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#kiyoomi x reader
cyanhydrangea · 2 days
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Husband! CEO! Sakusa Kiyoomi who stands at your home office doorway in the midnight while you're working on your project.
"You know you don't need to work on those when you have me, right?"
You know what your rich husband implies, you can't help but smile, "You know how much I love this job, it's my passion at this point, it's never about the money when I have you"
"And risking your health on your way? Not on my watch", he said before stepping forward in the room to your desk.
You don't have other choice when your husband Sakusa Kiyoomi suddenly carrying you bridal style to your shared bedroom, making sure you have a good night rest you needed.
#CyanHydrangea
Date Written: 22/04/2024
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ghostlygeto · 22 days
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warnings: gn!reader, i’m in love with sakusa kiyoomi.
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sakusa kiyoomi who searches the crowd for you every game, always hoping that his eyes will meet yours. and they always do. he’s always able to pick you out from the the other hundreds of people there to watch them play.
sakusa kiyoomi who near begs you to just accept his offer of sitting you in one of the front sections. he can get you any ticket you want in any row of any stadium they play in. as much as he loves searching for you, he’d prefer the comfort of knowing exactly where you are from the start.
“are you whining?” you tease, smiling up at your boyfriend, “you sound a lot like atsumu right now.” “don’t compare me to him.” kiyoomi huffs, resting his chin back on your head. “i just think it’d be nice to find you right away. and you’d be able to watch the game better if you were closer.” “i don’t want special treatment just because we’re dating. besides, don’t you think it’s fun to try and find me in the crowd? it isn’t even a little exciting?” “no.” he immediately answers, because it isn’t to him. nothing is exciting until he sees you. the search is just getting in the way of that. “but i suppose if you enjoy sitting in the most random spots around i can’t stop you.” “you’re right.” you nod, triumphant smile on your face. “if roles were reversed you’d understand. watching you scan the faces of strangers hoping to find mine always makes me feel nice. plus, the look when you finally find me gives me butterflies.” “no way i make a face.” kiyoomi shook his head and stared down at you, “do i really?”
sakusa kiyoomi who is pleasantly surprised to see you in one of the front rows of his next game, and later is shown a video of the exact moment he sees you.
he does, in fact, make a face.
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yenqa · 27 days
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firsts
synopsis — sakusa and you have never had a conversation, and honestly you’re terrified of the man. but one conversation turns out to be many more of your firsts with sakusa.
warnings — reader is scared of men LMFAO, not really any
pairing — sakusa x implied fem!reader
wordcount — 710
a/n — happy birthday to himm! also my first hq post in a while OOPS also not proofread sorry!
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You’ve never really talked to Sakusa.
You had been the manager of the volleyball team since your first year–and you had known him since then, but for some reason, you haven’t talked to him unless it’s volleyball related.
In fact–you don’t think you’ve ever had a conversation with him. But there's a first for everything, right?
Itachiyama has made it to nationals (not like it’s a surprise), and everyone has just arrived. The room continues to fill with people you don’t know, so you decide it’s best to stick with your team so you don’t get lost.
Well apparently that was a horrible idea to everyone else. Because you’ve lost everyone but Sakusa. 
And you’re terrified. Surrounded in a room full of men you don’t know sounded like your worst nightmare, and you were living it currently.
Frantically scanning the room for anyone that’s not Sakusa, you somehow can’t spot any of the familiar bright yellow and green jackets your team is wearing.
Everyone knows that Sakusa doesn’t like to be bothered. But when you make eye contact with him, you change your expression to a way where he understands you’re pleading for help.
And he nods once.
Your mouth breaks out into a smile, and you shimmy your way to the crowd. Letting out a sigh of relief–you lean on the wall for support, muttering a small thank you to Sakusa. 
You don’t expect him to say anything back, but you can hear his muffled voice say, “You okay?”
Tilting your head slightly up to make eye contact with him, you smile as you say, “Yeah–I’m fine. Are you nervous?”
You’re not sure why you ask the question, he probably doesn’t want to be bothered. I mean–you were still kind of shocked that he let you even be near him.
“Not really. Are you?”
You’re even more shocked when he continues the conversation. You’d expect he’d be the most rude person if he didn’t want to talk. “I-uhm I am a little bit. But we’re exempt from playing today right?”
Yeah–this definitely is the first and last conversation you’ll ever have with him.
He nods.
Then it’s silent.
Surprisingly, the silence isn't the most awkward thing you’ve experienced. It feels as if you’re just two people co-existing.
You watch as everyone excitedly hugs each other or glares at their next opponent. One person even tries to rile up the other, eliciting a small chuckle from you.
From the corner of your eye you can tell he’s curious, but he hasn’t said anything yet. This time, you take initiative to point at the players, also describing the jacket colors.
And you swear you can hear him laugh.
Not a full–hearty laugh obviously, but a small chuckle. A quiet one that you don’t even notice. But it’s definitely the first time you’ve heard him do anything resembling a laugh.
“You laughed.” You blurt out, before you even realize. 
He furrows his brows, “I did.”
Your eyes widen, “Sorry–oh my gosh, it’s just the first time I’ve heard your laugh before, Sakusa-san. I swear I didn’t mean it like that–you just have a nice laugh–”
And now he’s actually laughing–like not even hard to hear.
He’s laughing, he’s hunched over, shaking and clutching his stomach. You don’t think you’ve ever felt more mortified in your life.
“It wasn’t that funny was it?” You ask, a frown on your face.
Sakusa catches his breath, “Funnier than any of the jokes Komori tries to make.”
“There wasn’t even a joke! And I happen to like the jokes he makes!”
“Only if you’re sick in the head.”
You scoff at his remark, “Wow, Sakusa-san, you’re very hard to please.”
“Kiyoomi.”
“Another complaint?” You tease, trying to play dumb at what he’s trying to imply. 
“Call me Kiyoomi.”
You can feel heat rush to your cheeks, you tuck your hair back behind your ear and mutter, “Okay, Kiyoomi.”
And even though he’s wearing a white mask, you swear you can see his eyes crinkle and you can assume the corners of his mouth turn up ever so slightly. 
You’ve had many firsts with Sakusa today. This is the first time you’ve seen him smile–just maybe next time he’ll do it while his face is fully shown.
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yenqa © please do not copy, steal or translate.
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joyaphoria · 1 year
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kissdrunk!sakusa, who swore to himself that he’d never kiss anyone, revolted by the idea of having to share his mouth with another person.
kissdrunk!sakusa who met you eventually, and though still uneasy about the idea at first, he’d often catch himself staring at the plump of your lips every so often.
kissdrunk!sakusa who caved one night, clumsily leaning in to take your mouth only to have you stiffle a laugh in his once you realize that he’s horrible at it.
kissdrunk!sakusa who let you slip the pad of your thumb between his lips, flusteredly obeying as you taught him how to do the very thing he used to hate thinking about.
kissdrunk!sakusa who ever since then, could never get enough. 
kissdrunk!sakusa who would kiss you awake in the mornings, silently rejoicing when he took the risk of slipping his tongue pass your lips and you latched onto it, moaning softly.
kissdrunk!sakusa who would kiss you anytime, anywhere, however he likes it.  slipping his tongue past your lips outside the gym after practice when you come to pick him up, the hand at the back of your head pulling you closer, his teammates gaping in horror.
kissdrunk!sakusa who would kiss you deep and slow as you take the elevator up to your apartment, because he was far too impatient.
kissdrunk!sakusa who would fuck your mouth until he was satisfied, holding your pretty head in place with two hands as his hips jerk and he shoots his load down your throat, groaning blissfully. he’d yank you upwards then, pulling your lips to his demandingly, tasting the saltiness of his seed on your tongue, rewarding you once he knows for sure that you swallowed all of it.
kissdrunk!sakusa who would kiss his way down your body, tongue flicking against the swolleness of your clit, then pressing a soft kiss in warning.
kissdrunk!sakusa who throws your legs over his shoulders, hooks his arms under each of your thighs, then lifts your ass off the bed as he brings you flat against his face.
kissdrunk!sakusa who doesn’t just eat you out with his mouth, but his whole face. a dry, shocking scream would rip from your throat as your toes curl, feeling the bump of his nose as it rubs brutally against your clit, the pump and oddly talented thrust of his tongue inside of you, and the constant graze of teeth as he searches for anything he can latch onto.
kissdrunk!sakusa who will suck lewdly on your clit, not caring in the slightest of the excess of suction noises that make their way around the room.
kissdrunk!sakusa who will continue to pump his long, slender fingers in and out of your cunt, already having three in and swearing that you could fit one more.
kissdrunk!sakusa who will swallow up all of your juices, lapping them up thoroughly as he cleans you with his tongue.
kissdrunk!sakusa who will crawl back up your body and capture you in a bruising kiss, making sure to travel the lengths of your mouth with his tongue.
kissdrunk!sakusa who will finally pull away, and in a breathless but soft voice whisper: “you taste so good baby, please, let’s go one more time,” pleading for another taste of your pussy, completely high and fucked off the adrenaline.
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everyone says that my omiomi is a clean pussy eater—if one at all, and i disagree. that boy is pussy starved and eats that shit out like he aint ever gonna see it again.
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chosobaby · 2 years
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sakusa kiyoomi doesn’t believe that you’re his ‘first love’. he’s never dated anyone before you, never even gotten close to holding hands with another, but still, he would never consider you his ‘first love’.
it nearly broke your heart when he mentioned it, casually bringing it up while making dinner together after announcing your engagement to his teammates. you had genuinely thought he was about to break up with you.
“they were all talking about how great it is that i’m marrying my first love,” he said, “but i think they’re wrong; you’re not my first love.”
you didn’t know how to react, all words had gotten stuck in your throat. hands freezing midair, nearly dropping the wooden spoon you were holding, your eyes shot to him in worry.
“not because you’re not the first person i have ever loved,” he continued, cupping your face with his right hand after letting a fond chuckle leave his lips, “but because you’re the only person i’ll ever love. saying you’re my first love implies someone will come after — but that will never happen.”
his free hand took the spoon that had almost slipped as he brought his lips to yours. the soft, loving smile that graced his lips as you parted reminded you that he’s yours and will always and forever be.
“my only love,” kiyoomi whispered, making you fall in love with him all over again.
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irisintheafterglow · 2 months
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do you guys ever think about streamer!sakusa because i do
cw: swearing
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sakusasbigtits👑👑: wait wtf are they in the room ??? hinatashoyolover: ASHDSFKAJSDFHG ellawantsaran👑: PARTNER REVEAL violetvolley2012: mOVE YOUR FUCKNIG WEBCAM oikawamilkbox7: SHWO PARTNER SHOW FPARTNER miya_osamu: what the fuck is going on
"what the hell is a miya doing in my chat? i could've sworn you guys just finished a charity stream," he dodges, leaning back in his chair as chaotic messages urging him to show his partner flew by. "look, i don't know what you guys are talking about. there's no one in the room but me." cross-legged on his bed and wearing his jersey, you stifle a laugh into your fist just out of sight. his eyes flicker over to you for a moment and soften before he goes back to manipulating his chat.
miyarearrangemyinsides👑: YOU FUCKING LIAR sakusasbigtits👑👑: WHY ARE YOU GASLIGHTING US
"i'm serious." more messages of indignancy light up his screen. "i don't think you guys even know what gaslighting means." a smirk spreads across his face as chat explodes, taking the bait and continuing to argue with their favorite man through a screen. "thank you kuroobella7 for the five gifted-"
stop being a big baby and show us your partner, deadpans the automatic voice reading out his donations. you can't help it, that time, and the laugh that slips out is definitely picked up by kiyoomi's mic.
sakusasbigtits👑👑: WHO WAS THAT oikawamilkbox7: WE HEARD THAT OMI tinygianttwo: hi sakusa!!
