Sakusa Kiyoomi Will Subconsciously Pull You Closer When You’re Sleeping Next To Him—even When He’s

the answer is still you.

genre. mostly fluff, some angst characters. osamu x reader, atsumu synopsis. the story as seen through the eyes of the man who loves you, who always has from the start, and always will ‘til the end. word count. 5.3k

part one (be my mistake) || part three (learning to love)

author notes. thanks all of you for the support in part one!! so i did up a part two hehe i hope you guys like this too <3 i’ll release the last part over the weekend where we finally have atsumu’s view of everything!! side notes. once again tysm @animatedarchives for beta-reading my indecisive ass hehe love you twinnie!! and @aomineavenue my sassy thot i added you in this part bc you hated tsumu so much in part one 😹 i love you bby hope you like this!!

GENERAL TAGLIST. @animatedarchives @aomineavenue @shoyomeow @cherrycolaxo @hidden-otaku-stuff @lonelyheartxn

STORY TAGLIST. @luckypartyranchmug @astralvante @saturnfarie @fortunatelylazystranger @kozukth @tiredandkindaoverworked @runs-with-sciss0rs @fallenangelluna515 @justxanotherxshipper @xxitsaeonxx @starsinthepavement @kyotorchidea @shinhiromi @muiichiroo @sassmeen @strawhatshepard @mint-mai @chocolaterumble @itachiyam @ryaaaax @antigermgals-stuff @whiteliesofmine @fandomreposts

Osamu Miya was always used to being in his brother’s shadow, as far as it came to volleyball.

An inferiority complex borne of the fact that Atsumu was always considered the better one, because after all, who is he to compete with the ‘top setter in Japan’? He’d learnt to be okay with it, to not let it bother him as much. Until he got to know you — you, who was writing up a piece for the school paper about the boys’ volleyball team. You, who had stars in your eyes whenever you saw Atsumu in action. You, who he couldn’t help but notice didn’t get the same reaction when it was Osamu who touched the ball. But he’s always known you were an inherently kind soul, right from the first moment you made sure to compliment them both, even though you were clearly more interested in Atsumu.

Everyone always was.

And he didn’t know why, maybe it was because of the warmth — the good energy — that you radiated, or maybe Atsumu just found you pleasing to the eyes (Osamu knows he himself sure thinks so), but that spurred Atsumu to make friends with you. It helped that you were very welcoming to Osamu too, because that’s how he managed to get close to you; sometimes hang out with you and just you alone.

He remembers the first time the two of you hung out, and each and every time after that. He remembers those local coffee shops that stole endless hours of conversation, when Osamu got the rare glimpses of the mind that he learned to grow fond of. He remembers the way you bite your lip when you concentrate enough, the way you smile when you blush, the way you tap your fingers one at a time against the tabletop when you get slightly impatient, even the way you tuck a lock of hair behind your ear when you get nervous.

Osamu realised then, that he viewed you differently than he viewed others. He didn’t usually waste time observing people’s habits off the court, but how was it that he was able to memorise all of yours right off the bat? It felt so effortless, and he realised it’s too late to stop — because he was already falling.

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you ever think about how they'll probably see this picture in a yearbook when they're 60 years old and reminisce about their time as a part of the karasuno volleyball club? cuz i do all the time

Inertia | Yandere!Childe x GN!Reader

Drabble | Warnings: Toxic relationship, cycle of abuse, mental breakdown, anxiety attack, slight religious themes, not proofread, what is this, childe being a lil’ bit oot, depression, being the only person childe has loved, begging, ok idk what else to put. poot.

What is it?

What is it that made him feel like this?

This unexplainable feeling coursed through his head: dread, like zaps of electricity running beneath his skin, muddying his mind; his ability to utter words gone as if his voice box was stolen. He tries to calm down, inhaling the air that carried your lingering scent, but his thoughts betray him—laughing at his stupidity, at his naivety.

A chuckle escapes his lips. He grips the roots of his hair in frustration, a scream threatening to spill past his throat. You’re not here. You left. You truly left him alone. His brow furrows, his chuckles morphing into a laugh. Of course you would leave; you’re too good for him—a gift from God for the little good deeds he’d done—or perhaps a form of pity for what he’d gone through. For once, he was content with life. He was grateful for what he had, what he could do, and for you.

Though it was short-lived. He supposes God isn’t kind, that maybe he doesn’t deserve happiness—

No,

God doesn’t exist. Who is he kidding? He’d never believed in someone that could save him until he’d met you. Perhaps you are his God. The way you talk, your overflowing curiosity, your subtle smiles, and your hazy, lidded eyes every time you met his gaze—just fuck, just how is he going to live without you?

But why? Why would you do this? Maybe you were being manipulated, he thought. By your own mind, perhaps. You would never leave him. Ever. He knows you well; the person who worried over the smallest wounds over his skin and cared for every little bad happening in his life would NEVER leave him. Perhaps you were kidnapped? He looks around, but what had left of you was an empty, lightless, disheveled room. Void of anything, like the feeling that started to creep into his mind.

