omi?” you question. 

He's not looking at you. 

He says your name and trails off. You’re not used to the awkwardness. But judging by his face, maybe the silence seems louder than usual because you start to understand what he wants to say. 

“I think we should forget about last night.” 

You know what he means. “As in, you regret it? As in, you don't think we could work out being more?” 

Kiyoomi meets your eyes. “No, I don't think we should.” 

“Even though I really like you?” 

His voice does not shake like yours when he replies, “we’re friends.” 

You're not sure how it happens after that, but you find your way home, wearing your own clothes from last night, and lugging an overstuffed tote bag of things you've been accumulating there.

Alone, you think about Kiyoomi. Apparently, the spark you had felt was just your imagination, or maybe it was the drinks you both had. Either way, it didn't matter now, and you weren't going to throw a tantrum that he didn't feel the same for you. But now that you’re in your own space, you allow yourself to cry.

#noos writes #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #hq imagines #hq angst #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa angst #sakusa x you #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x you #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi angst

[jinchuls]

𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒶 𝒫𝓇𝒾𝓃𝒸𝑒𝓈𝓈, 𝐹𝒾𝓇𝓈𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐹𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓈𝓉 ₊˚✩

ᡣ𐭩 prince!sakusa x princess!reader

about 𝜗𝜚 the reception is underway and the hall fills with laughter, music and joy—you’re glad someone had found a way to enjoy your wedding

divider by @/cafekitsune

𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

𝓅𝓇𝑒𝓋𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝜗𝜚 𝓃𝑒𝓍𝓉

Had you not been an unwilling attendee, you may have enjoyed the elegance of the night planned. Gorgeous music played throughout the vast ballroom. The sound of string instruments danced to your ears, blending beautifully with the piano taking control of the movements of everyone brave enough t0 take a partner to the centre of the room. A place you doubted you would visit yourself.

Even though it was a magnificent event, awaited by many, dedicated to you and your husband, you could only stare at it with hopes that time will be in your favour; that the end of the night would come for the night to simply be a blur by the morning. Your mind wanders to when you would finally be able to remove the light corset wrapped around you and climb into bed. But, you’re also hoping the night never ends. There’s part of you that wants to enjoy the reception, and there’s more of you that wants to avoid the first night you’ve expected to share with your husband – a constant worry forced into your mind by your mother.

You know neither of you are anticipating the evening, a night neither of you can truly avoid regardless of your will to be anywhere else. But you know what you need people to believe. When you Halle in the morning, you need your marriage to be among the successful of the royal family. You can’t risk any other result. The voice of your mother rings in your ears. ‘I’m giving you advice because I care, my child. It is now your turn to make me proud.”

Hidden within the music, you can near the clinking of flatware on plates as people stand by the grand displays of food, happily talking and laughing whilst you, under order of your mother, stay at the side of the room theoretically waiting for the moment Sakusa asks you to dance—an unlikely outcome.

Yet, you do as she expects. You stand. You wait. And your mother’s voice comes to mind again; this time the memory of her persistent comments uttered before you were able to even attend your own reception. “Do not even think of approaching the food table.” You had questioned why but quickly regretted so, her reasoning was as you had expected. There was no need to hear them allowed. “Why? You must look your best and the food the Queen has suggested,” she scowls at the thought, “it may be your favourite,” another unimpressed expression crosses her face, “but it is messy, my dear, I won’t allow it. And the drink! You can’t so much as hold a glass. You must be a perfect example tomorrow.”

The memory, now at the front of your mind, sends you spiralling into thoughts of now dreadful, how constricting, how disappointing this day has truly been; yay simply want it to end.

Though, the universe is not on your side as you watch your mother approach you with a smile painted on her face, so artificially proud. It’s horrendous to see. She’s quick to take you by the arm and pull you out of earshot of the overly curious nobles. You know her intention but knowledge does not retire your desire to be elsewhere.

“Are you prepared for this evening?" she questions, taking your hand and shining her bright smile your way. You try not to let her notice the frown that falls on your lips.

You know she’s not clueless on now you feel, on what this entire day had once meant to you. She knew how much you had once been dreaming of this day and exactly how distraught you had felt finding out just now little your husband seemed to care about you. She knew your concerns; witnessed your heartbreak and, yet, still believed the two of you were some sort of destiny.

She simply chose to ignore the royal tragedy unfolding.

“My dear, are you listening to me?” her tone changes as she realises you’re drifting from the conversation she is leading, and you quickly come back to reality- regardless of your emotions today, it is not worth an excuse for your mother to berate you.

