a/n: companion piece to the original love knows not its depth, from kuroo's perspective.

Kuroo Tetsuro is doing alright. 

He’s deftly juggling the roles life has handed him. His tenth wedding anniversary is coming up. He’s gotten a nice pair of earrings and a reservation at Tokyo’s hottest omakase for you to celebrate. The girls are doing nicely at school - Aiko’s grades are excellent, and Fumiko’s not gotten into any schoolyard fights unlike Bokuto’s trio of sons. His bosses seem happy with him too, paving the way for him to climb the corporate ladder rung by rung. He’s earned each promotion by burning days in the office, nights in the izakayas schmoozing with his bosses, but it’s worth it, even if it admittedly comes at the expense of being with you and the girls. 

It’s a sacrifice he has to make so he can provide you with the fairytale life he’s always promised you. Not that you’ve ever complained about the trade-off.  

“I didn’t know you had moles down your back.”

Kiyoomi pauses briefly to look at you over his shoulder, post shower body care being interrupted with your statement.

“We’ve been together for how long and you never knew that I had more moles on my body?” He asks, going back to applying his moisturizer. “Do you even look at my body?”

“Only the important parts,” you say, shrugging as you let your eyes wander slightly. There are more than a few freckles and moles on the broad space of his back, tracing like a constellation against the paleness of his skin. They lean along the right side of him, a few scattering on the left for an intricate design-

“Holy shit, stop staring at me,” he snickers, his eyes looking at you in the mirror. “I have moles. You kiss the ones on my forehead every morning. Chill.”

You get up and stalk over to him, arms wrapping lowly around his waist and face nuzzling into the dip of his back, “gonna have to kiss these ones too; they’ve been neglected too long.” You plant a few pecks to the bigger ones along his shoulder, and you smirk at the goosebumps that raise from your affection. “Ticklish?”

“I’ll knock you out with this lotion bottle,” he snarls, continuing his routine with you merely an add on to his body.

“Whatever.” You let your nails rake up the dip of his hips, only letting him go when he hisses and bumps his back against you to get you off. You kiss his warm skin one last time before making your way back to the perch on your shared bed, watching as his muscles and moles contort with every shift of his broad body as he applies his deodorant.

“What else are you hiding from me?”

“I’m having an affair,” he says simply.

“With who? Meian?”

“Yes.”

“You could never score Meian.”

“You’re just mad because Meian saw and admired my moles before you.”

You let out a few snorty laughters while he smirks to himself in the mirror, the night settling down into nothing uncommon or surprising, but perfect all the same.

God, you adore him.

“You’re ugly.”

“I love you too.”

staycation

hirugami sachiro x cisfem!reader

summary: it’s the first day of your staycation with your fiancee, and Sachiro is ready to start things off right.

WC: 2.2k

tags: NSFW, MDNI, pwp, playful teasing, oral (reader receiving), Sachirou eats it from the back uwu, lots of biting, ass worship (no anal or anal play), sex in the kitchen, vaginal fingering

A/N: a piece for @mydiluc! thank you gray for commissioning me so long ago, and i’m sorry for the wait! your patience did wonders for my anxiety, you’re literally the sweetest person on the planet and i hope you really enjoy this piece!

mdni banner by @/cafekitsune

Bumping the door open with your hip, a grocery bag in each hand and purse swinging precariously on your shoulder, you’re pleasantly surprised to nearly trip over Sachiro’s big tennis shoes where they’re lined cleanly next to your house slippers in the tiny genkan of your shared apartment.

Normally, you would have grumbled over how huge his feet are while kicking off your own shoes, but knowing he’s home earlier than usual on the day that marks the first of your planned couple’s stay-cation has you rushing quickly into the apartment, gleeful that he’ll be home for dinner instead of staying late at work.

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After Katsuki breaks up with you the city feels like a coffin. The tall buildings box you in, the anonymity they gave you now feels like a crushing weight on chest that's only amplified by the broken pieces of your shattered heart that stab into tissue and muscle with each step. Soon you feel like you'll be able to pull the fragments out of your chests and look inside the hole it left to see an empty cavity where you're heart should be.

