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#sakusa kiyoomi fanfic

revasserium · 8 months

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balter + sakusa 🥺

send me a word and a character, and i'll write you a fic

practice makes perfect

sakusa kiyoomi; 2,272 words; fluff... that's it, sakusa isn't good at dancing, you convince him to do it anyway

“wow… i didn’t know that he could move like that…”

“ah… but uhm… it’s kind of shocking, isn’t it?”

“what, that sakusa kiyoomi could be so bad at something?”

komori laughs into his hand, glancing over to the dance floor where one sakusa kiyoomi is doing what seems like his best attempt at a popular dance move and failing rather miserably.

“well… at least he looks like he’s having fun,” komori says, grinning as he catches your eyes over sakusa’s shoulder and raises a hand in greeting. you smile back, shooting him a wink before going back to your equally abysmal dancing by sakusa’s side.

“but. i don’t dance.”

sakusa blinks at you from across the hotel room table, his black coffee steaming between you, his jersey laid out in pristine condition on the freshly made bed. you hum as you reach for another piece of toast, applying a generous dose of butter and strawberry jam with a the same knife, seemingly oblivious to sakusa’s tiny wince as you jab the knife back into the jam jar. the toast is satisfyingly crunchy as you take a bite, making your toes curl as you finally look up to meet his eyes.

“yeah, so?”

sakusa licks his lips, his eyes flickering between the half-bitten monstrosity of toast in your hand and the crumbs littering the corner of your mouth. he bites down the urge to lunge across the table and wipe them away and maybe push you back into bed in the process, but he knows that there isn’t quite enough time for that. not today, anyway. but maybe tomorrow —

“so, why did you put me on the guest list for the dance party tonight?”

it’s a perfectly reasonable question, he thinks, even as you let out a melodramatic sigh, cramming the rest of the butter-jam-toast into your mouth and making for another slice.

“because, all your friends are gonna be there. and weren’t you saying just last week that you missed them?”

“i never said i missed them.”

“you said it’s been a while since you’ve seen them.”

“yeah, because it has.”

“so, you miss them.”

“that’s not —” sakusa sighs, reaching for his coffee. he takes a slow sip, counts his breaths, savors the bitter and tang. meanwhile, you crinkle your nose and frown at him, slathering more butter-jam onto your toast.

“kiyoomi-kun… have you ever done anything you were bad at?”

sakusa frowns at the question — what a strange thing to ask — why would he ever do anything he knew he’d be bad at? he narrows his eyes as you grin and shove the rest of the toast into your mouth. you lick your lips and sakusa bites back the urge to sigh — caught halfway between endeared and annoyed at the mess you’re making.

“no. i can’t say i have.”

“you should try it — could be fun!” you make a show of licking clean your fingers and smacking your lips.

sakusa shudders, unsure if he’s put off by the motion or turned on by it.

“right.”

you hike an eyebrow, “oh, c’mon — you can’t have been good at everything the first time you tried it — what about volleyball? were you good at it the first time you ever played?”

“yes,” sakusa deadpans, and you roll your eyes.

“okay then — maybe you were put on this earth to play volleyball and that’s not a fair example. hm…” you cast about for something else before a devlish grin spreads across your lips like butter and jam and sakusa is held still by both his curiosity and his certainty that this is not going to turn out well.

“what?” he asks, already snappish.

“i mean — i was just thinking — the first time we had sex… you weren’t as good as you are now but you seemed to have had a great time.”

sakusa sputters, nearly upsetting the tall glass of orange juice by his hands.

“that — what — you weren’t that good either!”

but then you’re laughing, shaking your head, “no! i wasn’t! but i also had a great time! see? you can be bad at something and still enjoy it!”

“that’s not — i mean — it’s different!”

“how would you know? have you ever danced before?”

sakusa clamps down on his bottom lip, glaring at the butter-dish, “no but — i know i wouldn’t like it.”

you lean forward, propping your chin on your hands, “how though? if you’ve never done it before?” your grin is just on the other side of a challenge and sakusa can’t fight down the feeling that maybe, just maybe — this is one battle he’s not going to win.

“i just — it’s just stupid.”

you giggle, stifling the sound behind your hand and he shoots you the best glare he can muster.

“c’mon — c’mere.” you motion for him to stand up as you push back your chair and jump to your feet.

sakusa stares, “what?”

“get up! c’mon!” you reach over and tug on his arm, nearly dragging him out of his seat before he has the good mind to stand up, if only to stop himself from tipping over.

you pull one of his hands around you waist and hold the other, palm to palm with your own. you laugh as you force the pair of you into a strange, crab-like march across the length of the hotel room and then back again. sakusa is red-cheeked and frowning by the time you finish your second pass.

“what are you doing?”

“we are dancing!”

when you try to tug him back across the room again, he pulls you to him, letting out a soft groan as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. you feel your warm breath against the tender of your skin — it leaves you shivering.

“that’s not dancing.”

you laugh, gently this time, curling your arms around the width of his body, leaning up on your tiptoes to try and hook your chin over one of his shoulders. you are fighting a losing battle — he’s always been too tall, too quiet, to suspicious — but he’s also always been yours.

“how would you know, hm? you’ve never done it!” you tease as he walks you both back towards the bed, smirking as you tumble back onto it, the length of his shadow long enough to cover your whole body, the light spilling in from the balcony window only serving to paint him in sharp, and shaper lines.

the curls of his hair look nothing short of angelic.

“because i know what it feels like to be good at something,” he answers, his breath a husky wisp of a thing, rolling like thunder across the horizon of your stretched out body and you’re powerless to resist him. you smile, you lay back. you let him tug you towards him by the soft of your hips —

“y-yeah? well… i think you could be good at dancing… if you just tried.”

“i don’t like to waste effort on things that won’t serve my future.”

you feel the mattress around you shift as he crawls over you, his arms by your ears, the tips of his curly-cued hair tickling your forehead. you reach up to sink your fingers into its depth.

“i dunno… i’d actually call it an investment.”

he pauses, cocks his head.

“and how do you figure that?”

you allow yourself the most indulgent smirk you can muster.

“i dunno… it’s just… i hear that dancing is pretty common place at weddings… but that’s just me, y’know?”

and or a second, sakusa merely blinks down at you — just long enough for doubt to start bubbling at the base of your stomach. and then —

“ah… i see…” he leans down to ghost his lips along the bare column of your neck, “so… i suppose it’s something we should practice, hm?”

“or — we could just be bad at it… and enjoy ourselves at the same time.”

his grin is decidedly lopsided when he pulls back, his head cocked.

“is that why you signed me up for the dance party tonight? to practice?”

you shrug, still pinned beneath him, your chest heaving at the proximity, the closeness of his body never failing to make yours simmer with anticipation.

“that depends, are you asking about dancing or practicing being bad at something and enjoying it?”

he leans down to kiss a slow, languid line along your collarbones, your thoughts fizzling out to mere static as he chuckles against your skin.

“either… both.”

“th-then both.”

he’s grinning when he pulls back, his expression just a tad sadistic.

“but first — we’ve still got… what? 15 minutes before we’ve gotta be downstairs for the press conference? why don’t we try doing something we’re both good at and will enjoy, hm?”

you open your mouth to answer, but he cuts you off with his lips, and then soon after that, coherent thought leaves you completely.

later that night, you’re both more than a little drunk, and for once sakusa is laughing like he actually means it, his arms flailing wildly as he tries to work through a series of ill-conceived dance steps.

you catch komori’s eyes over sakusa’s shoulder and shoot him a grin, raise your glass, and down the rest of your champagne in a single gulp. sakusa grins, wide and lazy and very, very drunk before he pulls you in, tucks your body against his and slows the pair of you to a soft sway, even as the music picks up and up and up.

eventually, komori wanders his way over to you both, his cheeks flushed with color, nursing a half-empty champagne flute as he looks you both over with an amused half-grin.

“and what might be going on here, hm?”

you grin as sakusa slowly spins the two of you in a circle and your eyes meet komori’s.

“can’t you tell? we’re practicing!”

komori’s eyebrows skyrocket, “practicing… what?”

“dancing!” this time, sakusa responds, a half-formed frown creasing his forehead as he looks over his cousin.

“you’re practicing… dancing… and can i ask why?”

you giggle as sakusa tries to dip you and it’s only by the strength of his arms that he doesn’t drop you flat on your ass.

“f-for a wedding!” you say, as sakusa pulls you back up and the pair of you continue to turn on the spot.

“w-wedding?” komori has the decency to look confused, “have you guys been invited to one?”

“nope!” you answer cheerfully.

komori blinks at you both for a full ten seconds before realization hits and his eyes go wide.

“o-oh! well — uhm — i’ll let you two get back to it, then!” he makes to back away before sakusa calls after him.

“make sure you practice too! y-you’re gonna be invited!”

komori nearly stumbles over his own feet as he turns to wave at you both.

“su-sure! alright — i’ll uh — look forward to the invite, then?”

you laugh as sakusa spins you out under his arm and pulls you back in again, almost stepping on your feet.

“don’t hold your breath — it won’t be for a while!”

komori cocks his head, “and why’s that?”

you squeal as sakusa hoists you up by the waist and spins you around.

“w-we’ve got a lot more practice to finish before we’ll be ready for it!”

and at this, komori finally laughs, shaking his had as he turns back around, flapping his hands at the both of you as he heads back towards the bar and his own group of friends.

behind him, sakusa positively pouts as he lowers you slowly to the ground.

“what’dyou mean we need alot more practice? i — i think we’re great.”

you lean up to brush your nose against his, “yeah but… i think we could be better.”

sakusa rolls his eyes, “fine — fine — we can —” he hiccups and crinkles his nose, “we can practice a bit more.”

“and then… after?” you ask, feeling suddenly breathless for a whole different reason.

“after… well after — we’ll be married.”

you bite your lips, searching his eyes for any sign of uncertainty, any clue that this might all just be a drunken farce but you find nothing except warmth, except sincerity, except a bone-deep sureness, a marrow-thick knowing.

“but… what if we’re bad at it? being married…”

sakusa leans down to cup your cheeks, his thumbs pressing against the smooth of your skin as he smiles.

“we won’t be… and if we are then… we’ll just have to practice.”

“yeah? you sure?”

“yeah — because… you can be bad at something and still enjoy it right? and… between the two of us — we can get good at anything with a bit of practice.”

you laugh, feeling something very close to tears prickling at the back of your eyes, hot and unsteady and you try your best to blink the feeling away. you clear your throat and nod.