You nod your head, urging her to continue except, this time, you’re listening. She adjusts the neckline of your dress as she speaks, another grimace crossing her for just a second. But that second is enough to make you feel small. “You must remember, you are now a member of the royal family. There is no longer any room for your embarrassing behaviour.” Her words, her voice. She has no care for how much they hurt you; you’re given no time to respond -to tell her now much you lowly despise her and the woman she has forced you to become. Had she looked at you for a moment, she would have seen the harshness in your expression. It’s clear she would have thought nothing of it.

“Mother—“ you signh, gently moving her hands away from your dress. You could – should – have stiffened your tone. A simple warning from the Princess to the duchess – as though that held any importance to the woman. She was still your mother after all.

“You’re a princess now, and a princess has a role to fill. You mustn’t disappoint him tonight, the sooner an heir is conceived the better, is it not?” she speaks as though her actions are not now toward a member of the royal family. As if she inhabited a role more important than her own.

“Mother!” You almost raise your voice, stopping at the last second as you stare at her with wide eyes. You’re amazed at her confidence in saying such a thing in the middle of the ballroom; you’re certain there’s no one within earshot but you fear someone will hear your improper conversation–ruining the reputation your mother places on such a high pedestal.

“There are certain duties a woman has to complete,” she continues, ignoring your worried expression and attempts to stop her, “and you’re not truly a wife until the marriage has been consummat–”

“I understand, mother.” You interrupt her and she finally stops, although she looks less than pleased at the manner in which you’ve ended the conversation. You ignore her once more; forcing all thoughts of sharing the night with Sakusa from your mind. Excusing yourself from her silence, you make your way back to the lively event mere feet away from you and silently pray you will hear no move of a princess' ‘expectations' for as long as the music fills the hall.

You keep your head high as you search for familiarity; you don’t want to seem lonely at your own wedding and you can hear your mother’s voice in the back of your mind reminding you of the appearance you’ve been trained to exhibit. How you hate the sound of that voice.

The familiarity comes in forms you don’t wish to entertain: family members that likely share the same thoughts as your mother (and lack her same decency), the young women your age who, shockingly, don’t understand the lack of love in your marriage- they wish to hear endless stories of how romantic the crown prince could be. How naïve.

There’s Komori—and he’s certainly not the person you shall ever seek in times of comfort. Sakura himself stands among a small group of men you do not recognise but your eyes glide past him effortlessly.

You’re certain he’s not so much as looked at you since your vows had been exchanged. Why should you offer him such courtesy?

The one person you wish to see is elsewhere, likely sent away by your mother to perform a job that is not her responsibility. Kiyoko’s kind eyes, her soft smile, that would be your only peace for the night, that still seemed years away from an end.

There is not a single person attending that is there for you. The realisation swells in your mind until you feel as though you are suffocating. It’s unbearable. You had been expecting this very outcome but it does not soothe the excruciating ache of your chest.

Hastily, you leave the ballroom desperately searching for somewhere—anywhere—that gives you a chance to breathe. Your escape goes unnoticed by everyone except the guards at the door. You suppose your marriage does come with some perks—they were not to question the action of the princess they now serve.

There’s a brief moment you can relax as the doors close behind you. You know you’re safe, monitored closely by the royal guards that won’t let anyone besides your people approach, with the exception of those trusted by Sakusa himself. Though any of him men are unlikely to care about the well-being of his wife. You could finally be alone.

Eventually, you find yourself on one of the many balconies of the palace, breathing in the fresh air and taking in the view of the verse garden as The Sun was beginning to set. It’s as beautiful as you remember.The solitude it brings, the peace, the comfort, the sanctuary_ it’s a small bliss that makes you believe living in the palace-with sukusa – won’t be impossible.

Compared to the warmth of the ballroom, the chill air forces goosebumps to rise on your skin but you don’t mind the icy wind, it’s a pleasurable contrast to the hell that has been your day. The few minutes you had alone, in silence, shivering are the happiest you’ve been all day. If only for a moment, everything feels infinitely better.

The quiet hum of the music reaches your ears; a reminder that you one of no true importance in the solely political day. But, it no longer bothers you; you’ve accepted the rest of your life will be spent in your husband's shadow. You are a princess, first and foremost.

You are yourself second.

Your peace is disrupted by the sound of heels on the corridor floors and a gentle sign escapes you, expecting your mother to burst through the balcony doors and drag you back to your burden.

“I’ve been looking for you, My Lady.” You’re pleasantly surprised by the familiar voice, twisting on your heels as she makes her presence known. The door closes behind her with a gentle click and you’re no longer alone—you’re company is more than welcome this time, especially as Kiyoko stands with a soft smile on her face and a small plate of palace delicacies she’d more than likely had to sneak away from your mother.

Your eyes widen and you take it from her gleefully. Of course, of all people to notice, Kiyoko was the only one that would do something that could anger your mother—she’d risk the consequences if only to see you content.