You decide to leave the city that night, booking a flight home. Home is a funny word, considering it's been years since you've last been there. You know every street sign, every field. Most of the people are different. Your friends and family decided to move out after you did. "City life is better," they all said. And maybe there's some truth to that, but it's also so lonely and confining, and it doesn't have the one thing you desperately wanted to see.

You drop your bags off at the small bed and breakfast in town and then set off again. You walk past your old school, past the 7-11 where you would get snacks with your friends, the old bridge where that black cat always used to lay was replaced, the giant willow tree next to the river is nothing but a stump now, but the roads stay the same. You vear off your path as the sun starts to set, making your way through brush and trees to the spot you used to know so well.

The large clearing in the trees is just how you remember it. The grass grows tall enough to reach your knees in some places, green and full of memories you've forgotten. The orange and pinks of the sky fade into purples and blues just as you find the old metal bench that someone left here long before you ever found this place. You wonder if this was their favorite place in the world too.

Little blips of green light catch your eye, the lightning bugs slowing starting their dance through the field. Crickets and frogs add their symphony to the rustling with, and the little bugs begin their unchoreographed dance across the stage. The bursts of light sparkle through the grass, and you hate that even your favorite things are tainted with memories of him.

The last time you were here was with him, and even then, the way the bugs sparkled, small little explosions of color sprinkled through the field, reminded you of him and his quirk. Your chest aches again as the fragmented piece gets closer to the surface. Why can't you even have this moment of piece without thinking about him. Of that last fight and of the last words he said to you. Tears stream down your face as you remember the way the door slammed on his way out.

The symphony of crickets gets louder, rushing through your ears as you double over, tears falling from your face, making the world around you blurry. The dark blue tint of grass and trees are a soundboard for your wails as you add to the symphony of the forest; the lighting bugs continue their dance.

eta ;

"hi," osamu says, sliding into view.

you catch yourself before you can smile, your mouth freezing into some sort of weird grimace.

"hi," you grit out before turning away.

there's a room full of people around you and about a dozen different threads of conversation, you just need to find one—

"can we talk?" even though his tone is soft, it still cuts through the din of the party. you feel him lean over you, his mouth now level with your ear. there's no physical contact but still, you recoil.

thinkin' about being ushijima's neighbor who waters his (surprisingly numerous) houseplants when he's traveling for away games

you barely keep from dropping the watering can when the door to the apartment swings open.

ushijima steps inside, his bag slung over one broad shoulder. he blinks at you and then inclines his head in greeting. he says your name and it rumbles through you like summer thunder.

"you scared me," you tell him.

"it's my apartment," he says. his olive eyes are fixed on you, as intense as the summer sun's unforgiving rays, but you're used to it by now.

"obviously," you say, tilting the watering can until the water starts to cascade into the monstera that's almost as big as you are. the soil starts to darken and the scent of it rises, the pungent, rich smell of damp earth. it billows through the air like lingering perfume.

ushijima grunts, dropping his bag onto a nearby chair.

"i'm almost done," you say.

"i can do the rest."

"trying to get rid of me?"

"no."

"could have fooled me," you tease.

he frowns, brows drawing together into something thunderous. "i appreciate your presence."

you blink, heat trickling into your cheeks.

"you—" you start. you cut yourself off before you can say something you'll regret.

he tilts his head. it exposes the column of his thick neck. you watch his muscles cord.

you shake your head. "nevermind," you say, toying with a thick, shiny leaf. it's waxy beneath your fingertips. "i'm sure you're tired, so i'll head out. i've watered everything but the fiddle leaf and the others around it."

"alright."

you put the watering can—sunshine yellow with a trail of ladybugs painted along the spout, a gift you hadn't expected him to keep—down and dust off your hands.

"was it a good trip?" you ask as you join him at the front door, slipping off your house slippers and into your regular shoes.

"yes. we won."

"good," you say, beaming at him.

his smile is slight, the softest upturn of his lips. it makes his eyes crinkle at the edges. your stomach flutters.

"oh," you say, reaching into your pocket and fishing out a key. "before i forget. here's your key."

you hold it out to him. he studies you for a moment.