“yeah — practice sounds good. practice sounds perfect.”

sakusa presses his lips to yours, his hands still cupping your face, “no… practice makes perfect… and that’s exactly what we’ll be — perfect.”

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gatakat · 5 months

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HELP ME FIND A FIC, PLEASE

girl for the love of god, tell me my favorite sakusa fic hasnt been deleted off ao3. i believe it was called Bar Hopping?? or something like that??

it was a multichapter w like LOTS of characters x reader. but i only remember sakusa's bc he was the character i was looking for when i found this fic

in sakusa's chapter the Reader was like a kindergarden teacher or somerhing like that, and she met sakusa at a bar, they texted for a while, then went on a date, there was a scene where Reader goes to a concert and Sakusa wants to see her so he meets her outside. and it takes them very long to make the decision to finally sleep together bc sakusa is anxious and Reader is a sweetheart and doesnt want to pressure him so Reader suggests having sex in the shower. it was beautifully written and i think sakusa's anxiety was lovingly portrayed. I LOVED IT BU T I CANT FIND IT ANYMORE

I NEED TO FIND IT, please does anybody know anything about it?????????

#sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #haikyuu x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #kiyoomi x reader #haikyuu fanfic #sakusa kiyoomi fanfic #sakusa kiyoomi fanfiction #sakusa fanfic #sakusa smut #sakusa kiyoomi smut #haikyuu smut #x reader #SORRY TO CLOG THE TAGS THIS IS A CRITICAL SITUATION #this fic is CANON to me thats how much i liked it #god if its been deleted im about to be devastated #i dont remember the name of the author #im 99% sure i left a comment but i cant find it on my comments history on ao3 #why me

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loveydovey-leviathan · 1 year

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sakusa x gn! reader

sakusa has to be the clingiest boy you've ever dated.

you wouldn't believe it if you weren’t the one dating him. you'd think that he’d be someone who would much rather have his space than be held all the time, the type to hold hands when they sleep on the same bed and nothing more. maybe a kiss or two in the morning and when he gets back home. someone who shows their love through acts of service and maybe gift-giving.

but you couldn't have been more wrong.

and the fact is proven to you every single day. how it was a complete struggle to get out of bed every morning, simply due to the fact that he absolutely refuses to let go. his face is always smushed against the crook of your neck as he gives you light pecks to try and convince you to stay in bed for just five more minutes.

or the way he keeps tugging you back by the end of your shirt every time you’re going somewhere without him as a silent way to ask for more and more kisses by the door- because he knows no matter how much you resist, sigh and complain, you’ll always give in until he’s had his fill.

and how he comes up behind you when you’re cooking dinner to press a kiss on the back of your neck. he always stays there for much longer than necessary, and if you know your omi as well as you think you do (you do), you have a feeling he’s enjoying the domesticity of it all- coming home to see his lovely partner cooking for him after a tiring day, even if you were busy too.

when he looks at you with the cutest pout every time you stop petting his hair, you’ll have to kiss the furrow of his eyebrows and his adorable frown away because otherwise, he’ll be in a bad mood for the rest of the day. and how every night, without fail, you would wake up with your arms numb because of kiyoomi’s head resting on your bicep, cuddling against your chest and arms around your waist like he’ll never let go.

and the way he asks ‘where are you going?’ with a slight whine every time you so much as get up from the couch to use the bathroom, he blushes every time you laugh as he tells you to hurry up and get back.

but you love it really, the way he acts when he’s with you, and you always will. you love the sight of his shocked teammates staring at how giggly and flustered their usually stoic friend is. you love that you’re the only one who really gets to see the dimples that show when he’s laughing. you love the way he blushes when you call him your little princess as he tells you to stop, even though you know he absolutely loves it. you love that he still looks away in embarrassment when you gently kiss his palm, and you love the way he looks at the ring on his finger- like he can’t believe it’s there.

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omi-boshi · 1 month

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

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

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

Kiss. On his lips.

Kiss. Right cheek.

Kiss. Left cheek.

Kiss. Tip of his nose.

Kiss. The moles on his forehead.

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

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

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

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

Longer this time.

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

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

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

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

Kiyoomi shakes his head, chuckling to himself.

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

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

#just silly little lovestruck kisses with kiyoomi #happy mwahrch to those who celebrate (me)#i want to kiss him soooo badddd #i bought new lipstick the other day and here we are #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #hq fluff #sakusa fluff #san's blobs #haikyuu #sakusa one shot #sakusa x you #haikyuu fanfic #sakusa fanfic #sakusa drabble #haikyuu drabble

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kairismess · 3 months

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this is what falling in love feels like.

🍰 genre: fluff ! ✒️ word count: 1,113 💭 summary: what it feels like for sakusa to fall in love for his dear old seatmate. 🍥 author's note: FUCK i did NOT anticipate it to be so long what 🎧song inspo: this is what falling in love feels like by jvke

it's hard for sakusa to focus on what the teacher is saying in front, what with you constantly grumbling and crumpling your scratch paper full of notes and solutions in frustration. he silently reaches over your table and plops a spare eraser he had to you. "please don't waste it," he advises you in a hushed tone, going back to the lesson at hand.

his ears perk up when you tell him a soft, 'thank you!' under your breath and erase away at your mistakes, prompting sakusa to prepare another eraser to sacrifice to you. out of everybody at school, only you never seemed to realize how much warmer sakusa was to you compared to everybody else. sure, you used to bother him a lot during your first year when you sat in front of him, but now that he sat in the same row as you, directly next to your chair, you had more opportunities to socialize with him (not that the feeling was always mutual, but he did often listen to you talk).

from remaining silent, glaring at you, and murmuring at you to please go away, he now remains silent... just with an inquisitive energy to him. it was rare for someone to change sakusa's view of them in a matter of half a year, but that was probably why he had developed such an interest in you. you were uniquely annoying, not insufferable, but you were more energetic than him, had a lot more to say, and understood him at certain times.

it was very hard for sakusa to come across a like minded person such as you, hence, he slowly succumbed to letting you just speak your mind to him while he just sat there, listening. that was the first sign he showed that he had some sort of uncommon feelings for you. komori would sometimes join you two, and even he noticed that whenever you tried to include sakusa in the conversation, he would reply to you; they started off as half-assed responses in an effort to satisfy your inquiry, but then, he started seeming a lot more... passionate about talking to you. it was like he enjoyed being in the conversation, all because you were talking to him.

sakusa would often offer you alcohol by readying his alcohol bottle out for you, hand you an extra n-95 mask if you needed it, and even reminded you often to take some vitamins and wear your jacket when its cold; even asking you if you've eaten during lunch, just to make sure, of course.

he also wasn't the type to want to go home with anybody who wasn't family, he disliked the idea of other people knowing where he lived when he wasn't even remotely affiliated with them. however, when he noticed you and komori sometimes heading home together, he'd tag along sometimes under the guise that he and komori had to run an errand before heading home, when really, all he wants to do is hear you talk and walk with you while the sun sets and the day's about to end.

"so... when are you going to confess?" komori asked the dark haired boy as he got a soda from the vending machine. sakusa replied with silence on his end, staring at the blank ceiling as he pondered on what exactly that meant. "...what do you mean?" "i mean like, admit your feelings to them?" the brunette reiterated, smiling awkwardly as sakusa crinkled his eyebrows. "do you not like them?" "...like in what way, i can say i tolerate them," "no, i-i mean... you have a crush on them, doncha, kiyoomi?" he asked sakusa, taking his soda out from the vending machine's dispenser, while sakusa's eyebrows raised ever so slightly.

"...a crush..." the wavy haired boy echoed, looking down at his and his cousin's shoes upon the dirty pavement. "yeah, they're like someone you think of a lot, like the way they behave, the way they speak, the little moments with them; like everything feels better when they're around!" "...feels better when they're around...." the dark haired boy repeated once more, the tips of his ears flushing a little red. "well, you don't have to figure it out right now, it's only been a few months, take your time," komori advised him as sakusa followed him, heading home with the boy.

that entire evening, sakusa lay in his bed, the same scene of him and his cousin by the vending machine by the dirty pavement playing over and over again in his head. then after that scene, he started thinking about the times he'd tag along silently whenever you and komori walked home together, the times you'd talk to him and bother him during class in your first year, the way you scritched and scratched at your paper whenever you made mistakes, how you never came to school with an eraser, hence he always gave you his; how he wishes you used his eraser every day, how he wished you'd think of him while you take your vitamins, or how he wished you'd remember him whenever you'd wear a jacket when going out in the cold.

and at that moment, sakusa's heart flutters for a split second; the color of his cheeks and ears became a deep hue of crimson...

"hey, kiyoomi, do you—" komori was about to ask sakusa for something when he came into his room, only to see his usually stoic cousin blushing hard in bed, his eyes glued to the ceiling as he had his hands clasped over his chest. "uh... y'good?" "...motoya, i think i have a crush," sakusa decided, slowly sitting up from the bed, his blush deepening into a scarlet hue as he looked at his brunette cousin; a dopey smile on the brown haired boy's face, he was in complete and utter disbelief at this news. "w-wow, great!" "it's not great..." sakusa insisted, his blush persisting as he furrowed his eyebrows and lay back down.

"a-and... why not?" komori asked, looking at his cousin with a confused glimmer in his eyes. "...because then i'll shake every time i hand them an eraser, i'll have a crack in my voice every time i reply to their questions, and i'll wanna be close whenever we walk together," sakusa listed down, his blush becoming a tart shade. komori chuckled and was about to leave. "well, my question can wait, but... that's completely normal, kiyoomi, i'll help you out with them!" "please, don't..." sakusa pleaded, flopping over onto his stomach, his face burrowed in the pillows. "...i'll start to think i actually have a chance, and that's the worst kind of feeling."

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teamatsumu · 6 months

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kinktober 2023 -> day 26

degradation - sakusa kiyoomi x reader

word count: 674

warnings: degrading language obviously, don’t read it if that offends you, fingering, swearing, nsfw content, praise towards the end

word count: 676

kinktober masterlist

The room was dark and silent, illuminated only by the streetlight that shone in through the open curtains. It fell over the bed in one long, yellow stripe, trailing over your naked, shivering legs. Sakusa took in the sight, breathing deeply and marveling at how gorgeous your writhing, bare figure looked in the restricted light. He knew your mind was already half gone, legs contracting and relaxing with every movement of his long, skilled fingers inside you. You were breathing hard, sweat building up on your hairline, hands fisted in the sheets beside your head. In the dim light, Sakusa could see the unshed tears shimmering in your eyes.