Kiyoko had been assigned to you when you turned 16; close in age and the only woman considered even remotely worthy to be the lady-in-waiting to the future queen, according to your mother, she had adopted quickly to her role. Taking the additional, and much needed, position of older sister and, eventually, the stance of sole ally in those pitiful years. She had helped you through tough days and had listened to every complaint you had about any minor detail. She never once cared what upset you, she only cared about you.

She sighs beside you, in a similar manner to how you had when you first escaped from the bustling ballroom. And, suddenly, you’re not the princess anymore; you’re just a woman with her friend. You’re not a person dreading your married life, you’re you. You’re just you.

“Your mother—“

“Please.” You interrupt, sending her a quick glance, you know she wants to ask what you were pulled aside for: a conversation you wanted to forget. “Not now; not here.” Kiyoko nods in return, a comfortable silence enveloping the two of you as you finish the food she managed to sneak away for you.

That’s how you stay as you both stare over the garden: there’s nothing to say. She had already heard your fear for your wedding day; she had witnessed you’re waterfall of tears the night before as you voiced every concern and fear, letting out all the emotions you had been trying to ignore for years. She had seen you at your worst before, what was supposed to be, the happiest night of your life. There was nothing she could ask that would make you feel better.

“Excuse me, Your Highness.” You turn to the entrance of the balcony, the approach of another person going unnoticed by the both of you; straightening your posture your posture in an instant, the fear of your mother catching you in any ‘unladylike’ position running through your veins. Its only when you realise it’s Komori that you allow yourself to relax. “My apologies, I didn’t realise you had company, My Lady.” He bows his head to both you and Kiyoko. You greet him with the best smile you can muster: though you're not entirely happy to see him either–Sakusa’s silence broke your heart but Komori’s helped stamp on the pieces helping you learn losing a friend was just as painful.

He reaches a hand out towards you, offering you a glass of champagne he’s graciously brought with him, unaware of Kiyoko’s presence, he was ill-prepared for company yet, he hands her the second glass initially intended for himself.

“You look beautiful, Your Highness.” He’s the only person, besides Kiyoko, to say those words to you; to remember that this was your day and make it seem as such even if he knows, more than most, the reality of your relationship.

These a brief moment where you do feel beautiful, his soft voice unlocks more memories of the three of you as children, the nights in which Komori would listen to your endless rambling of your excitement for this very night—the plans you had for every detail of the decoration and dress, the exact opposite of what you’d endured. But those few words, his grin that was painted in your memory, childish, familiar and likely one of few things not destroyed by the horrors of war.

But that moment is fleeting; in seconds those memories are tightly locked up again as he speaks: he’s not there for you. “I wish I could come with better news, but I believe your mother has noticed your escape.”

He’s simply on an errand.

Your head drops as you sigh, a sound that has come from you today more than any day of your life. Turning to Kiyoko, you send her a disappointed smile.

“I would gladly escort you both back, My Ladies, if you allow it.” He steps forward, offering his arm to you.

You don’t move.

The thought of your mother seeing you walk arm in arm with your husband’s cousin is daunting: you know she’ll have strong words to say against it. As though he can hear the string of thoughts; you know he can see the conflicted expression on your face but he certainly wasn’t expecting it.

He clears his throat, embarrassment obvious as he lowers his arm. Instead, he opens the door again and steps aside, silence falling between the three of you as you make your way towards the music again, an uncomfortable atmosphere worsening with every step.

Once you arrive, Kiyoko steps aside as she’s beckoned away and you’re left with Komori. He, once again, clears his throat gently—a nervous habit he’d picked up in the years he’d been absent—-and hold out his hand again.

It feels less forced this time as the music plays loudly around you and couples still fill the hall laughing hand in hand as they spin.

“You should enjoy your day, the same as everyone else. I’d be honoured if you were to allow me a dance.” That grin, that voice, that kind man. You falter again and wonder how the friend you’d cherished so strongly had left you in darkness for years yet still acts as though you are the 13 year old girl begging for him to help her practice the endlessly complicated palace dinner etiquette.

But people are watching, he is waiting. “I would be—“

“Komori, I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of a dance with my wife yet.” Anyone would have believed you had seen a ghost, the shock on your face impossible to hide as you twist, turning to face Sakusa. He glanced between you and Komori before he holds his hand out to you. “If she’ll allow it.”

She will not. You want to scream. She would not have allowed any of this.

Forcing a smile at the man you’ve married, you take his hand and allow him to lead you to the middle of the ballroom floor now even more painfully aware of the eyes glued to you.

Everyone stops what they’re doing; those dancing step to the side and the music restarts, playing the song you’ve heard hundreds of times in your life.