"hey, shoyo. welcome back to the hellhole that is my chat," he says, continuing to ignore the outrage rising in his stream. "hop in vc one, i'm gonna see if bokuto wants to play phasmophobia." your attention returns to your laptop and you continue with typing out the rest of your assignment.
you vaguely register kiyoomi saying something about grabbing another drink, forcing an ad onscreen before creeping over to you. his hands rest on the edge of the bed as he leans forward, pressing his lips softly to yours and smiling against your mouth. "i love you a lot."
"i love you more. when are you gonna stop convincing chat that i don't exist?"
"when they earn it," he answers simply, kissing the corner of your mouth and the tip of your nose. if lovesickness were a disease, he wouldn't mind being ill. "which i think will take a very long time."
"you are not making my stream debut a sub-goal," you chuckle, tilting your neck up to kiss the moles above his eyebrow. "i will not let you."
"how else are they gonna earn it?"
"i am not letting you monetize showing my face on your stream, omi," you reiterate with a delirious smile. he continues to push, nudging his nose against yours like a needy cat.
"you're cute when in my jersey. what if i end stream right now and just lay here with you?"
"okay, lover boy," you say, gently pushing his face away. "go back to--huh?" both of your attentions shoot to your phone, where the beaming face of bokuto's contact photo illuminated your screen. you swipe down on the sudden influx of notifications and feel your heart stop.
Less Tolerable Miya👎🏐: CHECK CHAT HAHAHA THERES NO FUCKIGN WAY Better Miya🍙🏐: oi check your volume stupid Bokuhoe Kotaro🦉✨🏐: BABE YOUR BOYFRIEND ISNT MTUED Less Tolerable Miya👎🏐: wait is my name in your phone still less tolerable miya Sunshine Shoyo🧡☀️🏐: SAKUSA'S STREAM SOUND IS ON
"oh...shit," he mutters, pressing one more kiss to your forehead before running to his computer and throwing his headphones on, face bright pink and tripping over his words. his chat is a wildfire, persistent and absolutely uncontrollable. at some point, kiyoomi just gives up and leans back in his chair, looking for you to help.
you raise your eyebrows in question.
he tilts his head to beckon you over.
you appear in the frame of his webcam, wearing his jersey. kiyoomi looks at you like you are the only thing that matters in his entire world.
"alright fuckers, you happy now that you've seen 'em? good, because if we reach subgoal, i'm gonna make them play fnaf with me."
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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 :)
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tiza0925 · 11 days
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Like Honey | 18+
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Warnings/Tags: nsfw, afab/female!reader, alcohol, tipsy!reader, squirting, pussy eating, multiple orgasms, pussy drunk!Sakusa, overstimulation, praise kink, bit of pussy slapping ♡ SET IN A TIMELINE WHERE ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED-UP AND OVER 18
Pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x Female Reader
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
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Kiyoomi Sakusa hates parties. 
Too many people. 
Too loud. 
Too many germs. 
It’s why he almost always declines to go to one whenever the rest of the MSBY team invites him along. 
Parties in any shape and form make him uncomfortable, to be honest. 
But what Sakusa hates more than parties themselves—is the idea of you going to one on your own without him there. 
Not that he doesn’t trust you. 
But it’s that he knows how volleyball players are at parties—especially when there’s a pretty girl and alcohol is involved. 
Hence, the reason why he finds himself at a house party tonight that Atsumu invited the two of you to—while he stands away from everyone else, mask on, and holding a drink that he’s taken maybe one or two sips from. 
Not because he wants to but—
But because there you are—in the crowd, giggling and drinking with a few other people—and he watches with a level of affection, only ever giving any other guy who even dares to touch you a single look that causes the hairs at the back of their neck to rise. 
He talks to a few friends here and there, laughs, and takes another drink to loosen up as much as he’s willing to allow himself, but his eyes remain on you—
Almost protective. 
He raises a brow when he notices you walking over to him—but all you do is grin, eyes droopy, as your lower lip gets pinched under your top teeth, and—
Oh. 
He lets out a huff of breath filled with amusement when he sees you bat your lashes at him, giving him a certain look that he knows too well whenever you have alcohol in your system. 
A look of want—need—with your eyes so murky with desire that if you looked at any other man like that, they’d probably take you to the nearest surface to bend you over and—
Well, you get the point. 
Sakusa turns to face you—looking down at you with a tease in his voice. “The alcohol already gotten to that pretty little brain of yours?” 
Your eyes grow alight with want, and your cheeks flush as you get closer to him to wrap your arms around his waist—and a pout adorns your red lips. “I’m only a little tipsy.” 
That’s a lie. 
He can see that right away with how foggy your eyes are and how red your cheeks are. 
You’re more than just a little tipsy. 
Not that he minds, though. 
In fact, he’s letting out a breath of relief as he holds you back with one arm, the other still holding his drink, and he lowers his head so only you can hear him—his voice coming out a low rumble, “Let’s go then, love.” 
Because whenever you’re like this—it gives him an excuse to leave. 
To go home and take care of you in a way that he knows what you need right now. 
You nod, eager, excitement shooting up your nerves as he guides you through crowds of people—him saying bye to those he gives a shit about, and—
And that’s how, about an hour later, you end up back at his apartment—his bedroom door locked—as your body sinks into his plush mattress, one of your hands carding through his silk-softened hair that’s nestled between your thighs. 
“Fuck—”
You suck in a shaky breath as a flat tongue runs from your entrance to your clit, and you whine as Sakusa hooks his arms under your thighs to bring your pussy flush against his mouth—his mask thrown off somewhere in the midst of you two kissing so deeply on your way here—and he spits on your clit, making your cunt pulse. 
“You’re always so wet when you drink,” Sakusa groans against you, his mouth covering your entire pussy as his jaw goes to work, sucking and eating you out like he's starved. 
Just the way you like it when you’re this tipsy—the alcohol making you pleasantly warm, mixed with how his tongue and mouth feel on you.
It’s like you’re drowning in a pool of liquid heat as he makes out with your cunt, his tongue dipping in and running through your pillowy folds, and all you can do is lay there and take it with your toes curling and your fingers digging in his hair. 
It’s funny when you really think about it.
One would think that he—of all people—would be against this. 
Grossed out by it, even. 
But he’s the complete opposite with you in bed and behind closed doors.
He’s fucking dirty—uncaring of how messy he gets as your fluids gush onto his face as he fucks you with his tongue, eating your pussy and licking your clit like it’s honey. 
He even likes it more when you’re fucking yourself back—riding his face—making his eyes roll back, eyebrows furrowed, and a groan being muffled against your soft pussy. 
He doesn’t care about the way his chin gets drenched from your juices—not when it means he can hear you moan so pretty for him, and feel your plush thighs squeeze around his head. 
He’s so intoxicated by having his hot tongue in your cunt that he finds himself growing light-headed—his bulge growing and pre-cum leaking against his sweatpants as he licks and licks until you’re cumming on his tongue, moaning his name as you buck your hips into his face. 
“Oh god—Omi, ‘ts too much now—”
He hears you. 
Loud and clear. 
But he doesn’t stop. 
He doesn’t stop giving your poor, puffy little clit kitten licks as your cry from overstimulation. 
He doesn’t stop holding onto your thighs right where they are—keeping your pussy close to his mouth so he can lap you up, not wanting to waste a single drop of your fluids drooling everywhere. 
“You’re okay,” His voice is rough, and his eyes move up to look at your body—taking in the way your chest is rising and falling with quick breaths, your nipples are hard and waiting to also be sucked on—and he gives your sopping cunt one long, wide glide of his wet tongue from bottom to top. “Just give me one more, baby. Just one.” 
Instead, it’s never only one more. 
Once he’s in this position with his stomach flat on the bed and comfortably lying in between your legs—
Sakusa doesn’t intend to stop anytime soon. 
You taste too fucking good.
You feel too warm. 
And you sound so damn needy and pretty for him.
You whine, a sob escaping you, and you shake your head. “Omi—please—”
But then your words die with a gasp when you feel him nip the curve of the skin of where your cunt and inner thigh meet—and you let out a ragged exhale, his voice thick and smooth as he kisses your thigh. 
“I’m sorry, baby,” You feel so dizzy from the heat that you throw an arm over your forehead, panting as you feel two of his fingers strum your dripping folds before spreading them apart, glistening and throbbing. “You know I can’t help it.” 
He doesn’t let you say anything else, though. 
Not when he immediately dives back in to prod his tongue into your tight walls, flexing and curling it to bring you back to that hot, buzzing ache in your belly. 
And he keeps your folds open for him to get drunk on—sucking and licking and nipping while his nose bumps against your clit, feeling his hairs tickle your thighs as he gets you to orgasm again. 
And again. 
And again—
“Fuck, fuck, fuck—Omi!” 
He gets his tongue all worked up, mouth open and thumb rubbing your swollen clit until you’re cumming for the fourth time like this—fluids squirting on his face as your abused and soaked cunt spasms, his name on your tongue as you cry, and he drinks it all up like he’s needy for your taste. 
“Such a good pussy, baby,” Sakusa sucks on your clit with obscene suction noises, making tears stream down your cheeks as a few more spurts of liquid squirt out of you—you’re so fucking overstimulated—and his face is a mess at this point, too. 
When he eventually does pull away—his lips are swollen and shiny—you don’t even have it in you to force your limbs to move anymore. 
You’re so fucked out and he hasn’t even put his cock inside you yet.
“You took it all so well for me.” 
Sakusa looks down at your body—so sweet and perfect—and he can’t help but smile at the little mess he’s made between your legs. 
He then unties the strings to his sweatpants as he sits back on his knees, his dick throbbing to feel your pussy swallow him, and once his thick cock bounces free—
He gives your pussy a slap—his palm against it with a harsh sting—making you whimper, then cups his hand over you as some way to soothe your tired cunt. 
“I just need you to lie there and be pretty for me now, okay baby?” 
end.
Masterpost
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gabseyoo · 7 months
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HELP — SAKUSA KIYOOMI
content: female reader, established relationship, public indecency, car sex, blowjob, handjob, ball sucking. word count: 1,3k.
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“So… are you feeling better?” You asked your boyfriend—who was resting his chin on his palm looking out the car window—after several minutes in silence.
Kiyoomi shook his head and replied without even looking at you, “Give me another minute.” You couldn’t help but giggle, and that apparently didn’t please your grumpy boyfriend. “Stop giggling. This isn’t funny.”
“It absolutely is.” You said with a smile and decided to tease him a little more by poking his arm as you added, “You like me that much, baby?”
“Stop.” Kiyoomi finally turned to see you though still with his elbow leaning against the window. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”
The accusation almost makes you burst out laughing, “I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did.”
“I won’t kiss you anymore if you don’t want me to. But apparently you like my kisses too much for that to even be an option.” You noticed how a chuckle almost escaped his lips before he playfully rolled his eyes and looked back at the window. 
No matter what Kiyoomi said, this was funny.
You were supposed to have a dinner date to celebrate your anniversary, and in fact, you were already parked in the restaurant’s parking lot. 
The thing is that you decided to give your boyfriend a small kiss just before you got out of the car, well, if a ‘small kiss’ means sticking your tongue in his mouth for more than three minutes— but you just couldn’t help it! You were happy and excited for tonight. 
Anyway… the result was that he got hard, and now you’ve been in the car for for who knows how long waiting for him to ‘feel better’. 
Honestly, you found the situation as funny as you found it sexy— your handsome, big, tall boyfriend getting rock hard just because you gave him a kiss. That also had an effect on you, which obviously wasn’t as noticeable as the big bulge in his pants, but you still couldn’t stop those not-so-decent thoughts that had you rubbing your thighs together. And well, it’s not like you have a lot of self-control. 
“I can help you, you know?”
That apparently caught his attention, because he turned to look at you curiously. “Huh?” 
“I can help you feel better.” You said innocently, leaning your elbow on the middle console to rest your chin on your hand. 
Kiyoomi was quick to understand what you meant.
“We’re in a parking lot, baby.” Despite his words and the dim lighting, you could see that hint of excitement in his eyes as he looked around, perhaps analyzing how empty the parking lot was. 