You were a vision. But he wasn’t going to tell you in those words.

“Dirty girl,” he murmured. “Pathetic little slut. Opening your legs for me so willingly. Have you no shame?”

You whimpered, face scrunching and lip trembling as the tears finally escaped your eyes. Sakusa’s tone was as harsh as his words, but the way you clenched so tight around him told him just how much you loved it when he got like this.

And Sakusa? He thrived in it.

His fingers curled in you, pushing and pulling until you were crying out, eyes squeezing shut. He roughly pushed in, knuckle deep, prodding at the little spongy spot inside you that he knew would have you seeing stars. You reacted instantly, gasping and arching up into him, legs jerking.

“Listen to these filthy noises,” he continued. “Listen to the way you sound. Whore. That’s what you are, right? Just a convenient whore.”

“Yes!” You squeaked. “I am.”

Sakusa bit back a moan at how wrecked you already sounded, how much you got off on the distaste in his voice. He felt every last bit of his blood rush to his dick, fueling his desire to finger you into oblivion. He ran his thumb roughly over your clit, watching you keen at the feeling.

“You love this.” He groaned as he watched you weep on his fingers, eyeing the juices trailing down his hand and dripping at his wrist. “Making a mess all over me and the bed. So desperate, it’s embarrassing.”

“Please,” you managed to gasp, sounding so pornographic it almost made Sakusa cum. “Omi, please. Wanna- I….. want-”

“Wanna cum?” He finished for you, staring at the trail of drool running from the corner of your mouth as your eyes crossed. “That’s all it took to fuck you dumb? You’re so easy, you slut. Do you even deserve to cum?”

He sped up his fingers as he talked, ignoring the cramp forming in his bicep, focused solely on making sure that you fall apart on his hand.

“Can’t hold it!” You shrieked, trying to grab his wrist to try and stop him. Sakusa ignored your attempts, reveling in how panicked you looked. “Can’t- Omi, I’m cumming-”

He tsked. “You have no self control, do you? Completely useless for anything except taking cock. Come on then, whore. Cum on my hand.”

And then you arched up impossibly high, gripping his wrist tight until all Sakusa could do was curl his fingers inside you over and over, prolonging your already very intense orgasm. You choked and gasped, eyes rolling up in your head, and Sakusa wondered how you would feel clenching this hard around his cock instead. It was a feeling he intended to realize very soon.

As you breathed hard, coming down from your high, tears still swimming between your eyelids, struggling to stay conscious, Sakusa leaned close to you, lips brushing over the skin of your neck and the shell of your ear.

“Beautiful.” He whispered. “So gorgeous. So perfect for me. So, so pretty.”

He ran gentle hands down your sides, your outer thighs, soothing their trembling. He continued to pour into your skin every sweet word he thought about you, every ounce of love he felt with his closed off heart.

He had a weird way of expressing himself. He was just happy he found someone who understood him regardless.

Taglist:

@bxbyyyjocelyn @thisbicc @lazuliquartz @dreamayy @kuroosluthoe @true-form-hoe @akumakitsune21 @cham0mil3-and-h0n3y @samisfunky @universal-s1ut @msbyomimi @dohwaesu @leothesquishy @n0tmykays @tsukiran @reyofsunshinelol @bleach-your-panties @galaneiaeris @leyra-giovanni @erenspersonalwh0re @peachesncats @soapsoftheworld @iwannabecamiloshovel @vintagevict0ria @smithieandy @moonlit-mizukage @snazzyturtles @argwein

A/N: For those whose tags arent working, im sorry! I tried and for some reason, your names wont show up in the mentions :( another way of being notified is to turn on my blog notifs for @teamatsumufics . I only reblog my fics there so it serves almost like being in a taglist!

#sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x you #sakusa kiyoomi x y/n #sakusa kiyoomi #haikyuu sakusa #sakusa x reader #msby sakusa #hq sakusa #sakusa smut #sakusa kiyoomi smut #haikyuu smut #hq smut #haikyuu fanfiction #hq fanfic #hq imagines #haikyuu imagines #sakusa x you #sakusa x y/n

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waveoftheocean · 7 months

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😏😳

(10.07.23 happy sakuatsu day!! i missed drawing these two 💕)

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #sakuatsu #sakusa kiyoomi #miya atsumu #atsumu #hq!!#my art #mine #went into a skts fanfic spiral bc of this lmao

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rewh0re · 1 year

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A TANGLED MESS

Kiyoomi hates it when people touch his hair but when it's you, he hates it a little less.

Ft. : sakusa kiyoomi

This is a repost from my old blog so if you've read this before, it was me. But, it is my first post in this blog so pls be a bit kind also reblogs + feedbacks r appreciated!!

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"It's already been around half an hour y/n," kiyoomi grumbled.

He sat with his back against the bed and you sat on the bed, behind him, keeping him locked in his spot with your legs.

"But omi your hair is soft and you just washed it. It's extra soft!" You continued ruffling his hair, picking out sections and crossing them over one another, making a tangled mess.

"You are tangling it," he whined, trying to stop your hands.

"Oh! Oh! Wait here!" You got up from your previous position and ran to the vanity, grabbing a comb and looking frantically for something in your drawer.

"Ugh why can't I find them when I need them," you whined and kiyoomi sighed at that.

"What are you planning?" He leaned back on his palms, smiling a bit at your almsot stressed out self.

"Found it!" Not answering his question, you ran towards him with a box of hair ties.

"Now sit still for me okay?" And how could he ever say no to that radiant smile of yours. So he sighed and let out a chuckle.

"Incorrigible..." He closed his eyes and smiled as he felt the comb against his scalp.

"Shhh. I'm braiding your hair now," you left a small kiss on his cheek from the back and he hummed.

He felt you taking sections and crossing them, and then tying the little braid with a hair tie. He felt happy at that moment, it felt like where he was meant to be. He realised then that he was meant to be with you. He realised that he loved you so much that if he ever let that smile of yours go, he'd go absolutely insane. He realised that you were the only one he allowed to touch his hair and he remembers the time he had thrashed Atsumu when he tried to pat kiyoomi's head.

Meian always used to say that Sakusa Kiyoomi is, what was the term again? Ah, whipped yes. He was a whipped man for you. If one told him to remember the last time he felt the way he felt about you, he'd have no memory of it because for him, it was always you and he hopes that it'll last forever. He might whine a little when you play with his hair or hug him suddenly from behind, shocking him but he himself along with you knows, that it's exactly what he craves.

"There there. All done. Ah wait here, I'll bring the hand mirror," and when you brought the little mirror and he saw the current state of his hair, he couldn't help but laugh. Braids were sticking out from random direction and strands of messy hair too.

Was his hair a total tangled mess? Yes. Would he probably wake up with knots that would take him several hours to untagle? Also yes. But he couldn't bring himself to care because it made you happy and maybe the knots were worth it if he saw you flash him that sweet smile of yours.

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basilly · 2 years

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𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐒

|| ➼ where they react to you playing with their hair

characters: atsumu, oikawa, suna, bokuto, & sakusa

warnings: none! pure fluff

a/n: it might be a little ooc but this is how i knda envisioned them

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ atsumu would immediately beg for kisses to accompany the comfort of your finertips massaging your scalp. he just wants to soak up all the love. closing his eyes, he attempts to ingrain this in his memory forever. he almost sighs wistfully as soon as it stops, already eagerly waiting for the next time.

atsumu constantly wants affection- he thinks he's funny when he mentions he had to share affection with osamu growing up so he needs some all to himself now. he's tapping his lips for a kiss, not before insisting he needs at least a thousand to be content.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ oikawa takes this chance and fiddles with your fingers of the other hand. resting it ontop of his chest, the two of you share all about your days under the sunlight. as you run your fingers through his brunette locks, hes tracing patterns on your palm- noticeably hearts and i love you's.

as much as he likes talking about himself, he always makes sure to prioritize what you have to say. he's an earnest listener- picking up on all the miniscule details. when you're talking, all of his attention is on you.

he also takes this moment to take some cute videos of the moment- he loves to replay them, just as much as his volleyball recordings.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ suna relaxes so much, he didn't even notice he was drifting off to sleep. he also swears you have some sort of magic touch due to it being the best nap of his life. from the recent late nights he endured, he slept like a rock.

when he meekly blinks in attempt to wake himself up, you were still mindlessly untangling his dark strands. gently, he would take your hand in his, before bringing to his lips, leaving a small kiss as a thanks.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ bokuto tries to cuddle into you even further. even though you were already skin to skin- his head was in your lap AND you were messing with his soft, white locks, he wanted to be as close to you as possible. he wraps his arm around your waist, relishing the familarity of your presence.

after a long game or training, bokuto would often fall into your lap, ready to relax. you happily oblige, as volleyball took up a lot of his schedule. you also gently touch his eyelashes, amazed at the length. he just takes it all in, heart overflowing with content.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ sakusa was nervous at first, tensing before relaxing. you curl your fingers in his dark coils before uncurling once again. lightly massaging your scalp, sakusa finds himself enjoying it more and more by the second.

his eyes laid shut long enough for you to think that he was asleep. cautiously, you untangled your fingers from his hair. you were promptly stopped- sakusa had grabbed your wrist. he had only softly muttered, "please don't stop."

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natriae · 1 month

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part 2 of this since silly bear's birthday is soon

Several years later

By now your sure Kiyoomi has a dog pile of children on him. Tonight is your daughter's 1st birthday, as well as Kiyoomi's. Loe and behold all the children flocked to your unsuspecting husband's lap while he watched a US volleyball game. As well your adult child Atsumu.

By now you're use to the sight of Kiyoomi trying to push the setter's legs off of him as he holds his daughter in his opposite arm. Kaia's already five running round your living room giggling as the big samoyed dog chases her. Her brother now eight holds on to his mother's leg while she talks to Bokuto's sisters. Mei's birthday was a big event or so she thought since her little brain told her all these people were her friend's not her dad's.

The large man sits on the couch with Osamu's two year old twins resting their heads on each of his thighs. Their binkys bob in rhythm while they dream. Atsumu's 3 year old some how ended up on behind Kiyoomi's head leaning on the wall while he pulls at the dark curls. Kaia's lost interest in the puppy and walks over so Kiyoomi's left arm now holds her to his side. Mei not leaving his other arm.