"ushijima?" you say, trying not to fidget in place.

he reaches out and cups your hand, folding your fingers back over the silver gleam of the key. your hand feels small as he closes his around it, his thick fingers gentle, the barest kiss of rough calluses dragging over your skin.

when you glance at him, he's already watching you, his eyes darkened in the softening light of the afternoon sun. he keeps hold of your hand for a breath, and then one more, his furrowed brow easing into something more gentle. his thumb grazes against the thin, delicate skin of your inner wrist.

"keep it."

cw - ANGST, hurt no comfort, kuroo x reader, cw infidelity

Kuroo bounces his knee, sensing the miles of distance between you as you sit across from him in the cafe.

"How're things?" He asks awkwardly, usually able to make music out of silence, he finds that around you today his performative social graces are out of reach.

"Fine." You say softly, mouth pressed into a hard line. "Why did you want to see me so badly?" He bounces his knee harder, he knew this would hurt, but hadn't imagined your edges to be so jagged so many months later.

"Obviously to apologize." He says, and then regrets his choice of words almost immediately. You nod a couple of times, the tension in your mouth spreading to your jaw, you look down at his hands, folded on the table next to his coffee, black with cinnamon, no sugar, like some kind of sociopath, you'd used to joke with him about it.

"So apologize." You manage, and he looks past you, still as handsome as the day you'd met him, the crisp collar of his shirt, his sharp cheekbones, his amber eyes light and alive.

more

“babe, can you imagine? an arena full of people,” he says as he jumps onto a park bench, arms spreading wide above him, “and they’re all singing my songs. the songs i wrote.”

you giggle at semi’s sudden outburst and he continues even as strangers passing by stare at him with questioning looks.

there’s a tint of pink on his cheeks. you can’t tell if it’s from the cold or from the drinks you had at dinner, although the last bottle of beer may be the cause of your boyfriend playing the air guitar and singing into his imaginary mic on your walk home.

he sings in earnest, without a care of who’s watching or listening, and you can’t help but smile. semi’s always been passionate, whether it was volleyball or music, but you’ve always thought he was the most radiant when he was performing. it’s as if he belongs on the stage, even if his stage is just a bench in your neighborhood park at that moment.

“encore!” you clap as semi finishes, taking a seat on the bench opposite of him. you fish your phone out of your pocket, and the flash from your phone lights up the dimly lit path. semi breaks out into a laugh as you sway back and forth, with hands in the air, cheering his faux park concert on.

he takes a leap off the bench, rushing over to pluck the phone out of your hands, pulling you into a kiss. “hey!” you laugh in-between each peck, “i was recording the show!”

“you’ll have plenty of other chances—” he chuckles, “—when you’re sitting front row at my actual shows.”

“oh, really? i get to be front row for every show?”

“of course, who else is gonna catch the panties girls try to throw at me?” you shove semi away, although he barely moves.

“who says i won’t be one of the girls throwing their panties at you?” you huff.

“then yours are going to be the only ones i catch,” he grins. you playfully roll your eyes, giving semi your cute annoyed face he adores so much.

“come on.” a quick kiss to the forehead soothes you, your lips curving into a soft smile as he slips his hand in yours. “gotta take my number one fan home with me.”

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Strangers to lovers with your fave meeting you at a Halloween party dressed as—

does this mean we can talk about grandpa ukai again

oh you guys think I'm weird when he's canonicallt kind of hot?? ok

Someone left a kudos on this and it reminded me that I did in fact wrote a small iwaoi onshot some time ago :D

A small thing from Iwaizumi’s pov.