“And? It’s not like we haven’t done this before.” 
“I know, but—” At  that moment he looked back at you and his words got stuck in his throat when he realized that you were already looking at him with those doe eyes you knew he loved and couldn’t resit even if he tried. “Doll, don’t give me that look.” 
“What look?” You tilted your head slightly to one side as if you really had no idea what he was talking about.
Kiyoomi didn’t respond, but his actions spoke for him, maybe it was on purpose, or he did it by reflex, but when his hand that rested on his thigh went to cup his bulge—perhaps in an attempt to soothe himself—it turned you on. Fuck, you wanted his dick in your mouth now. 
“So, Kiyoomi?” Your other hand went over his, forcing him to put a little pressure on his erection that made him moan. “I’ll be quick. After all, judging by the way you look right now—” You leaned close to his ear to whisper, “I don’t think you’ll last long.”
A second later, his lips were on yours, kissing you as desperately as if it was the last time he would ever taste your lips. 
He moved your hand to hastily unbutton his pants and pull them and his boxers down, just enough to release his throbbing erection. Immediately, you wrapped your palm around his dick and began to stroke it up and down slowly before breaking the kiss to see his face and the pleasure reflected on it. 
Kiyoomi tried to maintain eye contact, but when your thumb circled his tip while your other hand moved to fondle his balls, he couldn’t help but close his eyes in pure pleasure. He already seemed to be in heaven, and you hadn’t even used your mouth yet. But that will change soon. 
You lowered your head down until your face was close to his cock and spat on it to lubricate the rest of his length with your palm before taking the tip into your mouth.
Kiyoomi cursed under his breath as you made circles with your tongue, tasting his precum, and without waiting any longer, you slipped the rest into your mouth to start bobbing your head up and down, not taking long to find your rhythm. 
Your hand kept massaging his balls while with the other you kept stimulating what couldn’t fit in your mouth, and you knew that now you had your boyfriend in actual heaven by the moans coming out of his mouth. 
Although many wouldn’t expect it, Kiyoomi was a vocal, and you loved it. That’s why you shoved his entire length down your throat until you gagged, knowing how much he loved that. He sighed your name as he pushed his hips up and his hand settled on your head, holding you there for a few seconds until you couldn’t take it anymore and had to pull away to catch your breath.
Kiyoomi used this moment to recline the seat and spread his legs further apart, “You have no idea how sexy you look right now.” His words were accompanied by his hand caressing your back before moving it down to your ass, where he squeezed the flesh over the fabric tightly before slipping his hand under your dress and doing the same but now with direct contact with your skin. “So fucking perfect, I— fuck!” He couldn’t finish his praise because at that moment you put one of his heavy balls in your mouth, sucking it a little and then doing the same with the other one while you kept pumping him with your hand. 
Kiyoomi threw his head back when you took his length back into your mouth, resuming your previous rhythm. He was practically panting now, completely immersed in the pleasure you were giving him. 
“Baby, I’m going to cum.” He mumbled after a minute, and without resisting any longer, he brought both of his hands to your head to now guide your movements, making you go faster and deeper each time you lowered your head. 
More tears came out of your eyes every time you choked on his cock on every downstroke as you tried your best to breathe through your nose. It was hard, but you managed to hold on until he came in your throat with your name leaving his lips.
You swallowed what you could as Kiyoomi continued to move your head now more slowly until he emptied himself. Seconds later, he released his grip and you licked the cum that had oozed from the edges of your mouth as you sat up straight.
A smile appeared on your face when you saw that he was still panting, trying to recover from his climax. You watched him with lust in your eyes as he pulled up his underwear to cover himself, without even bothering to fasten his pants. 
“Well, problem solved.” You said, breaking the silence and Kiyoomi snorted as he turned to look at you with a smirk. 
“Still want to have dinner?” He asked with a suggestive tone, “Or should we go home?” He added before leaning toward you to kiss you again. Slower, but no less eager. 
“Dinner was the plan, wasn’t it?” You answered playfully, still with your lips on his, and you deepened the kiss a little more before speaking again. “But you know? Now I’m the one who needs to feel better.”
He smiled against your lips, “And I’m more than willing to help.”
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+ note: happy anniversary i guess <3
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natriae · 11 months
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Dad!haikyuu is everything! I imagine Omi being your fake date to a family gathering and he swoons at your interaction with the kids until an auntie shoves a baby in his arms and he’s like UHHHHH 🧍🏻”don’tcrushthisbaby don’tcrushthisbaby” And now everyone including yourself can’t take their eyes off him 😭😭😭😭
STOP I LOVE THIS
warnings: fake dating, fluff, cue flustered kiyoomi
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One month ago Sakusa Kiyoomi took you aside during one of your usual hangouts with Atsumu to ask if you could pretend to be his girlfriend. Your brain told you over and over that this is a terrible idea, but you couldn't help yourself and said yes. Plus, it was one night at his mom's house. You already knew his family it wouldn't be to shocking to see you by Kiyoomi's side.
That's the thing. Your heart strings started to be pulled on the moment the two of you walked through the door and Kiyoomi let out a short, quiet "we're dating now." His mom's only response was to pull you into a hug and explain how she's been waiting forever for this. After greeting the two of you she told everyone the good news.
You felt terribly guilty for lying to her but Sakusa seemed unbothered. Maybe you were just being dramatic about the whole situation.
Somehow mid-way through the night you ended up spending most of your time with Kiyoomi's sister's kids. She was your favorite Sakusa. She also was the only one who knew you had a crush on her brother since middle school. She would help you get pretty for him, but it never worked. She claimed it did, but you never saw any progress. You and the children were in the basement playing with toys while a random kids TV show played in the background. The characters would sing and save the day successfully holding the attention of the youngest Sakusa. She isn't even one yet, but she has the whole family whipped except Kiyoomi of course. For some reason he tries to stay away from her leading you to never actually meeting the little one til today. She was adorable. She'd bounce her arms up and down while babbling to the song. In front of you was her older brother, and Kiyoomi's first nephew. He had toy trucks and a few random characters from animes you know and some you don't. You were helping zoom the cars around the basement, crawling on your knees still you looked up to see Kiyoomi has finally decided to spend time with you. You could have swore you saw his lip twitch before he stepped pass you and sat on the couch switching the TV channel.
Kaia, the youngest, immediately started crying when she couldn't hear the joy of a few cartoon pups saving the day. Quickly you ran over to her picking her up to help calm her down. You lightly bounced her on your hip while giving small shushes to the baby. You walked away from Kiyoomi because your pretty convinced by his actions that he doesn't like children. Which tears a bit of you heart knowing that you always imagined what having kids with him would be like. What a great dad he would be, but that's all in your imagination. The little girl begins to quiet down as you lift her up so she can stuff her head into your neck.
From across the room Kiyoomi watches you calm the baby with a red face. How are you so good at this? He's never seen you with a baby and from what he knows your not an aunt of any sort, unless you count Atsumu's dogs. He finally lets out a small smile as he watches you bring the baby up so she can snuggle into your neck, but as if the gods are against him. You turn around to see him watching you, and you tell the baby with a slight smirk, "baby I think your uncle Kiy wants to apologize," you walk over still holding the baby like a natural. Finally setting her down to crawl over to him on the couch. The older man trys to hold the baby like a puppy. He's never done this before and he's never felt embarrassed in his life. You giggle softly at his nervous face and tell him, "Kiyoomi that's not how you hold a baby," he can barely focus on your words when your giggles are enough for him to worship the group you walk on. He swears he enters heaven the moment he hears that sound. "it's good that your holding her butt but i think she wants to be facing you," You say as you scoot closer and reach to try and show him the proper way.
Kiyoomi leaned back on the couch and attempted to correctly hold the baby on his chest. One hand on her back and the other holding her butt up. As if Kiyoomi was a sleeping pill the little girl immediately closed her eyes and fell asleep on the tall man. "see it's not hard. Do you wanna take her to her momma? She seems sleepy," you said with small smile on your face. Not forgetting the little boy playing behind the couch you glanced over to make sure he was okay. God, Kiyoomi could help but want to ask if you wanted to be a mom right now.
Unmoving Kiyoomi stiffly shakes his head no at the though of having to hold this baby while moving. You srunch your eyebrows together in thought trying to understand why he's so stiff. noticing your confusion he squeaks out, "What if I break her?" and at first you thought he was joking but there was genuine panic in his features. He thought he was this cool collected guy, but you could honestly read him like a book.
"i'll be right here, okay? You're not going to break her," You nodded your head while you spoke to him in the calmest voice you could muster. Slowly he stood up and you redirected his hand so that it held up some of her head too along with her back. "you need to keep her head up. Baby's head's are weak," he nodded his head at your words like they were the gospel. Anything you said he would take it as the truth. If you said it, it was right. Cautiously walking up the steps to the family room. His whole family seems shocked to see the large man holding such a delicate baby. He takes a deep breath while he tries to pass the sleeping girl to his sister.
"whoa, what did you do to her? She never sleeps this heavy." His sister said in shock, "Kiyoomi you need to hold her more often," she continued. Then did you finally take in how red his face was. He was so flustered it was adorable. Quickly you took your phone out and snapped a picture of the boy without his knowledge.
bonus:
It was late and about everyone at the gathering had left except for Kiyoomi's immediate family. The baby girl was back in your and Kiyoomi's lap trying to decide who she wants to get attention from. You and Kiyoomi were shoulder to shoulder and at one point he brought his arm over to hold you even closer. After falling a few times on Kiyoomi and then gripping his shirt like a life line the little girl turned and crawled into your lap. You let a small Ha at Kiyoomi for her ultimately choosing you, but you take it back once the little girl tried pulling the top of you dress down to get to your boob. Kiyoomi quickly grabs the little girl and she starts crying sad that she didn't get fed. If you heard correctly you swore you heard him tell the little one that you would have milk soon but not now.
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liquidcatt · 28 days
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Even though he’s spent years being a professional volleyball player, his hands were oh so gentle. From the way he held you close while sleeping, to the way he softly cupped your face, wiping away your tears, to the way he held your hand, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. He makes it better by kissing them to show you how much love he has for you. And you wouldn’t have it any other way
Hinata, Bokuto, Ushijima, Kageyama, Atsumu, Suna, Kiyoomi, Oikawa, Tsukishima, Hoshiumi (+ your fav)
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inherdaze · 2 months
Text
jungle — kiyoomi sakusa
kiyoomi x f reader
18+ content, pining, slow burn, sakusa wears dog tags mmm, smut, acquaintances to lovers. kind of a historical au? (think 1930s) idk bro it's like all made up. mentions of pregnancy
9k
summary: kiyoomi seeks serenity after coming home from war.
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There’s lots of commotion outside. Hollering, cheering, squeals and shouts paired with the sight of lovers reuniting, families coming together, men picking up their children and spinning them around in the air. You watch from the kitchen window as you wipe down the dishes, see some people carelessly pick the flowers from your yard to bunch up and give to wives, children, husbands, the like. Normally, you’d scold them for being so careless and probably offer a pair of garden trimmers so that they wouldn't crush the surrounding flowers, but you let it pass. Everyone is happy. The war is over. 
Your mother watches as she stands next to you, handing you over the dishes to dry once she’s finished washing them clean. She looks at you from the corner of her eye, gouging out your reaction before clearing her throat. 
“Do you remember Kiyoomi?”
 You freeze for a second, plate and rag in hand as you try to think. “Mm. No?”
“The Sakusa family?”
“Oh,” And then you start again, rubbing the plate dry. You don’t really remember the boy, only that your mother was friends with his mother and that apparently the two of you played around as young children. You don't remember the last time you saw him. Probably couldn’t even point him out in a crowd.
“He’s coming home.”
“From the war?”
 “Yes.” 
“Would you like me to gather some flowers for him? There’s plenty in the backyard, too. None of the crushed ones.” 
She sighs before placing the plate she held back into the sink, turning to face you entirely. 