If you told highschool Kiyoomi he'd be a child whisper by his thirties and enjoy it. He'd assume he must have gotten a pretty harsh concussion, but all is well in Sakusa Kiyoomi's brain.

♡♡♡♡♡♡

"Mei this one's for daddy. Your cake is next," the little girl crys in her papa's arms. It's her birthday why can't she blow out the candles? Her arms begin to flap against her sides as she tries to get up from Kiyoomi's lap, but Kiyoomi's quick in wrapping his arms around his daughter.

"sing it fast," he says while he holds his squirming and squealing baby close to his chest. He quickly blows out the candles before Mei's superhuman baby strength allows her to break free. The little girl screams as her little eyes begin to cry more. She's gonna be a drama queen for sure. Wonder which parent she got that from?

You quickly bring in her cake with a big number one candle on it and she immediately quiets down. She twists in Kiyoomi's arms trying to get closer. Everyone laughs at the baby's antics and her scrunched up face. She huffs and puffs as Kiyoomi sets her down to sit on the table.

When the lights go out her hands clasp together and her eyes close. Maybe you shouldn't have taken her to the shrine recently. When the singing finally comes to an end the baby girl blows out her candles and joyfully laughs enjoying every moment of attention.

♡♡♡♡

Thank god today was successful. Only one hissy fit and no scratching, at least it's a win for you. Walking back from walking out the last guests you find Kiyoomi back on the couch this time only one baby rests on him. Mei's little hands are balled up into fists while she lays on her dad's chest. Her eyes shut and her binky bobbing lightly.

"today was a long day for her," you say sitting on the floor next to Kiyoomi's lying form. He huffs out a small laugh and looks down at his babygirl. "she didn't leave your side once! I'm a little jealous Kiy," you finish looking into his eyes.

"hey, it's not my fault i'm really comfortable," he says softly rubbing his hands along his baby's back lulling her into a deeper sleep.

"you're not wrong," you respond, leaning down to leave a kiss on his lips. "happy birthday Kiyoomi,"

"thank you, my love"

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cierai · 3 months

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MAKE UP FOR IT — ft. sakusa kiyoomi

warnings — none

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

reblogs are appreciated

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revasserium · 8 months

Note

LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT WITH OMI OMI PLSSSSSS I LOVE YOU

@swaggerpear replied to your post “at first sight ft. kageyama, daichi, sugawara,...”:

BOKUTOOO PLEASEEE

at first sight, pt 2

ft. sakusa, bokuto, iwaizumi, oikawa

sakusa.

the first time he sees you, he knows you’re the one. he breathes easier, the air sitting better, sitting sweeter in his lungs — the persistent itch beneath his skin fades to a dull buzz, and when you turn your eyes onto him amidst the flash of cameras and the clamor of reporters, the whole world goes silent. when was the last time that’s happened for him? he can’t remember. you smile, and world is beautiful, irresistible white noise. he smiles back. later, when he manages to find you in the swell of people clamoring to interview him, he asks if you’re new to this — he hasn’t seen you on the press circuit before, and you tell him that you are. that once, you’d dreamed of taking pictures of beautiful things; he cocks his head and smirks, his mask for once pulled down to his chin — the words are out of his mouth before he can stop himself, “so you must be glad you found me, then.” he doesn’t have time to feel mortified because then, you’re laughing, the sound trickling over his skin like rose water, like piano music, and he shivers beneath it’s touch. you nod, blushing, the color so darling against your cheeks he want to lean in and kiss you. he does do that — but not till much later, and when he does, he finds you smiling. he finds that he likes the taste of your smile, too. and that of all the things he’d thought about kissing before now — of how unsanitary it might be, of how awkward, he finds that he really doesn’t mind because, well… it’s you.

bokuto.

the first time he sees you, he know you’re the one. he knows with the certainty of a rising sun. he knows like the receding tide, like the changing of seasons — he knows with the self-assuredness of weathermen forecasting the coming of monsoon season, just along the coast, where the beaches are wide and the sands are hot. he knows, he knows, he knows. he chases down the entire length of corridor at the sports clinic, trips over his own feet, faceplants before picking himself up, asks for your name, your number, what you’re specializing in, feels his stomach leap out of his mouth when you tell him that it’s sports medicine, can’t help but notice the way you’re blushing, the pink kissing across the tops of your cheeks the way he wishes he could. and he does — about a week and a half later, cupping your face in his rough-hewn hands, all thick skin and calluses from spike-practice, but you trace them over with your soft fingers later and tell him that you love them — love the way they feel against your skin, love the stories they tell, the strength they hold, the hours and hours of determination they are a mark of. three weeks in, he tells akaashi he thinks he’s going to marry you. three months in, he pops the question. you’re laughing and crying, both, when you say yes. later, he’d proudly brag to all his teammates that he’d caught an angel in the palms of his hands, brag that it took less than a second for him to literally fall for you, because hey, it must’ve hurt for you to fall from heaven, so he should have to hurt a little too.

iwaizumi.

the first time he sees you, he’s sure he’s misunderstood — surely the universe could not have been conspiring the way it did, surely manifest destiny would not play out the way he thought, the statistics line up the numbers just so. surely — it can’t be this perfect. but it can — so he learns, when he bumps into you again, in another country no less, so far from the confines of a japanese seven-eleven, all the way across the world in argentina, where he’s supposed to be meeting up with oikawa but the jerk is late and now he’s here, his eyes caught in yours in this coffee shop not three blocks away from the olympic training stadium. you both try to ask for each others names, and then, you both fall into awkward, knowing laughter. because if it’s not destiny, he doesn’t know what it is. if it’s not fate, then you don’t know what to call it — what are the chances of two people running into each other time and time again, halfway around the entire world? he asks you out for dinner, and you don’t say no. oikawa teases him mercilessly about it later, but he doesn’t care. he never fancied himself someone to be lovesick, but when oikawa floats out the term, he doesn’t negate him. it’s a slow-going thing, but iwaizumi finds that he doesn’t mind — he likes taking his time with you, knows implicitly that he has all the time in the world — because if you’d found each other across the entire world, then what’s there to be afraid of? what more is there to worry about? you have all the time in the world — after all, isn’t that what it means to be meant to each other?

oikawa.

the first time he sees you, he does double take, and then a triple take. and later, he’d do anything to claim that it was you who chased after him, but those closest to him all know the truth — that he’d run down four flights of stairs and searched through the entire olympic arena to find you, mulling over musubi of all things — him, breathless and panting, and really, really wondering what the hell he as doing. he’s got a game later, but — well, he couldn’t really help himself. call him a skirt chaser, call him a womanizer, call him the playboy to end all playboys, but oikawa tooru has always known what he wanted. and he knew, in the blink of an eye, that he wanted you. so he’d chased after you, he’d found you, he’d turned up his charm and ramped up his smolder and you… well, you’d shaken your head and brushed him off. it’d stung, of course it had. he’d been inconsolable for weeks, but after he found out that you’re related to the famous sportscaster, he finds himself rejuvenated. he tells your dad that he’s in love with you before he ever asks you out on a date. years later, long after he’d managed to convince you out for one date, which turned into two, and then five, and then ten, and then… who’s keeping count any more, right? he stands across from you with your hands in his and tears in his eyes, he tells you — he says, y’know… the first time i saw you, in that crowd, i knew you were the one for me.

requests are open :)

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creative-crybaby · 1 year

Text

Fly on the Wall

PAIRING: yan!timeskip!Sakusa Kiyoomi x fem!reader

GENRE: smut | dark content (18+)

Minors DNI

TAGS + WARNINGS: yandere themes, noncon, stalking, somnophilia, semi-public masturbation (m), nipple play, fingering (with leather gloves), dacryphilia, cum eating, creampie, size kink, breaking and entering, panty stealing, basically Sakusa is a perv

Let me know if I missed anything.

WORD COUNT: 8.7k

SUMMARY: The new Black Jackal’s manager catches Sakusa’s eye. Unfortunately, whatever distance, physical or otherwise, is between you two, is too far for his liking. All characters are 18+

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Not meant to be a Christmas gift, but my timing does wonders, I guess :/

The Black Jackals getting a manager didn’t excite him the way it did his teammates. The idea itself didn’t bring him dread, of course, but the knowledge that certain players may get distracted–or worse: rowdier–brought more stress to him than he’d appreciate.

Bokuto and Hinata were already babbling on to each other about what you might be like, reminiscing their high school days when they both had two managers on their respective teams. Atsumu joined in, whining that Inarizaki wasn’t as lucky to have a girl manager, let alone two attractive ones. He also bet that you’d be cute—Sakusa could only roll his eyes at the exchange.

You carried yourself with a grace often unfound in volleyball when meeting the team, offering a polite smile as you introduced yourself. Even when bombarded with questions from the boisterous ones (you know the ones), you didn’t falter, even assuring Meian that you didn’t mind the energy: “It’s nice to know I’ll be supporting a passionate team.”

Pretty, Sakusa thinks. You didn’t blow him away, but it was enough for him to acknowledge upon first laying eyes on you. Even he found himself momentarily frozen when you two made brief eye contact.

Regardless, you’re not here for a modelling contract; you’re here to help the team grow to its full potential. The wing spiker may not be praying for your downfall, but he certainly isn’t going to celebrate your arrival too soon, either.

Anyone can refill water bottles and hand out clean towels to sweaty giants. The same goes for taking notes on their progress, especially since you should know how volleyball works. From what Sakusa has observed, you do more than well in that department, too, always ready to correct someone’s form or have a report prepared for Meian in no time. You’re organized, punctual; it helps that you also sprinkle in some encouraging words when necessary. (Certain members are more than happy to gain that praise, which means more headaches on the ravenette’s end.)

It doesn’t take long for you to get him to accept you into the team—in his own way. He doesn’t avoid you like the plague, per se; he merely never saw any reason to put in as much effort to get to know you the way someone like Bokuto or Atsumu would. He was just glad to have one more person to give him some proper feedback.

That distance Sakusa created is seemingly one-sided. There’s no special occasion, either: it was after a practice that partook a few days after a game against the Tachibana Red Falcons. A close match where the Black Jackals managed to pull through, though that wasn’t precisely what consumed the wing spiker’s thoughts at the time. You handed him a neatly folded towel during the athletes’ break, and he nods his thanks. You stay before him, and he peers up at you curiously after wiping his face. Stretching your hand to him, you carry a mini hand sanitizer pack. Nothing special: it’s a standard bottle in a dark red and attachable case.