God I just love little brother energy. Your younger brother's friend who's had a crush on you since high school and has been waiting for the day when he's old enough for you to take seriously. Your best friend's younger brother who was always crashing your hangout sessions but only because he thought you were soooo pretty and cool and now that he's got his big boy job he's trying to shoot his shot. Your ex's younger brother who's eager to prove that he can take care of you so much better than his shitty older brother ever did.

ukai keishin x gn!reader minors and ageless blogs dni

ukai loves to spoil you. but not in a "buys you whatever you want" and "lavishes you with expensive gifts way." ukai spoils you in a softer way.

he saves the last slice of cheesecake in the fridge for you, telling you that he's not a big fan of cheesecake because he thinks it's too rich even though you know for a fact it's his favorite dessert. after all, for his birthday, he always wants a cheesecake from his favorite bakery instead of a proper cake.

whenever you disagree over what to watch, he's always caves first and goes along with your choice. he'll grumble about it as you're navigating through your apps to find whatever he's agreed to, but he always makes a good faith effort to at least appear interested.

he always tries to get to chores around the house before you can. he knows how much you hate having to fold laundry so he's already putting things in drawers before you can even check and see if the clothes are dry. the trash is always emptied before you have the chance to wonder if it's time to take it out. even when your hands are elbow-deep in soapy water at the kitchen sink, he'll nudge you aside with his hip, wordlessly letting you know that he'll finish up for you.

although he prefers sleeping on his stomach, he often falls asleep on his side so that you can sleep how you like, curled up closely into his chest. one night, on the verge of falling asleep, you apologized to him, saying you knew that he didn't like sleeping on his side, but he just held you closer and said that sleeping on your stomach is actually bad for your spine.

and when he's at home between your thighs, grinding against you, grinding into you, as you whine into his neck, begging him for more, he never even thinks of denying you. he just groans low and asks, "what do you want, baby?" right into your ear through heavy pants. and as soon as you've answered his question, "your fingers. your mouth. you." he gives you exactly what you want.

Retired Pro-Athlete Bokuto

Retired pro-athlete Bokuto who as he aged and played less started to take more interest in your job and reading up on your career. Before you know it he’s talking about articles he has read and even places he feels would be better suited for you.

Retired pro-athlete Bokuto who started to get soft around the middle and despite his occasional gripe over it, you always tell him how sexy he still looks.

Retired pro-athlete Bokuto who started to work out again–much to your dismay–and decided to start coaching at the local and very prestigious university in town. He claimed it had nothing to do with the fact that it was the university you attended.

Retired pro-athlete Bokuto who spent his free time tracking down your old professors just so he could hear their stories about you. Were you always so smart? Were you as punctual and stuck to routine as you were when he first started dating you? At least you had mellowed out with age, he supposed he had too. Bokuto could never pass up gushing over you and your job. About how someone so amazing, smart, and attractive could ever be with someone like him. Your old professors just look at him blankly wondering if he realized just how attractive he was.

Retired pro-athlete Bokuto who would sometimes snuck into the university library and read some of the books he took for granted when he went to university. As he flipped through the pages and really appreciated the information and the stories, he thought how different–how much easier– things would’ve been if you had gone to the same university. Would you have been his tutor? Would you have been as patient with him? Or would you have lost your patience and never talk to him again? He shook his head knowing he shouldn’t think about the what ifs and be thankful that you had met when you did and were now married.

Retired pro-athlete Bokuto who would still do his signature ‘Bokuto Beam’ if you happened to swing by and watch him as he coached the young athletes. You smiled as the ball bounced off his chest, the small crow’s feet at the corners of his honeyed eyes. His hair now greyer and his chest somehow wider than when he was in his prime. Who were you kidding? He was still in his prime. Maybe not as a pro athlete, but physically, mentally and emotionally. He matured in so many ways, but he always remained the Bokuto you fell in love with. 

Retired pro-athlete Bokuto who sometimes felt that pang of jealousy in his chest when he watched his team play with such vigor. Self-doubt crept its way into his heart, but this time he knew how to talk himself out of it. He had his time and in a couple of decades these guys would too. Maybe they’d be retired athletes that become coaches like him. Maybe they'll be athletic trainers like Iwaizumi and maybe they’ll leave the sport as soon as they leave university.

Retired pro-athlete Bokuto who still blushed hard every time he got a kiss from you, especially if it was in front of his team. College guys are the worst. 

Retired pro-athlete Bokuto who had made especially difficult exercises the standard every time one of the boys looked at you for too long and smirked or their locker room talk consisted of you. Did they not realize how sound carried in the locker room? They soon caught on and were always on their best behavior when you swung by for practices or matches. 