She says your name softly. “He’s coming home. Here.” 
“Why? For dinner?”
“No– well, yes– but he’ll be staying here. With us.”
You slowly put out the plate face down on the long countertop cloth to let it air dry. “Since when?”
“We’ve been exchanging letters.”
Ah. You had been wondering what that was about. Each time the mail came in, your mother would scurry to get it before you could, holding it to her chest protectively before gently slicing it open in the study, purposely keeping it from you. You thought she had been exchanging letters with some sort of admirer, so to speak. You thought she’d be afraid to tell you she’s moving on after years of your father’s death. 
She continues, “His parents passed a while back– they both fell ill while he was away. He just needs somewhere to stay in the meantime so he can get back up on his feet. I'm sure there are plenty of other families that would be more than happy to host a soldier, but I suppose he would feel more comfortable here. I mentioned the garden and the chickens and he said he’d help you out with those. Don’t let him, though.”
“Huh? Why not?”
Your mother lightly swats your arm and gives a quiet scold of your name, “He isn't here to work. He’s here to rest. He’s been through a lot, you know. Just let him be while he’s here.”
You roll your eyes. Your mother can tell that you're not really annoyed. 
“He seems very reserved in the letters we exchanged. If he’s formal with you, insist that he don’t be. We are friends of his. Make him feel comfortable, okay?” 
You hum and nod. “Okay.”
There’s a pause.
“When will he be here?”
Your mother nearly answers before you've even finished asking.
“Tomorrow.”
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You’re an early bird. Even when you don’t want to be, you must. You have to tend to the chickens in the morning, tidy up and make breakfast for your mother before she goes out to the market to sell the eggs. 
The morning dew that sits atop the grass kisses at your shins as you trudge towards the coop, face lit by the oncoming sunrise. The sky shifts from deep blue to a lighter blue to purples and pinks until the sun finally reaches the top of the sky. 
As you get closer to the coop, you hear the familiar and pesky repetitive clucks, appreciative that the coop is farther out into the yard and not by your window.
You slide the coop door open, stepping to the side as they rush out with curiosity.
“Mornin’ kids,” You start before emptying out their dirty water, tossing it into the grass before turning on the hose to fill up the bin.
You replace the water, give them more food, collect the eggs that are deemed ready, and hang out with them for a good thirty minutes to make sure they’re healthy and roaming around like normal. You sit on the grass, knees to your chest as you absentmindedly say hi to them when they pass by or stare at you.
Once the sun has almost fully risen, you grab the basket of eggs and make your way back into the house, slipping out of your boots before stepping inside.
The morning goes as always; Your mother wakes up, thanks you for handling the chickens, thanks you as you place her breakfast on the table, gathers all the eggs she needs to sell, and kisses your cheek before she heads out to the market. 
“Kiyoomi should be here later, once I’m already home. Please make sure the spare bedroom is clean, with fresh sheets. If he happens to arrive early, be nice.” 
“God, don’t act like I’m insufferable! I won’t drive him out.”
She smiles knowingly. “I know, my dear.” 
She looks like she wants to say more, but swiftly turns on her heel and takes her leave.
The rest of the day is spent cleaning up the spare bedroom to make sure it’s nice and welcoming for when your new guest arrives. You smooth out all the bed linen and wipe down the dressers, making all photo frames and little trinkets look presentable. It doesn't take long for you to set it all up– the bedroom has always been very empty. You wonder how it'll look like when it’s more lived-in, with boots and coats and whatever else he may carry laying around. 
You slip into the kitchen and wash your hands, preparing to make lunch. With the curtains on the kitchen window drawn shut, you fail to see the man that climbs up your porch steps, eyes downcast as he raps his knuckles on the door a few times. 
You freeze in your spot almost violently. It’s much too early for him to be here, and when you glance at the clock on the wall, you’re convinced that it has to be someone else– perhaps the neighbor? 
Drying your hands on the apron tied to your dress, you draw back the kitchen curtain to get a little peep.
You almost squeal as you back away from the window, covering your face with your hands like you’ve just seen something you weren't supposed to– but you had just seen him. He was… big. That’s all you could think.
When you open the front door, the two of you stare at each other, silent. 
Yes, he’s big. Broad shoulders, gifted with height, and his chest seems…. inviting in the military uniform he wears. You finally make eye contact with him, scanning over his handsome features, the two little beauty marks that rest atop his eyebrow, the pretty curve of his lips—
“Hello,” He says with an air of formality, and you clutch at the skirt of your dress.
“Hi… hi.”
He stares at you blankly.
“I, ah— come in, Kiyoomi,” You start, standing to the side as he takes off his boots and leaves them by the door, following diligently as you lead him to his room. He doesn’t even spare a glance to look around the house, eyes trained on your back. 
“Here,” You say, opening the door to his room. “The bathroom is down the hall, my room is right there– right across, and my mother’s room is the farthest one down the hallway. There’s a, um, study if you'd ever like to read or spend some time in there. Do as you like,” You explain gently, a warm smile on your features. “I was just making lunch. Are you hungry? Would you like some?”
“No thank you,” He says immediately, looking down at you. “Thank you for letting me stay here.” 
“Of course! My mother should be here in a few hours. For now, the house is all yours– er, ours, but– well, yeah, yours…” You trail off with embarrassment, looking into his eyes for help, hoping he’ll finish your sentence or laugh it off with you. 
He doesn't. 
As soon as you back away and start walking back to the kitchen, he shuts the door softly and coupes himself up in there. 
You frown to yourself, remembering your mother’s words. He seems very reserved, let him be, he’s been through a lot.
You do just that, careful to not make any noise as you prepare lunch, then sit by yourself at the table to eat. There’s a light clink and clatter of the dishes as you wash them, but you can only hope he doesn’t mind. 
Noon turns into night and you’re still alone. You haven’t heard Kiyoomi leave the room or rummage around at all. It’s like he never even arrived. 
You’re not surprised when your mother comes home and deems the house empty (besides you being there) and exclaims that the both of you must rush and start working on dinner because Kiyoomi deserves nothing but the best. You feel your skin prickle hot for some reason. She wasn’t wrong, but if Kiyoomi had heard her say it, it sounded like she was one of those old ladies who desperately fawn over younger men. You didn’t want him to get the wrong idea.
You laughed nervously and bumped her hip with yours, quietly telling her that he had already arrived. 
She gasps dramatically, hand flying to her heart as she scolds you. 
“Why didn’t you invite him out here to sit with you? Has he eaten lunch? Did you offer him lunch? Goodness, my dear, this is no way to host someone. Ask him to step out! Did you show him around the house, at least? Oh, heavens– did you change the sheets?”
Your ears feel terrifyingly warm, knowing very well that your mother was loud enough for Kiyoomi to hear her through closed doors. Just thinking of him overhearing you get scolded made you want to scuffle away and complain in embarrassment to the chickens. 
“My apologies, miss.”
The both of you whirl around to see Kiyoomi, who looks absolutely delightful, you think. 
His curls are mussed as if he had been sleeping, uniform ditched for a skimpy white undershirt tucked into some slacks, the planes of his chest peeking out and greeting you handsomely. The dog tags that are strung along the chain around his neck glint in the kitchen light, almost like they’re saying Hi. “It’s not her fault, I assure you– I had turned down her offer for lunch, and I just wanted some time to myself after arriving. No hard feelings at all.”
He speaks in such a collected and calm manner, and his face and eyes look empty. He’s good at containing all his emotions. 
“Oh,” Your mother breathes out, a wistful smile creeping onto her face. “Oh, my lovely Kiyoomi!” She rushes towards him and cups his face, smushing his cheeks in her hands, beaming up at him. The action makes his eyes widen, hands immediately flying up to push hers away, but he stops himself just in time and lets them fall back to his sides. 
“How you’ve grown! My goodness, it’s been ages, my love, please– please sit down, we’ll make some soup, okay? Just rest. Tell us, how have you been? Any good stories?”
She greets him like a mother would, and for a second, you think you see his features relax. Not wanting to get caught ogling at him, you turn and face the cutting board, lining up all the vegetables needed for the soup. 
The two talk the entire time, your mother silently leaving the task of cooking up to you. You don’t mind at all, keeping your back to the both of them to hide the look of shyness on your face. Every time Kiyoomi speaks, you feel your hands stutter. 
The conversation is mostly your mother gushing over him and how much he’s grown, telling him he’s such a handsome young man, asking him how his trip over here went, and then she asks him if there is a woman in his life. You know that it would be normal for him to feel a little flabbergasted from such a question, but you don’t know why you feel so embarrassed as well. 
You figure it’s because if he says he does have a special someone in his life, your mother would turn around and berate you (in front of him) for not being ‘out there’ enough and for not seeing someone already. 
To your surprise, he weakly mentions that no, he doesn’t have anyone like that in his life. He quickly excuses it by saying that he had been too busy during the war to worry about such things. 
Your mother laughs good-naturedly, flailing her hand around, “Oh, of course. Silly me!”
By the time your mother opens her mouth to tell him that there are plenty of riveting people around town that he may like, you announce with your back still facing them, “Soup’s ready.” 
You serve your mother and Kiyoomi, keeping your head down as you approach him and place his bowl on the table. He thanks you in a quiet, rumbly voice that makes you go completely still for a split second. 
Conversation dies down as the three of you eat. Your mother has pulled out as much as she can from Kiyoomi. He avoided a lot of questions about the war, about his experiences, about what he saw. You can’t help but wonder. 
Your mother interrupts the silence as she subtly turns to face you. 
“How are the vegetables doing?”
“Growing,” Is all you respond as you stuff another spoonful of soup into your mouth. She’s grasping at straws to not let the atmosphere turn awkward. 
You figure that if Kiyoomi is going to be staying here, may as well be casual, treat him like anyone else (despite the fact that he looks like he came down straight from Heaven). 
You shift in your chair, the wood creaking. “Tomorrow, could you buy some more flower seeds from the market? You can pick which. I need to fill in the spaces that were crushed yesterday from all the people.” 
Her eyes light up, “Of course, dearie. Thank you for reminding me.” 
The two of you talk about mundane things for the rest of dinner, topics you usually discuss. Kiyoomi finds it comforting. Makes him feel more at home. 
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The next morning, you rise before the sun kisses the sky, as always.
You pull on the short linen clothing you use for working, old stains of mud and grass forever tainting the articles. As quietly as you can, you pad around the house before reaching the back porch, tugging on your work boots before stepping into the fresh morning grass. 
Unbeknownst to you, Kiyoomi is also an early riser, a habit that he has cultivated over years of training. He watches you from the backyard’s dutch door, the top half open. He rests his elbows on the bottom half and leans forward, watching and listening as you greet and coo at the chickens like they’re your children. His eyebrows twitch up when he hears you reprimand one– Stop putting grass in the water, Harold! 
After you dump out the water, you pick up the water bucket and take it over to the pump, working the water into it. With your back turned to Kiyoomi, you don’t hear as he steps through the grass towards you. 
“Good morning,” He greets politely, and you yelp.
Whirling around with the half-full bucket in hand, the water flies out and crashes right into him, soaking his torso and the entirety of his pants. 
You drop the bucket.
“Oh my gosh– oh, Kiyoomi— I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry, oh my goodness– I didn’t– I’m so sorry—”
You're petting his torso worriedly, as if your hands will soak up all the water that has been spilled. He knows you have good intentions and are just trying to help somehow get the water to dry, but your touch makes him stiffen.
You’re repeating that you're sorry, and the more that you ramble on, the more he can hear the tremor in your voice as you squeak and swallow and try to push this upcoming embarrassment down. Kiyoomi lifts his hands and places them right on your arms, completely stilling you. “It's fine.” 
It comes out clipped, like it's not really fine, but you can’t tell if he's annoyed. His face remains stoic. 
“I’m so sorry,” You whisper.
“It's okay. You weren't aware that I was here. I understand.” 