“Noticed you weren’t a fan of the gifts from some of your fans and would look grossed out when a kid would touch you,” you explain, offering a small smile. “Hope you don’t already have one of these. This was the only normal-looking one I could find. Wasn’t sure how you’d feel about having a giraffe case dangling from your bag.”

You offer a sheepish laugh that Sakusa would refuse to admit is something he’d want to hear again. Not wanting to leave you hanging any longer than he already has, he takes your gift, eventually muttering his thanks.

It’s like a boy clinging onto that one compliment he got a few years back because it’s all he received. A rational voice in his head dismisses your observation as something someone on the team probably mentioned to you—maybe Atsumu made a joke about him being a germaphobe, and you took it seriously.

Still, that’s not a possibility the wing spiker wants to entertain. Not as he goes on with the rest of practice, not when he’s in the changeroom, not when he’s attaching that case to his gym bag, not when he gets home, and certainly not when he goes to bed that night. A small gesture, one probably wouldn’t overthink, lingers in his thoughts until Occasion #2 appears.

Coming back from an away game is one of the few opportunities the volleyball players get to recharge. After packing everything into the bus, each member sits in their unassigned-assigned seat. Or, at least, most of them would. Some chose to sit wherever it was convenient for them: they wanted to carry on their conversation with one of their teammates or maybe get some shut-eye. Sakusa was the latter, opting for a window seat far away from his boisterous colleagues as possible. Ready to close his eyes, he only got a few seconds of relaxation before he sensed some shifting next to him. With furrowed brows, he opens his eyes, ready to tell Atsumu off (let’s be honest, it’s always Atsumu), only to find you making yourself comfortable in the spot next to his instead.

You turn to him somewhat sheepishly. “Hope you don’t mind. I wanted to get some rest, and you’re pretty quiet, so I figured having you as my seating buddy was my best shot.”

You don’t say anything afterwards, waiting for him to tell you to leave him alone. To his surprise (and yours, he’s sure), the wing spiker mumbles a stoic “Go ahead,” his eyes trailing towards the window as he readjusts his mask. Even with his gaze no longer on you, he could hear the smile in your voice as you thank him.

For the next several hours, Sakusa remained awake, thinking about everything and nothing all at once as he’d glance over to your sleeping form every few minutes. Even people like Bokuto and Hinata lost enough energy to fall asleep, but the ravenette didn’t notice. If anything, his entire world dissolved into nothingness as soon as your frame unconsciously leaned on his shoulder. His whole body froze, but surprisingly, not out of disgust. Awkward, perhaps, but he didn’t feel the need to wake you up, let alone push you away.

His senses heightened. With you so much closer, his eyes scanned every detail your face had to offer, every reaction you had in your sleep, from stirring after hitting a speedbump to sighing whenever Saksua dared to take a breath too deep. Speaking of breathing, even with yours being so shallow, he can hear the steady rhythm loud and clear, despite Bokuto’s snoring somewhere in the distance. Your scent attacked his nose, even with the mask shielding most of his face, and he can at least admit to himself that it was refreshing to smell something that wasn’t a bunch of sweaty athletes. It’s just your head on his shoulder, but the ravenette felt you burning your mark into his skin, one he didn’t ever want to wash off. Every sense except for taste—

A speed bump. The last thought retreated as fast as it invaded. The remaining hour and a half to return home flew by with his guilt as a distraction. Even when Atsumu woke up and teased the wing spiker for trying to get close to you, Sakusa didn’t feel the need to reply. He merely looked down at your still-sleeping form for several seconds more before eventually trying to wake you up. He’d rather he didn’t, but something about others seeing you in such a vulnerable state irked him in a way he can only describe as filthy. No amount of water and hand soap can scrub away that dirt, but as soon as your eyes opened and met his before anyone else’s, that itch got scratched. He didn’t register your profuse apologies until a couple of other teammates decided to join in on the teasing, and suddenly Sakusa found his voice.

“It’s fine.”

But it wasn’t fine. And it still isn’t. Maybe you forgot about it or saw that moment as a funny story to share over drinks with friends, but it’s different for the wing spiker. He knows it shouldn’t be, yet here he is, replaying every minor interaction between the two of you. There was a reason for him keeping his distance from you when you first started: you both stick to your tasks during practice and games, only interacting when progress and strategy are the focus. Otherwise, the athlete is back in whatever vacant corner he can find, shrinking his almost 6’’4 frame as much as he can in hopes that he can avoid possible interactions. (And if that means he gets to watch you laugh at something Atsumu said or go over strategy with Meian, then those times in his hiding spot have come with new benefits.)

But he’s not in a corner right now: he’s at Onigiri Miya with his team and EJP Raijin, eyes boring into your frame as his cousin says something he doesn’t quite catch.

The ravenette hums. “What was that?”

“Your new manager’s pretty cute and all,” Komori starts, not too loudly for others to hear, “but if you keep staring at her, you’re going to look like some creep.” Sakusa’s head snaps to the libero, who sheepishly smiles as he scratches the back of his neck. “I mean, I get that you were never all that good with girls, but even you should know this stuff by now.”

The wing spiker scoffs at his cousin’s joke, opting to take a bite out of his onigiri instead of replying. You’re listening to whatever story the blonde Miya twin has to share, laughing whenever the younger one butts in with commentary to embarrass the former. Now you watch in amusement as the two lookalikes bicker, and it makes Sakusa realize something: besides the few moments he recalls oh-so fondly, you don’t interact with each other much outside of volleyball.

He glides his thumb across the nori on his food in irritation. The moments shared between you rarely involve anything outside of the sport. For someone as observant as him, the ravenette is almost ashamed he let his very few one-on-one memories of you two distract him from such an obvious (and somewhat embarrassing) fact.

You’ve probably spent more time with a handful of his other teammates. Sakusa recalls Bokuto and Hinata inviting you to a movie marathon at the latter’s place on your day off, though through all that excitement exchanged between them, all he could do was mutter under his breath about them wasting your time. It probably doesn’t matter whether or not you accepted their offer; they still approached you.

The same goes for whatever Atsumu says to you that makes you two snicker under your breaths. Inside jokes, Sakusa is sure of it, though it doesn’t make him scoff any less. If anything, his mood grew sour with every interaction you had that wasn’t with him. Another fact he wasn’t aware of until the blonde setter asked him if the stick up his ass was bigger than it used to be. (The wing spiker’s response to the harmless joke needn’t be shared.)

“Just talk to her.” Komori’s voice brings Sakusa back to Onigiri Miya. Staring; again. Lovely. The ravenette faces his cheerful cousin once more, who offers a chuckle. “I’ll even play wingman if you want.”

The quieter of the two finishes his onigiri before getting up from his seat. The libero watches as his relative puts his MSBY jersey on before heading for the exit. “I’m good, thank you.”

The ravenette risks a glance your way once he makes it to the door. You don’t meet his gaze, still occupied with the twins. No surprise there, but that doesn’t stop the disappointment plunging into his chest as he exits the shop.

That one-sided has seemingly returned since then, though the roles are reversed. Even with the few moments exchanged between you two, Sakusa struggles to pinpoint when he started to care for your attention in the several months you’ve been part of the team. The days when he felt indifferent involved less overthinking and even lesser restless nights; now, he can’t stop nitpicking at whatever detail catches his eye. You styled your hair differently one day; you’re snacking on cheesecake-flavoured Kitkat because it’s your new favourite snack. These notes follow up with nothing on his end except an extra bullet point in his brain’s buzzing list.

It’s a winter evening when he adds his first crucial fact: your home address. An abyss swallows the sky at what seems to be only half past five. Not a usual time for practice, though nothing that disrupted Sakusa’s schedule. He’s making his way to his car when he sees you standing aside, eyes glued to your phone. A rare sight, though not an unwelcomed one.

You’re frowning, the wing spiker notices. He’s approaching you, he notices too little too late. You notice him.

“Oh, Sakusa!” you smile, pocketing your device. “Good work today.” The ravenette doesn’t need his mask to hide his contentment at your praise, though the pride that swells inside him grows challenging to swallow. “Off home to relax?”

His tongue rests between his teeth as he nods, and you hug your coat tighter to your body. His brain screams to carry on a conversation, no matter how small or meaningless, but his eyes seem to do enough as they rake through the parking lot. He’s looking for your car, he realizes, but has no clue as to what it looks like.

“Had to bus here,” you explain sheepishly. Sakusa watches you from the corner of his eye, internally sighing in relief at your (alleged) mind-reading powers. “My car needs fixing, and with practice taking place later on in the day, finding a bus worked better.” Your gaze trails to the streets only a few meters away, exhaustion making them droop. “Guess my supposed ride is being held back, huh?”

“Let me take you home.”

Your head snaps in the wing spiker’s direction, whose eyes slightly widen in shock at his proposition. Now he decides to talk. He digs his nails into the strap of his gym bag, jaw clenching as he tries to appear calm as he awaits your response.

Your brows crease ever so slightly. “I wouldn’t want to cause you any trouble.”

Your voice shrinks at your concern. Sakusa imagines you shrinking under his gaze as well. “You never cause me any trouble.”

Not how he would’ve liked to word it, but it’s too late to take it back. You beam at him, offering your thanks and letting him know you owe him as you step closer to his tall frame. He doesn’t flinch away, instead facing the parking lot once more as he chews on his bottom lip under his mask.

The car ride holds silence throughout the fifteen-to-twenty minutes on his end, with you giving the ravenette directions and discussing the team’s progress. He only offers curt nods and soft hums, not that he minds this time; your sunny tone and presence in such a closed space were more than enough for him. Besides, his brain is occupied with carrying your guidance as you get closer to your destination. Because he’s the driver, and you ought to return home safely. It’s been a long day for both of you: you’re exhausted, and you don’t hide this fact as you slump in the passenger seat and sometimes yawn.

And when you finally tell Sakusa to pull up into your driveway, he can’t help but scan your home with his eyes, wondering which windows expose which room. He sees one with lavender curtains from the interior, and he’s willing to bet that’s your bedroom.

You thank him, and the thought evaporates. He’s tongue-tied once more; he nods, unlocking the passenger door. Offering one more smile, you exit the car, and the wing spiker’s eyes bore into your frame as you walk up your porch and enter your home.

He’s backing out of the driveway when he begins to wonder if there is something different he could have done. The small talk was calming, but he found that he wanted more.