It begins; Sakusa crosses an arm across his torso as he bows at you. He lifts his head first, eyes meeting yours as he straightens his back. You falter for a millisecond under his gaze before you take hold of the your dress, curtsying elegantly in return before the dance truly begins.

Your hands interlace and he pulls you close, his free hand slides to your back, while you delicately place yours on his shoulder. He pulls you as close as he can resting his head against yours as he takes lead of your movement.

“Must you look so uncomfortable?” He whispers into you ear, loosening his grip on you to allow some distance between you again.

“There is only so much I can hide, Sakusa.” Your voice is more venomous than you had intended yet you feel no shame—the first words you’d exchanged since your vows were not to be pleasant.

“Today, of all days, you must, My Dear.” He fights the want to frown himself as you meet his eyes again.

“This may mean nothing to you,” you grin, sarcasm leaking from your expression that doesn’t go unmissed by your husband—it’s certain to fool those watching. The beautiful first dance of their future leaders, lost in each other; in their love that’s bloomed since their young friendship. “you may be content with a marriage of convenience. But I once wished I’d be married to a man that cared enough to tell me he was alive.”

His face does fall at the words, his frown lasting only a second before he can think of a rebuttal. “I was at war; leading an army. I spent my days fighting and my nights fearing my men would be ambushed; there was not time—”

“There was time for others, was there not?” He blankly stares, effortlessly moving to the music, leading your through the dance you could perform in your sleep. “We are no longer children, Sakusa. You’ve certainly made it clear how foolish I was when we were.”

“That’s not what I—“ He stammers in his defeat, making no effort to refute your claims as your hand comes away from his shoulder. He stylishly spins you, catching you by the waist with ease.

“Four years of silence. I didn’t know if you would even return until you,” Embarrassment fills you as your voice shakes—this is not the place to admit this but there may be no other chance—“until your letter of ten words.”

Your voice is quiet, you’re distracted by the way his hand is placed on your lower back, your clothing hides the feeling of his hands on you, but you feel the pressure as he pulls you close again.

“The war was won;” he defends “I was not aware the wedding would be the day after my return until I received a letter no more than a week ago, I sent word to you to prepare you.”

He leads you further through the dance, dipping your with grace, bringing a memory to the front of your mind.

You remember when you were young and learning this dance in anticipation for this moment; you remember the first time you practiced this very movement; the day he dropped you onto the floor, much to the shock of the instructor but to the entertainment of the two of you. Komori had heard the story later that day: teasing Sakusa alongside you until the novelty wore off.

Sakusa lifts you, bringing you back to an upright position, although, neither of you are prepared for the lack of distance between you. It’s more shocking for you at the sight of his much softer expression mere inches from you: he’s looking at you like a man truly happy to be wed—such delusion.

The music stops, and your curtesy once more; you interaction ends as Sakusa takes your hand, kissing it softly. When he raises his head, his soft demeanour is once again replaced by the unimpressed man you’ve quickly come accustomed to. You weren’t convinced you eyes weren’t playing a cruel trick on you.

He keeps hold of your hand as he guides you to the sidelines again and you try to ignore the beaming smiles of the woman wanting so desperately to be in your position.

Everyone’s in awe of your performance, unaware of the conversation unfolding between you: one that’s worsened your already sour mood. And everything continues as it was with more people swarming to the floor as music begins again, and conversations are in uproar as everyone falls deeper into drunkenness as time progresses.

And you’re not comfortable until you’re sat in front of a vanity mirror again, in an unfamiliar room that you’ll be leaving once you are prepared. You’re thankful Kiyoko was the only one beside you, brushing through your hair and untying the corset that’s crushed you throughout the day.

“My Lady,” Kiyoko whispered, “You mustn’t do anything you do not want to. No matter what your mother wants.” You meet her eyes in the mirror again, offering her a sincere smile.

“I know. I simply need her to believe. Neither of us want this, or an heir right now.” She nods, obviously unconvinced but she doesn’t argue; she doesn’t want to make you feel any worse than you had been.

“I worry—“

“I know.” You take hold of her hand that’s rested on your shoulder. “I appreciate it all; all you’ve done for me today.”

You’re soon wrapped in a shawl, hiding your nightdress as you’re led by a maid to your new bedchambers within the palace.

The door is opened for you and is closed the second you step inside; you’re met with the back of Sakusa’s head as he focuses on the paper he has displayed on his desk, the light of his candle beside him.

You clear your throat, gaining his attention. He turns to you and, he too, has ridden himself of his wedding attire and. instead, donned a much thinner sleeping set. And your briefly distracted by the low cut of his shirt, revealing his toned chest to you.

“I hope you’re not expecting anything.” He sighs, glancing over your appearance, his lingering gaze unnoticed by you. Instead, you frown, and resist the desire to argue the same of him.