You look over him again, the bottom half of his cotton shirt soaked and his pants clinging onto his legs like paint. You’re so embarrassed and ashamed that you can't even find it in yourself to admire him. 
“You’ll– you’ll get sick. Let’s go inside,” You plead, stepping away from his touch and gathering your skirt in your hands to run back into the house, hastily kicking off your boots before prying the bottom half of the door open.
He watches you scurry around the house to make him some tea, pouring water into the kettle and sorrowfully letting him know it’s gonna take a few minutes. You advise that he changes but don’t push it on him too much, not wanting to be over controlling.
He disappears into the room and shuts the door, and you plop onto the dining table chair. Resting your head in your hands, you mentally chastise yourself for messing up like this, and on the first day that he's been here, too. 
The kettle whistles. You pick yourself up to see Kiyoomi already looking at you, in a pair of clean clothes. Embarrassment crawls up your spine. 
“I’m sorry.” You say again, turning to silence the kettle and pour the water into a mug before adding a few loose tea leaves. 
“I’ve already forgiven you.” 
“I know, I know but– I’m really sorry.”
He only sighs. You take that as a sign he’s frustrated. 
“I’m stepping back outside,” You say, “Still have to get stuff done.” 
He nods stiffly. You walk with your tail between your legs to the backyard porch, putting on your boots and this time shutting both halves of the dutch door.
You confide and whine to the chickens as you clean up and spread out their food.
Despite the incident, Kiyoomi insists that he help you out in the mornings. He follows you out to the back porch and manages to slip past the threshold before you can shut the bottom half of the dutch door to trap him inside (he can always just open the door and walk by, but you tell him it’s the prospect of trapping him inside that matters the most. His eyebrow twitches at that). 
He lingers as you talk to the chickens, which you do quietly now that you know that he’s there. He pretends to look away when you tell Harold good morning. 
When you finish saying your greetings to the birds, you tell him to go back inside. This is your job only and he should take this time to rest or get some extra hours of sleep– but he insists. He tells you he can’t sleep for any longer, he’s spent years rising early and getting straight to work and if he were to lay in bed he’d just lay restless. 
You know your mother will scold you later, but you offer him some work to do anyway. You tell him to replace the water while you give them fresh food. And he does so gladly, falling into a rhythm with you that, if a stranger looked at the scene, would convince them that he belongs here and always has. 
There’s this sort of look of serenity on his face, like he’s content to be doing something rather than staying in the house (which is what your mother has been pressuring him to do). 
The rising sun kisses his face, reminding you of his beauty. His skin practically glows and you can’t help but let your eyes linger on the moles on his forehead. 
In this kind of lighting, you see faded scars on his hands and arms, earned from hardwork and fighting and war and other things you cannot even imagine. They make him seem gruff (more than he already is) and in a way, scary. But the way he handles the chickens and the land and the water with such a tender touch tells you otherwise. For a brief second, you wonder if he would hold you with such care as well. You shoo the thought away. 
Kiyoomi stays with you while you watch over the chickens. He stands while you sit on the grass.
“Talk to them,” You encourage. 
He lifts an eyebrow. “And what should I say?”
“Ask them how they are.” 
Kiyoomi clears his throat and looks at one of the chickens, “My… My dear Harold,” He starts, “I hope you are in good health.” 
You laugh, “So formal, Sakusa.”
He finds himself humming. Humming. Humming in amusement.
When you're done with the chickens, you tell him he can go back inside and relax while you check up on all the vegetables, but he tells you he wants to help with that too.
You untie your apron and start checking on and picking the ripe vegetables, bundling them in the cloth. Kiyoomi, truthfully, seems a little lost as he handles pulling out the vegetables and leafy greens with a sort of hesitance as if he’s afraid to hurt them. You scoot over closer to him and offer some help. 
“They won’t cry in agony, Kiyoomi.” 
“I–” He starts, embarrassed. “You mistake me.” 
“How so?”
He doesn’t answer, runs out of excuses. Suddenly Kiyoomi thinks the sun feels warmer when your hands brush over his own to guide him, encouraging him to pluck at the vegetables. He gets the hang of it, bundling up all the produce in your apron before the two of you make your way back inside. 
When your mother sees the both of you step in, kicking off your boots and hands stained with dirt, she tsks at you. 
“I specifically told you not to ask for any help.” 
Embarrassment blooms in the depths of your chest. Getting scolded in front of Kiyoomi will be the death of you. You want to defend yourself but you don’t want to throw him under the bus, either. You hold the bundle of vegetables and greens closer to your chest, almost protectively. 
“She did no such thing,” Kiyoomi interjects before your mother can continue. He stands tall, seems bigger, voice collected but strong enough to cause the both of you to jump. It’s been ages since you and your mother have been in the presence of someone as powerful as Kiyoomi. 
He visibly slackens, clears his throat. “She didn’t ask for my help– told me to go inside, actually. I took it upon myself to help her.” 
“Oh,” Your mother breathes out, tone suddenly sweet and forgiving. “I see.” 
The silence that rests between the three of you could pierce your ears. You skitter into the kitchen to wash all that you’ve collected and leave your mom and Kiyoomi alone. In a matter of seconds, she’s already cooing at him and telling him that there’s no need for him to be working, it’s fine if he wants to rest inside, there’s plenty of time for him to spend his days off. He’s silent in response. 
After you make breakfast and your mother leaves for the market, you gather all the dishes and make a beeline for the sink, pouring hot water over the dishes to scrub them clean. 
Kiyoomi follows up behind you, rolling up the sleeves of his cotton shirt, bunching it up right above his elbows. You watch as he leans forward to grab a washcloth, swallowing when you see his dog tags swing low as he dips down. They clink back onto his chest when he stands upright. 
“Thank you,” He says suddenly, eyes focused on the plate in his hands as he wipes it in a circular motion. 
“What for? I should be the one thanking you, Kiyoomi. You defended me in front of my mother.” 
He takes a second to formulate what he wants to say. “I must thank you for letting me work with you. I know your mother has good intentions, and I appreciate that she insists I rest.” 
You tilt your head up at him, silently asking if he will continue. 
Kiyoomi, unbeknownst to you, is facing an internal battle with himself. Years of being in war and surrounded by men who believe vulnerability is weakness often leaves him staying quiet in moments where he wishes to speak. He mulls over what he wants to say again, wondering if you’d laugh him off and tell him to not be silly. But he knows that you sense something is up, your eyes taking on a glimmer of understanding and kindness before you look down at your plate. “I won’t force it out of you, Kiyoomi.” 
He looks at you affectionately, but you miss it as you stack the plate on the counter. 
“Well, since you’re practically pleading me to share my thoughts, I’ll tell you.” 
That makes you laugh. You laugh a gentle little laugh, and Kiyoomi has to turn back and face the dishes so that he doesn’t lose his thoughts. 
“Your mother, I… I know she means no harm. I know that she may believe that I need rest and time and some sort of recuperation period. I don’t mean to be rude, but she… it feels as if she is doing worse than good, for me.” 
You nearly freeze on the spot, worried about what he’ll say next. You’re scared that you and your mother have ruined his whole stay. 
Kiyoomi breathes out your name, “I assure you that I am not a wounded dog that must be left alone to rest and sleep the pain away. I want to live a normal life, now. I’ve faced enough estrangement in the war. Please, allow me to work and live with you just as anyone else would.” 
It’s a simple, simple request. A simple request that would have anyone cheering and clapping and showing him to the damaged flowers in the front yard and putting him right to work. It’s a simple request that makes your heart clench and twist in the caverns of your chest, knowing that he wants to live a life of normality and serenity. Knowing that he has opened up to you about being shunned away. It makes you feel trusted, and in a way, sought out. 
You’re silent for a beat too long and Kiyoomi looks like he wants to scrub away all the words he just said with the way he resumes at washing his plate. As you set another one to dry, you tell him calmly, to prevent the feeling of pity arising in the air, “Of course, Kiyoomi.” 
The corners of his lips twitch up when you tell him the bushes out front need to be trimmed. 
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You tell your mother of Kiyoomi’s request that same night, and she scoffs and frowns and throws a little fit before she caves. She initially insists that you only give him light work, but eats up her words at the glower you throw her way. 
He helps you trim the bushes, the weeds, helps you with the vegetables and the chickens and watches eagerly as you prepare food so that he can take on that task later on. 
You stir the soup around in the pot, sprinkling in some herbs and seasonings to add some more flavor. He asks you how much you use, you tell him you just know in your heart when to stop. When the kitchen falls quiet, you pick on him and teasingly ask, And how should you cook? And he answers, suppressing a laugh and an eye roll, With love. 
You peer down into the pot. 
“Okay. Kiyoomi, I am trusting you to deem it ready. Have a taste. The fate of this dinner falls on you.” 
He bites his cheek at your dramatics.
You bring the ladle up to his lips and Kiyoomi has to lean forward a little to meet you halfway. You press the spoon to his lips and he lets the liquid in, his eyes locked on yours as he takes a sip. You feel small in some invigorating, exciting way. 
He pulls away to think about the taste. “A little more rosemary.” 
You eye him carefully but take his word, dipping the ladle back into the pot and sprinkling in a few more leaves. After a few stirs, you scoop the liquid back into the spoon and hold it up to him again. 
He leans forward without being told, almost eager to have you press it to his mouth. Again, he keeps his eyes trained on your face as he has a taste. 
When you pull the ladle away, he remains close to you, face inches away from your own. 
Your fingers twitch. 
“Yes,” He breathes out, your lashes flutter. “It’s ready. Made with love.” 
You can’t tell if your mind is playing tricks on you, but he seems to be inching closer and closer, your grip tightening on the end of the ladle as you start freezing up, debating whether or not to shut your eyes. 
You watch as his pretty eyes close, and with your heart leaping and palms sweating around the ladle from nervousness and the heat that remains in the small space between you two, you let your eyes slip shut. 
You know it– you know it, it’s coming, his lips right against yours, you think you can already taste him—
“I’ve arrived early!”
The both of you jump backwards and the ladle collides with the floor. 
“S-Sorry,” You whisper to Kiyoomi, picking up the ladle and tossing it in the sink before grabbing a different one off the kitchen rack. His shoulders sag and you think you hear him sigh, but he composes himself quickly as your mother makes her way into the kitchen. 
She sees the two of you in front of the soup pot and beams, missing how stiff the both of you look and how you’re wiping your sweaty hands on your apron.
“Teaching Kiyoomi how to cook? Good! Good good, more men should partake in household chores. I cannot wait to taste how Kiyoomi’s soup comes out, should he cook for us soon.” 
He nods curtly, watching as you dip the new ladle into the liquid. You look shaken up, movements jagged and nervous, and he fears he’s done something terribly wrong.
“Did you teach him the most fundamental lesson in cooking, dearie?”
At that, a smile slips onto your face. 
“Yes. Cook with love.”
When the three of you eat dinner together, Kiyoomi mulls over the fact that it was made with love. Your love. He wants to eat so much that he feels full of your affections. He wants so much of it that he cannot help but decline anyone else who offers food, because he’ll be full of your love. 
You two never bring up the almost-kiss. Kiyoomi is scared that he’s pushed a boundary and you’re scared that you misread the situation– so the two of you remain silent and try to fall back into the familiar pattern of days, the rhythm you two share. 
The tension is nearly unbearable when the two of you are less than two feet apart. It almost hurts. It hurts Kiyoomi to look at you so longingly and you never notice. It hurts you when you try to scoot a little closer and all he does is move away. You think it's because he's disgusted with you. He just wants you to feel comfortable. 
Days pass and the both of you pack the incident up and back away into the furthest crevice in your minds. Everything seems alright again– you both talk to the chickens, trim the flowers and cook dinner by each other's side.
You’re preparing to cook and pull your apron off the hook rack that’s nailed right by the kitchen entrance. Kiyoomi watches as you slip it on and watches when you huff in frustration as you try to reach behind yourself and tie it off. Your arms start getting sore from the awkward position they've been in, the apron straps unraveling again and again in protest. You’re about to let the damn thing flail loose until you hear Kiyoomi clear his throat behind you. 