The drive back consists of Sakusa glancing over at where you sat every chance he got. He swallows harshly, fingers tapping impatiently against the steering wheel at a red light. Even with practice done a while ago, he feels hot. His clothes hug him uncomfortably, and it isn’t until his brain entertains the idea of peering down does he understand why.

He recognizes this street. The ravenette pulls over to a secluded area, quick to unbuckle his seatbelt before throwing his mask off. His chest heaves as he slowly looks down once more as if the first time was just a trick of the lights.

He’s hard. Being alone with you for less than half an hour is enough to make him fucking hard.

He’s also alone. For a second, he recalls keeping a pack of tissues in the glove compartment.

He’s also in his car. His home is not too far from yours, he noticed as you gave him directions.

You were also in his car. The passenger seat pulls Sakusa’s gaze towards it. He’s leaning into where you sat not long ago, and if he focuses hard enough, he can catch a whiff of your perfume.

His cock stirs in his slacks, and the ravenette climbs over the gear shift before his brain can reason with his body.

The passenger’s seat is still a bit warm, he notices upon making himself comfortable in his new spot. The wing spiker shakily exhales as he unzips his pants with great haste, shimmying them down to his thighs. His pace doesn’t slow down when he gets to his briefs, either, opting to tuck the waistband between his balls and dick’s base to free his shaft of its confinements. Only then does he pause, breathing still trembling as he tries to calm himself.

There’s not much time. An empty parking lot when he got there, but it won’t stay that way forever. Sakusa spits into his palm, needing some makeshift lube to start slowly stroking himself. The relief has his eyes fluttering closed and lips parting with a sigh. It isn’t long until he feels some precum sliding down from his slit, and he spreads the stickiness to help with his movements. He takes a deep breath through his nose and again catches your scent.

What if it was your hand pumping his cock instead? It should be. You’d be smiling as you do so, peering up at the wing spiker through your lashes as you ask him how he likes it. Always there to help during practice; how is this any different? You want what’s best for the team, for him. Anything for him—

Sakusa’s choking on a groan as he paints his hand and the glove compartment a creamy white. He doesn’t open his eyes until his high finally descends him back to earth, where he realizes what he’s done.

He groans, in both exhaustion and disgust from the mess in his car and thoughts. He was a teenager when he lasted this long, though the quantity of his release takes him by surprise. Has he truly been pent up for too long? Did you do this?

Sakusa’s quick to take out that tissue pack.

You thank him for the ride home once more the next time you see each other at practice. Other than that, the wing spiker continues to keep his distance. Mainly due to the shame that follows remembering what he’s done after dropping you off, but the one time you two shared eye contact for more than a few seconds when you handed him a towel during a break brought another feeling into the mix: excitement. What for, Sakusa has yet to find out. Or maybe he’s trying to avoid that explanation. Like any minute, you’ll tell him, you know, eyelids heavy as the emphasis tells him more than enough of what you’re talking about. The thought makes his lower stomach churn in an agonizing blender. Then, you’ll pull him into the storage closet, where you’ll—

Say his name. Well, no. Not you. Someone else is saying it. Again and again.

The ravenette blinks back into the real world, masking his fantasy with a blank slate for a face as he turns to look at whoever could need something from him.

“Oh, so yer awake?” Atsumu. Of course. “Still got some energy in me, and I need t’kill a bit of time. Wanna set fer ya fer a bit.”

The grin the faux blonde offers isn’t reciprocated as Sakusa notices front the corner of his eye some of his teammates entering the changeroom. A part of him wants nothing more than to follow them, the clothes clinging to his body from all the sweat making him internally recoil as he wishes for a shower. He also knows this is an opportunity to improve without you there: as much as he enjoys your presence, you become a distraction as a drawback.

The wing spiker sighs. “Only for a little bit.”

Atsumu beams at his teammate’s (albeit reluctant) acceptance, already jogging to fetch a ball to begin.

Sakusa finds his focus coming back with every spike he lands on the other side of the court, slowly but surely returning to normal. Another way to release some steam; he tries not to cringe at the memory of the other tactic from the night before.

The attempt fails as soon as you enter the gym with Meian by your side. The two of you are speaking to each other—about what, the ravenette isn’t sure. He doesn’t get a chance to listen in, anyway.

“Nice kill!” Atsumu chirps, gaining the attention of not just his teammate, but his captain and manager as well. With a final nod, you and Meian go your separate ways; him towards the changeroom and you, the other two athletes.

“Don’t push yourselves too much, guys,” you chuckle. “You already worked hard during practice. Take the time to relax as well.”

Sakusa can barely give you a nod while the setter grins at you.

“I’m gonna get cleaned up before we head out, ‘kay?” The wing spiker’s head snaps towards his teammate with a raised brow. Neither you nor the faux-blonde acknowledge his confusion.

You smile. “Take your time. I’ll just put the net and volleyballs away while you’re at it.”

Atsumu nods before slapping Sakusa’s back and jogging to the changeroom. The ravenette can only look down at a stray ball and pick it up. He remembers enjoying the silence between him and whoever he was with.

“I’ll help,” he mutters, walking away before he can witness your reaction. It’s ridiculous, like some middle school crush: wanting nothing more than to be close to you, but freezing up as soon as it happens. And he can’t avoid you forever–he doesn’t want to–because you eventually meet him at the ball cart, dropping the armful of volleyballs into it. “What was that with Miya earlier?”

His voice finds itself whenever he’d rather it didn’t. He’s curious, sure, but he didn’t need his tone to give away his distaste. He can only hope you dismiss it as Sakusa being Sakusa and nothing more.

With the small smile you give him, the ravenette is certain he’s safe. “Oh, ‘Tsumu invited me to check out this restaurant that recently opened with him after practice. Heard they made some of my favourites there, and I wanted to try them ASAP.”

Sakusa pretends that you being on a first-name basis with the setter doesn’t bother him. He doesn’t respond to your explanation and remains silent as he brings the net down with your help. The next time he acknowledges you is before he rushes to the changeroom to shower, ignoring Atsumu as they cross paths.

He’s at the wrong house.

You’d think one knew the directions to the place they called home, yes? At the very least, have an idea of the area. Yet, it’s only until your driveway makes it to his peripheral vision does the ravenette realize his mistake. And he’s just in time to watch you walk up your porch.

After another restless night, the wing spiker needed to clear his head. His home brought him no distractions, already too tidy to clean, and his mind continuously drifted away when watching recordings of volleyball matches. With a day to himself, he might as well go around town—there’s a mall not too far from his place, he recalls. It was a better attempt at keeping him occupied, though he couldn’t help it when he passed a perfume shop and wondered what scent was your favourite. Or the neighbouring lingerie store, putting whatever scandalous pieces of lace out on display, giving the athlete’s spiralling mind suggestions on what you would look best in. (White, he concluded before processing.)

He didn’t want much, nor did he need much. More or less satisfied with his purchases (and dissatisfied with failing distractions), he’s in his car, ready to head back home.

But he’s not home. Or rather, his house. The latter is a mere building; the former, a sense of comfort. And while there’s guilt bubbling in his chest, witnessing you carry on with your everyday life has him relaxing in his seat.

You were on an errand run, Sakusa observes. Groceries, from what he sees. What would you be making for dinner tonight? He’s too far away to catch what exactly is in your bags. The weather’s fallen to a frigid slumber—stew, perhaps? Or maybe you’ll make some umeboshi—those appeared to be your favourite whenever the team stopped by at Onigiri Miya. He and his teammates have had the opportunity to try some of your cooking firsthand; the ravenette is positive whatever you make will be just as delicious.

Then he remembers yesterday’s interaction, and his grip on the steering wheel tightens. Where did you two go? And when did Atsumu get so comfortable with you to take you out? You seemed content and—

And getting angry during this opportunity won’t do him any good. Surprised, Sakusa manages to calm down a little, opting to distract himself with other scenarios.

What could you two eat together? What would you serve him? He lets his thoughts waltz. The two of you share a meal after a long practice, or maybe you cook together on your day off. He’s seen a few romance movies in his life; he can imagine hugging you from behind as you prepared the food, him nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck as you both talked about whatever was on your mind. The conversation would continue as the two of you ate at the dinner table, his hand itching to find yours across from him.

And for dessert, he’d have you sitting on the kitchen counter with your legs wide open as he ravaged what’s in between them, your hands clawing at his dark curls as his greed controls his tongue. Or, maybe you’re feeling extra generous and decide to help him relax after a tiring practice, lowering to your knees to take every inch of his—

You’re struggling to open your front door. Too many bags in your hands—the wing spiker has half a mind to get out of the car and help you. As crazy as you drive him, he still has some sense to remind him that whatever excuse he has to be in your neighbourhood won’t be convincing, even from him. And with the evergrowing tightness in his pants, he has another problem he can’t hide. Worse, he doesn’t feel as bad as he used to anymore.

You finally manage to get inside, and the athlete starts the engine to find a secluded area once again.

Sakusa has to refrain from spiking the ball at the faux-blonde’s face in the following practice. A match among teammates, and noticing the setter’s little pep in his step upon entering the gym that morning had the ravenette glaring hard. A part of him was relieved being on Atsumu’s opposing team, doubting he could work alongside him for the day.

For now, the wing spiker aims his spikes at the older Miya twin. Anyone could view the action as part of his strategy; aiming for the setter to prevent them from setting is an old trick in the book, but still in the book.

“Damn it, Omi!” Atsumu exclaims in frustration after not properly receiving Sakusa’s spike. “Quit pickin’ on me! Ma arms are gonna fall off!”

A twinge of satisfaction plucks at the ravenette’s chest from the outcry, though he masks it with a huff before walking back to his position. His eyes automatically make their way to your form on a bench, keeping track of the points while scribbling some notes whenever possible. You don’t catch his gaze, seemingly occupied with whatever’s on your clipboard. The lack of attention makes Sakusa frown, as he had hoped you’d see him on his little winning streak.

It doesn’t stop him. If anything, it adds fuel to the fire, the flicker of pride from before blooming into something dangerous.

His plan doesn’t change: Atsumu will remain his target until he decides otherwise. The next time he’s given a chance to spike, his eyes make the mistake of gluing themselves to his victim. Barnes quickly steps in front of the faux-blonde’s spot, flinching from the impact but still blocking the ball perfectly.