“(Y/N)!” He screams, desperate for any signs of you. A little rustle, a hitch of a breath—anything. Please. He couldn’t do this without you, “Please, darling. Please don’t do this to me. Please.”

You swallow the bile that had risen to your throat. It’s pitiful that you’re a slave to his words, and that he’s a wreck without you. You watch as the ginger’s shoulder droop, a silent, choked plea leaving his form; the strong fatui warrior no longer existing, leaving a lonely shell only you recognize.

Do you love him?

The question hangs at the back of your mind. He needs you. But Childe doesn’t have the healthiest mind, and you know that better than anyone. Is it worth it to go through that suffering—to have him do whatever he thinks fit so he could ‘protect’ you—to have no control over your life? All of that, just to hold him in your hands? To calm him down, retelling the same words,

“I’m here, Ajax. I’m here. It’s okay. Everything is fine. Everything is fine.”

And you return yourself to the same cycle.

“(Y/n)?” He sniffs. Doe, teary cerulean eyes stare at you—they glimmer with hope, before a strong pair of arms hugs your form, “Don’t… don’t do this to me. I’ll.. go mad. I’ll go mad.”

But you already are, you silently repeat, you already are. You stroke the ginger’s head tenderly. It’s a cycle you can’t escape; a tunnel with no end.

A/N: Yes, i’m sorry for not posting lately. i am,, currently facing finals and all i can remember is thermodynamics formula (help). HOWEVER! i do have a lot of drafts so.. i’ll spoil you soon? 

if you’re curious, i do have a yandere childe series draft. i’ll publish it later <3

voicemail i

miya atsumu x fem reader

wc: 650

missed call from: atsumu

the first installment of the voicemail series!! dedicating this one to the wonderful @shoyokuns​ for enabling and inspiring me for this one behehe… love u v much <3

previous / next

nsfw, fem reader, noncon, masturbation, stalking, voyeurism

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by Apollonia Saintclair.

happy birthday, daddy.

there’s only one thing rintarō wants for his birthday.

content warning: 18+ content including daddy kink, praise, crying, mention of babies, dubcon, fear, womb fucking highly unrealistic, dumbification/incoherence, breeding.

“You’re doing so good for me, babygirl.”

Rintarō grunts. He’s unable to look away from your messy cunt, always finding himself utterly amazed by how well it takes every inch of his fat cock. Your velvety walls hug him so nicely. It makes his head spin. It makes him want to rut against you until you’re so full of him and his cum that you can’t think straight. Which happens often, anyway.

You look so precious holding your legs open for him, with your fingers grabbing at and twitching against the flesh of your thighs. Your face is wet with tears, glistening in the low light of your bedroom. It looks like you have tiny, gleaming stars in your eyes and clinging to your silky lashes.

This is how Rintarō always wants to remember you.

He ducks his head down, and you nearly whine because you can’t stare up at his pretty features anymore. The feeling of his lips brushing over your dewy skin distracts you. Your mind goes fuzzy when they wrap over one of your perky nipples, engulfing the sensitive nub in wet heat that makes your back arch into him further, and a desperate mewl escape from your chest.

“Daddys good girl,” he murmurs, teeth grazing over your supple breast. “You’re gonna give me some pretty babies for my birthday, yeah?”

Rapidly, you nod. Words and drool falling from your lips, “All the babies you want, daddy.”

At that, the push and pull of his hips becomes more aggressive. You whimper— your hands scramble and push at his toned lower stomach, wordlessly begging him to slow down. But you promised him. You told him he could fuck you just like this, you can’t stop him now. Even if your little cunny is aching.

So his hands replace yours and fold you in half further. A growl meets your ears while your head thrashes against your pillow in a frenzy.

He feels deep. Deeper than he’s ever been before and you both realize that. Your whole body freezes, but you paw at Rins biceps. You dig your nails into his skin, fearful that he’s splitting you in half on his cock for real this time. Yet all you can do is squeal and let him use your twitching body as he pleases.

“Fuck— that’s it.” There’s a triumphant lilt to his voice. He still sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth when he feels your cervix hug the head of his cock and threaten to suck him right in.