“Let me help.”
Your cheeks burn. 
He delicately takes the straps into his hands, making the base knot against your back and pulling it. “Is that good?” 
It’s a little loose. 
“Tighter, please.”
He pulls. It’s almost like you’re drawn backward, nearly knocking into his chest. He starts tying up a little bow and you feel the brush of his fingers against the small of your back, shivers running up your spine and shoulders. You have to hold yourself back from twitching. 
“There,” He says, taking a step back and admiring his handiwork. He keeps his eyes trained on the bow, tries to hold himself back from drinking in your entire figure. 
It’s oddly domestic, intimate. It has you drifting off in thought, has you confirming all your wonders about his touch that had crowded your mind ever since that day when you saw him pull out the vegetables. He is gentle. You can only hope that the softness of his touch is a testament to his feelings (more specifically, his feelings about you). 
You cough. You make it awkward. You thank him in a quiet, choked up voice before gathering all the pots needed for dinner before scrambling away to start on the food. Kiyoomi thinks he made you uneasy and this time, stands farther away from you when you show him how to prepare the food. Your heart aches at the same time as his. Both of you are back to square one. 
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The following days are painfully repetitive. It’s a cycle of the two of you falling back into place, and then your hands brush his, or you catch him staring, or you lean in too close to him, and then the both of you are creating more distance and relapsing into silence and copious amounts of space. 
On this particular night, the two of you are sitting far apart, him on the rocking chair with an open book, and you on the other side of the living room, pressed into the far corner of the couch, embroidery hoop in hand. 
You could trick yourself into thinking that there’s a sense of peace that blankets the two of you, a scene of quiet comfort and domesticity before there’s a dull knock on the door. 
You both freeze. You’re the first one to get up to go check, and Kiyoomi is a little too late in his reaction as he tries to tell you that he’ll get it, a weird sense of protectiveness overcoming him. 
The door is already open and the air is knocked out of your lungs. 
Before you stands a tall, handsome man, brown hair slightly disheveled, a smile growing as he looks down at you. He is very attractive. But not as charming as Kiyoomi, a voice in your head whispers. 
“Well, well, well,” He starts, leaning onto the door frame. “Didn’t know Omi was staying with a pretty little lady.” 
“Miya,” You hear from behind you, nearly jumping as your skin burns hot knowing there are two striking men trapping you. 
“Ah! My old friend!” The man cheers, his eyes searching yours for approval to step inside. Without any hesitation, you grant him access, slowly backpedaling into Kiyoomi’s chest with a squeak before he moves out of the way, the two of you letting the man inside (much to Kiyoomi’s dismay). 
“Miya,” Kiyoomi starts again, gaze hardened. “What are you doing here?” 
“Don’t be like that, my good friend,” The man, Miya, repeats. “Hurts when you address me by last name.” 
Kiyomi doesn’t retort. He won’t play into the man’s tricks of beating around the bush. 
Finally, he fesses up. 
“Bo and Shoyo and I are going to meet up at the pub in a bit, thought you’d like to come along.” 
You see Kiyoomi make a face. 
“I have suffered enough from your presence over the last few years. Please do not try to rope me back into your antics.” 
“Omi!” The grown man whines, face falling before he remembers that you’re standing there. Slowly, his face shifts into a wicked smile, and Kiyoomi’s frown deepens. 
“Ah ah ah,” He starts, dipping down and leaning in closer as if he’s examining you. “I know why you’re so adamant about staying. Find yourself a pretty little wife?” 
The both of you choke. 
You’re about to protest, but Kiyoomi is pushing Miya out the door, effectively letting you hide behind the broad expanse of his back, but you peek out from behind him to see what’s happening. 
“If I– If I go with you this time, will you swear to not come back?”
“Don’t be like that, Omi.”
“Miya.”
“Just say Atsumu! And fine! I won’t visit after this. Won’t steal your pretty lady away.”
“You are unbearable.”
Your cheeks feel hot as Kiyoomi turns around to face you, face irritated. 
“I’ll be on my way. I should be back before it gets too dark out. Please stay safe.” 
You give him a meek goodbye as you watch him pull his coat from the rack next to the door and slide it on, watch closely as he threads his arms through the sleeves, watch as the article fits snugly against his form, watch as he again proves that he is a sight for sore eyes. 
After you shut and lock the door, you rush to the kitchen window to get a peek at the both of them descending the porch stairs, watch as Atsumu laughs and hangs close to Kiyoomi as the latter tries again and again to maintain the space between them and throws unimpressed looks his way. 
When your mother comes home, you tell her Kiyoomi went out with his friends. She smiles and thanks the heavens, happy that he’s finally getting out there. She tells you she hopes he finds someone he may like while he’s out.
You only hum in response. 
Hours pass and Kiyoomi is still out. You and your mother have already eaten dinner and she’s already fast asleep. You’re already in your nightgown and tired of waiting around. 
You step outside and stand by the chicken coop. You watch them sleep and some of them scatter around and you talk to them as if you’re sending wishes to the universe. Tell them you hope Kiyoomi is okay. Tell them you hope he gets home safe. 
As soon as you’re stepping back inside the house, there are drunken laughs and weak knocks at the front door. Not wanting to seem too excited, you take a few deep breaths to pass time before you hear that Miya boy holler out a muffled Pretty lady, come and get him! Which is nearly cut off by a familiar groan. Kiyoomi throws some swear words around. 
You open the door and find that the two of them were using it as support as they nearly fall into you. Atsumu catches you before you can trip on your own feet and fall backward. 
“Hi,” He breathes out into your face, and you have to hold back from scrunching your nose. He smells of liquor but his steady arms keep you rooted in place, his physique nearly swallowing you whole. 
“Hello,” You start, hyper aware of how you look and if you have any blemishes on your face and how close the two of you are, but before you can think of anything else to find a flaw in, Atsumu is pulled back by Kiyoomi. 
“Stop terrorizing my host,” Kiyoomi hiccups out, trying his hardest to remain stern and imposing, but his friend only laughs brightly.
Atsumu slurs out your name, “You must know,” He starts, leaning his arm on the door frame, trying to pose coolly. “Omi mentioned you an awful lot tonight. Think he might have taken a—” 
“Miya.” 
“Yes, my most beloved Omi,” Atsumu professes, cheeks pink and dewy from all the alcohol. “I’ll leave you two be.” 
He clumsily spins on his heel, trips on his way down the steps, and crushes another flower bush. 
Your eyes flash with pain and Kiyoomi shuts the door before you can see Atsumu trip into anything else. He’s rather good at composing himself, straightening his face and posture as he looks at you. 
“Would you like some dinner?”
“Yes, please.”
You find out soon that Kiyoomi is mouthy when he’s drunk. After you reheat what was left over from dinner and slide the plate towards him, he asks that you sit down with him. His face flashes with disappointment when you sit across from him instead of right by his side. 
In his drunken state, he spills all that he’s kept inside without you even needing to probe. Tells you he plans to get going soon, has his eye on a place, tells you he's ready to move on and start life from scratch. He tells you he's tired of you avoiding him like the plague, but there's no malice behind his voice– only pure disappointment, like he’s sulking. At that, you perk up and lean forward, guiltily trying to fish some more out of him.
“Hate that you stay so far away,” He grumbles before stuffing his fork in his mouth. “Always jumping and skittering around me like I’m, I’m– frightening. Hate that you think I’m scary.” 
He hates that you keep your distance, hates that you've deemed him untouchable, hates that you see him as some warlord man who will crush you beneath the soles of his shoes if you utter something incorrectly. 
“Miya,” He suddenly blurts, and for a second you think he thinks you’re the man that just left. 
“Miya told me to confess to you.” 
Your blood runs cold. Confess…? 
Kiyoomi is quiet after that, finishing up his food with sad eyes. He wants more and more and more, any drop of your love that he can get, he will take it. 
You don't ask if he means confessing by telling you all that he hates or if he means confessing something else. Something else that has your stomach stirring, heart doing odd twists as your fist the skirt of your dress. It's hard to think about it when he's right in front of you and slurring his words and clumsily pushing his plate away. It's something you must think about later, in the solace of your own room. 
When he’s done, you help him shrug off his coat, watch as the expanse of his back reveals himself to you. You guide him to his room, expecting him to close the door as soon as he steps in again, but this time, he turns to face you and leans on the frame. He swallows as he looks over you, eyes droopy and tired, and he looks so vulnerable in this light. He’s loosened up, mouth parted only slightly as he lets his eyes wander where he usually doesn't when sober, lets his mind think what he usually holds back on any other day. 
He breathes out your name. You look up at him curiously. 
“I wish you could come with me.” 
You stiffen. You gently place your hands on his chest and push him back into his room slowly– your touch makes him smile. 
“Goodnight, Kiyoomi,” is all you say. 
“Goodnight, angel.” 
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Just like the almost-kiss, neither of you bring up what Kiyoomi said that night. It's an elephant in the room– at least, to you. You’re not sure if Kiyoomi even remembers what he said. (He does). 
The two of you delve into another game of dancing around each other in circles, putting on a show that makes it seem like everything's alright and that your hearts don’t ache. Neither of you are aware that when night falls and you're in your respective rooms, the both of you dwell and worry about what you've said and done. 
As of late, Kiyoomi hasn't been around. He still helps you with his morning tasks, but after breakfast, he slips out of the house and tells you he will be searching around town for work with his friend Miya. You know that he doesn't owe you any explanations, but some part of you appreciates it. 
(Kiyoomi knows this, too. He wants you to know he isn't seeking anyone else out there).
Day in and day out, he's around less and less. You start to think that Kiyoomi is now trying to get rid of his feelings ever since you didn't exactly reciprocate what he said that night, when he was drunk.
One heartbreaking evening, Kiyoomi announces that he’ll be leaving soon over dinner. Your mother has a big smile on her face as she congratulates him and cups his face and cries on and on about how proud she is and that he deserves all the best. You nod along to everything that she says, but your vision blurs and all the twines of your fork blend together and it’s hard to see what you’re eating. It's even harder to hold back your sniffles as she starts asking him where he’ll move and where he’ll be working and if he's met anyone. She's always on his back about that last one. It makes your heart feel bitter and heavy. 
The next morning, your mother insists that she go out to the market and get Kiyoomi some farewell gifts. He reassures her that she doesn't really have to, tries to convince her to stay as she's already putting on her coat, and then she's walking out the door. 
Kiyoomi asks if you could help him tidy up before he leaves. It’s more of a statement than a question, so you oblige. 
You help him take off his sheets and load them into a basket to wash later. You wipe down the dresser and the desk, help sweep the floors, help him fold his clothing neatly so that his suitcase shuts securely. 
When everything's done, you wipe your hands nervously on your apron and give him a curt nod, turning to leave the room.
“Stay,” He suddenly blurts, fists clenching at his sides. “I have to tell you something before I go.” 
And so you turn and face him, letting your hands fall to your sides. He steps closer to you. 
“Before I go,” He starts, eyes scanning your face for any emotion, but he gets nothing. You look numb. 
“I don’t expect anything from you in return, but I must tell you, or else I don’t think I can live with myself. You,” He hesitates, feeling like he instead wants to turn away and save it for another day. 
The curious glimmer in your eye pulls him back in. 
“You have captured my heart,” Kiyoomi says breathlessly, “The entirety of my soul. I have no regrets in opening myself up to you, in letting you in, and I can say that you have made me a better man. I want to be vulnerable with you as I am now, time and time again. I want us to be one, but to be our own all at once.” 
His eyes search yours frantically, “I love you.” 
Your mouth drops open. 
Hands shaky, you try smoothing out your dress and formulating a response, the right response, one that tells him you feel the same.
Kiyoomi begins to lean away, taking a step back, face calm. “As I’ve said, I don’t expect anything from you in return. You can leave, if you wish.” 