“I expect nothing. My mother, however, is under the impression we are eager.” You drop the shawl at a chair in the centre of the room, ignoring the way he did briefly stare once more stopping as he realised and turning back to his papers—he hopes that too was missed along with the gentle blush that paints his cheeks.

“Your mother is—“ His voice gives away nothing.

“Be careful of your words, Your Highness,” you warn as you climb into bed, “she is now your mother too.

Sakusa stops, glancing to you just once more before he lets out a sigh of his own. “Your lady-in-waiting will arrive tomorrow.” He informs you after a few moments of silence.

“I have Kiyoko.” You respond instantaneously, somewhat fearing he’ll replace the closest friend you have with a stranger.

“The future queen requires more than a single lady-in-waiting; she’ll be here tomorrow.” You turn in bed, leaving your back to him and refuse to respond: nothing you say would change his mind.

You close your eyes and bask in the silence of the room, after the day of roaring excitement from almost everyone but yourself, you’re glad to finally have a moment with your own thoughts. You’re uncertain of how much time has passed; but soon enough you feel the bed dip beside you and the warmth of a body beside you. It’s that very warmth that lulls you to sleep.

You wake the next morning to exactly what you expect: the spot in the bed beside you empty and cold.

#𝓈𝒾𝑔𝓃𝑒𝒹 𝑒𝒸𝒽𝑜 ༉‧₊˚. #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi angst #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu

[mavrintarou]

Wipe Your Eyes [6]

Thank you for all your patience with me, there were some family events the last couple of weeks and sometimes it's just never ending. I hope you all have been well and here's some sweet Kiyoomi.

Warning: sweet smut, therapy session for Y/n, less angst and more fluff

Fifth part Seventh part - end

.

Kiyoomi endured a few more weeks of Couvade Syndrome before he miraculously woke up one day and felt fresh and new as if nothing happened.

Y/n watched him shove food down his throat as he was finally able to eat and keep the food down. He requested things that he had never eaten before and things he has shown a dislike for, such as a chocolate cream pie. With extra whipped cream.

“You sure you don’t want any?”

Y/n shook her head with a smile, “no, I’m good.” She felt relieved that he was feeling better.

At first, she couldn’t possibly believe Kiyoomi was going through Couvade Syndrome, but everything would point to it.

The morning sickness.

The mood swings.

The fatigue.

On certain days, he would experience one or two symptoms, while on others, he would be stuck by the full array of symptoms, making it challenging to witness him cope with the effects.

The timing was a blessing in disguise as Kiyoomi was in his off-season of volleyball. Some days he would not be able to get out of bed or out of the bathroom.

“I’m so dizzy.” He mumbled when Y/n would come to check in on him. “Don’t be on your feet too long, okay?”

“Okay,” Y/n answered softly, kissing his forehead, and combing his curls out of the way. Even when he wasn’t feeling the best, he still put her before him.

Kiyoomi throws an arm over his eyes and muttered, “I’m serious.”

“I know, I won’t be on my feet for more than what the therapist ordered.” She has been going to physical therapy on her own since Kiyoomi wasn’t in the best shape to tag along. “Will it make you feel better if I come work in bed beside you?”

He glanced at her with one eye, a glimmer of hope in his gaze. “You would do that for me?” he asked. She nodded, and a small smile graced her lips, “yes, that would make me feel better.”

When she returned with her laptop to spend the rest of her work hours reviewing, he was out completely. He was shirtless with only his boxers on, he complained about being hot one second and cold the next, it was easier to just have him sleep in the least amount of clothing with the space heater set on low.

She shook her head, amused by the sound of Kiyoomi’s quiet snores. Moving as close as she could to him, she ensured there was physical contact before settling into her own comfortable position and starting her work.

A few hours later, she shut her laptop down and leaned over to set it on the nightstand. Kiyoomi was now turned towards her with an arm over her lap and one long heavy leg was thrown over hers.

Leaning over, she kissed his temple and whispered, “Omi, welfare check, how are you doing?”

She wasn’t sure if he was alert or not, but she heard his exhale and he shifted, pulling her closer.

“Yomi…?” Y/n’s voice cut off as she feels something hard pressing and rubbing against the side of her thigh.

Yearning for a sort of solace, Kiyoomi was dry humping her thigh, groaning in his sleep.

“Kiyoomi?” Y/n cupped his cheek, “hey – “

“Y/n?”

She looked at him, but his eyes remain closed, “yes?” He rolled over her, face buried into her tummy, “Omi?”

“… need… you…”

Y/n lifts his head, cupping both cheeks, “Omi, look at me, please?” He raised his head, and despite the weariness in his eyes, they gleamed with a mixture of longing and passion.