It’s just one point, one that he can easily take back. Still, Sakusa can’t help but aim his glare at the setter on the other side of the net, something that doesn’t go unnoticed. A hand lands on the wing spiker’s shoulder, snapping him out of his spiralling daze.

“Take a seat, Sakusa.” Meian’s expression appears relaxed, though there’s a rough edge to his tone telling him it’s not a suggestion.

The bench you’re sitting on is opposite his team’s side of the court. Had that not been the case, the ravenette would try to take the opportunity to sit with you, even if words wouldn’t be exchanged. Instead, he settles onto a bench too far from you for his liking. Even if he were to try and take a peek at you, players from the other team block you from his vision, what with their constant moving.

He’s observing their movements; anyone can assume that. Sakusa can no longer remember the time he’d do something like that unless he was watching videos of matches at home. If he’s not keeping the ball in the air on his side of the court, then he’s scavenging for a chance to even be reminded of your existence: you handing the athletes water and towels, the captain calling your name to gain your attention. Anything will do. So no matter the frustration that comes with the package, he’ll find a way to catch you.

It isn’t until he watches you rise from the bench does Sakusa realize that practice is done for the day. He didn’t notice his teammates walking away from the court and giving him a clearer view of your frame; he was glad he could see you at all. His posture straightens as he watches you approach Atsumu, and his hands ball into fists when you rest your hand on the faux-blonde’s arm. Whatever you two may be discussing, the ravenette can only assume it has to do with his teammate being on the receiving end of his pent-up aggression.

Your conversation ends short and sweet, with you walking towards the storage closet. Sakusa’s only half-listening to his captain when he asks if everything is okay with him. Meian is offered an unenthusiastic response of “Everything is fine” before the younger athlete stalks away.

You’re struggling to roll out the ball cart from its spot when the wing spiker enters the storage closet. He doesn’t hesitate to approach you from behind and grip the handle about an inch away from your hold. You gasp, jolting back slightly before turning your head to face the brooding ravenette.

“You startled me, Sakusa,” you sigh, clutching your chest. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Always so eager to please, aren’t you? The wing spiker has to refrain from smirking at the thought.

Still, he ignores your question. “The wheels on this cart have been acting up lately.” With newfound confidence, he places his free hand on your shoulder to gently pull you out of the way for him to yank the cart. It jerks out of its place with a loud screech, and you wince. “You just need to give it a tug. Until it’s fixed, anyway.”

Sakusa looks down at the cart upon realizing this is probably the most words he’s spoken to you without having you carry the conversation.

You grip the handle after a few seconds of silence. Your voice, suddenly meek, shakes as you thank him. He’s blocking your way; nothing you need to point out to him, but your silence says plenty. His feet stay planted on the ground, and your loss of confidence makes his cock stir in his pants.

“You were pretty tough out there earlier,” you point out. The wing spiker knows you purposefully left out who he was giving a hard time. He also knows, based on your concerned tone, that you’re asking him for an explanation.

You aren’t offered a response. Sakusa only takes his time turning his head to peer at you, the darkness of the storage closet and the way his black curls frame his stoic face giving him an intimidating aura. But what has you subconsciously shrinking into your corner are the onyx caskets for irises boring into your frame, beckoning you to crawl into the empty pools of demise.

“I have to be if I want to win,” is his response before finally leaving you be, exiting the changeroom with the same intensity you witnessed mere seconds ago.

He’s back: closer.

Parking his car nearby doesn’t cut it for him anymore. Sakusa doesn’t think it ever did. With the amount of patience lost for every practice with his team, the initial distance was just a formality.

Now, his car hides nearby as he approaches your home, giving a quick yet thorough peek over his shoulder to make sure he’s in the clear.

It took him the third visit to learn where you hid your spare key, having seen you take it out from under the cushion of a little bench on your porch. And luckily for him, it hasn’t left its spot.

Even with his morals flying out the window, the wing spiker neatly places his coat, scarf and boots aside after removing them, then ponders over his leather gloves until ultimately deciding to keep them on. He eyes the spare slippers by the entrance before concluding they won’t be necessary (for this visit, anyway).

Based on the house’s layout, it shouldn’t take long for Sakusa to find your bedroom. But it’s not going anywhere, and neither are you. Why not get to know you via your home?

It’s a small house: one story and cozy. The ravenette wonders how you afforded it, even with your salary. With how minimal the style appears, he can only assume most of your income went into the building itself. Would it be too much for him to buy you things for the interior? As a gift, perhaps when the occasion calls for it.

Then again, is he really in any position to ask himself about doing too much? He almost chuckles at the thought.

A quick yet thorough tour of your home gives him a more detailed layout, though he’d love to stay longer had he had the time. Or better yet, your company. As satisfied as he was to find your living room and kitchen tidy–and by his standards no less–he’s not done getting to know you.

People don’t really need an exploration of the bathroom. It’s as clean as any other room, though it’s a cast-aside note when his eyes land on your laundry basket. Half full, too. Squatting closer to the dirty pile, a subtle yet musky scent hits his nose. Sakusa almost groans, cock stirring in his slacks; for such a clean freak, he’s never been more excited.

His eyes scan the basket’s contents, eventually landing on flimsy lace. Part of him wishes he wasn’t sporting gloves for the occasion, but he doesn’t let that stop him as he picks up the article of clothing. Underwear, of course it is, and a flattering magenta nonetheless. You wear this to practice? Or are there other times you put it on? Do you have a matching bra? The wing spiker can’t find anything in the basket, though he’s sure–no, he knows–you’d wear it like it was made for you.

Are you wearing something similar right now?

The ravenette stands from his position, pocketing the lacy undergarment before exiting the bathroom. Consider it a welcoming gift.

Again, it doesn’t take long for him to find your room. Being in such an intimate location is a different experience compared to looking in as an outsider. Everything is you: the way you organized your shelves and vanity, the colour palette—your scent is more prominent here. Sakusa doesn’t catch his eyes fluttering shut until he distinctly hears shifting.

To his right, you lay on your mattress, your sheets messily hanging off parts of your body. You’re barely a silhouette in his eyes; the moonlight stalking past the crack between your curtains is the only thing helping the ravenette navigate your room. Parts of the glow highlight a bit of your face, though a shimmer from the light’s reflection teases his peripheral vision.

You have a bookcase headboard, and on it lays a necklace in its case. Nothing fancy; a golden heart hanging off a thin chain. It’s more the note next to its box that catches the ravenette’s eye:

Thought this would look good on you ;) Hope you like it!

— Tsumu (your favourite setter <3)

If it weren’t for the fact that you’d notice, Sakusa would crumble that note and follow up with the faux-blonde’s neck. When did you get this? He surely would’ve noticed if you received it during practice.

There’s a good chance the setter gave it to you before or afterwards. The wing spiker’s aware that the two of you spent time together outside of training, though for it to happen enough times that Atsumu found it appropriate to give you a gift as intimate as a heart-shaped necklace has the ravenette glaring at the piece of jewellery. (As open as his teammate may be, Sakusa doubts he’d buy something like that for someone after a single meet-up.)

He hears a sigh: yours. Your body shifts in its spot again, opting to lay on your back. The wing spiker freezes for the slowest seconds his alarmed brain can count, only to relax once you stay in your new spot.

They say an average of eight spiders crawl into your mouth yearly while you sleep. A myth, of course, but maybe that’s what we tell ourselves to ease the paranoia. Maybe, that’s what he is, Sakusa thinks; a spider. Soundless, observant—he’s certainly made himself at home.

Maybe not, he reconsiders. Most people would carefully trap the eight-legged creature before bringing it outside. Or kill it; no mercy necessary. You have yet to do either.

Then again, you aren’t like most people. Not in his eyes, anyway. No, his eyes entertain themselves with your every move, and no matter how deep those holes in the side of your head are, you don’t catch his stare. Whatever he may be, he’s always the perfect distance to observe you.

Sakusa’s brain buzzes mindlessly as his hands draw closer to your form, long fingers pinching the hem of your pyjama shirt before lifting the material. No bra: not a surprising observation, what with your nipples poking at the fabric from the cold. Even with how dark it is, the ravenette salivates from the sight, his cock stirring in his pants. He’s grateful for the lack of witnesses, though it’s still embarrassing to be as affected as he is. You’re not even fully nude. Yet.

He waits for a reaction. Other than you moving in your sleep, the wing spiker receives nothing. He exhales through his nose, never thinking that gaining the knowledge about you being a heavy sleeper early on would be an advantage for him. His fingers twitch before slowly landing on your stomach. Again, no reaction; he then lays his palms to join the digits. With a deep and shaky breath, the ravenette glides his hands up your torso until they reach your breasts.

They feel perfect in his grasp, even with the thick layer of the leather gloves creating that barrier. Your face scrunches when he gives your mounds a light squeeze, though you remain asleep. As deep of a sleeper as you may be, one wrong move could ruin everything. Sakusa gulps, dragging his middle finger to flick at your nipple. A shaky breath from you is enough for him to shift into a more comfortable position on your bed before he continues his ministrations more confidently.

He’s careful, he assures; eyes flickering from your chest to your face, reading your expressions to discover what you like and making sure you don’t wake up. All the while, the athlete tries to ignore the tightness of his pants, although watching you squirm beneath him because of his touch makes that a challenge.

“Hnngh….”

It was barely audible, but enough to make the athlete stop everything. You’re still asleep, of course—he’s almost impressed, a bit jealous, even. Countless nights of insomnia on his side because of his fantasies playing on a loop, but yours give you a good night’s rest.

Regardless, the wing spiker gears to earn another reaction like that. Dipping his toes further into the water, he gets a little rougher, tweaking the sensitive buds between his covered fingers. Your back arches in his hold; more than enough confirmation for him.

Shifting his position once more, Sakusa wraps his lips around one of your nipples, dragging his tongue against it while groping the other breast. You whimper when he begins sucking: a shallow sound, but it travels down to his crotch. He already has to deal with the embarrassment of finishing early because of you; if he cums in his pants without any stimulation, you’ll surely be the death of him.

He can’t rely on you being a deep sleeper forever: the wing spiker must work quickly. Pulling away from your chest, Sakusa brings his attention to the lower half of your body. His hands glide down to your hips, hooking his index fingers past the elastic waistband. He wonders whether he should take his time removing the article of clothing or pull them down in one motion. You help him make a quick decision when your leg accidentally brushes against his hard-on. And while he refrains from letting out a groan, his hands make fast work of harshly tugging your pants to your knees.