Retired pro-athlete Bokuto who still had the energy of a regular twenty year old, but not the energy of his younger self. That was fine by him, he loved to relax with you after a long day, even if he wasn’t the one running around and playing like he used to.

Retired pro-athlete Bokuto who felt the aches in his bones, who also noticed the crow’s feet, the laugh lines and the increasing amount of grey in his hair, but he didn’t care. He was growing older with you, even though 40 really wasn’t old– unless you’re an athlete of course. Your hair started to become grayer as well, he found it sexy. He found everything about you sexy.

Retired pro-athlete Bokuto who aged like fine wine, and even if he didn’t, you’d love him no matter what. Because it was never about what was on the outside. It was always about his heart, his passion and his spirit. 

Suna’s always been on the lookout for Kita Shinsuke’s weakness.

Kita knows it. Suna knows he knows it. But the middle blocker insists the steadfast captain has a weakness.

Everyone does.

“Sunarin yer in fer a real treat today.”

Suna rolls his eyes at the faux-blonde’s haughty tone. “Yeah? Why’s that.”

“…‘Cause.” Atsumu throws an arm over the middler blocker’s shoulder as they walk into the gym. “I heard a rumor that our senpai’s senpais are in town.”

“Why do I care?”

“Since ya weren’t here when they stopped by last year…” Atsumu pushes off to dramatically walk away. “Guess yer just gonna hafta wait ‘n’ see.”

Practice is practice and Suna’s unimpressed with the people who sneak in and wave to the third years.

He mentally questions Atsumu’s sanity–not for the first time–and goes about what’s expected of him until break is called.

“Oh. My. GOD!” There’s a shriek of enthusiasm that grates Suna’s nerves as the visitors come down. From the corner of his eye he sees you launch yourself into Aran’s arms. “O. Ji. Ro!”

The ace spins you around with a huge smile, hugging you back. “Hi!”

When he puts you down you lightly slap his biceps. “Look at you my little not-so-little-anymore wing spiker!”

He grins, playfully guarding himself from anymore of your excited hits. “Hey, come on, I’m the ace now!”

“Top five in the country, I know!” You beam at him until– “OMIMI!”

Suna cringes at the pitch of your voice and expects the senior middle blocker to disregard you but he cracks a small smile and accepts your hug one-handedly.

“Oh my gosh,” you shake him though he doesn’t budge. “Look at all of you!” You turn your sights on the libero next who receives a hug that sends you both spinning, only staying up because of him. “Mygodd I’ve missed you all so much.”

Akagi keeps an arm wrapped around your waist as a voice separates the crowd.

“It’s nice to see you senpai.”

“Kita,” you grin keeping an arm over Akagi’s shoulder, “I heard you made captain this year. Congratulations.”

“Thank you very much.” He bows his head. “But we’re in the middle of practice,” he scans you and the other alumni mingling among his team. “Perhaps we could properly catch up after.”

Suna’s about to tune out the rest of this conversation until he sees the smallest shift in your eyes. You’re still grinning but there’s a flicker of something darker as you say “I’m not surprised you run a tight ship. We don’t mind waiting, after all we don’t want to hurt your chances at making nationals.”

You return to the stand quietly talking with the others and Suna gently bumps Atsumu on their way back to the court. “So? Who the hell is that?”

Atsumu smirks. “That was the manager for our captain’s first year.”

After practice the team decides to take the reunion to a cafe but there’s a glaring absence.

“He said he’ll catch up. You know him,” Aran drops his voice. “He insists on doing his whole routine.”

Suna turns in time to see you pat Aran’s chest and murmur something that makes the ace sigh.

“If anyone can break him from his routine, it would be you.” He waves off your smirk and walks on with the group. He catches Suna looking back. “You good?”

“I think I left my phone in my locker.” He makes a point of patting his pockets and cursing under his breath. “I’ll meet you guys at the cafe.”

He doesn’t wait for Aran to reply before strolling back to campus.

You’re already out of sight.