“How do you need me?” At her question, Kiyoomi rocked his bulge against her thigh.

“Please…” he rubs his face against her chest. His eyes widen as in a split second, he is on his back with Y/n straddling over his waist. She tugs off her shirt and pushes her sweatpants and panties off before tugging off his own joggers. He allowed and enjoyed Y/n manhandling him before she rocked herself against his cock, sliding along his length and driving him mad. Her wetness lubricated his girth through her rocking.

A quiet moan escaped her lips, he wasn’t even inside of her, but he felt long and thick.

He grabs her hips, digging his thumb into her skin. “No… no more teasing…”

Y/n lifts herself and Kiyoomi takes his cock and aligns it beneath her entrance and guided her down until he was fully sheath inside of her.

Kiyoomi groaned, “wait – too deep…” he tried to lift her hips, but she dropped her weight, shaking her head.

Her eyes shut tightly, biting down on her lower lip. “You’re so big…”

His hands hesitated briefly before gently shifting towards her abdomen, where their growing baby reside. He could sense the subtle transformation taking place within her body.

Y/n placed her hands on his for a split second before threading her fingers with his and began rocking her hips. “Ah… Omi…”

His face twisted in pleasure, he gasped out loud, and Y/n found his moans endearing. Kiyoomi rarely made noises during lovemaking, he panted and grunted but never a moaning mess beneath Y/n.

Y/n leaned down to kiss him, “Omi… you sound so beautiful…”

He shakes his hands free from hers and reaches around her back to undo her bra, taking off the material as it rubbed against his chest. He groped her breasts, taking in a perky nipple into his mouth while tweaking the other side.

Y/n wasn’t sure if it was the idea of pregnancy sex but every touch from Kiyoomi was sending her spark and tingles everywhere. She continued to roll her hips, hitting the deep spot within her. “Omi… I’m so close… you feel – “

“You feel amazing,” he finished and thrusts up into her.

“Omi!” Y/n cried, weight collapsing onto him. Her sensitive walls shudder around his cock as he continues to keep thrusting into her.

“Y/n!” Kiyoomi grunts, hips jerking with each ejaculation release.

.

“All you needed was some sex and now you’re feeling brand new?” Y/n teased watching Kiyoomi walk around their place in only his joggers. A vibrant flush colored his cheeks, transforming his appearance from sickly to healthy and vibrant.

No one would have suspected that an hour ago, he was in bed drained from Couvade Syndrome.

Kiyoomi was literally glowing with fully charged energy.

“Glad we found a way to fix it.” He winked at her with a smirk on his face. Winked. At. Her.

Y/n’s jaw dropped for a split second before her cheeks flushed.

. .

“Sakusa Y/n, please tell me about yourself?”

Y/n clears her throat, it was her turn to meet individually with Dr. Kitagowa. “Do you want to know like my childhood up until now?”

“Yes please.”

Taking a deep breath and exhaling, ”I am an only child. My father is full Korean while my mother is half Korean and half Japanese. I spent my childhood going back and forth between South Korea and Japan to visit my maternal grandparents up until their passing. I continue to visit occasionally and after finishing high school in South Korea, I was accepted to the university in Japan where I spent my college years here.” She eyed Dr. Kitagowa who is scribbling on their notepad. “I met Kiyoomi, my husband… during our college days.”

Her mind wandered back to memory lane.

“He…” her words cut off as she broke into a fit of giggle, remembering the first time she saw Kiyoomi. “The first time I met Kiyoomi, he was so beautiful. He still is but that was the first thing I thought when I saw him take off his mask to eat in the cafeteria.” She remembered her eyes bulging out and she was starstruck.

She nearly dropped her tray of lunch.

Every day thereafter, she would hope to catch a glimpse of him in the same spot at the same time.

She found out his name through the grapevines and that he was on the men’s volleyball team where she’s seen all their games.

Y/n was astounded by the stark contrast between the awkward guy at the lunch table and in the hallways and the one she witnessed on the court. It was hard to believe they were one and the same person.

Each day, she longed for the chance to capture his gaze.

“I would pray ‘Please look at me.’ over and over…” she sighed with a laugh. “And then one day, my club was having a bake sale and I would never expect in a million years that Kiyoomi… would come up to me and purchase some cookies,” Y/n remembers having the dumb smile on her face, the flutter in her tummy, and the excitement jitters. “I ran into him a few more times after that and then one day he asked me if I was free.” She was so stunned at his question, unsure if she was hearing it right. She didn’t want to overthink that he was asking something she was imagining. “He asked me ‘Would you like to come to my game?’… little did Kiyoomi know, I have been going to all the home games, cheering for his team.”