You stay rooted still. 
“Kiyoomi,” You finally squeak, voice cracking like you're on the verge of tears. The tone of it makes him stand up a little straighter, like he's worried about what he's done, but then you're beckoning him forward with your hand.  
He comes in closer, approaching you like you’re injured- gentle and calm like he mustn't startle you any further. You try to lean into him, try to pull him closer, hands wrapping around his shirt and bringing him towards yourself, voice shaky as you manage to get out, “And I you.” 
It’s all he needs. It’s all he needs before he’s dipping down, lips slotting against your own as you sigh out wantonly. Days and weeks and months of pent up feelings and unspoken words all pour out in one kiss, a kiss that has you stumbling backward and grasping at his shirt, his hands roaming down your back and pulling you into him, closer and closer and closer, like he is going to fuse the two of you together. 
(He wants to). 
It isn’t long until you find yourself pressed into his bed, both of your clothes thrown into some corner of the room, underwear torn off as he hovers above you, licking into your mouth and grinding against your cunt. 
“Kiyoomi,” You whimper once he pulls away. “Please.”
He dips down again to kiss and nip at your chest, the metal of his tags stinging your skin and giving you shivers. Kiyoomi hums into your shoulder, licks a stripe up your neck before lifting himself off the bed, planting his hands on your hips. He drags you closer to him, lifting you up as he drags his cock over your warmth. 
“Such a pretty little cunt,” he groans as he slips in, eyes falling shut when you immediately flutter around him. Kiyoomi almost falters, almost curls in on himself and leans atop of you again before he collects himself and starts dragging his cock in and out, hissing at the way you clamp down on him. 
It’s a build up, Kiyoomi starting gentle and slow until you’re bucking up your hips and whining at him to go faster, till the only thing you can get out is a weak string of please please please. 
Kiyoomi cages you beneath him again as he starts drilling into you, broken cries slipping past your lips as your hands race up and down his back, leaving light scratches that make him moan so prettily right by your ear. 
He brings his hands to your thighs, pushing them up and trapping them against your chest and your eyes roll back, body falling pliant to him. He’s so close, all up in your face and humming about how wet you are for him, how fucking good you feel, how you’re made for me, doll, all for me.
His breath fans your face as he thrusts into you desperately, making the bed shake. The tags on his chain bump into your chin, clinking softly like little chimes and bringing you back time and time again as your mind spirals under the feeling of him pounding into you. Kiyoomi grunts and lifts himself up for the fastest second, taking the tags in hand and ripping the chain off his neck, metal grazing the wood floor as it slides away. His irritation with it makes you want to laugh, but the sound gets caught in your throat as his cock hits the sweetest spot in you, making your toes curl as you cry out his name. 
He watches you as your hands sneak down, nimble fingers spreading apart your folds to try and get a good look at his length sliding in and out of you. Kiyoomi looks down, watches the spot where the two of you meet, watches as his dick comes out covered in slick before pushing himself back in. 
“Fuck, fuck, angel, you’re so– so good, such a good girl for me.”
Your head bobbles up and down in a nod, weakly whimpering out his name, “I want to cum, please let me– let me cum all over you, Kiyoomi!” 
He shudders, hand coming up to grab at your jaw. “Look at me. Look at me when you cum.” 
You sob out pathetically, legs shaking and twitching as you tighten around him, gushing for what seems like hours until you fall limp, tears invading your vision. Kiyoomi murmurs praises into your cheek before planting both hands on your hips again, using you to reach his high, and you let him, let yourself be his little doll. 
You feel his warm seed trickle into you, stomach fluttering at the sensation before he collapses on top of you. 
Kiyoomi nestles his face into your chest for a few minutes before rolling onto his side, cupping your cheek with his big hand. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” 
You nodded, trying to scoot in closer to him, albeit weakly. 
“I love you, Kiyoomi.” 
He smiles. He’s beautiful, you think. He opens his mouth to return the affection, your hand coming up to brush his curls away, but there’s a telltale sound at the door that alarms the both of you. 
In an instant, you two are up, laughing and tripping over your own feet, Kiyoomi hustling into his slacks as you awkwardly slide your dress back on, thumping into the footboard of the bed as your mother chirps out like a bird, “I’m home!” 
“Your mother,” Kiyoomi says in a hushed tone, leaning close to you as he buttons up his shirt, “Always has to go and interrupt us.” 
You smile up at him cheekily, and he catches the mischievousness in your eyes. 
“Just means that you must take me with you, I presume?” 
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You step out into the grass of the backyard, the sun already hanging in the sky since you’re a little bit late to your task. Nonetheless, you head straight towards the chicken coop and unfasten the doors, the chickens pouring out and clucking around obnoxiously, as they always have. The rest is muscle memory– throw out the old water, replace it, add in fresh food, sit with the chickens. The familiarity of it all soothes you– not that you need soothing. You simply feel in touch with your roots again. 
“Good morning, Harold.” You jeer at one particular chicken, who eyes you warily. You laugh. “Now don’t be jealous, I’ll always come back to check on you.” 
He gives an approving cluck. 
You gather yourself and get back up, slipping off your boots on the back porch. As you approach the dutch door, you see someone already leaning onto the bottom half of it, a little bouquet in hand. 
“He told me to give this to you,” Your mother swoons, holding out the bundle of flowers to you. A laugh bubbles at your lips as you observe the flowers, holding the stems together, “Aren’t these from the front yard? Such a romantic,” You joke, rolling your eyes as you make your way inside. You tuck the flowers into one of your mother’s vases to keep them safe. 
“I’ll get started on breakfast,” You call out, despite it already being later in the day and, technically, lunch time would be rolling around. 
“Oh no no,” You mother gasps, a sound that you had become all too familiar with when Kiyoomi was around, when she’d clutch her chest in shock. 
“You rest, my dear, I’ll start working on the food.” 
“Mother,” You press, “You need to go rest. That’s the exact reason why we came over here!”
“Nonsense!” She chimes, pushing you down to sit at the dining table as she pads over to the kitchen. You remain still for a few moments to appease her, but then the front door creaks open and you’re on your feet immediately. 
“Hi lover,” You say almost bashfully as Kiyoomi approaches you, wiping the sweat off his forehead as he sinks down to kiss your forehead, your chin, your lips. 
“Hi, my little doll,” he mutters against you before pulling away. “Did you like the flowers I got you?” 
You laugh, observing the green and brown stains on his white undershirt, evidence of his hard work in the front yard. “I shouldn’t be praising a thief, seeing as you took my mother’s flowers right from her yard.” 
“Oh?” He suddenly challenges, “I think this thief deserves a little praise, seeing as I successfully made your heart mine.” 
You can’t help but scoff, tongue poking at your cheek with how embarrassing he is, how corny he’s become now that he’s in love. 
Your mother scurries back in with two plates in hand, telling you both to Sit, sit! like dogs, and Kiyoomi looks at you with a knowing smile on his face. Always interrupting things.
As the three of you start eating, your mother points her fork accusingly at you. 
“And you, my sweet girl, better eat up. You need more nutrients for when a baby is on the way.” 
You choke. Kiyoomi smiles into his cup as he takes a sip. 
“We’re not expecting,” You scold, stabbing your fork into your food. “You can’t just say things like that, mother—”
“How come? You never know! With the two of you in that new big home, you’ll surely want to fill in some space. You’re young! There’s no shame!” 
“You’re the one who may as well fill up the space, visiting nearly every day!” 
“Oh honey, I’m just excited for you—” 
The bickering is all in good fun, Kiyoomi knows. He takes your hand into his underneath the table, finger brushing against the golden band that encompasses your own. 
Yes, he thinks to himself, heart swelling. Perhaps it’s time to start filling up the space.
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omiiuvz · 2 months
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𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧’ ; 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐧
msby boys being lovestricken (╹◡╹)♡ (pt.1)
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note!! fluff, slightly suggestive, gen!reader, timeskip hq boys , not proof-read
hinata shoyo , sakusa kiyoomi x gen!reader (seperate)
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SAKUSA KIYOOMI ★彡
"you are burning lasers into my back." despite saying so in feigned annoyance, it doesn't affect you. instead you respond to his remark with a slight chuckle, meanwhile kiyoomi only peeks behind him to look at what new thing has bombarded your little brain.
he's busy washing the dishes while you're sat on the counter admiring from behind— eyes scanning at how his tone muscles are being enhanced through his tight shirt. he's wearing a white gym tee, and it's hugging every inch of those back muscles you can't help from oggling at. his waist is being perfectly defined as well, god you want to touch him. obviously you'd stare him down.
"omi." he sucks in a breath, anticipating what stupid question will leave your mouth this time.
of course he truly does not care, he loves your stupid questions and rambles. loves your goofy side as it allows him to embrace a little silliness in him too! loves it when you smother him in affection, you are the only exception to touching him as you please.
"I love your back muscles." he chokes. now that, he wasn't expecting. the glass plate almost flew out of his gloves hands from your sudden confession.
"what?" is all he can say, completely baffled. kiyoomi is only met with the sound of your slippers hitting the wooden floor. then its your hands slipping onto his waist— they're feeling his sides and it's causing him to flush strawberry red— the fabric is so smooth that it makes it much more easier to snake your hands all over him.
before he could even take in a breath, he feels your hands now suddenly rubbing along the broadness of his back. you are driving him insane.
"y/n, quit it. m'trying to wash the dishes." but he's far from washing them now. the plate in his hand is long gone, only sitting in the secondary sink waiting to be rinsed off.
"mm, but you look so good omi~" you're pawing on his waist again, pulling him closer causing him to jolt a bit.
the sound of those pink rubber gloves hitting the sink in frustration signals you that he's given up. finally he's fully looking at you, pointedly albeit, but you grin at him with success.
he's turned himself around with a huff, leaning against the countertop looking down at you cordially.
"you're such a puppy aren't you?" you were about to talk back, however your words are sucked back in as you feel his lips abruptly on your own.
now it was your turn to turn red, you could almost feel yourself fall though his hand are quick to wrap around your waist— you swear you could feel him smile with pride by getting back at you.
he's pushing himself more against you, the proximity between you both is long gone. he allows another hand to caress your cheek, his thumb gliding a slight under your eye. — lips moving skillfully on yours, your grasp around his body is now gripping tightly on the cloth. the tips of his dark curls are touching your forehead, the pressure of your intimate action only increasing.
it's only when you push him away, desperate for oxygen that the kiss breaks. the distance between you both though still ever so close. the feeling of each others hot breaths and the small silence is cut off with a small chuckle leaving those soft lips of his.
"are you happy now?" a small pinch on your cheek is followed with his teasing, making you pout. still you're again left blushing.
he's stupidly in love with you.
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HINATA SHOYO ☆彡
he swears its been centuries. no maybe even longer than that, whatever is longer than centuries that's what it felt like for hinata. he felt like he was on death's door, because fuck he missed you so much.
muscular arms are wrapped around you so tightly, you're basically suffering from his overwhelming (but wondrous) affection.
"sho, you're gonna kill me with your hugs," exasperating with giggles, you try to push him a little as your stuck planted on his lap. he's been like this ever since he arrived home from an overseas MSBY tournament, dragging you off your feet and encasing you on your couch. he just missed you. your body. your warmth, your love.
"mm little longer baby I promise. 'just missed you so much... n'your scent." lips are tickling the crook of your neck, now your giggles were out of fluster, face beet red.
hands incased between his biceps, while his were gripping your hips and lower back like its last life. his hot breath is making yourself feel warmer than usual, thank god you were at home. you could feel the heat rising up to your ears, his clinginess has gotten you in an blushing mess.
yet now you really needed to push him off before you die of his intimacy. so with no other option with every last bit of strength you tilted your head up just enough to place small loving kisses along his neck. he's letting out small shriek then its followed with a low groan, begging for you to stop.
"mmf! stop baby- tickles!" finally he backed away from you, however that doesn't mean you're not off his lap and his arms still embracing your figure. he is though finally away from your very much hot face.