 The gym’s dark when Suna slips inside but there’s a sliver of light from one of the equipment closets.

Like a shadow Suna crosses the courts and silently sidles up to the door getting as close as he dares.

“You’re doing well.” Your voice is friendly but Suna can still here that hint of something more. “I’ve heard through the granny-grapevine that you’ve become quite popular this year. Been getting a lot of confessions.”

“It’s all a matter of perspective.”

Suna leans closer, trying to peek through the crack and see what the two of you are doing. You’re absentmindedly tracing shelves while Kita wipes down volleyballs.

“Aren’t you going to ask me about uni?” Your voice drops and you slowly walk behind him, eyes following every subtle movement while he keeps his eyes on his work. “Come on Shin, don’t be like this…” You walk around the ball cart to face him. “Don’t ignore me.”

“I’m not ignoring you. I’m just not interested in catching up.”

“Really?” You circle the ball cart. “So you haven’t missed me?” 

He keeps his eyes down methodically wiping.

“Haven’t wondered anything about where I’ve been…” You’re watching him closely, fingers trailing the edge of the cart. “…What I’ve been doing?…”

“No,” he answers simply and Suna wonders if this is a lost cause, too; if you’re just like everything else that can’t get under the captain’s skin.

“So you’re not upset with me, then?” You’re approaching him again. “You’re completely indifferent to me being here–”

“You’re the one who left!”

Suna freezes, eyes bulging at the sharp snap of his captain’s voice.

You pause as Kita finally looks up, his normally calm features creased in frustration.

“Stop playing games,” he says forcefully and frowns. “You left and never looked back.”

Slowly exhaling through your nostrils your eyes trace the details of his face. “A rice farm.”

Kita looks as confused as Suna feels.

“Is that still your plan after graduation?” you ask. “To own a rice farm?”

“You…remember…” Kita’s brow dips incredulously and you sigh in frustration.

“Agricultural Business Development.” You slowly start closing the small distance between the two of you again. “That’s the major I chose, Shin…”

Suna can see understanding spread through his captain.

“I always planned to come home to you…” you murmur. You’re stalking toward him and Kita starts to back up, step-for-step, and when he bumps into a shelf you cage him in.

“I’m sorry I’ve left you for so long…but you’ve been waiting for me right, Shin?…” Kita’s eyes flutter closed as you lightly touch his hair and whisper “…my good boy?”

「lily blooming」

there are many things that you can go to an affable, arrogant, and arguably very attractive argentinian volleyball superstar for: free food, good company, and depending on the day, inexpensive clothing recommendations. but as you’ve quickly learned, going to oikawa tooru for relationship advice is not one of them.

it’s not that he doesn’t have the experience to share. he does, with his bucketful of exes and the dozens of florist shop phone numbers committed to memory. and now that he’s even in an even more committed relationship with a nice girl that owns a peach farm in california—a friend of iwaizumi’s, naturally—it says a lot about oikawa’s qualifications in that department.

the only problem here is that it takes a certain kind of person to take advice on love and all its beautiful complications from oikawa tooru. the list is short and of the limited honourees, kageyama tobio is not one of them.

and as the japanese setter’s publicist, you’re starting to find the argentinian’s love advice real annoying.

“kageyama-san, please go back to wearing your compression shirt every game,” you sigh, looking up at the player as he sits down for your biweekly scheduled catch up. “we really can’t get anymore complaints about this.”

kageyama frowns, and when he does, you want to both curse and praise the heavens for landing you a job where you get the kageyama tobio tilting his head in confusion at you every other week, big blue eyes, furrowed brows and all.

“but you said i did a good job,” he almost pouts, and you have to remind your mouth that it exists to speak and not in desire to fly towards your client in a violent, decidedly unprofessional kiss.

“yes,” you bite the word mechanically, haltingly, “the first time. really appreciate your help with that month’s KPI. but then you got weirdly dedicated and it became pretty obvious that you show off your abs only when we play the jackals.” he follows your gaze as it lands on a thick folder. it opens up to a single page. “they just sent in an official letter saying we’re enacting ‘psychological warfare’ on them.”

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