Y/n fiddled with her skirt, “but I couldn’t let him know that he would think I was weird or something.”

Dr. Kitagowa had a small smile on his face, “does Mr. Sakusa know now that you did, in fact, attend his games prior to him asking you?”

Y/n nodded, blushing, “yes, I told him later.”

“What happened next?”

“I went to the game, and even though it wasn’t the first game I’ve gone to… it was the first one he invited me to, so I was extremely nervous.” She remembered being upset because she couldn’t get seats close to the court and had to sit towards the top. She wished she could have gotten his phone number to text him that she was there, at the nose-bleed seats. “Of course, they won the game, and I was super… proud of him but I couldn’t find him after the game, so I went home.” The next day, she made it to the university early to try and find Kiyoomi, in which she found him.

“I came too late and got terrible seats, but I did watch you play.” She blurted the sentence under one breath. “You were amazing.” She couldn’t tell what he was thinking and felt pathetic blabbering away.

“I was looking for you.”

She looked up at him, “you were? I was there, I swear – “

Kiyoomi pulled his mask down, “I believe you.” He smiled, it was small, but he smiled.

“I always knew from the beginning, that Kiyoomi was not… a romantic man.” She sighed with a small smile on her face. “I’ve always imagined myself with a romantic man who would hold my hand in public and show public affection.” Kiyoomi was the exact opposite. She discovered that Kiyoomi wasn’t wearing a mask just because it was flu season, he wore a mask all the time unless he was in the comfort of his own home. “Nonetheless, I respected Kiyoomi’s boundaries and when we began seeing each other more and more, he finally asked me out and it was one of the best days of my life.”

Well, for her but not for those around her.

A considerable number of her friend and even her parents did not hold a favorable opinion of Kiyoomi. They didn’t like his stoic and detached personality.

“Kiyoomi is frequently misunderstood, and since we started dating, we have encountered certain challenges in our relationship.”

You don’t come out anymore.

You’ve changed since you dated Sakusa.

He has no personality.

He is so hard to have a conversation with.

Y/n looked at Dr. Kitagowa who had been silent the entire time that she rambled on about her life. She didn’t like to talk much about her parents’ dislike of Kiyoomi. “My parents… did not like nor want me to date a Japanese man because my paternal grandparents are loathing the Japanese people. My dad fell in love with a Japanese woman who was willing to give up her culture and identity to be with him.” And when Y/n fell in love with a Japanese man, her paternal grandparents made a fuss about how it was an eye-for-an-eye.

“How did Mr. Sakusa’s family feel about you?”

“They were definitely more welcoming than my family. They embraced and supported us wholeheartedly, genuinely happy for both Kiyoomi and me. I have developed a strong bond with his mother, enjoying a good and harmonious relationship with her. On the other hand, I only have occasional encounters with his father when he’s in the country.”

Dr. Kitagowa lets out a deep sigh, “are you being accused of giving up your culture and identity to be with Mr. Sakusa?”

“I grew up mostly in South Korea, but I was always more in tune with my Japanese heritage. I wouldn’t say that I’m giving up or favor one over the other.” She pressed a hand to her abdomen, “we’re expecting, and I have not yet discussed it with Kiyoomi yet, but I would love to give our child a Korean name, a middle name. I don’t have a Japanese name, Y/n, is my unofficial name given to me by my maternal grandparents.”

“What is the relationship between your husband and parents?”

Y/n lets out a shaky laugh. It was rocky. It is still rocky. “Initially, they held a negative opinion of him, and unfortunately, their perspective has remained unchained. At present, they merely tolerate his presence.”

“How does that affect you?”

“It saddens me, and I’ve been put in a situation by my parents that I would have to choose between them or Kiyoomi.” It brought tears to her eyes thinking back to that moment. “And I choose Kiyoomi because he never once made me choose.” She reached for the tissue box, dabbing her eyes. “Even through our ups and downs, I would always choose Kiyoomi.”

. .

Kiyoomi leaned against the doorway of the room that was going to be the baby’s room. He envisioned the perfect placement for the crib, dresser, and rocking chair, carefully imagining their positions in the room.

Will their baby be a boy or a girl? What color should they paint the nursery?

He sighed, regardless of if it was a boy or girl, he prayed they look like their mother.

Kiyoomi frowned, now that he thought about it, he has never seen any of Y/n’s baby or childhood photos before.

His thoughts are disrupted when hears Y/n’s return.

“Hey,” he greeted, noticing the signs of physical, emotional, and mental exhaustion etched across her face. “Are you… okay?” She finally lifts her gaze, revealing red eyes that immediately caught his attention. Without hesitation, he closed the distance between them, tenderly cupping her face in his large hands. His eyes searched hers, filled with concern and yearning for answers. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?” he asked, his voice filled with genuine worry.