"wow you're red." is all he says once composed, face completely oblivious to the reasons on why you are oh so red. his remark makes you cower, face falling to hide in his chest. you send him a small light punches, muttering words of protest.
"that's because of you, you idiot!"
he admires this cute side of you. rubbing his hand along your back he apologizes, leaning in to shower you in kisses as an apology.
he starts from your shoulders, then up to your neck— it tickles but you love it when he kisses you like this. full of so much of love that it's radiating off of him. the way each peck is gently being placed as if you're made of glass. his grasp on you still tight but not too much that it hurts— then his lips meet your cheeks. not long before he's asking you to look up at him so his lips can meet your own.
"look at me baby, wanna kiss your pretty lips."
he's never felt more at home than now.
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@omiiuvz | 02.24.24
©️ all rights reserved. do not copy / plagiarize my work.
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lowkeyremi · 2 months
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Kiyoomi Sakusa who is an absolute emotional drunk. He didn't want to go to dinner tonight but his manager already put him on the reservation list for the celebratory dinner. Of course you accompanied him as his plus one, but boy did he get drunk only after a few drinks.
He was less willing to answer questions and scowling way more than usual too. "Hey Omi! Those were some nice serves earlier!!" Hinata praises and Kiyoomi doesn't say anything, he just glares at his teammate. Did I mention he's clinging onto you like a sloth? His arms are wrapped around you and his face is buried in your neck. He wants to go home.
"Sorry about him Hinata, I think he's ready to go home..." Hinata nods enthusiastically as you say Kiyoomi's goodbyes for him and haul him out of the restaurant to his car. He suddenly out of no where grumbles, "I don't like the way that waiter was looking at you."
"'yoomi what are you talking about? He wasn't even looking at me." He reluctantly gets into the passenger seat. He's acting like a toddler the way a pout braces his face and he has his arms crossed.
"Yuh huh. He was eyeing you like I wasn't right there. I had to stop myself from punching that bastard." This overly emotional state of his has you giggling to yourself because you know if you were to giggle too loud he would think you were making fun of him.
"Well, it's alright now, he's not looking at me anymore." You assure him. You close his car door and run over to the driver side to make sure you two make it back to the apartment safely.
"I'm the only one who can look at you." He concludes from this whole ordeal. "That's not fair to anyone but you, Kiyo." He sighs dramatically and you think he's been spending a little too much time with a specific blond that he claims to hate.
"I don't care if it's fair. You're mine." No more words are spoken of him so you look over to check on him. Only to find his head pressed up against the window with his eyelids closed. His breaths are even and he sleeps peacefully. You cherish how cute he looks because you know as soon as he wakes he's going to be complaining about how his hair is flattened on the side that was pressed up against the window.
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viviaj · 10 months
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you’re housing a glass of something brown.
it’s definitely alcohol and it’s definitely strong. which isn’t surprising, since it’s kiyoomi’s.
kiyoomi is tall amongst his team mates. black slacks and a black shirt loosely tucked in to his frame; he looks vampiric as his skin glows in the shitty house-party lights.
his waist is slimmer than the other’s around him. the curve of his shoulders into his stomach and down to his hip bones are perfect.
you watch him snort and cover his mouth as he laughs at something, quickly waving it off as shoyo asks to do a shot with him. kiyoomi rolls his eyes, and they take the shot.
it’s maybe half an hour later when you see kiyoomi stumble his way back to you and your couch. his hair is sticking to his face, and his shirt looks like it’s been untucked in places.
the sunken-in brown leather couch dips when kiyoomi slides into your side.
“you having fun?” you ask as kiyoomi presses his nose into your cheek, you giggle a bit as his breath tickles your skin.
“so much fun,” he says as he’s pressing open mouthed kisses on the side of your face, his lips moving towards the base of your neck, and all the way up to the bottom of your ear.
“you’re so cute over here, jus’ sittin’ by yourself,” he mumbles, “holdin’ my drink for me.. so sweet and kind,” he’s talking nonsense.
you nod along because what do you even say to that? it’s hard to argue with him as he’s sliding his hand up and down your thigh, teeth nibbling at your ear.
“can’t stop touching you,” you squirm as his hand sinks higher up your thigh, “i want you so badly baby, please.” he’s practically begging you, with his hand moving towards your inner thigh you can’t help but inch closer to him— he’s so close.
“not here omi,” you turn to try and return his kisses but he just whines.
“no, no you don’t— you can’t say that,” he presses his hand in further, all whiny, “please just— baby just let me do this, i can’t help myself.”
there’s an insatiable feeling coiling in your stomach.
“people are looking.” you try to calm down, slightly pushing against kiyoomi’s hands.
“i don’t care,”
you can see his cock hardening in his slacks, and he looks so good.
there’s a distant whoop and cheer in the distance and you have half a mind to think it was aimed at the two of you.
“kiyoomi..” you sigh.
“don’t. just stop talking— please,” he grabs your hand and slowly places it on his clothed cock. his hips immediately buck up into you. you’ve never seen him so needy before.
“you’re so hard,”
“yeah? you feel it?” he’s mouthing against you, “it’s all for you. you know that, yeah?”
and no. you didn’t really know that. kiyoomi has never been so vulnerable. usually the quiet and stern type during these moments, this is the first time he’s ever been so open.
you slowly rub your hand up and down, enough for kiyoomi to whine his way to your lips, pressing light kisses in a way that can only be seen as desperate.
“i love when you touch me. so much. shit,” he mumbles, “i don’t say it enough. i swear,” his lips are so warm.
“kiyoomi, let me take you home,”
he shakes his head no against you, “no. need you now.”
“i cant give you what you need here,” you mutter, embarrassed at even saying anything like that in public.
“you don’t need to,” his slender fingers move over your underwear, slowly touching you. your chest gets caught in your throat and you’re suddenly aware of everything in the room, “feel good?” he kisses your jaw.
he slips his hand under your clothes, his fingers tracing over you and your thighs. your hand covers your mouth as kiyoomi feels you.
“guys?”
you jerk back into the seat as shoyo approaches the two of you. to your horror, omi doesn’t even pretend to stop, his fingers moving over you like it was his job.
“yes?” he sounds bored.
and at that point their voices are gone. all you can feel are his fingers and his breath and his body. it’s just him him him.
and then it’s not.
kiyoomi’s stroking your cheek slowly, “gonna get another drink,”
“wait. what? kiyoomi? why did—”
he looks devilish as he presses a small kiss on your forehead.
“i’ll be back.” voice full of sweetness as you’re writhing on the couch, “i’ll take care of you at home.”
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chosobaby · 2 years
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nsfw / fem!reader
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sakusa kiyoomi always thinks you look pretty.
you look pretty in the morning. it’s still dark, blackout curtains blocking the sun from letting its fingers seep through any cracks, and his arm is hooked around your waist. your hair is a mess while your lips are slightly pouting. your eyes begin to flutter open and a grin spreads across your face as he brings a hand up to brush your cheek. kiyoomi thinks you’re really pretty.
you also look pretty in the afternoon. blossoms of white drift across the sky and a gentle breeze blows your hair back. your hand is in his as you give him such a sweet smile while you talk about your day; it makes him feel warm on the inside. kiyoomi still thinks look really pretty.
but he thinks you look the prettiest in the evening — when you’re underneath him and letting out equally pretty noises.
his right hand is wrapped around your neck, the left planted next to your head, and your legs are wrapped around his slim, naked waist.
“you’re so pretty,” he says, “so fucking pretty,” while his hips continue to pound into you and tears spill down your cheeks. he shifts the hand choking you to drag his thumb down your bottom lip. shades of lilac and wisteria begin to bloom on your collarbones.
“ki-kiyoomi,” you moan as your hands reach to cup his face.
his dark, wide eyes stare into yours. “yeah, pretty?”
“you’re so, so pretty too — my pretty, pretty angel.”
you barely get the words out, and your eyes roll all the way back as it hits you. your toes curl and you throw your head backward, arms immediately taking their place around his shoulders.
he ignores the way your nails dig into his skin, leaving his back with long streaks of rosy hues. and he ignores the way he desperately needs to cum, because all his senses can do is focus on your pretty sounds, your pretty face, your pretty tits, your pretty everything.
yeah, kiyoomi thinks you’re the prettiest.
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irisintheafterglow · 7 months
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hello…………..kiyoomi crumbs pls
ASK AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE
*patting the hood of a car* this bad boy can hold so much bf!sakusa
cw: swearing and the msby jackals being idiots
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you checked your phone again and prayed you weren't keeping him waiting for a long time.
"hi, is omi still in there?"
"he should be just about finishing up, but you can go ahead. you know your way around the place by now," the security guard states warmly, giving you the go-ahead to navigate the back halls of the gym to the men's locker room. even if you did find yourself lost, it'd be easy to get to your destination by simply following the banter of your boyfriend's three very spirited teammates. their voices grow louder with every step and you have to stifle a laugh when you start to pick up the bits and pieces of their conversations.
"and then she told me i was being delusional! can you imagine? me? delusional?"
"remind us all when you met this girl, atsumu?"
"...last week."
"dare i say, she has a point," deadpans the smooth, low voice of your boyfriend. he always knew the best ways to press atsumu's buttons, making it very difficult to invite his friends over for dinner without harmless arguing occurring at the kitchen table. "it's okay; i'm sure you'll find another 'love of your life' next week."
"shoyo, the fuck are you doin' with my shirt?"
"can you all please put clothes on? if sakusa's partner walks in here and all of you are naked-"
"i'm not naked!"
"we know you're not, bokuto, but atsumu needs to put his tits away before i cut them off with scissors," kiyoomi quips and you fail to muffle your snort from around the corner. the room quiets in an instant and you hear a faint fuck before he finally comes to find you. he's still slightly sweaty from practice, all toned muscle and messy hair and bright eyes that only twinkle for you. "hi, beautiful."
"hey, handsome. you done threatening physical violence in there?" your eyebrow quirks in question and he shakes his head tiredly, tugging you into him by the belt loops of your pants. your arms rest on his shoulders, brushing stray curls from his forehead.
"not yet. i still have some unfinished business."
"mmm, with razors, i hear." you nod in solemn understanding and his mouth quirks into a half-smile, another expression of his that was reserved only for you. his lips press a kiss to your temple in a rare show of public affection, inhaling your presence with his eyes shut contentedly. "i could be wrong, but a federal offense will probably screw up your olympic prospects."
"if you tell me to do it, i'll do it," he murmurs absentmindedly and you chuckle under your breath.
"what, murder atsumu or not murder atsumu?"
"dealer's choice." he places one more kiss on your nose before resting his forehead against yours like he'd been away from you for decades. to you, it was a few hours; but, to him, it felt like a century. "i missed you a lot."
"i can tell. you're very affectionate tonight." his forehead scrunches in confusion at the implication of your statement.
"what am i, a cat?" the incredulity in his voice makes you giggle and, despite his best efforts to remain stoic, you can tell he's fighting back a smile too.
"in some ways, yes. you do tend to leave hair all over our couch, and you make a lot of noise when you're hungry." he makes a proud noise in the back of his throat and lightly pinches the flesh of your sides in defiance.
"i'll buy us a new one if you want me to," he promises. you stopped sharing product ads with omi on instagram because he tended to buy you anything that you sent him, even if it was just a funny little trinket you saw on an etsy shop. these items included but were not limited to stationary, plushies, athleticwear, and, of course, furniture.
"you don't need to do that."
"maybe i already have."
"thanks for letting me know that your newest love language is buying me a sofa."
"my love language is doing whatever you want me to do, angel." you both jump when a loud crash comes from the locker room around the corner, followed by hinata's panicked rambling and bokuto saying "that was fucking epic!" atsumu, you'd guess, is either the culprit or the object that caused the crash. you gently push omi's sturdy shoulders away and he groans in protest. "do i have to?"
"wrangle your team, put some proper clothes on, and take me to dinner, lover boy."
"as you wish."
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