Lucidity escapes you entirely, slipping through your fingers before you can fully acknowledge what’s happening. All you can see is the lazy grin that tugs at Rintarōs lips through blurry, tearful vision.

all i can think about is hajime telling you to open your mouth while he's fucking you, and once you do, he spits in it and pats your cheek before slapping your face as you swallow 😺

thanks now it’s all i can think about too 😸

or hajime gripping your face so tightly, and it’s you that opens your mouth, you part your lips slowly and loll your tongue expectantly, begging him in a quiet, desperate voice, “spit in my mouth, please— need it—“

and when he does, he does it with disgust, mumbling ’bout how dirty you are, so filthy for wanting this. but in response, all you can do is thank him, even as he lets go of your face in favor of slapping it harshly, just as his thrusts get rougher, get deeper, get harder. you’re mumbling thank you’s like he didn’t just call you filthy and spit in your mouth, like he didn’t just slap you so hard your cheek still throbs.

so he indulges you again, asks you to, “open your mouth, pretty thing,” before he spits onto your awaiting tongue again. except he’s the one that forces your mouth close this time, clamping your mouth shut with his hand roughly gripping your face, grumbling out a heavy, deep, “swallow,” as his thrusts slow. and when you do, of course you do, he hums deeply, gruffly, in appraisal, and fucks you harder.

this broke my heart 😭 can i please be added to the taglist? ty!! 💗

Chapter 3

sypnosis: you and your boyfriend, Bokuto had a fight the day before the training camp in Tokyo and it was all because of a girl carrying rumors that left the both of you in bad terms. Will the ace and the manager immediately resolve this issue, or will they keep it that way until for who knows when?

✦ genre: angst, fluff

✦ word count: 3.7k

✦ warnings: reader’s heartbreak

»»— masterlist | previous (ch.2) | next (ch. 3.5)

chapter 2…

Bokuto released a deep sigh, blaming himself for every stupid thing he’s done to you. “I fucking hate myself.” He holds his hips as he scrunched his eyebrows in distress. You would always laugh at his craziness and he’d even do it deliberately if it makes you happy. Out of each of them, this could be the stupidest and the saddest one yet.

“You reap what you sow.” Aiko stated and grabs her phone to check the time. “And you better get ready for tomorrow.”

That’s enough scolding for someone who already admits their fault.

He pouts, his eyes full of hope. “Is y/n-chan going to be there?”

“She’s not coming.”

DAY ONE: Training Camp

The night breaks into dawn. It was serene and the weather was perfect for the start of the training camp. People are snuggled into bed, still in slumber, and yet the volleyball clubs from different schools are already on their way to spend the week fortifying themselves.

Coach Yamiji speaks entirely of pure motivation to keep Fukurodani at their greatest forms. He had always encouraged them right before they showcase their willpower on the court.

However, the coach’s word doesn’t seem to be effective on the ace. All of them are steeled except for him. Bokuto stands beside his teammates, in a deep trance. He was unusually quiet for some reason, and it concerned the whole volleyball club.

Also, it was too early for him to be in his emo mode. Unless something or someone had provoked him to be that way.

But this wasn’t his typical emo mode either.

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tfw you trained so hard so that titans won't be able to kill you only to find out that it'll be a kid who'll end up finishing your existence

partition | miya atsumu

pairing: atsumu x f! reader

word count: 4.8k

summary: inspired by Beyoncé’s “Partition”! what starts off as a simple limo ride to a team dinner with atsumu soon turns into you not being able to keep your hands off of each other, looking so irresistible he just can’t help himself. 

warnings: smut, car sex, slight voyeurism, overstimulation, dumbification, rough sex, dacryphilia, oral (male receiving), dirty talk, daddy! kink, multiple orgasms, swearing, really nasty 

a/n: if you haven’t heard this song, please go listen to it first oh my god the lyrics hot as fuck. of course i had to write a dirty, filthy, smutty ass fic for this, and honestly i can completely see atsumu in this situation.

the click of your heels was sharp against the marble floor, making your way across your ridiculously large bathroom as you adjusted an earring. Atsumu had a team dinner tonight, meaning a long ride to an even longer dinner at whatever high end restaurant had been chosen for the occasion. being engaged to a professional volleyball player came with its share of events and all around tight schedules, but you wouldn’t trade him for the world. you had grown accustomed to nights like these, enjoying the company of his lively teammates and getting all dolled up to go out.

with one last glance into the full body mirror, smoothing down your sleek black dress, you stepped into your bedroom, Atsumu standing in front of a wall with a smaller mirror as he adjusted his tie. his mischievous gaze found your reflection, smirking as he took in the sight of you. a low whistle sounded throughout the room as he eyed you up and down, the dress hugging every curve and dip of your body. a simple dress, really, but severely overpriced. despite the cost it did look quite good though, or rather you made it look good.

“you look gorgeous, darlin’.” the nickname rolled off Atsumu’s tongue with a sultry bite, his naughty eyes practically undressing you right there. with a light chuckle you walked over to him, placing a hand on one of his broad shoulders, looking at the both of you in the mirror.

“thank you, Tsumu. we do look fucking good, don’t we?” his laugh was deep and amused as it rumbled out from his chest, eyes crinkling in agreement. hands still messing with his tie, Atsumu leaned over, teeth nipping at your earlobe. the light tug had chills tingling down your spine, but you kept your composure as you pushed him gently, muttering something about how he was taking his sweet time then going back to your closet to get a jacket before you left.

“where you goin, y/n?” he called teasingly, apparently not finished with his playful antics and suggestive smirks. “I wasn’t done lookin at you!”

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