Silence: not a sound from you, not a breath from him. Your thighs clench momentarily out of reflex once the cool air hits the exposed skin. Not fast enough—Sakusa managed to catch a peek at your drooling cunt. And it isn’t until you finally relax again does he exhale with a light shiver from the sight.

Now, with a clear view, the athlete reaches for his opportunity by swiping some of your essence and bringing that same finger to your clit. Your hips buck into his touch as he rubs slow but tight circles on the pearl, making his brows furrow in concentration and chest swell with pride. It isn’t long until he adds to his pace and slides a finger from his other hand into your sopping hole. Your thighs clench on impulse, a mewl leaving your throat as the air remains stuck in his. His movements are forced to a halt due to your hold, and it takes several seconds for you to settle. Do you enjoy the sturdy material of leather rubbing against your insides? Maybe you’re unaware of the answer, but God, wouldn’t the ravenette love to know.

Dipping his toes in the water is long out of the discussion; if anything, he’s in too deep, the water rising every second he proceeds. He might as well follow the rest of him down, no? Take that final gulp of air before dipping his head in and letting that frozen abyss swallow him.

Sakusa experimentally wiggles his finger inside you and, after gaining no reaction, slides in another. With how wet you already were, it doesn’t take much effort on his part. You gasp, but your eyes stay closed. Even with his morality slipping away each day he sees you, the wing spiker still finds himself surprised (and grateful) that you can sleep through his actions. He wonders how far he can go.

The longer and deeper he pumps his digits inside you, the more reactions he earns from you. The squelching noises between your legs also become louder, especially with the leather material of his gloves. He’s no longer worried, just curious about what sounds and expressions he can pull out of you.

A particular response tells him he’s found your sweet spot. With a drawn-out yet breathless wail, you lift your hips off the mattress once the ravenette prods at a certain part inside you.

Where there is darkness, there is also light, and that’s exactly what could be said to describe the glimmer in his eyes upon discovering this hidden gem of information. He continues his ministrations, watching in fascination and lust as you grind into his touch.

Meanwhile, his cock is begging to be released from its restraints, throbbing due to the display. Sakusa was hoping to hold out for a bit longer, mapping out your body in ways he hopes no one else has, but along with any logic and morality, his patience flies out the window.

You whimper when the athlete slides his fingers out; he almost wants to coo, assure you that he’ll make you feel all better. He can’t, of course, so he opts to taste you, lick his digits clean of your slick. He’s certain he almost cums on the spot, your sweetness consuming his tastebuds (as well as a hint of bitter leather) and leaving its mark in his memories. The wing spiker’s eyes roll to the back of his head as he tries to refrain from groaning.

When his gaze returns to your form, he’s swift with your pants, further sliding them down before doing the same to himself. Having his cock out of its confinements already does plenty for him, but not enough. Sakusa recalls how your cunt squeezed his fingers, practically sucking them in. You were warm, dripping, even with his gloves in the way. And with how eager he is to have you make a mess on his dick, he knows he’s no longer the same person he was before meeting you.

The athlete taps the tip of his cock against your clit a few times, just to watch you squirm, before sliding into your entrance. Only a few inches in, and he already has to dig his teeth into his bottom lip. None of this was a part of his plan—he’s not even sure he had one in the first place; he just needed to see you, feel your presence in some way, shape or form. And the latter is more than he could ever ask for, your insides hugging him just as tight as they did his fingers. The lack of a barrier is the icing on the cake.

He’s bottomed out before he knows it, and Sakusa doesn’t know where to look: your face contorting from being filled to the brim or your cunt stretching open to accommodate his size. Either one intensifies the swirling of his lower stomach. All he can do for now is play with your clit until you appear to feel better. (And if that means you clench harder around him, then so be it. He’s come this far as is.)

After a few minutes, the wing spiker reels his hips back with a deep breath. His thrusts are gentle, as much of a challenge as it may be to hold back. He bites his bottom lip as he feels you hug every inch of his cock, threatening to milk him for all he’s worth when he’s barely begun. You’re so much better than his hand; no fantasy can compare.

A few strokes in, and Sakusa’s restraint is thinning. Every time, he thrusts in a bit deeper, a bit faster, a bit harder. You’re quietly moaning between pants, your face twisting from a pained expression to one much lewder. Pretty lips parted with brows both furrowed and raised, you have the ravenette throwing his head back with a silent groan.

Unfortunately for him, that’s when he catches sight of that damn necklace again. His grip on the sheets next to your head tightens, his thrusts sloppy as his mind races. What made Atsumu think he had the right? Does he think a necklace is all it’ll take to get you? Sakusa drops his head to glare daggers as you continue to mewl and whimper. What do you think is happening right now? Who are you thinking about right now?

His mind keeps reeling, and the wing spiker fails to notice how he’s taking out his aggression in his thrusts.

Your whimpers grow to pathetic cries, tears forming in the corners of your eyes, and his hold on your sheets move to your wrists on instinct. With the mental spiral and physical force, the ravenette fails to notice your eyes shoot open.

Then, you gasp. “Sakusa!”

He hears the fear in your voice, no doubt. Yet, in a situation like this, with you beneath him, tears streaming down your cheeks as your sobbing and panting mix together, he can’t help but create a more beautiful scenario. You’re begging for him, his cock, needing him to fuck you stupid and fill you up to the brim, the pleasure so overwhelming that your nails are digging into his back, only his shirt shielding his skin from the potential marks.

The athlete doesn’t think; he slams his lips against yours, his tongue quick to explore your mouth as his release hangs on to the edge. And when your pussy flutters around his dick, creams around it, it’s the push he needs. Hot spurts of cum paint your insides white as Sakusa kisses you harder, his hips stilling. Even as he groans against your mouth, he can hear your choked moans, and he never wants any of this to end.

But that’s not how it works. Eventually, you both come down from your highs, his cock going soft and out of cum to give you. The wing spiker doesn’t pull out, but it doesn’t stop the white liquid from trying to seep out. It makes him shiver, slowly ending your kiss for you both to catch some air. The string of saliva connected to your lips that follows him as he sits up distracts him; something else to bind you two together. It’s messy, so so so messy.

He loves it.

You’re both breathing hard for the next several seconds, your terrified expression not faltering as your body trembles lightly.

“Wha—How?” you gasp, sob, you’re not sure, and neither is he. He’s only half-listening, still floating on that release and too far away. “Sakusa, how did you get in?”

There they are again: those eyes. Empty pools, yet always full of judgement. Like you’re the crazy one. Tracing the river streams down your face and clumps of shields for lashes, they seemingly do more talking than his mouth.

Then, Sakusa reaches a hand out to cup your cheek. You flinch, but it doesn’t stop him from wiping a stray tear. Even with your helpless sounds quieting down, the silence isn’t any less deafening. And when his voice, smooth and deep and a little too nonchalant, invades the room, you shiver.

“I was always here.”

#haikyuu #fanfic #fanfiction #hq #haikyu #haikyu!!#smut #haikyuu x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #yandere sakusa x reader #yandere haikyuu #sakusa smut #dark content #sakusa dark content #itachiyama #msby bj #msby sakusa

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emmyrosee · 1 year

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Happy birthday to my beloved mother Kiyoomi <3

——-

If the sun pouring through the blinds wasn’t going to wake you up, the cooled side of the bed next to you would, and your arm, in attempts to wrap around Kiyoomi, hit the mattress with a soft ‘poomf.’

Your brows furrow and you pout slightly as you process that Kiyoomi wasn’t next to you, but the sound of breakfast skillets popping made you smile in defeat. Ever the early bird, he’d be up and at ‘em, preparing for the day before you could even stir. Today, clearly, seemed to be no different.

You grab one of his shirts and boxers and make your way out to the kitchen, watching as, almost rhythmically, he cooks your breakfast. Thin tank top hiding the best things to admire about him, sweatpants low on his hips to splay a sliver of his boxers, and humming along in agreement to whatever podcast he had playing on his phone.

“And what exactly are you doing?” You say dramatically, his shoulders relaxing at your mere presence.

“Changing the car’s windshield wipers,” he says flatly, only to cast you a look over his shoulder, equally dramatic as you. “I’m cooking breakfast, what do you think I’m doing?”

“I think it’s your birthday,” you scoff, stalking up behind him. Your arms wrap around his waist and your face nuzzles into the planes of his warm back. “And I think I’m supposed to be spoiling you.”

He chuckles softly as he reaches for something on the counter, “you’d burn this whole damn house down if you tried to cook right now.” You bite his back, snickering at the yelp he lets out. “Besides- you do spoil me. I get to wake up next to you everyday.” Bashfully, at the sudden change in his word choices, you squeeze him tighter, hoping your scalding cheeks don’t give you away.

“Drool and all,” he adds promptly.

“Yeah. There it is,” you snort at his playful jab. He chuckles, and you feel the muscles of his back contort and contract with each lazed breath. Your eyes lift up to dance over the marks and moles that adorn his shoulders, some from birth and others from accidentally roasting in the sun. There’s some scars from childhood and adolescent injuries, and-

“Blink. I feel your eyes searing into me.”

“Sorry,” you giggle. It’s not uncommon for your eyes to glaze over as you look at him. He’s just such a sight, and who the hell would you be to not indulge? “You’re just like… really pretty.”

He pauses before he turns around to look at you, smiling genuinely as an arm opens up for you to curl into. You do, happily, letting yourself be engulfed in his beefy arm while he hums happily. “I know I’m pretty, babe.”

“I know you know,” you murmur. “It’s annoying that you know how pretty you are.”

He smiles widely, fakely at you before falling down to his usual, eased smile. You could watch him for hours doing his most mundane activities, watching his brows twitch with each little reaction, the way his lashes beat subconsciously, and if he wasn’t looking at you like you’d lost your mind, you’re sure you could keep observing him in his natural habitat forever.

Your head turns slightly to dip your nose against his ribs, letting in a relaxed inhale for a deep, selfish breath of his scent. “You smell so damn good,” you rasp.

“You’re so poetic,” he snorts sarcastically, and you don’t have to have your eyes open to know he’s shaking his head in amused disbelief. “Go set the table, birthday boy is hungry.”

“Can the birthday boy give me a kiss?” You mewl, and you fight your laughter when he looks down at you, blankly. He does, however, comply, leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss.

Morning breath and all.

“Happy birthday, my love,” you say softly, chasing his lips once again after you speak.

He smiles and squeezes you softly, “it is now, baby.”