She shook her head and surprised him when she leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Can you hug me, please?”

Kiyoomi’s arms enveloped her in a comforting embrace, and he tenderly placed a kiss on the crown of her head. “You never have to ask,” he whispered softly, “I’ll be there for you.”

A few minutes passed in serene silence, creating a comfortable and tranquil atmosphere.

“Can we move to the couch?” She nodded her head and Kiyoomi shuffled them to the couch without having to break their hug. He pulled her onto his lap, and she tightened her arms around his neck. He’s not sure what shook her up like this, but he was going to try and be patient and let her open up to him.

One hand rubbed her thigh, and the other hand rubbed her lower back. “Please, talk to me,” he whispered with a hint of anxiety lacing his voice. “You’re making my mind and heart race.”

Y/n pulled back and looked at him, a hand touching his cheek. “I’m sorry,” she replied, her voice filled with a mix of vulnerability and strength. “The therapy session today brought back some old wounds, but it’s nothing detrimental. It served as a reminder of how far I’ve come and how those experiences have shamed me into the person I am today.”

His dark eyes softened, and he leaned into the gentle touch of her palm. “What kind of person have you become?” he mused, a contemplative expression crossing his face.

She maintained eye contact, reflecting her soft, affectionate gaze back at him. With a small, heartfelt smile, she replied, “one that chooses you.”

Kiyoomi bit down on his lower lip to prevent it from trembling. He lets out a soft chuckle and drops his head onto her shoulder, “I love you, so much.”

.

All of Kiyoomi’s teammates nervously exchange glances in silence. While their coach spoke about the upcoming season and the slight changes in training, their attention was repeatedly drawn to their teammate at the far end. It had been a few weeks since they last saw him, and they couldn’t help but feel perplexed by the profound transformation in Sakusa Kiyoomi.

Kiyoomi.

Out in public.

Without a mask.

Atsumu is the first to dare speak when the coach dismissed them to begin warmup, “Omi-Omi… do… you need a mask?”

“No, I have some, thanks though.” His brow raised at the team, “why are you guys acting like this is the first time you’ve guys seen my face?”

Shoyo chuckles, “well Sakusa-san, this is the first time we’ve seen you enter the gym without a mask.”

Kiyoomi kept his composure and refrained from flinching when Kotaro’s face got really close to his. “What?”

The hyperactive silver hair narrowed his eyes at Kiyoomi, “are you feeling okay?”

Kiyoomi slapped his hand before it could touch his forehead, “I’m fine, what’s wrong with you all?” He walked towards the court grumbling, “hurry up and let’s start practice.”

.

Feeling his wife’s gaze upon him for some time, Kiyoomi finally asked, “what?” After his training session, he suggested going to the mall for dinner and some shopping.

When they arrived at the mall, Kiyoomi got out of the car without a mask and Y/n watched him with wide eyes as he made his way over to her side and opened the door. She didn’t say anything, thinking maybe he’ll put his mask on when they got into the mall.

But he did not.

Her cheeks flushed red, being caught. “Ah – are you… you sure you’re okay without a mask?”

He sighed and turned until he stood in front of her, “I’m fine. I promise.”

Following his initial therapy session, he came to the realization that change was necessary. It was time for him to venture beyond the confines of his comfort zone.

“Consider attempting or revisiting something that makes you feel uncomfortable but won’t cause any harm.” Dr. Kitagowa suggested before ending their last session. Kiyoomi thought hard about it and decided he will try to go out in public without a mask on.

He couldn’t recall the last time he ventured into public spaces without wearing a mask. It all traced back to when he contracted a severe cold from this desk mate back in elementary school. Ever since that incident, he had become accustomed to wearing a mask wherever he went. Moreover, his mother, being a nurse, had instilled in him the importance of good hygiene, further reinforcing the habit.

Y/n did not look convinced her husband was truly fine without a mask in public. She has never seen him go out in public without a mask.

He gently squeezed her hand, reassuringly stating, “I’m truly fine. Come on, let’s go to the new baby store. I’ve been eager to check it out.” He let out a sigh of relief as she didn’t press further, grateful for her understanding.

. . .

E/n: daddy and husband Sakusa is just something else...

>>> @pierroswife @queenelleee @eadyladlegard @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy @chickflickjunkie @saikisho3 @sunawayx @vicolangelo @tsumu-senpai @famebydefinition @imnotjo @jojowantstocry @levistiddies

#haikyuu smut #haikyu x reader #sakusa smut #sakusa kiyoomi smut #haikyuu sakusa #haikyuu sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #sakusa fluff #sakusa kiyoomi fluff #sakusa kiyoomi x y/n #sakusa kiyoomi angst #sakusa kiyoomi x reader